reflection

Having lived almost a half century now (THAT'S FUN TO SAY), I'm a little surprised at how many things I'm just coming to terms with. Letting prepositions land at the end of sentences is one thing, but here is another.

Dropping my husband off at the airport for a business trip will never really be fun.
First of all, a shocking number of people wonder why I 'even bother' and whenever they express this I consider why I do it. Obviously (I hope? I guess the Potential 2nd Husbands list seems a little suspect to some...), I like my husband and want to spend as much time with him as possible [except during football season, because a) he would rather be in the garage and b) he doesn't fully appreciate how passionate I am about my team. I digress]. But I sometimes wonder if I insist on taking him because of a subconscious concern about our relationship; I have strongly identified with When Harry Met Sally... since its release - am I worried that not taking him to the airport will say something about us?

Anyway.

Every time I do it, I focus on the fact that PDX has great shops (Powell's!) and a beloved Coffee People so after he leaves I can get fun gifts and books and sit with a delicious non-Starbucks latte in blissful peace. But really what I do each time is have a pastry with my man, staring & talking about anything inane until 15 minutes before his boarding time, not-awkwardly walk parallel to him as far as I can while he goes through security, try not to cry or take 100 weird blurry photos, then wander through the stores feeling melancholy and spending far more money than I should even at Christmastime. "Coming to terms" with this so far simply means admitting to myself that I am sad when he leaves, no matter how many clever things I buy, and avoiding looking directly at any other people dropping off or picking up loved ones; airports are drowning in tears and I am not yet old enough to fully immerse myself in the poetry of this.

Maybe when I hit that century mark.

9/365 "bright"

My man's beaming face
Brightens my every day.
For real; not kidding.

maintenance

I am the worst kind of woman, according to Harry - high maintenance who thinks she's low maintenance. But really, I have been aware of this since first seeing the movie when I was 21 and just starting to officially date The Man Who Would Become My Husband, so does that let me off the hook some? I have a metacognition thing going on with myself - I sit down resolutely to do exactly what essential task I need to do and realize I should have tea. Which means I should clean the kitchen while water boils. Which means I should sweep while the tea steeps. Which leads me to realize we need a new broom. So I make a list of all the new things we need before I race off to Target, wait no, Goodwill first. Where I take a few minutes to "just look around" for some items that would be great for my classroom. Then I remember the essential task I need to finish, at home, and head back to get it done. But first, I should get dinner started (and luckily the kitchen is already clean)...

This Man Who Became My Husband knows that I must:

• Smell everything before I taste it
• Taste (therefore smell) anything he plans to eat or drink
• Insist he has a jacket when we go out
• Plan extensively, even if we don't actually end up doing anything I planned
• Use certain dishes for certain foods
• Have popcorn at the movie theater, even if I've just eaten a fulfilling meal minutes before
• Drink my Pepsi from a glass, with ice (preferably crushed)
• Wrap presents, even if they'll be opened within moments
• Sort laundry and load the dishwasher in a particular way
• Read while I brush my teeth
• Match undergarments, shoes, and glasses with outfits
• Stop at most garage sales
• Obsess over various secret boyfriends, for fun

And I love him so.

marry me

"...his heart was going like mad and yes I said yes I will Yes."

~ James Joyce, from Ulysses

_______________________

Happy 17th anniversary to the one who still makes me swoon...and Stu, too.

lovelovelove you

xoxox

bonding

Tonight I was awake and lucid enough for a trip to Blockbuster. It has been a strange change from my former, pre-surgery life when I stopped by the video store hourly more frequently; these days I am constrained by not being able to drive myself combined with the fatigue I feel as soon as I step in my front door. But I rallied because I desperately miss my Geeky Cute Video Expert Guy needed to rent The Prestige for my upcoming sci-fi lesson on Steampunk.

My dear Best Husband Ever thinks it's hilarious that I have this crush, which kind of pisses me off and ruins some of the clandestine joy in my heart, but he still gets irritated that my GCVEG acts like Stu is invisible, or reminds him that he is not on our account whenever Stu tries to rent a movie on his own. So our joint visits can be simultaneously amusing & awkward, depending on who is behaving like the bigger weirdo. And how cute I think my hair is.

This evening, my secret boyfriend and my real-life husband shared a couple of poignant-guy moments - first when I was trying to figure out what to get as our free rental, Stu suggested Shaun of the Dead and GCVEG's eyes lit up in admiration; he bolted over to find it on the shelf. Then as we were leaving, Stu jokingly mentioned that I should show Heavy Metal when I teach the subgenre Fantastic Voyage; GCVEG actually gasped and put his hand over his mouth, clearly impressed at my man's audacity.

