Wrangler Dani

We’re in Texas. And, following a healthy obsession with holiday themes that started in young childhood, I’ve been thinking a lot about thankfulness, what I’m thankful for, and what I would write on a Thankful Note to put in the Thankful Box (a shoebox that I lovingly drew happy pilgrims and indians on as a wee tyke, yes I meant what I said about the holiday theme-love) if I still had access to one.

And, really the biggest thing for me, that I am incredibly and unbelievably thankful for, is my husband. (All you single-types who can’t bear mush can avert your eyes, I don’t mind) (But seriously, you might should keep reading and get some good tips on the kinda man you want, because honestly you won’t find better) (Enough with the parentheticals).

No really. He’s the best man for me in the best possible way. For instance, he gave me “Going Rogue” on the flight out here as an early birthday present. See? Awesomest.

Or, if you’re not impressed by that, get this: he made me go running with him early in the morning, and we RAN RIGHT BY an open and very fragrant donut shop without stopping. Now that’s power.

And then of course, there’s the little things he does that just tell me I’m his number one, and make me all blushy and soupy and gushy inside. Like when he catches my eye across the room, when he tells me I’m pretty, when he drives everywhere and lets me sleep, and when he “checks in” with me just to be sure I’m OK. When he falls asleep with his hand on my back, when his whiskery kiss is the first thing I feel in the morning. When he brings me coffee, and when he’s patient with my grouchy moments. When he is manly in the tough and reliable sense, and when he beats me at tetherball because he’s TOO TALL TO BE ANY FUN, and when he makes me laugh although I feel competitive or frowny.

I’m thankful that he’s logical and sensible, that he is willing to sacrifice to put my needs before his own, that he pursued me and won my heart with gusto, and that he never gives up without a fight. I’m thankful that he is from Texas and we both love the Lone Star State. I’m thankful that we think the same things are funny, that he’s more patient than I am, and that we balance each other so well. I’m thankful that he lets me rant about politics and has never backed away from healthy debate. I’m thankful that he gets the check, opens the door, and steps up when a handyman-type is needed. I’m thankful that my name is his, that he is mine, that we are so blessed.