This post is part of ChicagoNow’s monthly “Blogapalooza” challenge where bloggers are given a prompt at 9 PM and one hour to complete a post on the topic. Tonight’s challenge was,
"Write about something you find beautiful that you feel others may not understand"
This one was hard. Come up with something beautiful, do they mean physically? A concept? An experience? Per usual I consulted with my husband to see if he could rack his brain since mine had turned to mush, similar to the sweet potato mush we tried to feed our six month old for dinner tonight. She rejected it just as my brain was rejecting this assignment. But not my Sweetie. He lit up like someone had ignited a firework inside a small room (that room being our bedroom where I was almost asleep at 8:42pm the moment our baby fell asleep as seen on the baby monitor I stare at each night.) Right away he came up with some great ideas and I shot them all down. Here are a few: Tell them how you hate really bad casting on television programs and movies. How it bothers you when the actor playing the son looks nothing like the actors playing the parents. How is that something beautiful I asked him. He said that it makes me appreciate it more when GOOD casting has taken place. Nope. That's not beautiful, that's just me being a bitch for details.
Then my Sweetie came up with radio. For many years I was a producer for talk radio here in Chicago. Nowadays I find very little original funny dialog happening on the dial, and believe me, I look. To me it's all the same men with the same OLD shows, so when I do hear GOOD radio (or more likely a good podcast!) I get really excited and say, "that's how a good show should sound!!" So to my husband that's a thing of beauty to me. Nope. That's not it.
In a last minute effort my Sweetie suggested laundry. I roll my eyes to signal to him that maybe I should just give up and go to bed. What is beautiful about laundry? Here's the answer. Before we got married my husband sent his clothes out to be cleaned. This meant he had two complete wardrobes as he dropped of one at the laundry place which they kept for three to four weeks while he wore another separate set of clothes at home. This was really hard for me to understand as I very rarely even went to a dry cleaners. To him sending out laundry was his one luxury in life since he hated doing it so much. Enter me, his practical new wife. We now have four baskets in our home; whites, blacks (sounds racist, right?), colors, and our baby has her own little butterfly basket. We have a system and it works. I do the laundry. He stopped dragging his clothes cross town to have them cleaned, and to my husband this seems beautiful. Sorry Sweetie, doing your laundry ain't a thing of beauty to me. Not even with the cool detergent pods we now use.
That's it. We were out of ideas. My sleep deprived brain couldn't come up with anything beautiful that others might not understand. I was just going to have to skip this month's topic. Until. Until I decided that my husband's enthusiasm and eagerness to help me out was just beautiful enough. He's my biggest supporter with EVERYTHING that I need help with. From scanning pictures to help me with my job promoting my family's hair brush company, to making egg salad for me to take to my mother tomorrow (he knows exactly how look to boil them so that the shell comes off with one peel), he does it all. I could see myself being easily annoyed if I lived with someone who regularly needed my help on a daily basis, but not my husband. It's one of the reasons I think he's going to be a great dad to our little girl. And to me that's beautiful.