I think I feel a bromance brewing; glad I can start driving myself again this week.

Guest post #?, crap, I don't remember

There are only a few songs that truly remind me of my wife. We don't really have "our song".

I always liked this song and the night I proposed to Stephanie, she gave me a compilation CD that she had bought from Nordstrom that day. We played it in my little truck before we went into dinner. She did not yet know she would be stuck with me from then on.

Our first dance at our wedding was to:



But the song that reminds me most of my wife is: (I know, I'm a pig...)



I put this as her ringtone on her new iBoyfriend when I call.

-Stu

Guest Post #3

I was supposed to have guest posted for Bad Mom a couple times this week and was lax in my duties. While my wife is tackling every piece of clothing this family owns in the form of dirty laundry, I'm stepping back to the plate.

Normally I post something rather smarmy and sassy when asked to guest post, AKA "I am le tired, post for me", but lately the marriage of our closest friends and neighbors is on the teetering point of ending. It is times like this when you look at you own relationship and ask yourself if you are doing OK, am I going to get clobbered with "I'm done, I'm leaving you"?

With all that is transpiring, Stephanie has been giving me some sideways glances, some pointed questions, and some outright statements about our relationship. We have had some good yet teary conversations; Stephanie does not like to be wrong corrected mistaken and I load the dishwasher incorrectly, dry clothes that should be hung, and can be a bit oversexed. She is Woman and I am Man.

Now, not to suggest that I believe we too are on the rocks, if anything I think it has brought us a bit closer. I terribly miss going out as a foursome, it hurts my soul, but I really enjoy just being the two of us sometimes. Our world is not perfect, we are sometimes tired, snippy and unkind. We more often laugh, goof and support. In the end my woman is good to me and I try to be good to her, even if I can't remember to not put my coffee stirring spoon in the clean sink.

I love you Bad Mom, now let's go mess up those freshly laundered sheets. Whoops, there I go again...

-Stu

dodging bullets

Here is what happens when I am emotionally distressed - I can't write very well. The ideas that seem hilarious and/or relevant in my head evaporate into puddles of stupid when I write them down. And when I try to be thoughtful & real it sounds all heavy and Oxygen-channelish, unbearably wrong.

So I'll just be conversational stream-of-consciousness right now in order to get this stuff out before it infects me further and ruins my f*cking birthday. A friend of mine (and I'm unfortunately using the term 'friend' loosely at this point) has moved out of his home, leaving my other verygood friend (term used strongly) and her children reeling. He (loose friend) claims all kinds of sad things that sound ridiculous to me but I am trying to give him the benefit of the extremely doubtful doubt and breathe deeply & be supportive of his wife/my verygood friend while he "works things out" by living an hour away, half-heartedly attending counseling, and alienating everyone who cares about him. Opinionated, me? My friend (the verygood one) has called me fierce; I like that.

The suddenness of this development (though Loose Friend says it should have been obvious for years) has caused me to scrutinize my own relationship. Because, frankly, I had put my man and VeryGood Friend's husband at the same level of fun-loving & committed before last week. In the past half-dozen years, nearly every social good time involved these friends; I believed all of us to be enjoying each other's company. Stu has gamely been enduring my sideways glances, long reminiscing observations, pensive silences, my cryptic leading questions ("Sooo, are you unhappy with our life??").

I don't know what else to say, and I have no idea what to do - other than just live and keep being honest, open, and supportive. I had no idea that was a novel idea to some people.

season of love

Sixteen years ago today I married my man - the one who knows how to use his caulk, the one who knows how to please me, the one who knows how to talk with me.
Happy anniversary, baby, got you on my mind.

Got Friday Fill-Ins on my mind, too:

1. If we had no winter I wouldn't be teaching until the 4th of July this year....

2. The apathy of teenagers is a perpetual astonishment.

3. If I had my life to live over I'd talk to more boys in junior high.

4. I can become a new being inside of four and twenty hours.

5. If you've never been thrilled get thee to a Mark Wahlberg movie.

6. To be interested in the changing seasons is to understand life's fragility. And possibility.

7. And as for the weekend, tonight I'm looking forward to a cozy family movie night, tomorrow my plans include Paige's Girl Scout Bridging before Stu whisks me off to our favorite B&B (!!!), and Sunday, I want to decompress.

happy happy

Because his birthday falls smack in the middle of this ludicrous week, I am not properly prepared to lovingly humiliate celebrate my husband. Bad Mom = Bad Wife.

