And by that ring I mean this ring:
Some kind of quarts set in something something silver. Close enough.
Why I was reminded of having promised this sort of post to the hubby was that today I got breakfast in bed. Every single inch of my body is hurting from yesterday's golf at the course affectionately (I misspelled this word twice yesterday, only to realize my mistakes in the car hours later, and was left wondering whether this was it [too much wine] for my brain) called Devil's Field. The tips of my fingers feel like I borrowed them from a corpse and I won't even go into the specifics regarding the aches and pains in the rest of my body (and the possible links to the dead pieces of flesh at the local market's meat-counter). All I will say is that I think golf was actually invented by the Devil (were he to exist) or at least someone posing as him. I think golf might just prove to be the thing to finish me off, draw my number, send for the reaper, or just kill me dead. Who knew that golf was an extreme sport?
But enough about my impending golf-induced death and onto the man of my dreams (a very natural bridge).
As I have previously written about meeting the hubby, I'll just launch, face first into a list of epic proportions of why Hubby is so great, wonderful, and the man for me, even after these here several years (I'm told 8) of sharing my life our lives, in hopes of scoring lunch, and perhaps also dinner in bed, as to be ready for another 18 holes tomorrow (smart she is not, but if you wanted to be nice you could go ahead and call her tenacious).
This will not be a list consisting of 'hubby is great because he loves me when I am horrible to him and to others' because, firstly, this is my blog and I will not be portrayed in that light, and secondly, that's more than evident between the lines anyways.
An ode to hubby as a human being of god-like (the loving kind) attributes:
:: Hubby loves complex lists with sub-sections and weird references, and often draws up such things on the backs of envelopes, or grocery store receipts. (I don't know why I'm opening with this, but here it is anyways.)
:: Hubby remembers every single birthday of anyone who has ever told their birthday to him and always informs me of impending important days to remember in good time.
:: Hubby is good with money, and manages to spin it in ways allowing for it to simply pass through my hands without the tiring middleman's (a.k.a. Extranjera's brain) involvement.
:: Hubby is frightfully smart, and can do weird math is his head. This balances out the fact that for some reason hubby cannot pronounce 'vegetable' or 'analogically'.
:: Hubby reads.
:: Hubby is always loved by everyone. I've found this to be an awesome buffer between folks and my personality.
:: Hubby is patient. Extremely patient. For eight years he has been waiting for me to 'grow out of it'.
:: Hubby is kind. There are still orphaned kids in Mexico who talk about El Vikingo who taught them about astronomy. In Spanish. (And this is all hush hush from the hubby, but the man doesn't really speak Spanish.)
:: Hubby tries hard and never quits. Even when all of the forces in the universe seem to be working against him he keeps on going, and somehow manages to pull me through as well.
:: Hubby always takes my side. Even when I go against my mother.
:: Hubby is a man of the world. He feels just as home in a luxurious five star hotel in Singapore as he does dancing barefoot with topless natives in Panama. Hubby is the one who taught me that it is okay to use the bathroom at a fancy schmancy hotel even if you are not staying there, rather than going into McDonalds. Actually, the nicer the hotel the better.
:: Hubby doesn't enjoy watching sports.
:: Hubby is excellent at small talk and doesn't feel the need to swear while engaging in it.
:: Hubby can keep a secret. Just not from me.
:: Hubby has never once mentioned the word 'job' in relation to me not having one, at least in front of me.
:: Hubby likes learning new things, and reading manuals. He completes me.
:: Hubby will always let me sleep in, no questions asked, even though I won't let him go to bed before I feel tired.
:: Hubby can repair anything with glue back to its original appearance, while being married to the queen of duct-tape.
:: Hubby truly feels that no woman can own too many different bottles of perfume, or different pieces of jewelry, and that despite of owning all of these trappings (and more than a 100 pairs of shoes) his woman can wear that same pair of Birkenstocks every day, for two years, without fazing him in the least.
:: Hubby is honest. he always tells the truth, but manages to never anger anyone. Regardless of numerous, and I do mean numerous, attempts, I haven't cracked his formula for this yet.
:: Hubby likes visiting his grandparents. Every year he puts effort into finding them a special present they will enjoy. This year they got a picture book of South Africa, so that they could 'see what we've seen'.
:: Hubby always likes people, until I tell him not to.
:: Hubby will go out for pizza at 2AM because my very drunken friend would like some, and upon returning not be angered by the fact that the friend is asleep on the couch and I'm halfway strangling myself with the tent-bed I'm attempting to put together, while I'm also reaching out for the pizza to munch on as he proceeds to extricate me.
:: Hubby loves animals. Even the sizable cows his parents insist are really dogs.
:: Hubby has mad braai skillz. (This point is in no way a comment on the love for animals, although I must admit my thoughts went from cow-size dogs to juicy steaks.)
:: Hubby has an endless supply of praiseworthy qualities, and he will go to great extremes to make me happy. I doubt I could have done better in any possible universe. The only potential question in the equation is how long will Hubby have me.
I'm ready for my lunch in bed now.
