I have a crush on my husband.
Tonight was date night. We went to The Lazy Pug, a dark little den of a restaurant tucked under the street, run by an American gal with a sweet disposition. We like it there. As we ate our chips and salsa, I looked across the table at my man. He's 33 years old now. He has lost the gangly teenage look that he still had when we married. He's sturdy, and steady, and respectable. Tell me if those aren't attractive traits! I rested my hand in his and I said, smiling, "I like who you're becoming."
This morning, at the breakfast table, after he led us in our morning devotions, Daniel led us in a sweeping rendition of "Eye of Tiger," complete with air jabs that would rival Rocky himself. The kids looked puzzled (I was laughing hysterically) so we had to gather around youtube and watch the music video/movie clip where Rocky and Mr. T duke it out in the ring.
Working-out has come back into my husband's routine, as you can see from the pic. He jumps rope. I don't know if you've tried jumping rope for half an hour, but it is HARD TO DO. I can't do it. I tried. Daniel can, and he tears it up out there in the cool night smog. I hear the smick-smack of the rope and I admire.
Daniel has a really tough job this year. You may not know this, but he doesn't speak English anymore at work, or at least very little. Sometimes when he gets home in the evenings, his English sounds funny, as if he's trying to construct sentences like he does in his other language. It makes me smile. He's tried so hard these last four years to learn how to speak to the people in this country. I am so proud of him.
But it's hard. It's exhausting. He sent me a text this morning, after closing out of youtube and going in to work, and it read, "Just a man and his will to survive."
I told him he needed that printed on a T-shirt.