SH and I had a great Christmas. We were home, just the two of us. He didn't work. Not even once. I don't know if he even looked at his email. "But the Europeans! But the Indians!" They can wait is what I say.
We ate of the cream-cheese stuffed, bacon-wrapped jalapenos from the Pioneer Woman. We had bacon-covered beef tenderloin on the grill. Yes, we like our bacon. Yes, SH grills even if he has to walk through snow to get there. Yes, the first meal SH prepared for me was steak and veg on the grill on his snow-covered patio when he flew me from Memphis to Milwaukee in December.* Yes, I married a crazy man. But I still like him.
I gave SH time in a recording studio as his Christmas present. He is going to make a CD. That's the cover above. He wants me to write a novel, which is fine with me, although the timing is yet to be determined. Let's just say that if I publish before certain events come to pass, certain people who know SH might never speak to SH again and he needs to decide if he is OK with that. I am willing to pay that price so we can have winter place Key Biscayne.
But now, maybe we can sell his CD and get rich from that and get around the whole book thing, although really, it's not like the people who would never speak to SH would ever watch Oprah anyhow, so maybe it's not such an issue.
* Yes, this was when I was dating the Moroccan millionaire with whom I had just spent a week in Paris but who expected me to pay my own way there and then who only took me out to eat twice because you know, he was sooo tired of eating out so instead we got food at the grocery store and ate at the kitchen table in his cousin's apartment while he watched TV. Was I an idiot? Oh yes I was. Oh indeed I was. All this and more coming up in a few months in my CF archives.