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...

Hooked on Phitness Worked for Me!

I've been surrounded by a lot of good physical-fitness influences, lately, and they've finally rubbed off on me.  As a result, Nathan and I have spent the past five weeks getting up between 0530-0600, six days a week, to do p90 workouts.

I am surprisingly okay with this.

First of all, let me say that I fought against this for a long time.  Like, years.  Nathan has suggested not once, not twice, but multiple times that we do p90 together, and I have always resisted like a dog being called away from a dead squirrel.  Because I don't like to work out just to work out.  I have to sort of trick myself into it.  Like, "Oh I'm not working out, I'm just going for a fun bike ride!" or "I'm not working out, I'm just having climbing up this amazing rock face!" or "I'm not working out, I'm just taking a seven mile hike!" or even, "I'm not working out, I'm just teaching a group exercise fitness class but obviously it's teaching, not working out so it doesn't count!", etc.  You get the idea.  So the thought of doing some annoying video workout in my living room, where  I don't go anywhere or see anything or boss anybody around was like, "Blech.  No thanks."

But then I got really, really unhappy with my fitness levels, and with how much quality time Nathan and I weren't spending together, and I saw several of my friends getting great results (along with their spouses) from their new exercise regimens, and I said, "Fuck it.  I'll give it a try."

Now, I'm still not, like, "OMG working out in my living room is the best!" and in fact I get downright resentful on some cardio days (on the other hand, I might actually be enjoying the weight training days, sooo...).  But.  I really, sincerely am enjoying having this shared physical activity with Nathan (especially when he makes the recovery shakes afterwards) and I'm definitely enjoying the fact that after a full month, I'm finally seeing results (including the return of my waistline, plus hella fly guns: thanks protein powder!).  And these past two mornings, when Nathan was too sick to join me (mild case of food poisoning: he's fine now) I got up and did it on my own, and came to the realization that this is my lifestyle now.  Getting up stupid early and getting sweaty and gross is just what I do.  And then I feel really energized for the rest of the day, and my husband and I can bitch about how sore we are and it's bonding.  And that makes me really happy.

So yeah; I'm hooked.

(A post like this one sort of cries out for photos, but I don't want to post them just yet.  Rest assured, we took "before" photos [and I made a funny face because I was so uncomfortable with having such an unflattering photo taken] and we will take "after" photos... but that won't be until October.  I'll post them then, promise.)

Puzzling It Out

I'm standing in a toy aisle at Fred Meyer, staring down a wall of colorful images, and realizing just how naive I'd been when I thought to myself, "Oh I'll just duck in and grab a puzzle real quick!"

You see, although I have known my husband for over two decades, and although we have been romantically intertwined for nearly nine years, I only just this past week discovered that he, too, loves to do puzzles.  (I like that there are still things to be discovered.)

However.

As you might imagine, the fact that we're nearing a decade of marriage, a marriage in which we spend considerably more time together than apart, and yet never realized that the other one loves puzzles, means that neither of us has done a puzzle in all that time.

Which is why I now find myself feeling perhaps a little more pressure than the situation strictly calls for.  Because I want to not just surprise, but delight my husband with a puzzle for our weekend-away, which means I need to pick just the right puzzle.

Except there are a lot more puzzles than I was expecting, and I'm now suffering a bit of Analysis Paralysis.  Obviously I don't want to get anything too easy- we have a whole weekend ahead of us!  But what if I get one that's too complex?  And obviously it has to be a cool image, or at least an appropriately ironically-lame one, to minimize the amount of teasing I will suffer.

In the end I opt for a family of wolves in a frozen landscape, because we will be a family hanging out at a cold beach.  It's practically the same thing, right?  Right.

I glance at my phone- I've spent close to half an hour agonizing over this non-decision.  Ah, the lengths we go to for love.

She is Not a Tame Wife

I don't like the word domesticated, as applied to myself.  I like the idea of being a Wild Creature.

But I'm not.

I'm not a Wild Creature anymore.  I'm married.  I'm a mother.  I have to consider more than just my own selfish instincts.  And so perhaps it's time for me to come to terms with the word domesticated.

But then I remember that cats are, technically, "domesticated".  Cats who don't come when you call, but will curl up with you in bed and keep you warm.  Cats who will put a bloody corpse in your bed to show that they love you.

Domesticated, but not tame.

Spiraling On

Describe your first kiss. Describe your most recent kiss. Describe your next kiss.

Once upon a time, if you had asked my to tell you about my first kiss, I'd have described to you a rather under-whelming (but retrospectively humorous!) encounter with an older boy (by a whole year!) on our gifted program retreat to Dauphin Island.

But today, as I sit here writing after putting my son to bed, today when I think of "my first kiss", I realize that moment of mutually-awkward-fumbling was not the one that matters.

