It turns out I'm a gigantic weenie. Who knew? I mean, were there warning signs along the way? Did I participate in speech-writing competitions in high school or act in Greek dramas? Oh, yeah. I did. Right. Should have seen this coming.
So I've written occasionally about my husband. Not too much, because he doesn't really like it, but sometimes I just get all fluttery about him. Like when he mentioned the faux shutters while we were discussing the colors to paint our house via email. That's right. He said faux, and spelled it correctly. He's smart like that. His apostrophes are always in the right place. He never uses double superlatives, and gives all his prepositions a noun to describe. I don't want to see any wagging eyebrows, now, I'm talking about grammar. You're thinking "proposition," anyway. Work on those homophones, will ya? He sometimes sends me emails of ads he's working on where the customer has made gross grammar mistakes, and refuses to be corrected. They're like little love notes to me.
Yep. Full-on weenie. I'm not sorry.
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