Roy

I would like to start this post off by exclaiming how unbelievably awesome my husband is. Truly. I am very blessed to have him and his support, even when I'm a wretched biotch.

I know people look their whole lives for their soulmate, and I was lucky to have found mine so quickly. I'm also lucky that he's still as grouchy and witty and handsome as he was the first time I ever saw him. Too bad for him that I went downhill--and quick. Lucky me that my breasts still amuse him so he sticks around.


Or maybe it's my awesomeness, my baking, my back rubs or my charm.

Either way, thank you for sticking around Roy.

I would also like to state that my husband has never ever argued when I needed a girls night out and he has openly told me to 'get the hell out of the house and get your space'. So, I have. How many husbands are cool with that? Mind you, I did not say 'allow' because I think that is the shittiest thing I have ever heard. No woman should have to ask permission to have a night out, even if it's perusing the aisles at Barnes and Noble with a coffee or sitting at the coffee shop with girlfriends eating 3000 calorie pieces of cake. A marriage isn't supposed to be a job, and the husband is not the boss ladies. Don't ever ask for permission.

Luckily, my Roy knows that my mood increases when I have an hour or two alone a week. And I lucked out this week because he is giving me a whole weekend! holy shit, I know.

Where am I going?! The spa? no..
The mountains? no...
The beach? no....


I'll give you a hint:

It's vast, hot, and windy.