No, my first kiss was pressed to my brow just moments after my birth, when my head was tiny and fragile and covered in skin softer than the air newly surrounding it.  I had just become my own separate person, and it was then I received a kiss of love so true I will never have to fear falling into an enchanted slumber.

My most recent kiss was with my husband: the sort of in-passing kiss that becomes so common among people who have been partnered for any significant amount of time.  A brief pressing-of-lips to reaffirm that yes, we are still mates, we still have the right to this small intimacy.  We are tired these days, worn out from discovering our roles as parents in addition to spouses, but we will never not make time for kisses, for touching, for love.

My next kiss will surely be on my son's sleeping head, because now I've sat here contemplating the full range of kisses, the full range of love, and it is the only answer my poetic soul will accepts: a return to the beginning, to keep the spiral slowly spinning onward, forever and ever.

Bright Copper Kettles and Warm Woolen Mittens

Not only are these a few of my favorite things, they also make appropriate gifts for the seventh wedding anniversary!  Woo!

It was perhaps our most low-key anniversary yet, although that's partially because going to Silver State Falls was probably our actual anniversary "thing".  Today we settled for gift-exchange in the morning (bright copper necklace and warm woolen gloves, actually) and take-out from our favorite Thai place after work, eaten while curled up on the couch with our favorite Little Gentleman.

All in all, a damn good way to celebrate the day we established our household.

Taken With Too Many Grains

Sometime you accidentally do something spectacularly dumb.

Like, say, use the wrong side of the salt shaker.  Just for example.

And then your husband walks in and says he'll take care of fixing it, so you can just go sit on the couch and watch Castle.  (Thank goodness for good lifemates.)

Valentine/BabyMine

Today was my first Valentine's Day as a parent, and I started the day out right by having a good cry over my father.  I have new insight into just how sad, angry, and scared he must have been about leaving his children as such a young age- and that insight hurts.  But!  I am here now, and my son is here now, and I will live in the Now, not in the What-Ifs.

My Here and Now

On to happier subjects!

Nathan and I of course did our traditional home-made card exchange, and (as is also traditional) I'm sharing some process here on the blog:

Pencils!

Inks!

Two colors!

Nearing completion!

Final product!

Words!

I wasn't going to bother making one for Neeps, since he's so little he doesn't care, but then I had enough wine last night to throw pragmatism to the wind, because I care, and busted something out on the quick:

(no process, just results)

BOOM.

Happy Days, ya'll.

Let's Go

Sometimes things just work out.

vroom vroom

The first time I got pregnant, back in the summer of 2013, Nathan and I realized that we were probably going to have to do something about the Car Situation.  Namely the fact that we were a single-(small)car family with a large and boisterous pit bull, plus a baby on the way- and a propensity for driving out to to the wild to go adventuring, often with quite a bit of gear.  This realization, over 18 months ago, kick-started us into researching just what sort of vehicle we'd want, if we were to get a second one.  And by "us" I mean "Nathan", because in this marriage he is in charge of research, and I am in charge of making sure we can afford whatever it is he's researched.  Partnership, see?  We lost that pregnancy, obviously, but we kept right on looking at cars in the hopes that it might once again become relevant.

We didn't feel any real pressure, which is sort of the ideal circumstances under which to look for a new car- until, that is, I got pregnant again, and then the ante was summarily upped once more.  But again, that didn't pan out... but our desire for a new vehicle stayed piqued because, quite frankly, we realized we were ready for a grown-up car.  That is to say, a car that wouldn't send me into fits of sciatica on long trips, and that we could accelerate onto the freeway with, without sending up a fervent prayer to St. Christopher.  And also butt warmers, because damn technology is amazing, ya'll.

So we looked and we looked, and we agreed that what we'd really want, if only we had the money, was a 2015 Subaru Forester Limited.  Ha ha ha hah.  But we are (occasionally) patient people, and we knew that in a year or two we could probably get said vehicle for the price we were willing to pay.

As all of this was going on, we were also waiting on the outcome of my grandmother's estate, which has been puttering along since 2012.  We weren't depending on the money by any stretch of the imagination, but we did acknowledge that, should it come through, it would certainly make things easier.

And then, last week, it did come through- and literally the next day Nathan found an advertisement for a certified pre-owned 2015 Forester that had every last thing- right down to the color- we had daydreamed about, with only 55 miles on it.  And the asking price?  Almost exactly the amount of the check we'd received.  That's right: a new car for the price of a used car, for the amount my generous grandmother left me.

We took the hint.

Wood is Soft, but Bone Remains

Another callback to August:

as you can see, there's been a change

Yup, my wooden ring- my anniversary ring- has cracked and lost a piece of itself, revealing the underlying structure of antler.

Personally, I think it's better this way (although I'm annoyed at the "crafts person" who charged my husband for a faulty product)- but then I prefer bone to wood, as far as my wearable art goes.  Too bad nobody thought to make "bone" a traditional wedding gift...

