Today is Husband Mike’s birthday. Won’t you stop by his blog and sing to him?
In case you don’t yet fully appreciate the awesomeness that is Husband Mike, here are a few factoids:
When we were courting, we went grocery shopping together for several meals worth of items. We bought a yam, because I like sweet potato fries and had planned to make some. Mike dislikes yams rather strongly. I left the yam at his apartment, despite several reminders to take it with me. So he slipped it into a seldom-used outer pocket of the Esprit bowler bag I used as a purse back then. I carried it around for FOUR FULL DAYS before discovering it. I still cannot believe he kept such a hilarious secret for so long.
When he lived in Seattle during the heyday of grunge, his band shared a practice space with Hole and the Posies. He claims to have stolen a piece of duct tape off Cobain’s guitar case, though I’ve never seen it.
Husband Mike is almost incomprehensibly tolerant of shopping. ESPECIALLY if there’s somewhere for him to sit. (He’s a big fan of Anthropologie stores because they contain comfy sofas AND coffee table books.)
When he sings something, it gets stuck in my head. It doesn’t matter if it’s a song or tune I’ve never heard in my entire life. He sings it, five minutes pass, I’m singing it.
Our boy cat, Simon (pictured here), is completely enamored of Mike. This despite the fact that Mike flies Simon around like an airplane, calls him “bullet,” “tubs,” and other insulting names, grabs his tender neckmeat when they are fake-wrestling, and frequently holds Simon about three inches above the ground for as long as he’ll tolerate it … until the poor cat finally squirms or somersaults out of Mike’s grasp onto the floor. On the weekends, they shower together. Simon is a special boy who is endlessly fascinated by the drain.
He cooks a mean tiramisu.
He is the funniest person ALIVE. Once we made some microwave nachos for dinner, and then laid down for a little nap. His stomach immediately launched into an amazing array of gurgles and groans. He said, “That translates to, ‘WELCOME, NACHOS!’”
Now. Guess how old he is. Go on, guess. You’ll never guess. I’m telling you, the man drinks the blood of virgins when I’m not looking …