On Tuesday it was our second wedding anniversary.
To celebrate I bought J-man a cactus pot and called it Grant against his will (Joel’s will that is. The cactus pot has no will, actually). This family of cactii could symbolise many things about being married for two years.
– I am the perky red-headed cactus and J-man is the manly yellow-headed cactus. The prickly green cactus is life poking us in the butts.
– Just as a cactus needs little water, our love needs little … water?
– We have been married so long that neither of us bothers doing anything about our respective whiskers. Man, check out my spiky body spikes!
– If there was a drought (of love) you could break us open and still find water (love).
– We both like to tickle each other’s areoles.
– We will have little prickly babies or alternatively, a really tall, fat son.
OK, so everything above looks like it’s been translated from Mandarin by a two-year-old. I bought J-man a cactii pot because when we walked past the shop selling the cactii pot a little while ago, he said he wanted the cactii pot. You wanna know what love is? That’s it. Listening to your husband when he says he wants a cactii pot and then buying a cactiii pot for him later.
Also we needed a sibling for Admiral Fitzwallace, who was named during the peak of our West Wing viewing.
Love you my little Opuntia (Joel. You can’t feel love for a cactus, actually).