If you’ve known me more than two seconds, you are well aware that I’m from Kentucky.
And I love him–my husband. But there’s one, well, issue–and it doesn’t even really count as an issue as issues go. It’s just. And I knew this going in.
He’s a yankee.
This means that he gets confused when I say things like, “Has the mail run yet?” or “What are you looking for? Well, if it were a snake it’d already have bitten ya’!” or “We might could do that.”
No one back in my raisins would be confused by any of those highly sophisticated sayings. Clearly, he is missing valuable linguistic skills which fall in the relaxed conversation category. Clearly.
This also means, and this is probably not the case for all yankees, that he has little to no appreciation for southern humor. I got my fix tonight, as I relentlessly listened to Chonda Pierce on youtube for hours while working on church-related projects.
Go Big Blue,
I’ve only been married ten months. Today, actually, marks ten months.
This week, The Hunk is at the Gospel Coalition 2011 conference in Chicago. His texts, facebook posts, and phone calls are just oozing with joy and energy and I can tell he’s seriously being energized and loving the atmosphere there right now. He’s around some ministers who he admires deeply.
But he’s gone until Thursday evening. Which means I’m solo in the mean time. And I’m surprised to find how quickly Seth’s regular presence has become normal for me. Sleeping alone is difficult for me, now. I’m, like, super-tired today (and the gloomy skies don’t help). And my house is very quiet. Deafeningly quiet. I keep listening for the door to open and footsteps to echo through the entryway.
Very recently, I lived alone. Just ten months and a day ago, no one came into my house unless they were with me or they were invited. If I ever heard someone open my door and step in, I would have been worried. I took as much mattress space as I wanted every night. 
I so don’t miss it.
But I miss him.
Peacefully,
