This is my favorite photo of Vitaliy. (Well, being married to such a handsome guy, I can’t say it’s my only favorite photo, but it’s up high on the list of favorites, if one’s allowed to have more than one favorite, which upon reflection, seems oxymoronic or something.)
I got this photo of him while we were dating.
It’s framed and currently sits on a small shelf above {let’s interrupt this program so I can kill a bug crawling on my desk. . . . . OK, dead. I used to not be able to kill small animals in my house as a matter of conscience unless I could see a way that someone’s life or health was endangered. . . . Things have changed, I think for the better.} above my computer.
I think I like this because it’s a combination of handsome and studious. Yes, I married a muscular brain. Marriage-wise, the brain part is especially significant in that we can have exceedingly logical arguments discussions. And the muscular part involves a lot of sporty things like rock climbing. (I have about 3/4ths the brain Vitaliy does, and the only muscle I’m aware of is my uterus when I’m in labor.) (I will also note that the nice thing about us both being logical is that we are also both second children (read: peacemaker/diplomat), so we can only argue discuss for about 5 minutes max, and then we are both ready to surrender, so we swich sides in the argument discussion and still aren’t much closer to deciding who is right or what to do.) Like this:
V: Are you doing to wear that to church?
A (defensive): Yes.
Pause.
Pause.
A: So?
V (resigned): OK.
Pause.
A: I can change. It really doesn’t look that good, I just don’t want to iron my other dress.
V: No, it’s fine, I don’t want to you have to iron either.
A: No, you’re right, I really should wear something nicer. . . . It’s Ukraine. . . .
So back to this picture.
Vitaliy gave it to me while we were dating.
You should read the back:
Can you read that?
For all my non-Russian-reading readers, I will translate (please remember we were dating):
Anyechka {that is the endearing/familiar form of my name, Anna; Russian is very romantic when it comes to endearing forms.}
I can’t without you . . . .
live, breath, eat, drink, read, rest, teach, pray, work, serve, rejoice, cry, . . .
I am always with you. God made us for one another and I love you very much.
Is anyone else CRYING?!?
That’s my man.
I love you, Vitaliy. Я тоже не могу без тебя . . . I also can’t without you . . .
awwwwwww so sweet.