The Object of My Affection…

… has changed my complexion from white to rosy red. My husband can still make me blush even after all our years together. We are true opposites. I’m the word girl and he’s the numbers guy. Never were these differences more apparent than last night.

In the late spring and early summer, my husband and I sit on our rocking chairs on the front porch in the evening. It’s a time for us to talk about our day, watch the woodpeckers on our trees, and listen to the frogs. Yesterday, I explained that I was having some difficulty coming up with a working title for my latest novel. I asked for his help. I asked for something punny and related to the 1920s.

“Well, they had alcohol back then and it’s ethanol. You could use the word ethanol in the title. Fatal Ethanol Syndrome,” Dennis said, his voice serious.

“No. That’s not fun. It needs to be funny. A play on words. Something related to the 1920s, the Chesapeake Bay, and death.”

“Well, they have these shots of alcohol that have a raw oyster in them. You also have crabbing. You could use crab in the title.”

It went downward from there. It was at this point that I realized that I think figuratively, and he thinks literally. “Never mind. I’ll brainstorm some more tomorrow.” I gave him a quiche for trying. (See what I did there? Punny, right!)

I don’t want you to think I’m complaining. He’s brilliant when it comes to guns, cars, fishing, and construction. If I have a question on any of those topics, I don’t need to track down an expert, he’ll know the answer. In fact, he’s presented to our local Sisters in Crime chapter on various firearms and has offered to answer any questions any of them might have. He’s also great at sitting and listening to my stories. He even gives great critique on plot holes or things that don’t make sense. He’s just so darn… factual.

I’m back to the brainstorming for titles today.

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