The LBDDiaries.com Blog

(Pardon my redux, slightly updated.  I pulled out [and revamped] a post from 2010.)

Okay. I know I chat a bit about Alpha Hubby.  Oh, OK, I chat a LOT.  And yes, in case you haven’t noticed, I am absolutely one hundred percent head-over-heels, over-the-moon wild about him.   There’s a reason.

Let me digress a bit.  Long before I met Alpha Hubby, loooooong before (what took you so long to find me, baby??), I’d done some studying, learning, changing, realizing what was important, what wasn’t, observing, growing, and growing up. 

I also did a lot of listening.  I used to listen to the women at work talk about their husbands.  I used to listen to women at Ladies Group (Bible study) talk about their hubands.  I used to listen to friends, store clerks, and near strangers talk about their husbands.

And when I say that what these women were not saying, “Oh, he is THE best man ev-ah!!”, I’m probably understating it.  I’d listen to women put their husbands down, talk about his faults, what irritates them about him, how he messed up (like they are so perfeft), everything he does wrong, and personal details that should never have been shared in public.  It was a total lack of respect and honor. 

I swore to myself that if I ever met a Knight In Shining Armor, I would make sure a day doesn’t go by that he doesn’t know I love him.  I would protect what we have together.  I would cherish him (even in the face of dirty laundry).  I would honor him.  I would respect  him.  I would never expose him to public scrutiny in a negative way.  No gossip, no “sharing” and, for sure, no bad-mouthing.  Ev-ah.  I made up my mind to do long this before I met him.

When you consider how long I waited for this KISA (12 years), I was certainly not going to waste any part of our life together.  Oh my gosh, I’d had enough drama in my life before I met him that I swore I would NEVER EVER live like that again.  And along comes this man who loves me!  He loves me!  He’s not afraid to show it.  I love him.  I’m not afraid to show it.  I like gagging people.  I love how he loves me!  And I absolutely refuse to allow one day to go by where he does not know how much I treasure his love.  I thank God for him.

We’ve been married 17 years, 9 months, 4 weeks today.  I only grow to love him more as each year passes.  He is my best friend and support.  He believes in me.  He is the first and only man to send me flowers.  He gives me everything I need.  And if it is within his power, he gives me everything I want and desire. 

Of course, I, in turn, do not want and desire things.  I want and desire him.  He is crazy about me!  And I can honestly say to you that not one time in 17 years, 9 months, 4 weeks have I ever bad-mouthed him to another person on this earth.  Ever.  Oh, I might have talked to myself but…

We work very hard to protect our marriage.  We do not speak badly about one another to others.  We hash out everything and even tho I’m sure he wants to pinch my head off sometimes, in 17 years, 9 months, 4 weeks, I think we only went to bed mad at one another one time – sometime 16 years ago.  It was no fun.  We didn’t like it.  We decided not to do that again.

He is strong, a man of honor and unwavering in what is right and what is wrong.  He is a man of God and is beyond my wildest dreams.  He’s got my back at all times.  AND he even does the dishes and sometimes clears out the dryer, folding the clothes AND not just because he’s on the hunt for socks.  AND He vacuums.  I know!!

I am his biggest cheerleader and he is mine.  I believe in him totally.  I believe in his dreams.  And sure, there are times we holler – well, I do.  He sulls up.  We learned that we don’t like that, either.  We decided not to do that again, either.  We work to keep the poison out of our marriage.  We don’t spend time alone with the opposite sex, or have intimate conversations with them about anything. 

Today I decided that I wanted to do a tribute to Alpha Hubby.  I wanted to publicly thank him for loving me like he does.  He makes my world a better place with his powerful love.

I want to thank him for working hard to support this family and allowing me the freedom to be home to write and pursue my dreams.  I want to thank him for getting up every morning 5 to 6 days a week to go to that job.  I want to thank him for the work he does in our home, creating dream rooms for me.  I want to thank him for the passion we have together (BOY! Do I want to thank him for THAT!).  I want to thank him for the unconditional support he has given me while I am on this journey to get back into my Little Black Dress.  UN-CONDITIONAL.  His heart burns for ME (and it’s not indigestion).

I’m so glad I tangled up my life and dreams with his! 

Baby, I love how you love me.  You do an excellent job!

(Look Babe! Your Worst Nightmare)

How do I describe Christmas at our house?  It is not the normal peaceful candle-lit home with Christmas music wafting out of speakers high up near the ceiling.   Not the normal simmering potpourri on the stovetop.  No children nestled all snug in their beds ’cause they are at their own house, doing their own thing.  Except for fixing the food.  Then they pack their lazy booties into their car and travel to momma’s house and…. *Ahem*  Please excuse the digression.  Allow me continue.

