POTPOURRI

I've never been much of a potpourri type of gal. It's the kind of thing I pass in the aisles of many markets on a regular basis with no thought at all. Of course this is what I ended up with at the company white elephant party this year. 

Imagine my surprise when I bring it home and my new minted husband nods and packs it away - somewhere. We went out and about yesterday - checked out the new light rail in downtown Phoenix (another story for another day), visited his mother, checked out the indian pow wow at the Heard and generally froze our butts off waiting for the next train. Eventually we got home and there was the most amazing smell in the house. Turns out he had taken the potpourri, put it in a small stockpot with water and left it on to permeate the interior of our home. 

My husband, who is not one's immediate image of a homemaker in any sense, knows how to brew a potpourri. Gleefully - with such zest. I just have to laugh. Giggle. Roar out loud and pound a few walls. Just short of tears, I'm still in a state of amusement and shaking my head. 

I just love this man.