When I first learned that Jazz also had a July birthday, it was almost a deal breaker for me. July is my “birth month” as we call it in my house, and I get to use that as a great excuse for a whole 31 days. Luckily, Jazz was born on the very last day of the month, and I decided I would grant him just one day in July to celebrate his birthday. That’s true love right there.
Jazz met my family for the first time shortly after we started dating. I think we had been on two dates? And my parents were visiting Utah and planned to spend a few days at my aunt and uncle’s cabin up in Heber. At the last minute, I invited him to come up and spend the day with us and to sort of meet everyone. I totally assumed he would be freaked out and politely decline the offer to be bombarded by my large and boisterous family, but to my surprise he accepted the invitation.
So he bravely met my family, particularly my parents and my extra friendly and sometimes indecent Uncle Kerry. We played games and ate yummy food and then we took some snowmobiles out. I had never been on a snowmobile but had lots of experience on a jetski- and how different are they really? We headed out along the trails, and I overestimated my abilities a little bit. I ended up bailing off of my snowmobile towards the top of a little mountain, hoping it wouldn’t roll over me and crush me in the process.
Jazz was a little distance away with my parents, and when he saw me tumbling down the hill he SPRINTED through the knee deep snow to come to my rescue. I had never had anyone come to my rescue before. It’s been seven years since Jazz dusted me off and helped me back on the snowmobile, and I still feel like he is consistently running across the snow to pick me up.
I’ve always loved Jazz, but I love him even more this year as he enters his “mid thirties.” I think he would be less than pleased if I divulged his true age but he was born in the 1970’s. There is no one I would rather navigate the challenges of this life with than him-he is kind and helpful and considerate and responsible.
|Lincoln’s stink eye face. My favorite.|