My sweet husband and I will celebrate 19 years of wedded bliss this month.
And honestly, it’s been pretty blissful over all.
Among the myriad reasons we’re happy together is that we’re both very, very literary – and we love that about one another.
One of my favorite stories about my honey:
Several years ago, our local theatre was putting on a tribute to the music of jazz performer Fats Waller.
But their promotional marquee, located along a major thoroughfare, listed the musician’s name as “Fat’s Waller.”
My hubs couldn’t stand it. He pulled into the theatre’s parking lot, went up to the box office and explained to the unsuspecting woman working there that there is no apostrophe in the name Fats Waller. Or any name. Ever.
And, just double-checking, the show wasn’t about the waller [whatever that may be] of a man named Fat, was it?
Actually, my husband is nothing if not exceedingly well-mannered, so I’m sure his correction was extremely courteous. And you know what? They didn’t just write him off as a loon. They righted their sign.
That’s my man – making our world more grammatically correct, one apostrophe at a time.
It’s no wonder I love him so. 😉
