“You are the greatest thing about me”

My life’s not perfect. There’s a teenage girl in our house, and a moody cat that insists on lying next to me while licking his ass. Our hardwood floors are covered with enough hair that visitors start looking behind them, thinking they are on the set of “An American Werewolf In London.” We have three complete sets of dishes, because at any given moment, two sets are piled in the sink and the stove looks like it was attacked by a blinded Rachel Ray. And of course, lest I forget, I have a chronic, debilitating illness. So why am I so happy?

A blog on gratitude is certainly the place to list off every reason I spend my days smiling, even when I’m in pain, but really, this is about my husband.

While Ron is the first person to tell me that I can’t do something, when I decide to do it anyway, he’s my greatest cheerleader. When I first mentioned professional photography might be something I could do with fibromyalgia, since I could work as little as a couple of hours a month, he was a little resistent. When I bought my digital camera, there was a lot of glaring. But when he saw the pictures I began taking, he was convinced that maybe there was something to this.

Compliments from Ron are few and far between, and the majority of women wouldn’t translate a sarcastic quip as a compliment, anyway. When Ron said “Wow, you don’t really suck,” I was thrilled. His looking over my shoulder as I process files, questioning every click I make, is his way of showing interest. We don’t share the same artistic eye, so I generally ignore his suggestions, and I trust my art enough to not worry when Ron is shrieking, “It’s over-exposed!”

More than anything though, Ron understands that photography is the only thing that is keeping me sane. Not having a job, not going to school, and having days where I’m lucky to remember my name…well, it’s enough to drive anyone crazy. So even though we both know that any given photo shoot could land me in bed for a week (and often does), he is right behind me, cheering me on. Even more importantly, he cooks dinner, loads the dishwasher, and does the laundry while I lie around recovering.

Now THAT is love!

“If it’s love, and we decide that it’s forever, no one else could do it better.”

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