So for today, I rerun last year's tribute until I can upload cute high school swim team pics. And here's another love note to my man, for good measure.

The hottie-in-Paris pic I'd use for Stu's Facebook profile
if I secretly set one up for him...

survivor type

My man & I have been fans of Survivor since the 2nd season [on principle I reject anything hyped when it first comes out; it only hurts me and causes anxious catching-up yet I stick to my guns]. Every time we watch, I gravitate first toward the cute boys then any teachers while Stu tends not to have a particular system though he will root against the cute boys and whiny women. We always engage in a minor spat when I mention how I would someday like to apply just to test myself; I get grouchy as he snickers and looks at me sideways, but the reminder that I don't swim eventually brings me back to my senses.

Really, Stu is the one who could be a contender. He's dug in sprinkler systems, built sheds, torn out walls, put down flooring, put up stairs; like a suburban Dr. Frankenstein, he created his car from pieces & parts; he has lived through the loss of his mom, the ongoing illness of his dad, and the departure from his job of 13 years. I realize those are not typical Survivor challenges so I'll submit that the man has also been lighting fires from flint since he was a Boy Scout and was a legendary swim team stud in high school [my interpretation based on hottie photos of him in his Speedo; will post soon]. And now he has been hired to design aircraft interiors for PECO in southeast Portland - it's a significantly farther drive, we'll have to pay 8% of his salary to Oregon's income tax, and much to Mason's sadness, PECO might not offer a family Halloween party, but IT'S A JOB, it involves engineering, and it allows us to keep our home (with heat).

My man wins immunity.

P. S. Thank you to everyone who kept us in their thoughts & prayers & meditations, et cetera.

previously on bad mom

I owe my man big time tonight for taking one for the girlfriend team - he stepped in and joined my best friend's husband for a concert she really truly was not up for and was becoming increasingly cranky about so my best friend could instead go to a movie with me & our other best friend. Stu's selflessness may have saved their marriage and it is definitely going to improve ours as soon as I get this post finished.

So I give you a rerun featuring his previous Good Husband qualities.

Oh, and enjoy the extra daylight tomorrow. (Except for all you in Arizona. Like you need an extra hour of sunshine).

wife duty

I was terribly remiss tonight and stayed at a friend's house gabbing for 2 hours longer than I said I would, thus leaving my kind & generous husband home alone. So alone that he actually went to bed and I am keeping him awake right this very second as I satisfy my OCD need to post before midnight.

Please read this previously nearly-neglected gem of a meme while I give my job hunting man a much-deserved back rub.

help, i'm watching a woody allen movie and i like it

I do not enjoy Woody Allen's work and have always felt a little less-than because of that. Everyone who gushes over loving his movies seems so intelligent, so metropolitan, so much more 'aware' of whatever smart sociological stuff he writes. Interestingly, it's the incessant dialogue that tends to turn me off; I say "interestingly" because if you know me an iota you are aware of my ability to talk until people's ears bleed. But I digress.

Tonight we are watching Vicky Cristina Barcelona for a couple of key reasons. First, Javier Bardem. Second, I had a free rental last week at Blockbuster that expired at the end of January....And did I mention Javier Bardem?

Now I want to move to Spain, become an expatriate, be fifteen years younger, find an artist lover, make friends with his crazy ex-wife, and generally be a gorgeous cosmopolite. And Stu keeps wishing for a threesome among the beautiful people.

Stupid Woody Allen.

I'm going for drinks with the ladies, post for me

As I am leaving to drop Stephanie and Lisa off at Roots to meet with some other local bloggers, (slow down, I don't know who all is coming and I am sure there will be pictures and such), Stephanie says, "You can post for me, right?". I threatened to just post a naked picture of me but this is a family friendly blog unless I let a "no fuckin' way" slip. Whoops, there I go...

So the last time I posted, I showed the destruction of the carpeted stairs. Now, for any of you in Blogland who think that those stairs got finished before Stephanie got home that weekend, you don't live with a man who does any sort of project around the house. Project Time is sort of like the last 2 minutes of a football game: take stated time and multiply by 5. Since this has been explained for any of the uninitiated, I will show you where the stairs are now:

lower stairs and skirt board installed (still need to put trim on skirt board)

Yes, yes, this is taking a lonnnnnnnnnng time, but I warned the family when I started. Fitting and finshing each tread is crazy time consuming. No wonder the quote to get them done was as much as the entire downstairs. I have the upper stairs done but can't install them until the landing is finished (just got the shipment of wood yesterday). I did at least take all the junk to the dump so our front porch does not scream 'white trash lives here'.

