Yesterday was Travis’ birthday. I think that he frequently gets a raw deal in my writing, so today, I will give a little nod to a Travis.

Travis has been married to me for nearly 26 years. That’s a long time! I am a chronic over-sharer of information. Travis is private to an extreme. Honestly, I’m still trying to figure out why WE even work. How in the world has he even learned to deal with my oversharing? On one Harrumph, I told the story of how I thought his checkered shirts looked like picnic blankets (they do!), and then mentioned that they made me think of Yogi Bear and “Hey Boo Boo, I think I see a picnic basket.” That day, his team at work put together a bulletin board in his office of Yogi and Boo Boo. It’s still there. From time to time, he sends me a picture of it. Maybe he’s trying to remind me of how much garbage he must put up with. I prefer to think that the board made him think of me and chuckle. Glass is half full over here in Joanne land.

Travis is quiet when he doesn’t know you (all bets are off after you are in his circle). I am NEVER quiet. I am not sure how he tolerates my constant barrage of chatter. I recognize my shortcoming here, but seem to have no power to control it. I even know that he frequently ignores what I am saying and I don’t care. I wonder why he didn’t end up with someone quieter. In my mind, he just didn’t want to sit in complete silence all the time. Glass is still half full in my self-justifying world.

He knows that I think he can’t load a dishwasher, and he’s okay with this little control thing of mine. I mean, really, he can surgically remove a child from a woman’s womb…how hard can it be to make sure that every dish is stacked so some jet of water can get to it? I am digressing from my nod to Travis. I mean to say, he lets me rearrange the dishwasher and doesn’t say a word. Actually, I think he enjoys playing dishwasher Jenga in an effort to see how I rearrange things, and if I can still fit in the same amount of dishes. (I can. It’s one of my few talents.) Most people would simply refuse to fill the dishwasher, but Travis just makes a game of it.

The man is a professional hugger. This is a highly underrated talent. I think marriages can be ruined by a lack of meaningful hugging. If ours goes south, it won’t be for this reason. It will probably be because I went too far with oversharing some aspect of our personal life. I think he has tons of practice hugging all those adorable newborns, so this talent just naturally transfers over. I just try to keep up.

Travis is a master manipulator. He is an osteopath after all. Being married to an osteopathic doc has obvious benefits. Crick in my neck, no problem. Pain in my back, no worries. Snip snap, just like that! Of course, back when he was a TA for osteopathic manipulation in medical school, he allowed a particularly untalented student to attempt a new maneuver on my neck. It took me two weeks to recover from that. I never went into the classroom to find him after that day. If he was late working with students, I just waited in our one car with the radio turned up and the seat laid back. It taught me the value of a good adjustment…and a good adjuster. I managed to acquire just that. Glass still half full.

After much thought, I have decided that my glass is not half full. It’s overflowing. I do have one significant concern here though. We are now around the age that Travis’ parents were when we started dating. Travis’ dad and I have always disagreed about almost everything. We have always enjoyed a good banter. Honestly, if something was mathematically based or strictly factual, I concede to his stance (because he is smarter than me) but not easily. If it is even partially opinion based, we go round and round with no resolution. With every passing year, Travis is morphing more and more into his father. I am not sure that this bodes well for us. At some point, we may just need to live next door to each other, enjoying occasional conjugal visits and more frequent hugs, in an effort to keep the peace. I will likely never get a tattoo. I’ve had Travis around for nearly 30 years and he’s still day to day, so I’m just not sure I could go with anything permanent. Although, the plan is to keep things together. It’s worked well this long.

Happy 49^th birthday Travis!! I was going to say that in my mind you’re still that 20 year old kid that I fell in love with, but we have a kid that is nearly 21, so that just seems creepy. I’ll just say that you’re like a fine wine. You’re getting better with age. The same is not true for me, but after this long, I’m probably just a habit for you, and it’s easier and cheaper to keep me around. And still, I don’t believe in soul mates. But if I did, you’d be mine! Love you!