Erica Lucke Dean

"Making the world a better place, one book at a time."

it's not always good to be the queen

I had other blog topics for tonight, but like many nights, I thought of something better in the final stretch to blogtime. 

The inspiration came to me while my daughter watched an all-day marathon of the Showtime series, The Tudors.  If you haven’t seen it, it’s the story of Henry VIII of England and his 6 wives.  Unlike the portraits I’ve seen of King Henry, the TV version is pretty swoon worthy. 

So in catching glimpses of Henry as he divorced, beheaded, mourned, annulled, beheaded (again), and widowed his six wives over the course of an entire day it got me thinking about my own husband.  You know the one, I bitched about him last night in my blog.

Well…maybe “bitched about” is a bit harsh, but I did write about how my husband doesn’t shower me with compliments every day, considers me “unique” (and other assorted not so drop dead sexy type things) and otherwise fails to tell me on a daily basis how loved and wonderful I am.

Fairly typical guy type stuff, I’m certain.

But as I watched hottie Henry chop the heads from his second and fifth wives, it dawned on me that perhaps I was a bit unfair to the hubby.  Maybe it's a good thing he doesn't treat me like a queen.

I have no doubt there are days when my husband would like to casually trip me as I walk across a busy intersection, but in truth he has actually prevented me from stepping in front of a moving vehicle on numerous occasions.  He was there to pick me up during at least two of the times I’ve gotten a concussion, and he even broke land speed records reaching me when a panic attack convinced me I was dying of a massive coronary.  There was even this one time I slipped on a dog toy walking through our bedroom.  My feet came out from under me and I hung in the air for what seemed like the longest time before falling back to earth with a resounding thud, knocking the air out of me and spraining my boob.  I know…who the hell does this but me, right? 

Even if he may doubt the fact that I have a sound head on my shoulders, at least he’s not trying to separate the two permanently.  Basically, he’s there when I need him, even if he’s rolling his eyes at my absurdity the whole time. 

Until the next time…I’ll be kissing up to my husband just a little.

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