Rhythm of Life

Not only did I have to set my own alarm clock for this morning, but I had to make my own coffee, empty out the brew basket myself, feed the dogs and walk all the way to the street and get the paper. I had to pour my own milk. Put out my own vitamins. Do my own devotion.
I know, poor baby, right?
Well, if the Hubs was home, all of this would have been finished for me. Or at least done together.
It's the rhythm of life. At least for us, it is.
The Hubs is in Atlanta, at our corporate office. He's there looking at truck options (mobile Petro's) and pre-fab building manufacturers (for plopping down a ready-made Petro's). He's also catering a golf tournament for one of our partners in the hopes that a potential franchisee might pop out of the woodwork. It's what we fondly refer to as shaking hands and kissing babies.
Speaking of shaking hands and kissing babies…
I went to a gubernatorial {who makes up words like these anyways!!?} debate at the UT Alumni Hall (newly repurposed… it's a beautiful auditorium in one of the older buildings on campus. It used to be the old basketball arena…a really long time ago.). My favorite candidate is a personal friend of ours… it's crazy to think that he will more than likely end up living in the gubernatorial mansion in Nashville soon. CRAZY. He is the former mayor of Knoxville and is just the realest, most preciously honest Christian man I know. {I know, honest politician is sort of an oxymoron, but he is. He's the real deal.) He loves Jesus and loves people and would like to help everyone… but realizes that all these things requires revenue and he's a responsible budgeter. I don't envy that job. not at all.
Sorry… I wandered down a dead-end street there… I'm back.
I love our little routines. Even when I complain about them. Sometimes I don't always want to be the laundry girl… but when he steps into that role… it usually results in me having to do extra ironing, so it's best that I just do it myself. I don't take out the trash… he doesn't dust the house. He is the resident critter-gitter… I wash windows.
We have this little pattern. This rhythm together.
I'm not a huge fan of banging this drum by myself, but it's okay. It's not for long.
I think of my in-laws who are joined at the hip. It's hard not to think about how it will look when they're not a pair anymore. I'm aware of my friends who are playing solo…and not by choice. The music they're making is not the same as it was…
That's not to say that the sound isn't beautiful.
The important thing is that the music continues…