Happy Birthday Larry!
When I was little girl, I had a dream of spending my life with a man with dark curly hair, a mustache and green eyes. He would be tall, dark and handsome. A kind heart and a sense of humor would be some of his most important attributes. He would be an expert at building a fire, cooking a great meal, and have a cute butt that could stand the test of time. No dream I could dream would be too big or unattainable.
He would also have to have many other qualities that you could not necessarily see on the surface though, so this was a tall order. (no pun intended!) This man would be able to build anything I could possibly imagine, at a moments notice. This could range from a two level rabbit hutch with Victorian trim to a whole house renovation. He would have to be able to wire outlets, install new faucets and paint rooms in record time, without making a mess. Since I am terrible at numbers, he would have to be able to measure properly. (Many men qualified for this small part but not the rest).In addition to these common sense qualities, he would also have to be a good writer (I’m not good with grammar) to edit the numerous books I would produce one day. He would be able to put up with my temper which can appear in great force but then is gone in a moment, like a strong gust of wind. Animals and children (not necessarily in that order, but that’s how it worked out) would be high on his list of priorities. He would be able to change diapers, dry tears, coach soccer and baseball teams,make midnight fish filet sandwich pregnancy craving runs, and endure the natural deliveries I would insist on, known by the scars on his hand from my fingernails. Singing lullabies would be a top priority and he would need to connect with his feminine and masculine sides at any time. He would be able to discuss baseball, football and hockey in agonizing detail and also be able to arrange flowers. He would be required to be the one to get up in the middle of the night for bad dreams,weird noises, dispose of centipedes and spiders in a humane manner, remove snapping turtles from the property while keeping all his fingers and be okay with wading waist deep in mud to clear drainage pipes. ( usually in the dead of winter). He would never follow through on threats such as,”It’s either me or the next cat you bring in here” or “I am not taking that wall down until you decide if you really want me to take it down this time.” His motto would be” I takes ‘em down and I puts ‘em up” ( in a cheery and affable manner) .He would also nurse animals back to health, bury the animals with full funerals that didn’t make it, again in the dead of winter when the ground is rock hard with the aid of a pick axe. He would be in charge of shoveling poop, lots of it, figuratively and literally, tolerate the goats when they eat the fence, (the one he just put up) (the indestructible one this time)and round up guinea hens, peacocks and roosters when they wander. (In a suit or the muddy jeans. Time waits for no chickens) (And a fox lives here).
He would not mind if his wife was a pack rat , he would realize that it is not normal for your sock drawer to be so clean and all the socks to match, and that she was more mainstream. He would have a sense of urgency when needed to get things done, but just as easily steal away to watch a sunset, or take an impromptu road trip.
This man, a corporate telecommunications guru by day in a suit, would be able to save companies millions of dollars, solve routing issues and delight secretaries with impromptu gifts of cinnamon buns. At the same time, he would need to be gracious and not mind when ,when, covered in mud and sweat from cutting a tree down on the property, answering questions any little neighbor girls from the adjoining development ask him such as if he is the farmer that works here. (The answer is yes, of course I am). When things get tough, he would be able to find a solution almost immediately.
He would age gracefully, and never give into to getting rid of his silver hair. As the years go on, he would continue to have a great butt. He would love me when I got old and wrinkly and grumpy. Although I would never get silver hair, he would love me even if I decided to.He would love me in the morning with my hair standing straight up, as well as when I look darn good. He would keep track of sunset times so we would never miss one. He would make all my dreams come true, and we would grow old together, surrounded by children, grandchildren, dogs, cats and chickens and maybe a pot-bellied pig.
Here’s to the man of my dreams.I love you Larry! Happy Birthday!
