December 9, 2009


This is my charming, handsome husband Daniel.

He likes to wear Daniel Cremieux shirts. Or pants. Or jackets. Or ties.

He also likes to wear $10.00 canvas shoes from Wal-Mart. I think he used to get them from Academy, but they started printed a visible label somewhere on the shoe. And he just couldn't handle that.

He works in Texas politics and he's very passionate about his job. Sometimes he gets me really fired up about things. Like last night, as I was drifting off into a peaceful slumber, he started telling me about this evil Texas politician in Tarrant county. Then my blood pressure started rising and I had to rant. I always wonder why I can never get to bed early, no matter what I do.

He also likes to scare me in the shower. I try to tell him that the shower is probably one of the most hazardous places to scare me. Taking a shower is dangerous enough in the first place. He'd really hate himself if I slipped and died. They'd ask him, 'How did she die?' and he'd answer, '...Something startled her in the shower.' And no one would ever know the truth. Years later, a curious reporter might review the police report and say to himself, 'It just doesn't add up...she demonstrated such good balance the last two years of her life. She did yoga..."
Then Daniel would have the curious reporter taken out by a hitman and the truth about my death would die with him...
Also, I have had a life-long fear of something bad happening to me when I am undressed. For example, I just don't understand why anyone would ever sleep naked. I mean, anything could happen. What if the house catches on fire and you don't have time to grab a robe before the flames engulf your body? You'd have to climb out the window without a shred of clothing, and the whole neighborhood would see you. And your naked, charred flesh.
He gets the biggest kick out of it.

Daniel also likes to start lots of projects.

He also takes really, really good care of me. Everytime I go out of town I come home to an extremely clean house and some surprise (which is followed by an awkward moment because I never know how to act when someone gives me something. And I'm just awkward.). It kind of makes me want to go out of town a lot.

I love him more than I love espresso, and in exactly one week, I will be married to this man three years. Three years I've survived shower attacks--that's pretty good, I think.

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