All of our married life I have been working on a project, and I still don't have it done.  It has been my job from the beginning to warm my wife.  I have sometimes suspected that she married me for my warmth.

Her feet are always cold.  I very distinctly remember the first time she put her feet on my bare legs in bed.  I screamed.  I have refrained from screaming since then, since I know what to expect, but the first order of business when getting into bed is to get her feet warmed up.

I inherited that job from her mother.  Her mother used to send her to bed with some object that had been warmed in the oven, like a stack of magazines, or perhaps with a hot water bottle.

We used to have a hot water bottle early in our marriage, but one night it broke in bed.  We didn't replace it.

Being cold makes Marjorie cuddly.  We really don't need a double bed.  She's always over against me, on my side.  I can generally be found on the edge of the bed barely hanging on.  Occasionally it becomes necessary for me to get out of bed and to go around to the other side.

Marjorie's hands are another issue.  As I'm driving I generally steer with my left hand as the right is resting on one of hers with her other hand on top.  At church both of my hands are holding both of hers.  It's a losing battle, but for a time I actually get her hands warmed.  It's a necessity for her to have warm hands at church because she most generally has to either play the organ in sacrament meeting or the piano in Primary.  I can't see how frozen fingers could even move to strike the keys.

Soon after the Meridian Temple opened, Marjorie and I found ourselves together in the veil waiting room as we prepared to go serve at the veil.  Her hands were particularly cold, so I was holding them both.  Sister Jones, an assistant to the matron, entered the room.  The first thing she noticed was this couple being close and intimate in the temple, of all places.  She frowned and came to us.

“Are you newlyweds,” she asked disapprovingly.

“No, it's just my job,” I replied matter-of-factly.

“Oh,” she said, smiled, and from then on knew us by name, and became our special friend at the temple.

My job isn't done.  Marjorie still isn't warm, but I love my job.