I love my husband. I really do. And I don't want to discourage him from thinking of me on business trips. But it sort of disturbs me that the tokens of his affection come from strip malls, airport giftstores, and involve tacky embroidered shirts or books about depression written by t.v. stars.
Perhaps I should change my blog to Passthediamonds. Then on his way home from El Paso he could buy me a bullshead bolo tie with cubic zirconias in place of the eyes.
* Pictured: My fabulous shirt. It says "Music City U.S.A." but is covered by macaroni smudge. Screw the diamonds. As they say in Nashville, Pass the Zoloft, ya'll.
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