Tom - Pea

Tom - I call him Pea. It’s because he has professed he has a brain the size of a pea. Actually, he’s quite the opposite, but sometimes he forgets to think due to testosterone poisoning, a condition there seems to be no cure.



    Tom knows me better than anyone else (perhaps even my sister) and he still likes me. Something I find amazing and scary at the same time. We agree on just about everything from what to eat for dinner to where we want to live. We find the same things funny and ridicule each other about our differences. We laugh a lot. He frustrates me, I bug him, and it works wonderfully.
When I give some long-winded, convoluted explanation about why we have to paint the dining room purple he understands, or just says, “I like what you like.” (My sister always wanted to marry a man who cared about their china pattern. Bad decision. He still wants to decorate and keeps buying her pottery HE likes.) Tom is thoughtful, a perfectionist, an amazing artist, a tremendous cook and the funniest person I know aside from my sister. He's tweaked in a farm-kind-of-way he even finds  my navy farm coveralls sexy.