Monday, September 20, 2010
Not long ago, JD and I got in a fight about something so insignificant, I don't even remember what it was. But in typical JD-Aly fashion, in order to make up we had to hash out every offense endured since the last fight. After a few you-never-listen-to-my-needs here and some why-do-you-have-to-always-bring-up-the-pasts there, we finally got to the real issue and reached a resolve. Marriage is fun. Somewhere along the journey to the resolve, I told JD that he doesn't woo me anymore and how that makes me feel, blah, blah, blah. Then, he tells me that I don't make spaghetti enough. I'm serious. In the middle of a real fight where we're working stuff out and opening up, he tells me that he's hurt because I don't make spaghetti more often. He loves spaghetti and apparently, it is also his love language. So tonight I made spaghetti. With love. And fresh garlic. It was yummy and made my honey feel loved. I think. He totally passed out on the couch afterwards so I'll take that as a sign that he loved it. And that he loves me. Because nothing says love like a sink full of dirty dishes. And spaghetti.