Nothing

My wife and I have an understanding - or should I say that I thought we had an understanding - that we don't celebrate Valentine's/Hallmark Day.  I know what you're thinking: "Don't be stupid, old boy.  That's a trick."  It's not.  We actually treat each other like it's a special holiday for lovers every day of the year, so it's hard to ramp it up for the feast day of some long-dead guy.  As an aside, I wonder why so many folks who aren't into the whole Catholicism thing celebrate things like Saint V's Day, or St. Patrick's Day.  At any rate, last year, as part of the "nothing" we were doing on February 14th, my beautiful but slightly misleading wife presented me with a very touching and heartfelt little scrap album celebrating our togetherness.  And I presented her with... a thank you, plus a pseudo-irate scowl and a friendly berating for breaking the rules.

This year, I am writing her an open love letter, posted right here on my very own blog, as my "nothing."  Since it only exists in cyberspace, I think it qualifies much more as "nothing" than the decidedly something something she gave me last year.

Robyn,
How shall I begin?  You are my everything, my all, my other self.  I cribbed that from Beethoven, but I mean the words regardless.  You are the thing that makes all the dullness that crowds this mortal coil disappear into the ether.  You make my daily homecoming something to look forward to, knowing that the weight of the day will dissipate, be dispelled on my exhale as I breathe that heavy sigh, wrapped in your embrace.  I don't mean to be melodramatic, but my home with you is my haven - my shelter from the insanity of the world.  It is a place filled with love, and with happiness, and also with our very own brand of insanity.  But it is the good kind of crazy - the dancing in the kitchen and singing our sentences kind of crazy.  I am free to be as goofy and dorkamongous as I feel like being around you, because I know you love me in spite, or perhaps in part because, of it.  That sentence was clunky.  But I know you thought the same thing when you read it.  ;)  Also, you are a huge nerd yourself, so you really can't say anything about it.  Plus, you're super hot.  And now, on to:

Chapter 2, wherein you are supportive of all my loony ideas.  'Nuf said?  Probably, but I'll elaborate anyway. The other day I decided I was going to run for the office of State Representative.  Now, most people would cock an eyebrow and utter some sort of "Whatchew talkin' about, Husband?" reply to that kind of thing.  I mean, we don't have any money and I've never run any kind of campaign for anything, unless you count throwing my name it the hat for President of the Art Club in high school.  Incidentally, I took second.  That's right.  I was Vice President of the Art Club.  So, instead of questioning whether I had lost my last meager grasp on reality, you acted as though it was a natural thing for me to do.  All my ideas, all my weird writing plans and political plans and just plans in general, you support.  Odysseus had Penelope, Justinian had Theodora, and I have you.  I love you, Robyn.  Mew.  Happy Non-Valentine's Day.