Tales of a Shoebox Princess

25 years of marriage! (and 11 days) If I had a time machine, I would go back to November 19, 1988 and attend a mid-morning session in the Oakland temple, just so I could whisper to the bride "It will be work, but it will be good work and fun work. And it will work." The bride would probably think, "Go away, strange fat person," but I would smile anyway and then come back home to today and eat a doughnut. 25 years! We've lasted longer than several dishwashers, washing machines, refrigerators, mattresses, TVs, and many many fashion trends. We've upgraded computers and software, but not our spouses. We have not, however, outlasted our children (which is good--I don't think I want to do that). I could make a list of all the things I love about Jim, but some things I can't put into words. And some things I wouldn't want to publicize. And still the list would be too long. And I don't like mushy sentimentality. Let it suffice to say that I w

Jim's eyes are much better. Much much better. I can see the whites of his eyes now, and there is only a little faint pink tint to them. He's feeling much better too. He still gets tired at the end of the day, but hopefully with the Thanksgiving break he'll get some rest. I'm trying to be philosophical about having nearly 48 hours of precious vacation time lost to an illness, but part of me is whiny and wants to go back to make up for lost time. I don't blame Jim at all, mind you. I'm glad his episode was temporary and not, like, Ebola. Next time, though, we will not take a red-eye flight, because Jim literally wound up with red eyes. I'm very grateful that there was help when I needed it, from the EMTs, the hospital staff, and the branch president and his wife from church down in Marathon. I'm glad that Jim was not hurt by the fall (I have myself to thank for that--pat on my own back there for being 2 feet away at the precise moment of the first attack