Things like this used to make me sick

But in a case like this, I hope I get away with it.

My Sainted Southern Mother has taken to worrying about the way my husband and I banter sarcastically. "You're too mean to each other!" she fusses, because she doesn't get why we insult each other, congratulate each other ("Good one!) and laugh.

"That's our love language," I assure her. Then I remind her that I have exactly the same sense of humor as the man she married 43 years ago, and it took me 35 years to find another human being with that same quick, self-deprecating wit who could dish it out and take it.

So she concedes. Needless to say, my Good Ol' Boy Daddy looooooves Mr. Sweetypants.

And who wouldn't?

For the better part of two decades, I dressed in black and cried to a particular Depeche Mode song. Then I found that somebody. So when we often disagree on issues, I thank my lucky stars that he hears me out -- though my views may be wrong, they may even be perverted -- and is not easily converted to my way of thinking.

At the end of it all, he understands me. Bless his heart.

Vive le Sweetypants! You don't look bad! xoxoxoxo