What I do for love

Right off the bat I admit that, having said my wedding vows 48+ years ago I do not remember them word for word. Or even vaguely. I have no idea what I promised to do at the time, though I'm pretty certain there were no references to operating a backhoe or running a sawmill.

Like many a naive and innocent young couple before us we arrived at the marriage ceremony having neither experienced the much maligned joy of fornication. In today's parlance, that would probably mark us as a couple of deviants, but it didn't dampen (no pun intended) the joys of the honeymoon.

But having detoured slightly, back to the vows; we were married in a decidedly unromantic judge's office in the Cook County Courthouse. If you have ever seen "Blues Brothers" this is the destination Jake and Elwood were hell-bent on reaching in the film, and the one the platoon of National Guardsmen rappelled down the face of, shouting "hut! hut! hut! hut!"

I'm wandering like a lost cocker spaniel. The judge probably asked if I'd love, honour and obey, I'm sure he mentioned forsaking all others. It was a two-minute ceremony. He couldn't have said much, though he had a smile on him like a light bulb. Maybe he had a crystal ball on his desk that showed we would mesh like two gears in a fine Swiss clock, and he just wound and set the clock to run for years of happiness. 

But the groom has a few physical problems, as does the bride. They have added to the complexity of their lives, but not complicated the  relationship itself.  This is not to say the problems have not required some degree of sacrifice, especially on my part. 

He has a severe case of Restless Leg Syndrome (RLS) which is aggravated by food dyes, certain preservatives. We try to eat low on the totem pole. He also has celiac disease so can't eat anything with wheat, rye, or any grain containing gluten. So I've pretty much given up baking.

But his RLS flared up badly recently, and we couldn't figure out why. We weren't eating anything different… except… he wanted some chocolate and being the loving and indulgent wife that I am I bought a package of small peanut butter cups. He is not a man to ration what is good. He had eaten all but two of a 12 pack within hours. I had to howl indignantly that I wanted some to rescue the last two.

Next shopping trip, some two weeks later, I bought another package, and threatened violence if he ate my half. So he ate his half immediately and jumped around like a spider on a hot plate for several nights after.

We have come to the conclusion that peanut butter cups irritate his RLS. This is truly a tragic situation for me, as I now have to sacrifice myself and protect his health by eating all the peanut butter cups that jump (or fall) into my shopping cart. But it's what you do for love. It's an implied marital obligation. Even if the judge didn't come right out and say it.