Each day, a new surprise

For instance, tonight over a dinner of stuffed portabello mushrooms, I asked David where he got the "hang loose in Hawaii" tshirt he is wearing. And he said, well, naturally, he got it when he visited his former girlfriend in Hawaii. Where she actually lived--oh, and he visited her parents, too. (They met in California, many years ago, and when he moved away, the relationship dissolved.)

Just a day in our lives, where we're discovering something new about each other almost every day. And we are constantly asking each other, "Why are you doing THAT?" I promise, we would think each other very strange individuals if we didn't explain the reasons we do things the way we do. 

Sometimes one of us will look at the other and say, "That's cool. I never thought of doing it that way. That really works." And occasionally, we will look at the other and just shake our head and laugh. Because the way each person does something is completely normal to them, utterly routine, even. But it can seem almost utterly bizarre to the other half.

So after the Hawaii tshirt discussion, David ventures to ask, "When was the last time you had a car accident?" And I said while that would be in the back parking lot of my former employer's office building, on a really icy Michigan morning, when another employee plowed into the back of my vehicle."

"Right," David replies. "About two years ago."

I raise my eyebrows in surprise. Turns out when David switched my auto insurance over to his carrier, they delivered this information to him, and I had just corroborated what he learned. But he promises he wasn't trying to catch me or anything. Really, he was just making conversation.

And here is the habit David is breaking, just for me, even though it seems almost painful to do so. David likes tortilla chips and salsa. Which isn't a horrible habit, except that he likes to sit in front of the TV eating out of an open bag and dipping each chip right into the salsa container. Saves dishes, he says. To which I "harrumph." (I never pictured myself "harrumphing," but I do!)

Turns out my sister-in-law had the same conversation with David's brother early on in their marriage: "Please put your chips in a bowl. That's the only way for you to see how much you're actually eating." 

And I think I said the same words, almost verbatim. So David is trying to get used to the bowl thing--and as for the salsa container thing--well, ladies, you must pick your battles. You see, whenever I'm slightly or very annoyed over any habits, I remind myself of the amazing man David is, working so hard, tending our yard and garden, cooking, cleaning up, and even vacuuming or doing toilets when the needs presents itself.

Then I remind myself that I, too, have a bevy of weird and unusual facets to my personality, manifested through my habits. Here is just one: I cannot buy a whole package of mentos. Um, actually I can buy one--but if I do, I will absolutely, hands-down, eat the whole thing right away. I can't save them for later. They beckon to me. And this is what happened last week, when I confessed to David my mentos compulsion. I had bought the package at Meijers earlier and had been munching mentos since then. I told him between mentos that I had a secret to share about myself as I proceeded to eat the whole little box. I can't remember for sure, but I don't think he ate even one. (But I might have offered.)

Ah, love is a many splendored thing, especially when you get a partner who loves you despite and perhaps even because of your eccentricities. Long may true love reign, each day unwrapping at least one new "What are you doing?!?"