My sweet husband

“…because I know it makes you happy.”

I like things the way I like them…

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My husband, of eighteen years, understands this and he does things like…

me. “Honey, you made the bed! Doesn’t it look great made?”

him. “I couldn’t care less actually, I only do it because I know it makes you happy.”


me. “Let’s organize the garage today.”

him. big sigh, “ok.”

me, after we are finished, “Oh my gosh, doesn’t it just make you happy to have all this organized?

him. “Not really, it never bothered me. I only do this because I know it makes you happy.”

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It’s getting COLD here in Australia burr...

The days are getting shorter (June 1st was the first day of winter here) and over the last few days especially, it seems like someone flipped the winter switch to ‘on’…all of the sudden, jackets are not enough, but only last week it was warm in the sun—still feeling spring in the air.

During the week, after W and I have done our million things for the day and kids are tucked up in bed, it’s our time. We snuggle up under a blanket together on the couch. W always feels my feet. If my feet are cold, he takes off his warm socks and puts them on my cold feet…is that love or what?

Back when my grandparents were newlyweds, in the wintertime, my grandpa use to take the blow torch to the outhouse toilet seat (must have been metal), and warmed it up for my grandma’s bum…now is that love or what?

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Dirty hands…

I have always hated getting my hands dirty. Sounds weird but it’s true. When I was only two years old, I was in the hospital for a couple of weeks—they were worried about my kidneys. My mom told me this hilarious story about my stay in the hospital (also this hospital visit are my earliest memories). Other kids were finger painting and I really wanted to paint too, however, I would put my fingers in the paint then wash it off. I did this about 3 or 4 times before they finally stopped me. The paint never made it to the paper.

Motherhood has helped with this OCD-like trait that I have. I remember when two good friends (and their three kids) came from Alaska to visit us in Australia. I had been a mom for about six years by this stage. Anyway, I was getting dinner ready while talking to them both and at one stage I turned around to look at them and they both looked like a deer in headlights.

“What?” I said.

“You’re getting your hands dirty.” They said completely shocked.

“Oh that, yeah, well kids have softened me I guess”

So, I can get my hands dirty but it’s hard for me…Maybe that’s my SLUDGE B?


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Where do you buy your meat?

I buy our ground beef (mincemeat for you Aussie’s) from Costco in a big portion then freeze in small portions. It’s a dirty job and I dislike doing it, but because I like things the way I like them… I weigh out small meal size portions, put them into Ziploc baggies, push them flat and freeze them.  After they are frozen I stand them up on end and line them up under a little shelf I have in my freezer. Phew! Yes, I know.

My beautiful husband has watched and learned how to do the meat… for me…

exactly. the. way. i. like. it. done.

…because he loves me. There is no other explanation for it. Who would do something like this for someone else, when…

  1. He could care less about the organization of the freezer.
  2. Why weigh them out and not just stuff them in the Ziploc baggies?
  3. He knows I will do it because I’m anal like that, but he still does.

Even though there are things he does that drive me batty, I love him unconditionally because my Heavenly Father sent him to me.

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Eighteen years of marriage.

He has learned to understand me.

He gets it. He gets me!

…and I hope he see’s that I get him too.

Love you W, thanks for loving me♥♥♥

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