Mancunian Candidate

I just got an email from my husband that read:

“Read the very last line. [link to article online]
I love you.
I want to be home watching Leta while you nap.”

Let me address the beginning line of this email first because it has a lot to do with the rest of what I want to say. The last line of the article he wanted me to read refers to residents of Manchester, England as “Mancunians.” Over eight years ago when Jon was married to another woman and I decided that there was no God because the man I was supposed to be married to was already married and how could a loving God do that to a loving daughter who had paid a full tithing her entire salaried life, he and I had an argument over what people from Manchester, England were called. I had spent a semester abroad in England and I was certain that they were called “Manchurians.” Don’t ask me where I got that notion. I may have graduated with a degree in English but until the age of 18 I didn’t know that “fixin” as in “fixin to” should end in a G, IF IT WERE EVEN AN ACTUAL PHRASE.

Jon had served a Mormon mission to Manchester in the mid-1980’s which means that he had a tiny teeny itty bitty bit more authority on the matter. But when he suggested that they were called “Mancunians,” I laughed in his face. I think I remember telling him that Mancunians were characters in Gulliver’s Travels, because I was an English major and don’t challenge me when it comes to literary trivia, I’ve read ALL the Cliff’s Notes.

So they’re called Mancunians after all. And the characters in Gulliver’s Travels, those are Lilliputians. You can see how I was easily confused.

Jon and I constantly do this to each other, bring up something from the past where one of us is proved wrong. It’s our way of flirting with each other (I won’t tell you the other ways because Jon made me promise that what he said the other morning about something and something, those types of things stay OFFLINE, but oh, what a laugh you would have if I were to tell you. I myself laughed an entire morning. I’m still laughing. You see, he was standing in the kitchen and he goes, “Heather, SOMETHING SOMETHING SOMETHING,” and for the rest of the day I kept saying it back to him in a lovingly mocking way, “SOMETHING SOMETHING SOMETHING.” This is how married people entertain themselves.)

Yesterday morning on “The Today Show” they were asking people what they would be doing right now if they could be doing ANYTHING. And so Jon turned to me and asked me the same question, and at first I thought I would blurt out something crazy or exotic or unimaginable, something involving vast quantities of illegal substances, but nothing came out of my mouth. I was stumped until I realized, holy shit, I’m doing exactly what I want to be doing. And that’s what I said, “I wouldn’t want to be doing anything other than this right now.”

I really hadn’t thought about it, but I can honestly say that I am extremely fulfilled with staying at home with my daughter. I’m lucky that I have this option, that I don’t have to work a full-time job, but not until recently did I realize that I really like what I’m doing. If you had asked me the same question a year ago I would have said ANYTHING BUT THIS, but what a difference a day, a month, a year and some FDA approved meds can make.

Jon and I are living the type of life we have wanted to live since we started dating: we have a house with a backyard, lots of family nearby (even though they all wear that funny underwear), beautiful landscapes to explore throughout the year, and gigs of TiVo hard-drive space filled with shows we both enjoy watching together. Of course, I never really wanted to leave Los Angeles, and yes it would be lovely to have a beach-front bungalow in Santa Monica, but neither Jon nor I were willing to sell drugs to fulfill that desire. So we made sacrifices here and there, took a hard look at how we really wanted to live, and here we are back in Utah. Neither of us EVER thought we’d be here, but now that we are we couldn’t be happier. THIS IS NOT AN INVITATION FOR MISSIONARIES TO KNOCK ON OUR DOOR. I WASN’T KIDDING WHEN I SAID MY HUSBAND WOULD KILL YOU.

As for the last two lines of the email Jon sent me, that goes straight to the heart of why I am so filled with hope and happiness right now. My husband loves me, he tells me this all the time. He tells our daughter how much he loves her all the time, and my God, you should see how much that kid loves her father. I don’t ever want to be caught taking any of this for granted because I know just how lucky we are to have each other, how lucky we are to be able to grow with our daughter, how lucky I am to witness most of it. Life is really good, and God, it feels good to be able to say that.

I love you, Jon.

I love you, Leta.

I love you most of the time, Chuck.