I'll post pictures of the finished product in a couple days ;]

-Stu

a most excellent day

Horoscope: If you are in the midst of a negotiation at work or school, someone will offer you a compromise today -- you should take it! A better offer is not likely to come along any time soon. Put this issue to rest and move on.

Guess what? My media carts (with document cameras, projectors, & awesome speakers all wirelessly, gleefully connecting to the computer) were delivered to BOTH of my classrooms this morning! JOY JOY JOY! But the best part? One of my colleagues, a delightful blend - visually and characteristically, actually - of Eddie Vedder and Jesus, remarked as I did my happy jig, "I noticed three men setting everything up for you, sooo...Which one did you have to...?" That provided a much-needed end of the week laugh. (And I'm not telling).

More excellence:

"Veronica" by Elvis Costello on the radio (a beautiful, bittersweet song)
Grande soy chai in my own pretty cup
Husband setting up rogue router for extra computer in my classroom
Secretary's precious & precocious puppy sniffing around the building
Confirmation call for hair coloring & cutting tomorrow morning

Friends from Seattle coming to visit

Husband-cleaned kitchen & bathroom (sink included!)

Girlfriend time starting...right...now

i love caulk

[You have to say the title out loud for maximum hilarity. And then watch the video.]

SNL - Fun With Caulk

My handyman

"You can never have too much..."

And this is all you get for Thursday because after our fun First Day of Summer Break, I'm going to bathe for a few hours in my new tub. You might even get a Guest Blogger post tomorrow as I could be AWOL (in the tub) after Paige's birthday party...

spicy tacos + scary movie = grown-up fun!

Since the kids are spending their first SUMMMMMMERRRRR VACATION!! night at their grandpa's, Stu & I hit the town for some wild times. And by "wild times" I mean, well...My boss & colleagues [claim they] read this blog so I should be discreet here. I'm not saying whether or not there was a bolster pillow involved.

Okay, seriously. We went to Chipotle, home of the crack-laced irresistible tortilla chips, took in a showing of the strangers (where I nearly lost my shit with some teenagers who were theater-hopping & talking loudly IN MY EAR right when the movie was starting. Luckily they left promptly; I'm pretty sure they could feel my teacher-wrath building) before stopping by Whole Foods for an oatmeal carmelita (no, he was not there), then headed home for wine. And blogging. At least that's where I am right now; not sure where my husband is. Garage?

I just want to put in a little word for Scott Speedman the strangers. Scary shit, people. In fact, I had to click back out of the site I just linked for you because the music and the g*dd*mn door-banging sound scares the f*ck out of me. Totally not kidding. I was squeezing Stu's hand and/or arm and/or thigh the entire movie. This is why they say horror movies are ideal for dates.

And on that note, my wine is finished and my husband is reading over my shoulder in his boxer shorts. If he tries to scare me, though, so help me...Okay, I guess he's onto something.

i can feel it

So I just randomly came upon the information that today is my first Second Husband's birthday. And my cousin happened to send me this in an e-mail yesterday:

Serendipitous, no?

May I just say, I really do admire Mr. Wahlberg's acting skills as much as his package unfreakingbelievable chest handsome face. Don't laugh.

His performance was amazing in Renaissance Man

Soulfully provocative in Boogie Nights

Brilliant in The Italian Job

Inspiring in Invincible

Intense in Shooter

More intensity

You get the idea. But really? I cannot resist posting this, even though he asked in his Actor's Studio interview if "Marky Mark" could count as his least favorite word. I am compelled.

So happy, happy birthday, dear Mr. Wahlberg.

P. S. My First Husband has as many desirable traits as my Second Husband. He just doesn't act.

love note

Today I drove billions hundreds of miles to visit my parents & sister here:

This is where I grew up and someday I will tell stories about that, but right now I have to reassure my darling husband that I do, indeed, love him. Because I forgot to leave little messages around the house like I usually do when I go away. Because I was working myself into a MUST GET ON THE ROAD frenzy of packing snacks and drinks and pillows and GameBoys and oh, children. Only to stop .25 miles away at Chevron to give a pint of blood and Starbucks to sell the rest of my blood.

ANYWAY.

To the best husband in the universe, I give you my heart and then some. I love you love you love you. And thank you for putting in my new bath tub.

photo courtesy of this great place