Finally a post...

So it has been over a year since I have updated on here, but when I created the blog the only promise I made was that I wouldn't make any promises about keeping it updated. So I guess I held true to that promise at least, right?! :) Anyways since it's been so long there's lots of updating that could be done, but I'd rather just jump into this and start with what's fresher on my mind: My husband is great. And that's not an April Fool's Joke either! ;)

I know a lot of people would agree that his/her significant other is great and w

onderful, and I believe them because they likely are, but in the last 24 h

ours when I think about Chris' greatness it's because of a lack of my own. Here's the little story:

Yesterday was a b-e-a-utiful day out so I was looking forward to Chris' lunch shift to be over so we could enjoy some tennis, our latest hobby. As C

hris neared Bluffton, I left the baseball game to meet him at the apartment to grab our tennis gear and we headed to the courts. Now I am the one who [nearly] always wants to play tennis. It's my current outside game of choice and so naturally I both look forward to it as well as talk s

ome smack leading up to it. We get out there and play the first game [we have our own modified rules because we don't know the real ones so a 'game' to us is to 21 and you have to win by 2] and of course Chris won. No surprise there, he usually does. This time though, not only did he win, but I also

felt as I sucked quite a bit. So it was time for game #2.

Game #2 started and about halfway through after I had thrown my racket and began tearing up, I stormed quickly walked off and declared 'I'm done!'. Chris chased the tennis ball that I hit as hard as I could in the opposite direction and then followed me back to the apartment at a [safe] distance. I didn't want to be talked to, I didn't want to be touched. I put my tennis stuff away, got a glass of agua, sat on the couch and flipped on the boob tube. Chris quietly sits next

to me and asked if I felt [physically] okay, then when I finished my glass of ice water, he offered to get me another. After a few more moments of my silence, I blurted out, 'WHY are you SO nice?!'

He put on a smile-smirk and responded, 'Because you aren't mad all the time.' And he's right, I am not mad all the time or even close, but I was being an awful big baby at the time.

This is just one thing that makes him so great, and while it's not an excuse for me to act irrationally, it commonly shows through when I do. I didn't quit playing tennis because I was physically hurt or was experiencing the side effects of the placebo pills, although the latter was true, I quit because I was mad. I was mad that I was the one who wanted to play tennis, yet I was the one who was getting my butt handed to me on a silver platter racquet. I had no excuse, but he loved me well through it.

Oh, and after supper we went out and played 3 more games of tennis. I lost, but the racquet never slid across the court and it was much more enjoyable for all!