This is not a nursing post or a women’s issue post, unless you count the fact that I wanted to marry Bruce Sprinsteen when I was in high school and have all his babies, a women’s issue.  Very progressive I was in high school.  I mean seriously, there was a time in my life that I was obsessed with the Boss.  I listened to his music non-stop (I could so relate to “Baby We Were Born to Run” when I was 14…sigh).  I had posters of him covering my wall.  I read his autobiography.  I even wrote a stunningly brilliant critque of “The Tunnel of Love” album for my high school paper.  (I still have a copy of that fine critique, maybe I will post it one day).

It can not be possible that Bruce Springsteen, the Boss, is 60 years old.  He is still lookin’ good if you ask me.

But, I married a man much better than the Boss.  A man who puts up with my weirdness and moodiness.  Who is patient.  Who can hang out with my girlfriends, not in a weird, creepy, please leave the room kind of way.  Who gave me the gift of my two daughters.  Who is the best father in the world.  Who told me to start a blog, and who got it up and running for me.  Who does not yell at me when I scrape the side of my car on the side of the garage, and don’t tell him about it for weeks (Oh Lucy!).  Who has never once said I look fat or need to lose weight (even though I weigh 35 pounds more than when I first met him…TMI).  Who likes to buy me jewelry.  Who is artistic.  Who puts up with my crazy family.  Who is fair and decent and does not have a mean bone in his body.  Who is blind to color, religion, race, social status, and even politics (well, not so blind to politics.  Come on now, he would be really boring if he was).  Who is gorgeous.  Who is the love of my life.  (So take that Bruce!)

Happy Anniversary Shmoopie!

Love,

Schmoopie too!