lucky girl

About a month ago, I noted that one of my goals for 2013 was to makeover my blog.  Here it is, February 4th and I can check that block.  If you’re viewing this post in a reader you might want to click through and take a peek at my new digs.  I rather enjoy the fresh look.  What do you think?

When first he saw the post in which I resolved to makeover my blog this year, Jeff teased about it.  Since when can you resolve for me to do something? he quipped.  My answer to that, of course, would be since the day he said I do, but I think his question was more rhetorical so I just smiled sweetly in that way I know he can’t resist and sure enough, he put his technical genius to work for me as I trusted he would.

And as if that weren’t enough, he managed to top even that over the weekend.  On Friday night, I posted this on Facebook:

That’s right.  After spending four straight weekends devoting his constant time and attention to making over my blog, this husband of mine took me on a date.  Not just any date, though.  He took me on a date to see Kris Allen–knowing full well that Kris Allen is my celebrity crush.  I could be wrong, but I’m not certain many husbands have that much swag.

The concert was in this super intimate venue downtown.  So intimate, if fact, that while Jeff and I stood in the back of the room watching the opening act, Kris Allen himself came and stood right behind us.  At one point, Jeff leaned into me and whispered, “He’s standing right behind us.”  I couldn’t bring myself to look.

Eventually, another couple came and found seats in front of ours.  And then the opening act wrapped up and Kris took the stage and–oh, be still my heart–that voice of his.  I have a thing for voices and apparently I’m not the only one.  The female half of the couple in front of us had similar reactions to mine, giving her husband the look every time Kris’ voice hit a certain vulnerable chord or when he did this hip thing that most assuredly puts Elvis to shame. Sigh.  My husband, though?  He took my puddleness in total stride and then he’d smile that knowing smile and take my hand in a way that made me forget all about the guy on stage.  He has a way with me and he knows it.  And I guess thats what gives him the confidence not only to fill my playlist with Kris Allen songs, but to deliver me right to him, as if to prove a point.

After the last song had been sung, Kris lingered on the dance floor shaking hands and indulging a bunch of thirty-something women with their requests for hugs.  Do you want to get your picture with him?  Jeff asked.  No I said, too shy.  But he ignored me and led the way right to where Kris was standing.

I won’t lie and say that Kris Allen’s voice doesn’t render me a faint-hearted mess.  Or that the smolder in his eyes leaves me anything but breathless.  Oh, but this husband of mine!  There is a spot in the crook of his neck that was formed only for me.  Like puzzle pieces we fit.  I breathe in the scent of him and chemically I react–it’s a scientific thing, I’ve no choice.  His fingers are drawn like magnets to the knots in my back and–like magic–he works them out.  With his eyes he answers the questions in mine, with his timing, he calms my every concern.  Created to fit perfectly together–I’m sure of it.  Right from the very first moment, he had me.  Has me still, in a way that no voice–no silly little smolder–could ever reach.  Not even come close to touching.