While DH was cooking dinner tonight, he mentioned that he was disappointed that no one on his MySpace friends list had said anything about today being 9/11. Considering that I'm on his Myspace friends list and wanted to save myself from being cut (which is a Big Deal on the internet, you know), I quickly offered up, "Happy 9/11, babe!"

"Ehh, not the word I would have chosen, but thanks."

My DH is an extremely proud citizen. Dare I say, patriotic. Much more so than I am. He has a very high respect for military and I'm pretty sure that if the kids and I were to perish in some sort of unfortunate incident tomorrow, he'd sign up for the Marines on Thursday. September 11th is a very sacred day to him and he takes it very seriously. Not that I don't -- but I guess I'm just sort of removed from the whole thing and it's hard for me to relate any emotion to it.

I just typed up a blurb about what I was doing that day and how I felt (or really, my lack of feeling) and I just can't post that. It's not me. I still don't feel much of anything about the whole thing. I feel like I should, but I just don't. My mommy board has a couple conversations going on about 9/11, one specifically about how we will explain this event to our children several years from now. I will be honest and say that's not something I ever really think about. My husband would choke on his Keystone Light if he knew I considered saying, "Eh, they'll teach them about it in school." I think it is safe to say that I will leave all the explaining of wars and politics to him.

I'm an eternal optimist in that regard and live by the belief that "everything will work out." Bills will get paid, the baby will sleep through the night eventually, my mother-in-law will appreciate me some day, I will be skinny again soon enough. I don't worry about the hows or whys of getting there, I just believe that it will happen. That line of thinking will probably come back to haunt me one day, but for now it works and I'm all about living in the moment.

And now, for something completely different, because I can't let it get too serious around here. At the beginning of this post, I mentioned that my husband cooks dinner. I know, I know, amazing, right? Well, not only does he cook, but he also a knack for coming up with quirky ways to show his affection. Once, I came downstairs one morning to find a note propped on my keyboard that read "I <3 You." A couple days after that, I was working on my computer when an Outlook reminder popped up. "Your husband loves you" was set to take place in ten minutes.

It took him a few weeks to come up with something to outdo that one, but he did it today. When I came into the office this morning, I noticed that my bag of Starbursts had been emptied onto my postage scale. The first thought that popped into my head was that DH had fished through them and picked out all his favorite kinds and left me with the rest. Because that is totally something he would do (although he would leave the pink ones for me because he's just sweet like that).

An hour or so later, I was digging through my embroidery thread, which is next to the postage scale. I looked down at the square candies and about melted into a puddle on the floor at what I saw. He had spelled out his love for me in fruit chews.

Now, my husband is the king of cheesy, but is that not adorable?? Don't get me wrong, he's not perfect. He has his fair share of undesirable qualities. Like his tendency to tell me things like, "I had the most awesome crap this morning. I considered leaving it for you. It was like a coral reef, emerging from the water."

So see, he kind of owes me.