Sometimes when I am going to the bathroom bathroom he draws cartoons of what he thinks is going on and pushes them through the crack beneath the door.
If I have a zit he calls it a star.
He stopped putting soy sauce on his popcorn because I hate it.
Yesterday, when I was feeling very much like this:
He emailed this video to me from the other room simply because he said the singer reminds him of me.
Now normally a girl might take offense to any comparison to blush striped into the hollow of a cheek, to leotards and purple gloves, to that hair. But last night I needed this, the reminder that I am a girl/woman who dances with her thumbs and elbows, knees--that I have knees that can actually jerk, a beat, that I've got my foot on the accelator. God, I am cheesy, but this is why I love my husband: when I need it he feeds me my spirit.
Plus, he stares at buildings with starfish eyes and never reads my blog.
May you all have somebody who sees you dance with abandon,