Headless Husband. Ordinary Days.

Since Steve and I work on weekends, we usually take Fridays off.  And since yesterday was Friday, we did a lot of day off-ish sorts of things together.

After I took Sarah to school, Steve and I rode 45 minutes to and from the north bridge.

And speaking of bicycles? The following picture affords you a rare glimpse of The Bike-Riding, Green-Shirted, Helmet-Headed Preacher’s Wife of Manteo Species. Rumor has it that this particular creature often takes photographs of other people but is rarely in photographs herself.And that is why you are being invited to take a moment to somberly appreciate this photo and its unique and accompanying rareness.

After our bike ride, we decided we should do something especially romantic and memorable and so we took our stuff to the recycling place.   (I know, I know. We live such exotically exciting lives.)

As you can see, I was a really big help to my husband in the recycling process.

I took important pictures. . .

. . . and I stopped to (literally) smell the roses.

Eventually though, Steve caught on to my sneaky tactic of Taking Pictures to Avoid Work and he put on his most husbandly tone to shout, “Tote that barge!  Lift that bale!”  (And also other lyrics from famous songs.)

And so I sighed loudly, put down my camera and picked up this box of incredibly dense and heavy cardboard weighing approximately 7,032 pounds.

Try not to be over-awed by the size of my biceps, even though I know that they are thrilling to behold. (Well, if you can see beyond the glare of my alarmingly pale skin, that is.)

Once we got to the recycling place, Steve burst into action and started unloading stuff and I burst into action and started taking pictures of him bursting into action unloading stuff.   (We make such a great team.)

When we got back home I spent a few minute sorting a box of books were given before going inside for a minute.

When I stepped back out, I was confronted with a truly horrific scene, namely, The Headless Husband!

Thankfully, Steve’s headless condition did not last for long because he recapitated himself forthwith.  (Big sigh of relief here.  There are few things worse than having to live with a headless husband.)

After I recovered from my fright, I watched him continue to do whatever mysterious work he does with all those little tool gadget widgety thingamadoodles.  (Can you tell that I take great pride in choosing exactly the right words for my blog entries?)

I would tell you a lot more details about the rest of the day but I doubt that you could stand the excitement of trips to the car parts place, running errands, taking Sarah to work, grilling fish for dinner and watching the Iron Lady on DVD.

But it occurs to me as I look back over that quietly non-remarkable day, that the richness of life isn’t made up of Big Event Days, although those may be the ones we tend to remember the most vividly.

Instead I think that life’s richness is added to by bit by bit—by the beautifully ordinary days that don’t take up much space in our memories but still manage to fill up all the places of our hearts.