Milestones (and Their Observation)

In order to gear myself up to write an Epic Marriage Milestone Post, I (reconstructed and) listened to "There In Spirit"- aka our Wedding Soundtrack*. And then, excellent music piping directly into my ears, I read back over the blog posts tagged "musings on marriage".  And then I sat and stared at the screen for a while, stumped for something else to add... and then put all that aside and, you know, actually celebrated our Ten Year Wedding Anniversary.

Cheeeeeeese!

It was pretty low-key, as far as these things go- I've said before that a wedding is not a marriage: it stands to reason that neither is an anniversary (no matter what Big Diamond would like us to believe).  My Lifemate and I have been a bit too busy having an extremely full and chaotic life together to worry about making an Artificially Big Deal out of a party that happened a decade ago.  Which is not to say we made no deal of it- we played hooky from work, loaded all four of us into the car (yes, Isis got to come), and headed out on a three-hour road-trip to Newport for some fresh fish-n-chips and a visit to the Aquarium at the Coast, a treat we've been promising TLG for a long time now.

ROAD TRIP AAAAHHHHH!

Boy loves him some "chips".

TLG was pleased as punch to spy a megalodon.

Life sized.  For real.

When we left the Aquarium it was shockingly sunny and lovely out, so we decided to hit the beach...

The wind was up!

...where it promptly hail stormed on us.  But then, considering it rained on our actual wedding day, I chose to take it as a little wink-wink-nudge-nudge from the Powers That Be.

(And then tried real hard not to take it too personally when it stopped the second we made it back to the car after a half-run up a suddenly-much-longer trail...)

From there we went to get some ice cream ("Just what you want when you're wet and freezing," Nathan joked, but ice cream had been promised earlier, and therefore ice cream would be had.) (I had something called Oregon Trail and it was delicious) and then it was back on the road.

(we DID get this conciliatory rainbow on the way home)

We'd managed to time just poorly enough in regards to Rush Hour that a stop at the outlet mall was a welcome distraction, and I ended up getting a pair of long-needed winter boots for a very nice price (happy anniversary to me).  TLG fell asleep for the last half-hour of the drive, which means I got to just pour him directly into pajamas/bed when we got home, and Nathan and I actually got a chance to watch a movie together (it was Aquaman, and it was on the enjoyable side of okay).

Exxxxcellent

So yeah, I don't know that I have anything Truly Profound to say about being married for ten years.  No new insights, nothing particularly poetic.  Just...  I'm glad I married him.  Glad he's been there holding me for the best and worst days the past decade has held.  Maybe there really is something to the whole Entanglement thing, that my falling in love with him as a teenager had less to do with who were were at the time and more to do with the many years we'd spend as partners in the future.  ::shrug::  Or maybe I, art-major-turned-financial-advisor, really have a fundamental misunderstanding of theoretical physics.  Who knows it's a mystery I guess.

One last thing to share- the "traditional" theme for gifts for the ten year anniversary is tin or aluminum.  Originally I booked a lesson in tin-type photography for Nathan, but the people I booked through lost their classroom space, so we switched it to a family portrait done in tin-type.  I'll share that once we actually get it done... Nathan's mind was working along similar lines, and he got three of our Bonnie-and-Clyde-themed Engagement Photos (taken by my Katie!) printed on aluminum in matching heights, so I can make a nice display at my office (or in the new house- we'll see!).  (For the record, we would never go on a mass-murder spree.)  (And if we did, we'd be a lot smarter about it.)

LOOK AT WHAT BABIES WE WERE!

So there you have it- ten years of marriage in the books.  But now that I've already written an entire entry, I'm suddenly feeling the need to keep going just a little bit longer... so let's break those ten years down into smaller Milestones, shall we?

A little over one since I changed careers.  Three-and-a-half since our first child was born.  Nearly five since we lost Koopa.  Nearly six since we lost the first baby.  Seven since we brought Isis home.  Eight since we moved to Vancouver and bought our first house together.  Nine since our first trip overseas.  Ten since our Wedding Day.

