Sunday Scrabble

I played a six hour game of interrupted Scrabble with Josh on Sunday.  He beat me.  Jerk.

He made Cinnamon Rollups,  set out fruit, prosciutto, and cheese and made a big ol' cup of coffee for us girls.  His house is full of his art, reclaimed and reworked furniture, plaster and exposed brick... you can see his hand in the whole place.  It was so comfortable and cozy.  We went for brunch and stayed until 4.  Crazy right?

The Girl played his guitar, coloured in his sketch book, and rearranged his photographs.  Josh never once looked alarmed.  He's so perfect... other than that broken baby maker.  Seriously, by the end of the day, The Girl was hanging over his legs hanging out.  And she hates people.  He also has a dog and a bearded dragon, both of which were a total hit with the kid... like "trade slobber with the dog and squish her nose to the glass of the tank constantly" hit.  Josh laid out on the floor on his belly to sketch her a greeting card quality Santa.  I'm not going to lie - watching his reaction and delight in her made my ovaries cramp.

But, I wasn't looking for a sitter.  All that is marvelous, but what did I really think of him? 

He's got a great story telling bone, he's terrible thoughtful, a good host and homemaker,  his smile is quick and open, and his bum.  Oh my.  I can't believe I didn't get caught looking at it.  He flushes when he talks about the "why" he does stuff.  That makes me melty. 

Ouch, there goes my womb.