The number of vacations me and my husband have canceled... if you really want a job, book a non-refundable vacation. But obviously we're blessed too.
Aside from marrying my husband and having my children, hiking the PCT was the best thing I ever did. The hike very literally forced me to put one foot in front of the other at a time when emotionally I didn't think I could do that.
My husband is like, "Oh, thank God we didn't have a boy, because there's this train set that I've always wanted, and these Star Wars spaceships . . ." They say, "Don't spoil your kids," but it's one thing spoiling your kids, it's another thing spoiling yourself.
My husband and I have always incorporated things into our life that reduce stress. We're very careful with our health. We go to bed early. In this job, fatigue would be very detrimental! We've always eaten very healthily; now it's really particularly easy because we have a chef.
My husband wasn't put off by it - he thought it was hilarious to see me dressed as Dylan! He didn't particularly want to kiss me with stubble all over my face - it felt a bit odd! But I think he's used to it [the make-up process].
I think you're peripatetic when you work in this industry. My husband and I are assuming the role of co-artistic directors at the Sydney Theatre Company in 2008. But as long as the film industry will have me, I will have it.
My husband is almost as heavy as I am. We were married in adjoining churches.
If I had a chance to do things over again, I might not start singing. It was my husband Doolittle's idea. He pushed me out there, the booger. And I'm out there now, so I might as well make the best of it.
My husband is the most brilliant father on the planet.
I've worked in almost every other place in Canada except Toronto, funny enough, where my husband's from. The first time I was here it was winter, and I got engaged. The second time I was here it was summer, and I was married. My family lives here, my stepson lives here, so it's a wonderful place. Everyone's very nice and hospitable, unlike Hollywood.
I should have suspected my husband was lazy. On our wedding day, his mother told me: "I'm not losing a son; I'm gaining a couch."
I did learn a great deal about my husband but I also learned something about myself: I made a wise choice. I think he's a good man.
I caused my husband's heart attack. In the middle of lovemaking I took the paper bag off my head. He dropped the Polaroid and keeled over and so did the hooker. It would have taken me half an hour to untie myself and call the paramedics, but fortunately the Great Dane could dial.
I love being married. I love my husband. I think married people always have that thing where they think that the grass is greener on the single side, but all my single friends are like, "Trust me, you don't want to have to actually interact with these people."
My husband can not f****ing throw the ball and catch the ball at the same time.
And the first thing we have to do is vote. Hey, no, not just once in a while. Not just when my husband or somebody you like is on the ballot. But in every election at every level, all of the time.
Last night I asked my husband, 'What's your favorite sexual position?' and he said, 'Next door.'
Personal sympathy has helped me on very much. My husband from first to last has watched every picture with delight, and it is my daily habit to run to him with every glass upon which a fresh glory is newly stamped, and to listen to his enthusiastic applause. This habit of running into the dining-room with my wet pictures has stained such an immense quantity of table linen with nitrate of silver, indelible stains, that I should have been banished from any less indulgent household.
I tend to agree with my husband, that to continue the conversation about something that is an important topic, particularly now, which is that of gun control, through his narrative, which is actually what's happened, I don't think it was a conscious decision of, "That's what we're going to do," but that's what seems to have happened, and that's not a bad thing.
I wanted to write about my disorders for people like my husband or mother who don't suffer but have saved people. Mentally ill people don't have a choice in who they are. But those that stand by the mentally ill make an enormous difference. Even when I'm healthy enough to take care of myself I face constant battles, especially with insurance companies.
When I bought my first house in London with my husband-to-be, our surveyor said: "Nicki, you're paying top dollar, but it's not an investment," and I said: "But we're buying a home, not an investment."
My husband is the only guy I've ever dated where I've never been drunk around him. I couldn't handle dating without drinking in the past.
My husband regarded my prison past as a dirty secret and never asked me one single question about it. But what I had experienced and witnessed was eating at me and I needed to "tell somebody."
I don't feel I'm angry. I feel as though I'm describing something true. If I had stabbed my husband, I could understand being called "angry." If I had an affair with my husband's best friend and written about that experience, I could see the anger. But I'm not doing that.
I grew up on welfare in the South Bronx; I had a very tough upbringing in that neighborhood. Reading books like The Four Agreements, A Return to Love, and The Power of Now helped me to overcome many internal battles. Had I not worked on myself, put value in myself, I would not have the loving and supportive people that I have right now in my life, including my husband and children
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