An ode to my lobster
This is a picture of my husband. Craggy (sorry Jules) and covered in paint, which is just how I love him. He is the silent partner in jceramics - barely perceptible to the outside world - but vital nonetheless. The things he contributes cannot be measured in money or ideas or anything like that, but just by being here, he is the invisible force that makes everything possible. Jules is realistic (how much we all need this), has virtually no expectations of me other than I should continue to be married to him and he likes me just as I am, even covered in salt or dust and clay. We are bound together so tightly because we are so much better together than we are on our own. Whereas Jules is instinctively interested in people and will bellow a "hello" to any old stranger and get them talking, I am basically antisocial. Watching Jules, I have learned how to pretend to be a member of the human race (!). Jules is also brave but I am not. I worry about things going wrong. As a result, Jules and I can embark on all manner of outdoors adventures with old fashioned derring do ... while simultaneously planning for the worst. Without him I would have become a shed dwelling antisocial old bag lady, with cats. Obviously, I am still shed dwelling and antisocial, with ownership in half a cat, but to be loved for all of that makes everything ok. Just as I love my curious, impatient, fair minded and funny husband.
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So much of global and national backdrop these last few years has been mad, scary... and getting more mad and scary still. I don't suppose its going to get better any time soon. It would be too easy