But... that's not really where it began, is it?  Let's go further back.

Ten years and two weeks since we eloped to the courthouse, giggling like fools.  Eleven-and-a-half years since I packed up my life and relocated 3000 miles to see if we could work as a couple.  Nearly twelve since we had the conversation that would lead to said move.  Nearly fourteen since we decided we could never be together because of our different faiths, and had our first (and what I thought would be our only) kiss.  Twenty since I confessed I was in love with him and he told me he didn't think of me that way- but we stayed best friends anyway.  And twenty-four since we met and bonded over bouncing crawdad eyeballs in Freshman Biology.

So yeah.  We've had a lot of Milestones over the full course of our relationship with just-as-much-if-not-more importance than "a decade of marriage".  And I look forward to hitting many, many more on the way.  Cheers!







*I actually put together over four hours of carefully curated (and mixed!) music for our entire wedding/reception (oh hello there control-freak-nature), but for the Album Itself (which was sent to those of our Nearest and Dearest who couldn't make it to the Official Shindig) I pared it down to a mere Twenty Significant Tracks:

Heart Asks Pleasure First (Ahn Trio)
Sunrise, Sunset (from Fiddler on the Roof)
Wedding Day- Duet With Heidi (Seal)
Love You More (Alexi Murdoch)
And I Love Her (The Beatles)
Hairy Trees (Goldfrapp)
Wildflowers (Tom Petty)
Lucky (Jason Mraz feat. Colbie Caillat)
Alabama Chicken (Sean Hayes)
Wontcha Come Home (G. Love & Special Sauce)
Untitled (Interpol)
Bitter Sweet Symphony (The Verve)
Holding Out for a Hero (Frou Frou)**
Singin' in the Rain (Mint Royale)
I've Got You Under My Skin (Ella Fitzgerald)
Sweet Home Alabama (Lynyrd Skynyrd)
Gamble Everything for Love (Ben Lee)
Surfer Girl (The Beach Boys)
Delirious Love (Neil Diamond)
Let's Get It On (Marvin Gaye)

**I can't actually get this version on Spotify, so I had to pause my Official Soundtrack and pop over to YouTube...

My Milk Ducts (Lyrically Speaking)

(with apologies to Kelis)

My milk ducts brings all the boys to the yard,

'Cos they're like
All super engorged,
Damn right they're super engorged.
I can feed him,
And it's free of charge.

(Repeat)

 

I know he wants it,
The thing that makes me,
What babies go crazy for-
They lose their minds,
When I unbind.
I think its time...

 

La la la la la,
Warm it up,
La la la la la,
The boy is waiting

(Repeat)

 

My milk ducts brings all the boys to the yard,
'Cos they're like
All super engorged,
Damn right they're super engorged,
I can feed him,
And it's free of charge.

(Repeat)

 

I can see he's hungry.
You want me to teach thee
Techniques that feed this boy.
It can't be fought;
Just know, milk will spot.
(Pump if you're smart)

 

La la la la la,
Warm it up,
La la la la la,
The boy is waiting

(Repeat)

 

My milk ducts brings all the boys to the yard,
'Cos they're like
All super engorged,
Damn right they're super engorged,
I can feed him,
And it's free of charge.

(Repeat)

 

Oh, once you get involved,
Everyone will look your way, so,
You must maintain your child,
Same time maintain your sweet flow,
Just get the perfect blend,
That's what you have within,
When next his face is squint,
Then he's picked up your scent,

 

La la la la la,
Warm it up,
La la la la la,
The boy is waiting

(Repeat)

 

My milk ducts brings all the boys to the yard,
'Cos they're like
All super engorged,
Damn right they're super engorged,
I can feed him,
And it's free of charge

(Repeat)

Damn right, it's better than yours.