Not the normal stockings except one pretty, sparkly “DIVA” one and all I want is chocolate in it, filled to the brim.  But no chocolate if the fire is crackling in the fireplace.  And if there are any more creatures stirring, I don’t wanna know about it.  They should all be gone or terminated by now.  ZAP and Merry Christmas to you, you little buggers.  BLAH Hum-mouse.

NO sugar plums since we don’t eat sugar like that.  And if I did eat sugar plums and they were dancing in my head, I’d seriously be wondering what I’d been drinking.  Any clattering on our lawn would mean the cows got out and are making a run for it, so no.  It is not what some would call the norm for Christmas at our house.

Nope.  At our house we have CHRISTMAS MAYHEM.  Murder most foul.  Slaughter and chaos.  Threats of brutality and violence.  Total and one hundred percent WAR.  Each and every year.  WAR! Hunh! good God, ya’all… what is it good for?  Absolutely somethang… if I win!*

You ask “Why? Why at this most sacred of holidays are you at war?”  Well, I’ll tell you why.  It is so sad and it is over something so innocent, so pure, so fragile that I am sure you will be as horrified as I am by the evil perpetrated against these sweet things (on some, click on pix to see larger image, then hit the BACK arrow):

 THIS above is how I know God is into snowmen
Praising & Praying Snowmen

We don’t have peace on earth because of HIM.  I mean, gee – this is only a few of my snowmen.  And I don’t know why I feed his rage.  I guess there is just something inside me that is a wee bit… shall we say warped?  Sort of like poking a stick at a big old bear!  Heh heh heh.  I would say I’m sorry but I can’t.  It wouldn’t be true.

I’m not even half as bad as I used to be.  Last year I gave away at least half my stock to a women’s shelter.  Does that stop his whining and threats of violence?  Nay!  He dreams of hanging them by their little scarves then letting me walk in and find them.  He wants to take a blowtorch to them.  I’ve even heard rumors of chain saws and snow shovels.

I say that it is just WRONG.  What did a snowman EVER do to him?  Is it that he could never build THE perfect one when he was a child?  Did his sisters keep knocking his snowman over?  Did one fall on him?  Or poke its carrot nose where it didn’t belong?  WHAT?  WHAT would cause such animosity in this otherwise nice decent guy?

We may never know.  And the war continues even though I’ve been really good.  I promised I’d only buy new ones if they were unique, hard to find or irreplaceable.  In other words, I am not allowed to go to K-M*rt and raid the Christmas aisle.

But… YOU can!!  Yes, Virginia, there is a solution.  If you want to join me in driving Alpha Hubby Christmas Nuts, you can mail me an unusual snowman.  Wouldn’t that be the best way to spread Christmas cheer?  Bwahahahaha!!! 

Oh OK, just kidding.  Really, hon!  Don’t read any further, OK???  (To everyone else, if you send me an email or say in the comment, I’ll let you know my address… hee hee).

I’ll leave you with a little link that is Jake singing (there is an Elwood but I don’t have his pix yet; these reference the movie The Blues Brothers).  He’s singing “I’m A Snow Man” just for you – sung to the tune, “I’m A Soul Man.”  These are my fave two snowmen – and Alpha Hubby even enjoys listening to them (so he’s not all bad – Alpha Hubby, not Jake).

http://www.plushzone.com/sounds/snowman.mp3

(It requires Quicktime so you may not be able to hear it)

p.s.  Lest you think my Alpha Hubby is totally evil, he purchased the two snowmen sitting in the middle of the first snowmen picture when he was in PA on business.  He REALLY loves me, beyond snowmen.  That’s a lot.

*Reference to the song WAR by Edwin Starr (or those of you who saw RUSH with Jackie Chan and Chris Tucker)
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**WARNING-WARNING**

**LOUD OBNOXIOUS BIRTHDAY MUSIC **

*CLICK ON LITTLE RIGHT ARROW TO GO TO NEXT SONG*

OR 

*JUST TURN IT DOWN OR PAUSE IT ON PLAYER* 

Yep.  It is my big bad-boy Alpha Hubby’s birthday today (November 23rd).  He’s the big $*#& – what? You thought I was going to tell you?  No, no.  I value my life a wee bit too much.  But it’s a B*I*G* one – B*I*G*.  H*U*G*E*.  A milestone.  One that I would love to razz him about but… mine is coming so I have to be good.  Oh, it’s not that bad.  I just had to slightly razz him.  He’d wonder what I was up to if I didn’t do a little bit.  Oh, OK – I’ll tell you.  He’s 18.

17 years 8 months and 19 days ago, Alpha Hubby and I were married.  It has been an amazing journey and I am so grateful to be sharing this walk with him.  I put 18 candles on his cake because as far as I’m concerned, his life wasn’t worth *bupkis until he met me.  Otay?  Otay!

