AmyMusings

My husband and I fold laundry together. It’s one of the only chores we can share and still enjoy each other’s company, not only because it’s the only household job that neither of us has passively and purposely fumbled to get out of, but because we joke around a lot while we’re folding, like we just met.  Read more >

 My husband speaks three different languages. It’s like being married to three different people. He takes on a different personality with each “language”. When he talks with the guys at the coffee shop or at a party of college-educated peers, he speaks perfect English. He appears to be current, articulate and clever.  Read more >

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I consider myself an expert in the field of Non-Verbal Communication. My husband is an engineer, which is to say he has a PhD in Non-Verbal Communication. He was on the Dean’s list when I met him. He flourished under the tutelage of a blue collar step-father, a man of few words: “Who left the milk out?” and “I’m going out.”  Read more >

 I should have known my life would resemble tectonic plates not meant to hold still when my first sentence at the age of nine months was “eff routine”. I didn’t say it out loud, of course, or even know the words. But inside I felt their meaning. I couldn’t walk or talk yet, but I threw myself into the part. A restless method actor.  Read more >