The Abduction

My aunt and uncle took us to see the Trans-Siberian Orchestra this evening.  They were performing The Christmas Attic.

you will be assimilated

I was pretty excited about it, but unfortunately ended up a bit less-than-impressed.  The musicians themselves were incredibly talented, and I enjoyed the hell out of it every time they were doing an instrumental arrangement.  The laser and pyrotechnic effects, too, were super freaking awesome, and I enjoyed the hell out of that, too.  And it's always fun to go do things with people who are passionate about those things- and TSO has an exceptionally passionate following, which meant the energy was really great.

So those were the good things.

The bad things were  more or less threefold: one, the music was too loud (if I have my ears physically plugged and the music is still too loud, your music is too fucking loud) and not properly balanced (the guitars almost totally drowned out the orchestra, which was particularly disappointing to this cello-lover); two, the animations were distractingly bad (very 90s-era CGI); three, these guys are in desperate need of a competent lyricist.  Every time there was narration, or an 'original' song was played, Nathan and I just gaped at one another over the terribleness of the lyrics.  At one point Nathan whispered, "Why do they keep using the word candle?" and I responded, "Say candle one more time!" and we dissolved into fits of giggles.  I also started mentally replacing the word "Christmas" with "Murder", which added interest back to the proceedings.  ("On this most holy murder eve, the spirit of murder speaks to us all here in the darkness of the murder attic...)

Nathan later pointed out that if only it had been in another language, one we didn't understand, we might have enjoyed it more, and I agree.  Because like I said- the music itself, and the overall performance were just fabulous... but not quite enough to make up for the rest of it.

On the bright side, I did get a fabulous idea for a creepy short story out of it, so maybe that will get posted later...

Turn, Turn, Turn

As I rode up to the house this evening I caught a glimpse of Nathan through the window, playing his guitar.  Sights like this- him doing something he loves- always make me deliriously happy.

the season for music

It's been happening more frequently since he got his fancy new electric guitar.  This is a goodness.

Brindle Honey

It's a little after noon when we pull into a leaf-shaded spot around the corner from our destination.  The elusive north-western sun is out, warm and comforting on my shoulders as we walk to the shop, but it's doing nothing to soothe the fizzing in my bloodstream.  It feels like someone poured pop-rocks into my veins,  a sensation which is, perhaps understandably, not helping my nerves.

We walk in, Nathan full of confidence, me full of shy supplication for gods that are not yet my own.  This is a Him Place, the same way that a rock gym is a Me Place.  My husband knows he has every right to be here- more right, perhaps, that some of the salespeople- and he immediately glides off to track down our quarry.  I, on the other hand, approach one of the salespeople, who greats me with a polite smile and a, "Is there anything I can help you find?"

"I'm looking for a Taylor GS Mini," I say, hoping I've said it right and not like a tool; hoping that he can't hear the shake in my voice.  The man's smile turns into a grin, and he gestures with his chin to my husband across the room.

"Looks like he's already found it for you,"

A familiar chord progression reaches my ears, and I see that yes, of course Nathan has already found it.  He's strumming the spruce-top, but that's alright because I've had my eye on the mahogany top, anyway.

The guitar settles into my arms as though made for me, her curves matching mine, her neck obligingly slender beneath my smaller hands.  We are a small and quiet counterpoint to Nathan's bold declarations of mastery: an unusual role for me, but not unpleasant.

An hour later I am torn between the mahogany and the spruce.  I prefer the warmer, quieter tone of the mahogany- I think it's better suited for my style- but aesthetically speaking the spruce is a prettier instrument.  And I do like the bright shimmer she brings to the upper range.  In the end I flip a coin, to make sure of what I've already decided.  It comes up heads and I smile: mahogany is confirmed, golden tone winning out over visual appeal.

The salesman starts to offer me the display guitar, but Nathan intervenes.  "Do you have any others?" he asks.

"Sure," says the man.  "But they're still in boxes in the back."

"Do you want one no one else has played?"  Nathan asks me.

"Yes please," I say, secretly thrilling at him acting the protector.  "Plus I think it would be fun to unbox her."

"No problem," says the salesman, and disappears.

