He Really Wants Me to Write About Him

So, here goes. Rick. My husband, companion, confidante.

One night last week, he came home from the gym quite proud of his workout. He told me that he did this, that and the other. Most of the details I have since forgotten. But I do remember this one snippet...
Rick: I played basketball at the end.
Ami: (with surprise) You did?
R: Yep. I'm pretty good.
A: What, was it a Little Tykes basketball goal?

You see, my husband is all of 5'8" with shoes on! We are vertically challenged in this house. I'm all of 5'1", so I can't really talk. But at least I don't try to claim talent on the basketball court.

And he was playing by himself, so there was no competition for him. There were also zero eye witnesses.

But I love him, so I write about him.

He's actually sitting behind me right now playing his guitar. I'm still not certain of his basketball abilities, but I am certain that he is diversified. His Bachelor's is in Russian, which he used to teach English overseas for a time. His first Master's is in Applied Linguistics, which he used to teach to international students in the good ole USA. Then, he taught himself some technical writing skills, which he used to do some techie stuff that I don't understand. And, finally, three years ago, he decided to get his MBA and become an IT Auditor. He's a good cook, a wonderful husband, and an even better daddy. What more could I ask for?

I love you, Ricky!