Sweet nothings

Earlier this week, CJ and I were talking about something in the kitchen when she abruptly stopped and slowly reached out to my beard.  Apparently, a single hair had gotten curled upward, going against the grain.  She smoothed it down, and said apologetically, “Sorry, that one was really bothering me.”

“Yeah, my entire beard needs a trim.  It’s getting a little mangy.”

“I’ll trim you up tonight,”  she replied.

I chuckled.  “That’s ok, I think I can trim my own beard.”

“I like trimming your beard.  I love the look of fear in your eyes.”


It’s moments like this one that remind me why I married her – all those sweet nothings she whispers in my ear.


Um, dear, that WAS a sweet nothing, wasn’t it?  Dear?!?