When we get home I slice open the box, remove the packaging, and draw out the padded case that holds my new instrument.  I lay it down carefully, unzip it...

And we both gasp.

She is beautiful.

Both examples of the mahogany top that we'd seen before now were a warm but dull brown, uniform in shade and utterly unremarkable in appearance.  They looked so plain that it hurt a little part of my artist's sole.  But this gorgeous girl has iridescent stripes of honey and amber, like a tiger's eye.

"Oh wow," says Nathan, voice reverent.

I draw her out of the case and cradle her to my heart, feeling as though my novitiate faith has been rewarded.

I am calling her Brindle Honey, and she is Mine.

GuitAlong Girl

We're on our way home from a hike, and we make a stop at the music store.

"I need some polish," he explains, and while I'm sure he does, I also know perfectly well what happens whenever we "make a quick stop" at a music store.

As expected, he makes a beeline for the guitars (with a brief detour to the banjos), and I amble along slowly after, admiring the many instruments that I will never play.  Once upon a long lost time I played cello, but... long ago and far away, and all that.  I also did my time on the recorder, like all good primary school children do, and I even spent a year on the piano.

And, of course, there are the many, many times I've attempted to learn guitar.

My father played.  My father was a wonderful guitarist, to the point where he ruined me for all those high school boys who thought they could play.  And my father bought me a student guitar, and started teaching me to play when I was about twelve...

...and then my father died, when I was thirteen.

Needless to say, I did not learn to play the guitar from my father.

Other males tried to teach me, bless them, my husband most recent amongst them.  He's attempted to teach me at least twice, and more likely three times, displaying great patience each time.  And each time I've... not given up, precisely, because that implies a decision being made.  Petered out, more like.

And always, always, I have felt Incomplete for my lack of guitar playing.  I have a list of things that I believe I should be able to do, to be the woman I envision myself being; most of those things I can and do do, but tied for first place amongst the "Not Yet There" items is playing the guitar (tied, if you were curious, with speaking Spanish beyond the level of a particularly slow two-year-old).  That being said, it's been almost two years since the last time I attempted it.

I join him in the room with the guitars, where he is making a surprisingly robust sound come out of an incongruously petite guitar.

"Try this," he says, handing it to me.  "I think you'll like the feel of it."

And I do.  I do like the feel of this beautiful, beautiful instrument, resting so comfortably in my hands, so perfectly scaled for my own smaller size.  He points out the way the curve of the back amplifies and concentrates the vibration of the strings, the way the mahogany gives it a richer tone than the spruce.  And all I can do is clutch it, wanting so badly to make it sing, but being so utterly, utterly helpless to do so.

The salesman must recognize the look of desperation in my eyes, because he crouches down next to me.

"Would you like me to show you how to make a chord?"  His voice is gentle, understanding.  "I can teach you like I teach the little guys,"

"Yes please," I say.  "Teach me exactly like you teach the little guys."

So he shows me how to make "Spider Man" and "Tea Cup" (which rise up from the misty depths of my memory as E minor and A minor, respectively), and I joke that I am one chord away from being able to join a band.

But the dog is waiting in the car, and we must be on our way.  Nathan buys his polish, and we head home... but I cannot get the little guitar out of my head.

I start doing math.  I could buy the little guitar, it would only take about ten weeks of concentrated savings.  But then I correct my thinking- it's not the money I need for the purchase so much as the determination to justify it.  And so I say to myself,

"You can have the little guitar if you practice with the ones we already own, every day for ten weeks."

We begin that night, and Nathan is beside himself with glee.  This is his passion, and to share it with me animates him in a way that I rarely see.  I hope to make him proud.

I hope to make myself proud.

Practice Makes Perfect

Weird Day

It was, as you may have surmised from the title, a weird sort of day.  The sort of day where you end up standing in an awkward stance, staring out at... who knows what.

It's a good thing I did this drawing while at work.

There's plenty  I could say about it, but I'll just give you the lowest and the highest.