It sure has been full of wonder.  Through the not so nice slightly tight times, amazing times, better and best times, I’m so glad it’s been with you.  Wowzers, baby! 

So Alpha Hubby, for your birthday, I’m putting 13 songs on the Player just for you (list below).  Some of them are your favorites.  Some are just silly birthday ditties.  Any of them you don’t wanna hear, just click on the next song, turn it down by using the slider and your mouse, or turn it off by clicking on the Arrow (which pauses it).  Some (like Bad to the Bone) can get obnoxious so you can just go to the next song!  A couple are… not nice.  They are supposed to be funny.

You already know what you’re getting for your birthday (sly grin).  Hurry home and unwrap me… oh, errr, um, it!  Unwrap IT.  And this time your cake might have more than one shredded carrot in it, but I can’t promise.

And I’m really glad you’re bad to the bone, just for me.  You make everything groovy.

—————————

*bupkis (uncountable) – absolutely nothing; nothing of value, significance or substance

List of Songs

– # Title Artist –

1 Bad To The Bone George Thorogood

2 A Happy Happy Birthday Song Arrogant Worms (really strange song)

3 Seven Spanish Angels Willie Nelson

4 Little Red Riding Hood Sam The Sham & The Pharaohs

5 Your Man Josh Turner

6 Come a Little Bit Closer Marty Robbins

7 I’d Love To Lay You Down Conway Twitty

8 I’m A Believer The Monkeys

9 Wild Thing The Troggs

10 You Don’t Mess Around With Jim Jim Croce

11 Go with Me Josh Turner

12 Stuck On You Lionel Richie

13 Happy Twistin’ Birthday Big Daddy

One thing that strengthens my relationship with Alpha Hubby is his sense of humor and patience.  Hmm – I guess that is two things.  And boy, does he need them both because without them we wouldn’t have what we have now.

We had the benefit of knowing God was up to something when we met.  Knowing that, I believe, gave us an extra added “bump” to protect our marriage from the known danger factors.  You know factors such as eating my special cashews.

Oh, you would think this is no big deal but Alpha Hubby is a dirty low down rotten scoundrel thief.  Yeah you heard me, baby – YOU are a dirty low down rotten scoundrel thief.  

His thievery started out the first year we were married.  He stole an innocent child’s chicken strips.  That is a story for another day but suffice it to say, Alpha Son still talks about his chicken strips 16 years later.

Now the cashew issue is one that still bugs me to this day.  Oh yeah, sure I’ve forgiven him and generally forgotten about it.  Then I will see a container of beautiful whole cashews and the memory jumps on me again, taking me to places I shouldn’t go.  Places of revenge.  Of getting even.

The story goes like this.  Once upon a time, a friend sent me these unbelievably huge whole cashews knowing how much I liked them.  There were very few in the specialty store container but oh so delish looking.  I can drag out big cashews like that – eating a couple here and there, savoring every bite for weeks!  They had also sent English walnuts for Alpha Hubby.  Got that?  Cashews for me, English walnuts for him.

After gouging a small hole in the plastic covering and digging out a couple of cashews, I set the container on the countertop.  I gave Alpha Hubby his walnuts.  I don’t remember what I wandered off to do but I wasn’t gone THAT long.  I always had those cashews in the back of my mind, salivating.

The next time I went into the kitchen, I decided to get another cashew.  To my horror, the container was EMPTY.  I am quite afraid that I emitted a rather… unladylike BELLOW.  “WHERE ARE MY CASHEWS??”

It wasn’t as if I didn’t know being that we were the only two at home.  He came into the dining room, looked at the empty container, looked at my flushed (and not from s*x) face and knew he was doomed.

I truly hesitate to tell you what he said.  But he swears he wasn’t misbehaving and that it wasn’t him or his fault or… but give me a break.  He had salt on his lips and cashews on his breath.

Misbehaving.  And playing that innocent “who me?” surprised-that-I’d-suspect-him look combined with “uh oh, busted” look.  I can’t tell you how many times he’s done this in our marriage.  He really is a dirty low down rotten scoundrel thief.   And NO I don’t mark out the words this time.  Scoundrel.

Lessons I had to learn in our marriage:  Don’t leave anything in the fridge that I want to eat later.  Not without making him look me in the eyes (to ensure he really heard me) and threatening his life if he touches it.  Don’t leave the last best favorite bite on my plate and look away or get up from the table.  It won’t be there when I return.  Oh blah blah blahdy blah.

