A love story

My husband and I were set up on a blind date. A friend from a former job suggested that I meet her husband’s brother. Seeing as how I had had little luck in finding love on my own, I agreed to have her put us in contact. After a brief e-mail exchange, he and I met at a restaurant near my apartment. I vividly remember swigging a beer while listening to No Doubt’s “It’s My Life” to calm my nerves before departing for the three-minute walk to Tilli’s on the night of our meeting.

I didn’t want to be early, so I walked around the neighborhood a few times. And then I made my approach. I opened the door to the restaurant. It was a Wednesday evening so there were few people inside. I don’t why I thought he’d be standing right at the door, but no one was there. I scanned the bar and saw a friendly face smiling my way. He stood up. I walked over. We ordered a Harp and began our first conversation. Little did we know then that three years later we’d get married in Petoskey, Mich., and almost five years to the day later that we’d welcome a little peanut into the world.

That night we only knew we were both a little nervous. I wore flats because I didn’t want to be any bit taller than my five feet 10 and three quarter inches. He wore a zip sweater and khaki pants. We shook hands after chatting over two beers and then parted ways. I didn’t know where it would lead, but I knew I wanted to see him again.

And I did. And it must be said that he was a lot of fun to date. One spring evening, I arrived at his home to smell my favorite goodie, banana bread, baking in the oven. One fall day, he brought me a pumpkin. Once he sent me a card with a hammock on the front and a one-sentence message inside saying how he’d like to spend a lazy day with me in a hammock. There were other gestures (including one awesome one involving an extreme home makeover), but if you don’t mind, I think I’ll keep those for myself.

Now, six plus years after we met, we’re settled into domestic life. And while I think we both would admit that the butterflies we felt in the early days of our courtship are gone, something else pretty special has taken their place.

Seeing my husband as a father has made me feel even more fortunate to have found him. He’s a get-down-on-the-ground-to-be-at-eye-level kind of dad. And as I observed him the other night with our daughter, one thought came to mind: I am so very blessed!

Love you B!

p.s. If you want to read a really great love story, check out Pioneer Woman Ree Drummond’s chronicle of her courtship with the Marlboro Man (I hear it’s being made into a movie)! Start here.

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