My Beloved

No one told me that when I married him, I would inherit all of the stories.

My husband is a character.  I've never met anyone with so many hilarious and amazing tales to spin (and all of them true).  There are stories about wrenches, and big wheels; stories about falling from ropes attached to trees and falling off roofs onto cement; stories about dog bites and bactine, and door to door sales and vicious marmaduke dogs; about lightbulb sales, and forklift accidents.  Our shared stories include when I called him by the wrong first name when I first told him I loved him, about a bat in our camper, and about overdosing him on Milk of Magnesia after his epic fall off the roof. 

The real story about Shane is the fact that he is one of the most trustworthy, men of integrity I've ever met.  He serves me everyday in little ways like doing the dishes and wrangling Grae so I can have a precious half-hour of uninterupted shower time.  He is a great example of what a man should be and I am continually blessed to be married to my favorite shoelace salesman . . . but that's another story.