Dear Friends, Dear Husband

Dear Friends,

The funny thing about sharing parts of your life story on the interwebs is that you start to feel like you owe people updates.

So in the end, it went like this: Mr. V did not fly to Scotland.

I am sad.

But Mr. V DID get a job as a brewer at Oskar Blues brewery, who asked him not to fly to Scotland after all because they couldn't spare him.

And I am so, so proud of him.

I wanted to--ahem--go public with this news when I had a picture of Mr.V that would display to you him in all his Brewer glory. In my mind Mr. V was wearing a shirt that said, you know--BREWER--in white on black, and he was wearing his brown wellies (which I do find most attractive) and holding up a sack of hops or some other brewing paraphernalia like a fisherman with a good catch.

But life is crazy, so you will just have to picture that in your head.

At this point in the blog I would like to invite you all to grab that can of Dale's Pale Ale or Mamma's Little Yella Pils--what? You don't have it on hand? Well go buy some--and take a sip of that gods-wrought beverage, and think a little thought of Mr. V. Who is currently, I don't know. Mashing some tun or adding the wort or pouring in the grains.

And when you drive through Longmont and the sweet scent of hops are in the air, well. Think again of my Mr. Vesuvius.

Dear Mr.V:

I am sad you are not in Scotland. But I am glad you were here on my birthday to buy me expensive Indian food and delicious gelato, to drive me home in the rain and put the little Ladies of Destruction to bed. And I am glad for the present of shopping at Anthropology without aforementioned Ladies. Even though we fought in the kitchen while my family politely pretended not to hear. We are both under a lot of strain. And right now I am really wishing you would come home because the goblins are in the room next door raising a right unholy ruckus and I'm about to go all snake-jawed on them. Again.

I mean don't get me wrong, I am filled with a joy that is beyond description to have the two little terrors in my life.

It's just that I prefer wrangling them with you by my side.

I will go anywhere to keep you by it.

Even Longmont.

(And if that does not attest to love, I ask ye mortals: what will?)

Love,

Vesuvius Of The Water Balloons and Eternal Exhaustion and Refreshing Alcoholic Drinks