"Age cannot wither her, nor custom stale her infinite variety." (Antony & Cleopatra)

It just occurred to me that this will be the 235th blog I've written since August 8, 2007--almost a year. I can't really fully fathom the significance of this achievement and the reason for that is it probably is devoid of significance. Well, at least two good things have been the result of this retirement activity and that is two books have been published and I'm on the way to a third. I enjoy publishing books. I love the feel of the book in my hands, and I don't really mind if no one reads it--I know that I wrote it. Today is a lazy Sunday, and a good day for spring cleaning, except that we are a little late in getting to it. While Rho was busy straightening out the pantry and the closets, I took out two suitcases that were living behind the living room couch, and emptied the contents. These suitcases were Pre-Incan or even antediluvian in age. However, there were treasures to be found within. One of them was the tfilen and tallis from my Bar Mitzvah. Another was my custom made Navy uniform with caps and tie. I can only get one leg into it; the other leg can't quite make it to my ass. As far as the caps are concerned, my brain must have grown very large since 1942 because the caps would only lie on the top of my head; they would simply slide right off with the slightest movement. One thought is that this real live custom made WWII Naval Uniform might bring a price on E-Bay much higher than I paid for it. One more keepsake found in these two pieces of luggage was a plaque from the USS GUADALCANAL which Rho's son, Jon, brought here for safekeeping.

Yesterday, I wrote about all the things I did for RH+ as her J.A.P. loving husband. So I decided it's only fair for me to write about all the things she does for me as a loving spouse. First of all, she smiles alot, which always is a delightful experience. That's what attracted me in the first place. She is a gourmet cook, especially around holiday times. When you sit down to a dinner that she has made, you know you're in for a tasty time. Her brisket recipe by this time probably has circled the globe. Besides her culinary art, she does most of the domestic chores in our marriage--bed making, laundry, taking out the garbage, washing the dishes (by putting them in the dishwasher), and the usual traditional homemaking activities as is written in the Katuba. Sometimes I help with these things when she has to go to a luncheon, or to aerobics, or to a City of Hope Meeting which she presides over as President. But I probably should do more; I try. For me, especially, she helps me by putting on my socks, so I don't do more damage to my back. She helps me with my crossword puzzles when I get stuck with an author or actor's name; she puts bandaids on my wounds when I rip my skin, which occurs too often. When my legs cramp up in the middle of the night, she gets up from her sleep to massage them; she knows how to take apart and put together my scooter. When I'm having bad dreams or flashbacks because of PTSD, she brings me a xanax. I believe the things she does as a wife are more important than what I've done for her. She and I could most likely get along without all the baubles and beads I paid for, but I could never get along without what she does for me. Period