#812: Why The Palinode Is Awesome
I know, the Palinode is my spouse, and you probably do not want to hear all the reasons why I think he is awesome, because that has the potential to get all gooey and saccharine, but you know what? I promise to be all decent about it and keep all the aaaahhhs and oooohhhs out of it. Even I, who is writing this, do not like the head-tilting, eyelash-batting, feminine baby voice that this sort of thing can conjure up. It is just not becoming for a mature, full-grown human being.
So, without out any gushy sweetness, here are my nine reasons why the Palinode is awesome:
- My nervousness around him when we were first dating gave me a terrible case of gas every weekend that I came down to visit him. It was downright acrid, but he weathered my vile affliction and fell in love with me anyway.
- He can barely make it through a lie without a goofy grin spreading across his face. Of course, his lies are usually ridiculous, like the following: Do you know why there are no puffins around here? They all died in the great de-beaking incident of aught-five.
- He photographs well.
- Whenever one of our pets dies, he does the dirty deed of picking them up and handling their dead bodies for me.
- Although he usually looks like the image at right these days due to his back being broken (but less jaundiced, I assure you), he still musters up a pretty hilarious soft shoe performance with jazz hands and the my-cane-is-pulling-me-offstage trick. Of course, that could be a result of his being on hydromorphone to deal with the pain, but still, his ability to not only deal with this less than stellar situation but also carry a sense of humour through it astounds me.
- He is smart. Like really smart. (See his weblog.)
- He tells me that my hysterectomy scars look good.
- He makes this curried cauliflower recipe that rivals every other kind of food that exists on the planet. At least, it rivals any kind of food I have eaten, and I am not even one who normally even likes cauliflower. You should stalk him down and beat the recipe out of him, which I mean figuratively, of course, because his back is broken. Actually, if you give him a bit of a massage and some muscle relaxants, he will probably scribble that magic formula out for you as fast as you could say Bless you, Sir.
- His drawings are funny, which makes me want to call them drar-rings.
- He will not begrudge my MS Paint drawing of him. (I am quite nearly sure that this point will prove true.)