Christmas Presents (also titled "Ahh, Men..."

It's the last day of November, which means that, once again, I'm trying to get a feel for what my loved ones would like for Christmas--as well as sending out subtle and not-so-subtle hints of my own.

Because of how little time passed between our decision to marry and the actual marriage, I don't have an engagement ring, which is okay. So for Christmas, I'd really like for Fran to get me a three-stone diamond ring, where the three stones symbolize "past, present, and future"; I could wear it with my wedding band, as I would an engagement ring.

To get the message across, I left the website with the ring up on my desktop in the living room when I went to bed last night, so that Fran could see it.

I came home to find a copy of the email I sent him before bringing home Bó, which reads: "I know you're not ready to adopt a dog yet, but what about fostering one to save him from being euthanized??," along with his reply that he wouldn't say no, but that he wasn't sure it was the best time.

There now sits on his computer keyboard a picture of Bó and Fran playing tug-of-war, the latter with a huge grin on his face. Underneath the picture is a note saying, "I'm a size 6."

Six Months

If you had asked me a year ago whether marriage was in my future in the near future, I would have said no. Yet here I am, celebrating six months of marriage to a wonderful man, whom it is my privilege to know, to love, and be loved by. It is a gift to be able to share my days with him, both good ones and bad. And I'm looking forward to many more months and years together, growing together in love and happiness.

Happy Anniversary, Fran.

My Husband's Birthday

Last Thursday was my husband's thirty-fifth birthday, and his first in America. I know that it must be tough for him to be separated from his family and friends, but he's become such a special part of our family, and my parents and I were glad to help him celebrate. I look forward to many more birthdays with him.

Dreams

For the past few nights, I've been having the strangest dreams. In my dreams, Fran and I are still together, but he's still living in Ireland. In some of the dreams, we're married; in others, we're still dating. In some, we're physically together; in others, we're still on two separate continents. But all of these dreams are united by one thing: in all of them, he's breaking up with me. I know this must be a manifestation of my fears of losing him, but that doesn't stop me from awaking with a knot of fear in my chest. And I'm always surprised--and relieved--to find that he's still here.

Cat Escapades, Part 3

Last night, I was lying in bed, watching TV. The cat, Andy, was lying on Fran's side of the bed, while my husband was brushing his teeth and getting ready for bed.

When Fran came into the room, he told the cat to move from his side of the bed. No response. He flipped the blanket over him, to see if that would irritate Andy enough to make him move. Nope. So finally, he picked the cat up, dropped him at the foot of my side of the bed, and told him, "My spot." The cat FLEW back to Fran's pillow before he even had a chance to stick a TOE under the covers!! So Fran repeated the procedure: pick up Andy, put Andy at the foot of the bed, and say, "My spot." This time, he beat Andy, lying down on that side of the bed first.

Well, did it faze the cat? Nope. Without missing a beat, Andy promptly changed direction. He walked up to me, rubbed up against my face, and looked at my husband, as if to say, "Your spot; MY girl."

Cat Escapades, Part 2

My husband, Fran, was getting his breakfast this morning. He'd put his bowl of raisin bran on the kitchen table and went to the fridge, which is located next to the table, to get some milk for his cereal. In the time it took for him to turn around to get his milk, the cat, Andy, had jumped up on the table, and was getting ready to stick his nose into Fran's cereal. Predictably, my husband unceremoniously dumped the cat onto the floor.

Later in the morning, Fran was went to walk back into the kitchen from the living room, only to find Andy sitting back up on the table, facing the door and patiently waiting for my husband to see him there. Could it be more obviously a dare?

Pets are like two-year-olds that never grow up.