Thursday, December 18, 2008

Keeping Warm

I'm not a romantic. The fact is, my life could hardly be compared to a romance novel. My life falls more along the lines of the absurdist play The Bald Soprano: nonsensical and unscripted and bizarre.

[I must do an aside here. I'm also not an intellectual or a theatrical snob. My knowledge of Eugene Ionesco's play hinges on my days in high school theatre. I directed this one act play as part of an advanced theatre class. Having no skills, really, this was the perfect play to "direct." Now, back to my previously scheduled post.]

I do not fall for romance easily. Displays of affection in the form of little ditties or floral arrangements or heart-shaped pendant diamonds will likely lead to scoffing on my part. I would not intend to be caught rolling my eyes or smothering a giggle, but I would likely be busted for it.

I am blessed, however, with a man who finds his way into my heart most days by making romantic gestures of a decidedly non-romantic nature. This British husband of mine, raised in the frozen tundra of Manchester, England, is rarely cold. Being of hearty British stock, my children fail to recognize cold either. Woe is me, then, the lone frozen one in the house, derided by her children on numerous occasions for my whining of the chill.

Rather than ridicule me for my weakness, Pete has found a way to bring romance into our relationship with gestures which warm my heart, among other body parts. He stokes the fire in our wood stove to tremendous heat-blowing levels. He turns on the electric blanket 15 minutes before I plan to plop down on the couch next to him. He warms my icicle hands with his own blazing heated ones, never complaining of his own dropping temperature as mine in turn rises. He surprises me when I get into bed and discover a hot water bottle blazing on my side. He lets me put my near-white toes onto his delightfully warm feet without complaint (unless I ruin it by tickling his feet.) He knows that sexy undergarments won't get me (or him) anything, and he insists on buying my Christmas present of long underwear at an REI or a similar store so he can get the truly good kind.

I think I'm getting warmer to this whole romance notion.

[Written for Scribbit's December Write-Away contest. Michelle, I know I'm not in Alaska, but I feel your cold.]

17 comments:

Janet said...

I'm perpetually cold, despite my Finland-Liverpool ancestry. Nothing says romance to me like flannel p.j.'s and a fleecy blanket. Rawr. ;)

Liz@thisfullhouse said...

Oh, I would love to find a pair of long underwear under my tree -- your hubs sounds lovely -- good luck with my friend Scribbit's contest!

J at www.jellyjules.com said...

Brrr. It's 32 degrees here, which is NOT normal California weather. Keep warm!

Scribbit said...

Your Ionesco aside cracked me up--sounds like you're a genius at picking the right material :)

Tricia said...

Your husband sounds like a delight, a bloody fine chap. This is real romance, the kind that endures!

Giggles said...

He's a keeper! A diamond in the rough for sure. My daughters husband is very similar...gets in on her side of the bed to warm it up while she brushes her teeth... I love it. You have what a good long term marriage is made of....I only lasted 23 years! Such a great candid post!

Hugs Giggles....a virtual hug is okay isn't it? lol

Jennifer, Playgroups Are No Place For Children said...

That is so sweet! My husband was born without any romantic tendencies, except lowering the lights when he's in the mood or wagging his eyebrows.

I'm also cold all the time, I was even cold when we lived in Alabama.

Kelly O said...

Aaaww. What a guy. I'd choose sincerity (hot water bottle) over earnestness (flowers and cards) any day.

MamaGeek @ Works For Us said...

I'm with Janet. Nothing (NUTHIN) says romantic like flannel pj's, a movie and chocolate.

Lori said...

Summer is just around the corner.

D... said...

That just says it all. It's the small, thoughtful things that can really get you. You definitely have a keeper!

Maria said...

NOTHING feels as lovely as sliding into a bed where the electric blanket has been turned on a half hour earlier. Ours is on high each and every night.

Bubba's Sis said...

Love is warmth - you've got a VERY romantic man, there!

Alison said...

Cool, you have a warm British husband! Mine's British too, but he prefers me to provide the heat. I don't mind because I have plenty to spare. That's what life and love are about - sharing the stuff you can spare, and even sharing when it's tough to spare :-)

Jenn in Holland said...

hahahaha! Yes, romance has it's allure!
Congrats on the honorable mention. Well deserved!

Heather of the EO said...

You're a talented, thoughtful writer lady! I wanted to encourage you to check out Bloggers Annex, join, submit posts, and be featured there! It's kind of like Blog Nosh...only different. We feature well-written posts, one per day, a variety of voices and topics. (In case you've never been there) Just sayin' Thanks!

Janet said...

I'm always cold too. The Mountain Man has the same idea of romance that Pete does (he's from Atlanta, so they still could be twins separated at birth). For our second Christmas together, and the first I spent with his family, he gave me a 0 degree sleeping bag. His sisters were all terribly disappointed since they had been hoping for a ring. (That came 5 years after that.)
My kids are both little heaters too.

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