Let’s just cut to the chase.  Don’t leave any food or drink anywhere near him and actually think it will be there if I leave the room and come back.  Or look away to talk to someone.  It is gone in 10 seconds.  It always makes him feel so superior to steal my food even if I sort of sneakily let him, to keep from overeating.   He doesn’t know that.  Oh.  Guess he does now, huh?

But does he share?  I DON’T THINK SO.  Not only is he a dirty low down rotten scoundrel thief, he is also a stingy slick-willy greedy guts who doesn’t share his own food.  Case in point?  His organic peanut butter.

The other night, he was contentedly sitting at the table eating some bread and peanut butter.  He guards his peanut butter like it is gold.  If he leaves to get some milk, he always looks as me suspiciously when he comes back to see if I took a bite of his bread (I don’t… unless he’s already taken a bite and may not notice if some was nibbled off that area).  Oh.  I guess he knows that now, too.  Huh.

So the other day, I flat out tried to steal his coated up bread.  He fought me off.  So I gave up and leaned in to kiss him.  He put his hand up and stopped me, declaring:

“Stop!  You’re just trying to get secondhand peanut butter.”

Greedy guts.  How did he know?

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At least he ain’t misbehavin’ with my heart!

Count Basie, Ain’t Misbehavin (Recorded 1959)

Men and women tend to look at expressions of love differently.  She is thinking:

 OR

 OR

OR

OR

 And he is thinking:

OR

OR

OR

Now obviously not everyone fits these pictures but the point is that each of us has something we consider a romantic expression of love.  And while each picture shows something wonderful, it may not be romantic to the other person!

It is kind of funny because I think women are trained to expect those roses, diamonds, cards, flowers… and are often so disappointed when they are not the expressions of love he manifests.  Men tend to show their love by what they DO, and are usually confused when she doesn’t think it is a show of love toward her. It is really sad because when he feels his manifestation of love toward her isn’t appreciated, then he begins to feel, “What’s the point?”

And the worst part is that we women are often trained to think that if he doesn’t automatically “know” what we want, he isn’t romantic.  If he doesn’t give us exactly what we dream of as romantic – if we have to *horrors* TELL him, then it just isn’t worth it.

YIKES.  We women can lose a lot of wonderful lovin’ if we don’t get our heads out from behind that Fairy Tale book.  My gosh, we can’t read their minds so why did we ever buy into the lie that if he doesn’t magically know what we want and need, or if we have to tell him – then he’s a loser?

I remember when Alpha Hubby and I were first married – actually the few weeks we semi-dated.  One thing he would do is place his palm on my cheek and gaze into my eyes.  It made me very uncomfortable and I asked, “Why are you doing that?”

His reply was, “I can tell what you are feeling.”

It made me uncomfortable because it not only was unusual (no one had ever done that before), but it was far too personal – too private – too close.  Obviously he could tell feelings because I’d either shy away from his palm, I’d look away from his eyes, I’d slightly pull my face away.  I was slightly nervous of someone who wanted to know what I was feeling, behind the walls and barriers I put up.

Eventually, it became an expression that caused me to gaze deeply into his eyes, feeling his true love, realizing he wasn’t playing games, he wasn’t going to hurt me, or turn into an axe murderer, and that it was okay to expose myself to him.

It has been a long time since he’s done that – then again, I’m not shy anymore!  I mentioned it the other day over dinner and reminisced over it.  He has been working some VERY long hours between 11 hour work days and remodeling the house.  He is exhausted most evenings (and NO I am NOT forcing him to do this; he WANTS to).  We hadn’t had much “personal” time together and were talking about finding a way to fix it.

One morning, he came into the room I was in, took my hand and laid my palm against his cheek.  He asked in that deep romantic voice, “Tell me what I am feeling.”

Because I just knew I was gonna nail it right, I laughingly said, “You are thinking, ‘If I don’t get some s*x pretty soon, I’m going to explode.’”

‘No,” he replied, “I’m thinking ‘I’m hungry; where’s my breakfast?’”  Then he ran.  As well he should have. 

Expressions of love like fixing his breakfast.  Learning how to read one another, to tell what is in our deepest most private thoughts, to expose our desires and needs, telling our men that we need romance THEN telling him what we think is romantic.  Tell your man what turns you on.  Tell him what is romantic, to you.  Ask him what he considers romantic then give it to him. 

Even though Alpha Hubby and I have amazing romance and a hot s*x life, we did have to – ready?  COMMUNICATE to get here (and still do to stay here).  I have to tell him, as he does me, what I think is romantic, hot, and what I give as an expression of love (so he’ll recognize it), vice versa.  Here is one of the expressiongs of love he recently gave me – HERE.  Would I rather have diamonds and flowers?  NAH! NO WAY!

The closer I get to him, the more he make me see, by giving me all he’s got, his love captures me.

The Closer I Get To You, Roberta Flack