Better yet, Mark thinks it’s one of the best pieces I’ve done. He’s the one with the art degree, albeit in ceramics. But everyone knows all the hot guys are ceramics majors.
His comment meant a lot to me. Mark doesn’t praise my work often. He doesn’t praise anything often, me or otherwise. He’s just not like that. But if he does, he really means it.
On our wedding day, after I walked down the aisle and stood next to him, beaming, in all my bridely glory he looked at me in adoration and said: “You look nice.”
This dress cost my parents more than my first car! Nice? It took me four hours to get ready! It's my wedding day! How about beautiful or breathtaking or like something out of a heavenly dream? Nope. Just nice. Sheesh.
Oh well, he’s steady and true-blue, not one for doling out extravagant praise or flowery sweet nothings. Picture Mr. Spock from Star Trek with good hair and killer guns. That’s Mark. There’s only room for one of us in the freak-out/Greek-out category and that position is filled.
But he told me he liked it and that’s like getting an acceptance letter from the Guggenheim. On national TV. During Superbowl halftime. Being married to Mark Prater is....well, nice.
Mark enjoying his morning coffee.
p.s. We took the boys to see Transformers last night. If you're into action flicks, go see it - really fun to watch. It's kind of a family tradition for us, going to the movies on the 4th. Nothing says independence like $4 Skittles.