The lowest is that I have once again injured myself.  By being stupid.  I strained some tendons in my right hand, so I won't be climbing for at least a week, and we'll have to wait and see if I'll be drawing for a few days.  Needless to say, this makes me Grumpy.

On the other hand, this evening we went to the Portland Cello Project's holiday concert (Beck the Halls Holiday Spectacular!), and it was awesome.  I am in all sorts of Amazing Moods because of that.  This is our second year going, and I have to say that I think it now officially qualifies as a Holiday Tradition for us.

Yay Holiday Traditions!

Doodle With a Dying Pen

It's funny how tax-time simultaneously makes me feel both incredibly dumb and incredibly smart.  Dumb while I'm doing them, smart once they're done.  Also, it never ceases to irritate me how complex taxes are.  Isn't it a basic rule of business that you should never make it difficult for people to give you money?  Then again, I think a lot of people end up giving more away in taxes than they need to because they just give up trying to learn all the deductions and such.  I know I've definitely done that in the past.  But this year I made an effort to save receipts, and thus I emerge from the Great Tax Battle victorious- by a whole $8 (after paying to file).  Woo!

Dying pens are the WORST.

By the way, Janelle is not the name of this sketch; Janelle is the name of the Turbo Tax employee who helped me figure out why the heck my employer had sent me two W-2s.  But then again, I suppose there's no reason it couldn't also be the name of the lady in my doodle, which was inspired by the music of Citizen Cope.

Making Awkward Music Together

My husband and I?  Prone to bursting into spontaneous song.  Which is occasionally brought to an abrupt halt by certain people who have Very High Musical Standards:

(Okay, yes, he does have a point...)

Starting Grounds

So we went to church this morning at a place we're considering making "our place", and somehow or another I ended up behind their bar (::cough cough Mama Fishie cough::) facing down a semi-automatic espresso machine (none of that super-automatic SBC business) the likes of which I had not been faced with since college.

It was really quite shocking how it all came back to me.  Ask me how much I remember from, say, my art history classes and I'll give you an embarrassingly short answer.  But apparently once one learns how to adjust a grind and/or tamp to compensate for short shot, one never forgets.  I actually ended up giving a mini-lecture on the subject of what a proper shot looks like.  And then another one on foam.  Lord help the very nice young woman I had cornered... the Teacher in me, it seems she has a hard time keeping quiet...  so anyway it's possible that I may take up a little volunteer barista-ing in my spare time, which suits me fine, because I always did love being a barista- just not so much trying to live on the wages it provided.  And I do so love the craft involved in turning out a truly lovely specialty beverage...  ::happy sigh::

While I was re-acquainting myself with the joys of portafilters, Nathan was busy making friends with a music ministry guy, and they have a man-date to play guitar together tomorrow night, a situation I find Entirely Pleasing.  It brings me great joy when my husband indulges in his music, and I'm hoping having someone to play with (pun only semi-intended) will encourage him in it.  It did not hurt matters that later on we went to Beacock Music and he played with an eight-string baritone that had a gorgeous, gorgeous sound.  The sales guy let us use his office so we could hear it without a bunch of Stairway to Heaven going on around us (you know exactly what I'm talking about!), so we took advantage of the privacy to sing a little... and it worked quite well with both of our vocal ranges.  I dearly wish I could just outright buy it as a gift for Nathan, but alas- it comes with a price-tag that says we must scrimp and save if we want to go beyond just staring at it longingly...

In less thrilling news, I'm a little concerned about Kink.  I noticed today that he doesn't seem to be able to urinate (yes, I know you totally come on here to read about my cat's litter-box habits), a state which Teh Interwebz declares An Emergency.  But given that he's been acting totally normal, and that he doesn't have any hardness in his abdomen (or any reluctance to me touching it) I've decided that while it may be time for a visit to the vet, it's not such an emergency that it cannot wait until morning.  So in the morning we'll take him in (heck, we may just take both of them in- they were due for their shots back in March, anyway) and see what's what.