Should I Wake Him Up?

Because these pictures make me (Anna) want to! He's been sleeping for over two hours now, but now I'm craving a snuggle. Carol captured every ounce of his sweetness in these photos, don't you think?














Sigh. I guess I'll just have to wait until he wakes me up at 2 am.


Photos by Carol Bruess

What's up, Max?

He's 3 now. Wow.

Who's Max? Go back a 106 or so blogs ...

and you'll see ...

how he's grown ...

and see solid evidence that Carol ...

still has ... three years later ...

... very average photography skills.

Ho hum, I say (Carol typing).

But it makes me happy to keep trying ... to be better.

Can you say that about yourself as a spouse? Hope so.

How Marriage Survives

Okay, so no one wants to hear any more about the big fridge that nearly tackled my own marriage. No worries, I'm done writing about the fridge (it's in, cooling, and fabulous). Done.

Instead, click below (or copy and paste in your browser - it's worth it) to read the fabulous Op Ed in the New York Times yesterday called "How Marriage Survives." Justin Wolfers provides a smartly researched and rather compelling look at contemporary marriage rates, the un-effects of the economy, and the way we couple-up in the 21st century. I (Carol) give it a big old thumbs up (just like my husband is now gesturing toward our new fridge, because it easily holds an entire case - in the box, no rearranging required - of his favorite beverage AND all of the green leafy things I make my kids and him consume too).

http://www.nytimes.com/2010/10/13/opinion/13wolfers.html?emc=eta1

I love research, don't you? It gives us clues and answers, sometimes for things we didn't even know we had questions about.

Dang.

The fridge is actually IN the house (yes ... it's true). And I'm still married despite it.

For those of you who have no idea what I'm (Carol) talking about, read previous blogs for clues.

Seriously. Getting the over-sized appliance in the door was way more painful than getting my dear hubby to agree to it in the first place. Here is the score:

1. 12 (the number of guys it took to get it in the door).
2. 3 (the number of visits the 12 guys, 4 at a time, had to visit our new home to make said delivery a success).
3. 28 (the number of dirty looks my husband gave me during those 3 visits from the 12 guys).
4. "Are you upset, sir?" (direct quote from one of the handsome young men who carefully noted my dear husband's nonverbals as he watched them give up after attempt #2 to get big fridge in the door). I promptly explained, "Yes, he's upset. But not with you."
5. 29000 (the lbs of spinach and other goodness I hope to fill the new fridge with, as soon as it's officially "hooked up" - yes, I know the 20-something meaning of term. Seriously. Stop it).

Instead, please pray (for me) that the dang fridge will actually cool items and make ice once it's plugged in tomorrow. Seriously. I'm worried.

Stay tuned.