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A Time of Thanks

The president of my fan club-my mother- told me that the other members of the fan club- her coworkers whom she forces to read this blog-said my musings are on the mean side. I'm sorry to hear this and sorry to let the fans down when I inform them that I will continue to offer the same sarcastic humor every week, centered on the shortcomings of the man I live with.
Don't tell anybody, but when no one is looking, I am sometimes nice to Andy. I may even hold his hand or rub his back when the curtains are closed or it's really dark outside.
Since it's Thanksgiving this week, I thought I'd take the time to tell you about this softer side and share just how lucky I am.
Andy is really smart; almost as smart as me! He's a wonderful writer, has great ideas and I'm really proud of his professional accomplishments. Whenever I meet someone, they ask me if I am married to Andrew.
He is also really cute; lucky me. My mom started the idea that he looks like Ben Affleck and we've heard it from complete strangers, including an old man at the local diner who yelled it to him as we were leaving.
He has made me a better person. I care more about other people and think less about myself. I now share my stuff and give good tips.
He never, ever makes comments about the attractiveness of other women and their body parts. He likes my body more now than before I had Caroline. Seriously.
He does all the dirty work around the house like changing the litter pans and plunging the toilets, which I refuse to do. I'll talk about his machine-like ability to accomplish things in another installment.
He's a great dad and I love to hear the daycare ladies talk about how his eyes light up when he sees her across the room at pick-up time. Or when he described, to a room full of my college friends, the "ins and outs" of cleaning a little girl after a poop.
But, best of all, I often forget that I haven't known him my entire life. He knows me inside in out and accepts me for my faults and strengths.
I have dreams that somehow we are not together and I spend the rest of the dream frantically trying to find him and tell him how much I love him. I wake up and reach over to touch his shoulder and make sure that he's still right there beside me.
There- are you happy? I may be my mother's daugher, loaded with caustic humor and venemous wit directed toward the opposite sex, but underneath that exterior is an amazingly happy wife who is very thankful for what she has. Now, go home and tell your dumb husband you love him.

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