The Happy Husband

Big changes

I've been working for a long time on a new design at a new domain. I wanted everything to be perfect before I actually made the move, but I'll never finish fiddling with it, and delay only makes the move more difficult. So as of now, please look for new posts at http://www.thehappyhusband.com.

Reasons I love my wife, 71–80

Ten more reasons:

Her beauty and the force of her presence do not allow me to ever take her for granted.
No matter how tired or irritable she is, she doesn't even flinch when I say I want to sing to the baby in her abdomen.
She adores me even when there's no reason for it.
The sight of a cherry tree in bloom fills her with wonder.
Her come-hither expression makes me weak in the knees.
The state of my employment has nothing to do with my value to her.
She thinks she doesn't deserve me and doesn't realize that I don't deserve her.
She understands my jokes and thinks they're funny.
She doesn't hold it against me (for long) when she dreams that I'm mean to her.
She just called up the stairs and asked if I wanted to kiss her before she started her shower.

Marriage links for the week

My friend Rey now has a daughter! He witnessed the surreal birth thanks to either divine intervention or a malfunctioning cell phone. In any case, it's a great story.

Speaking of Rey, he pointed me to a great post at Wittingshire, a wonderful family-celebrating blog. The post explores what happens when the allure of bikinis meets the logic of an eight-year-old boy.

Bloggers' reviews of Created to Be His Help Meet continue:

DrMR at Eternal Perspectives illustrates how Christians must sometimes suffer even in marriage.

Milton Stanley at Transforming Sermons compares the commitment to a spouse with the commitment to Christ, which is scary when one considers the Christian divorce rate.

Cabin Master (sort of) discusses her thoughts on interracial marriage, prompted by a post by Steven J. Kelso.

In my meme post on Wednesday, I failed to mention a couple of things:

If I could be a brain surgeon, I'd take every possible opportunity to say, "Come on, people! This isn't rocket science."
If I could be a rocket scientist, I'd take every possible opportunity to say, "Come on, people! This isn't brain surgery."
If I could be both a brain surgeon and a rocket scientist, I'd add, "Trust me. I know."

That would be so worth it.

His and Hers: Time and tide

His and Hers is a weekly discussion of a question or topic relating to marriage. On Friday, my wife and I each write our thoughts on the week's topic. I invite others to do the same with their spouses as an exercise in celebrating marriage.

What is your favorite time of day?

Mrs. Happy's response

My favorite time of day is when I first get home from work, before I'm tired to move.

Curt's response

I relish any time of day when I can lie down next to my wife and hold her. That's usually bedtime.

Naming names

The first argument I ever had with my wife—back when we had known each other for about a year—concerned the naming of babies. Long before any woman had even hinted at a willingness to bear my children, I had developed a philosophy of naming. It cast a wide net of possibilities and promised a rich and exotic variety of monikers for however many kids a couple might choose to have. My actual future wife thought my ideas were pretentious and exclusionary since they left my hypothetical future wife little say in the matter. Her ideas about names basically consisted of "Laura."

We sort of agree now on the process of choosing names, though we haven't yet agreed on any specific names. These are the things we're considering when looking at names:

Family Connection: I love the fact that my first name came from my uncle, my middle name came from my great grandfather, and my initials match my grandfather's exactly. I feel like it gives me a connection to the family. The problem is that both of our families consist mainly of old people with strange names. However much I loved my grandfather Pinkney, I'm not naming a son after him.
Historical Context: I'd love to give my child an emotional connection to a great historical figure by virtue of a name. Would that put too much pressure on a kid? I think JFK may have gotten his middle initial from F. Scott Fitzgerald, who certainly made a mark on the world of literature after growing up with the name of the man who wrote The Star Spangled Banner (for international readers, that's the U.S. national anthem, written by Francis Scott Key). George Washington Carver also did well with his larger-than-life name. But then there's also John Wayne Bobbit, whose name didn't help him a bit.
Personal Acquaintance: Mrs. Happy has met a few unpleasant Lauras since our first argument. Because of them, she can never give that name to a daughter. I used to like the name Jonathan, with all of its connotations of loyalty and friendship fit for a king, but that was the name of my wife's last boyfriend. Yech.
Literal Meaning: I won't risk offending anyone with examples, but there are beautiful names with ugly meanings, and beautiful meanings for ugly names. I'd like for both to be beautiful. Just as a side note, I found in a book the Native American name Iuana, which means "blown backwards over the rippling brook." That's just cool.
Individuality: In high school, I knew at least five Johns and ten Jasons. I want my kids' friends to be able to call their names without having to clarify further.
Acceptability/Pronounceability: I had a friend in elementary school named Chanif, pronounced HON-iff. No teacher could ever pronounce his name right, so after kindergarten he made a preemptive strike with every new teacher (before roll call) and just told them all to call him Cricket.
Compatibility: If you pick out a name that falls in line perfectly with every consideration listed above, but then the baby emerges looking for all the world like a Fritzroy, then I guess that's what you name him. One of my brothers-in-law was called Baby Boy for three days before his parents finally decided that he looked like a Bryan.

It's a heady responsibility to name a child. He will live with that name for his entire life. It may play a part in determining his destiny. Then again, it might not. Nicholas Cage did a skit on Saturday Night Live once in which a couple were trying to decide what to name their child. He shot down every idea the woman had because every name she thought of would eventually be wielded against the child in the battle zone of the schoolyard. The punch line came when it was revealed that the couple's last name was ah-ZWEE-pay, spelled "Asswipe."

Tagged by a meme

I don't often participate in memes (except for MCF's Blog Parties because he's a real-life friend). I was tagged by Paula, though, to participate in sort of a pyramid meme. I normally wouldn't cooperate with something like that, but I took a look at her blog and found it to be so earnest and sincere that I just couldn't bring myself to say no to her. I also can't bring myself to tag anyone else to do this, but if you want to do it, leave a comment and a link.

Here’s how it works: I pick 5 occupations out of the list below and complete the sentence:

If I could be a scientist…
If I could be a farmer…
If I could be a musician…
If I could be a doctor…
If I could be a painter…
If I could be a gardener…
If I could be a missionary…
If I could be a chef…
If I could be an architect…
If I could be a linguist…
If I could be a psychologist…
If I could be a librarian…
If I could be a lawyer…
If I could be an inn-keeper…
If I could be an athlete…
If I could be a professor…
If I could be a writer…
If I could be a llama rider…
If I could be a bonnie pirate…
If I could be an astronaut…
If I could be a world famous blogger…
If I could be a justice on any one court in the world…
If I could be married to any current famous political figure…
If I could be a dog trainer…

If I could be a linguist, I'd invent my own language that expresses how I think. That would take a lot of doing, because first I'd have to figure out how I think without resorting to the language I already know. And it would be difficult to teach to other people, because they'd have to understand me really well already to have any hope of grasping my language's logic. That would mean that only I and one or two other people would ever be able to speak it. It would probably be worth the trouble, though, just to be perfectly understood.

If I could be a professor, I'd teach writing. I'd make sure every student of mine passed my class with an understanding of how to communicate in English. They'd know—and care—about proper punctuation, sentence structure, logic, and organization. They would continue to learn more about written communication for their entire lives, just as I've done.

If I could be a llama rider, I wouldn't. Those things are nasty.

If I could be a librarian, I might just think I have the best job in the world. And I would work to find a way to make people understand the value of books even in the age of the internet.

If I could be a dog trainer, I'd probably think I have the other best job in the world. I'd teach people how to lovingly discipline their dogs the way God lovingly disciplines us. I'd train dogs to comfort the sick and give peace to the desperate. I'd share with everyone how wonderful true companionship can be, and hopefully make people understand the value and joy that come with love, trust, and undying loyalty.