...or did they?

A Speech for a New Brother

My Katie got married yesterday...
 

just a couple of old married ladies!

...and while the following words aren't I said, they are what was written on the piece of paper folded and clutched in my left hand like a talisman.

(feel free to imagine your own amusing interjections from the audience- they were a mouthy bunch ;)

***

So here's the thing about this speech- I've been working on it for months.  You can ask Katie- every week or two she'd get a text that was mostly expletives, and generally concluded with, "I'm never going to be able to write this thing!"  And the reason why, is that every time I started to wax poetic about the beauty of our decades-spanning love, I kept tearing up like a ginormous baby.  And as much as I like to joke that I was just going to come up here, sob for five minutes, and then sit down, that's not really the speech I want to give.  So I realized that if I want to get through this thing without getting all blotchy and mucous-y, I 'd better address it to Kevin.

Kevin.  Man.  First of all, I have a confession to make: back in the early days of your relationship with Katie, I told her she should break up with you.  It's true: I did.  But not because I didn't like you- actually I liked you quite a bit, I thought you were awesome- but I didn't think she was ready for you yet, so I advised her to stop seeing you for a while, until she was ready.

Good thing she didn't listen to me, right?

Because here's the thing: she really wasn't ready for you, and on her own she might never have been.  But you were ready for her, man, and that's the key.  And you are such a far-seeing, clever bastard:  Katie's heart was like this wild little falcon, fierce and wary, easy to startle- but you stood there with your hand patiently outstretched, just waiting.  And she circled you, looking to see if that hand would be snatched back, or used to hurt her, or to curtail her freedom in any way... but it never was, and it never did.  And eventually that fierce little falcon came closer and closer, until at last it nestled in your hand, tamed without even suspecting you of it.  No hood, no jesses: just trust, and love, and respect.  Faith, and a willingness to stand firm no matter what.  And, of course, a mutual appreciation for Elfquest.

That last bit is actually pretty important in this particular moment, because it means that Kevin will understand exactly what I'm saying when I tell him that Katie is my soul's sister.  And now that you've married her, you've become my brother, and you will never, ever get away from that.  And I know that sounds like a threat, but it's a promise, really.  A promise to love you and look out for you forever and ever, because that's what you've promised to my Katie.  That's what she's promised to you.  You're lifemates, now, and I not only wish nothing but the best for you, I'm willing to go to the mat to help you fight for it.

So here's to Kevin, the clever, lucky bastard that captured my best friend's heart!  And here's to Katie, the clever, lucky girl who let her heart be captured!  But most of all, most importantly, here's to the both of you, and to your long and happy marriage!  I love you both so much.

Smoothing the Rough Patches

Remember when I said that I got Nathan woodworking lessons for our five year anniversary?  Well there's actually more to that story.  You see, they were originally scheduled for June 12th, 13th, and 14th.  June 12th was a Thursday, and my second day back at work after the miscarriage.  That evening, of course, is when I hemorrhaged, and ended up in the ER.  Needless to say, Nathan did not go to the second or third day.

After things had settled down a bit, I reached out to the woodworking studio and arranged for Nathan to finish up the lessons.  That's what he's been doing yesterday and today, and this evening he brought home a lovely little box:

like butter

Last night, as we were getting ready for bed, I joked that I hadn't even bled out or anything- that's progress!  And he admitted that he'd had paranoid thoughts of his own while he was in class.  It's a weird thing- we're both really happy that he's finally getting to do this thing he's wanted to do for so long, but we're also... skittish.

Some of you know that I've been avoiding Facebook recently.  There are a few reasons for this, but the main reason is that I sort of can't take any more photos of babies right now.  It's just a little too painful- or (and this is honestly worse) I find myself feeling nothing about these babies that I'm supposed to love.  Which makes me feel like an awful human being.  I understand that I'm not, of course, but I also understand that I am a grown-ass woman, and if something is making me feel bad, then I need to remove myself from the situation rather than bitching and moaning about what "other people" are doing or expecting of me.  Hence the Facebook hiatus.

I decided to pop back on last night, because I needed an address from the messaging portion of the site, and unfortunately the first thing I saw were pictures of a woman who is five months pregnant.  A woman whom I love deeply.  And I just... cringed.  Which told me that yep, I've made the right decision to stay away for the time being.

(I've had to check old messages twice since then, and I've taken to covering the majority of the screen with my hand until I have nothing but text displayed.  It's working quite well.)

Anyway, all of that was to sort of put a moment from this morning into context; I was out with Isis on her PT walk, and she was upset about not being allowed to chase a rabbit.  This prompted me to say to her,

"Yeah, well, I was supposed to be six months pregnant and in Scotland right now, so suck it up."

::sigh::

I came across a beautiful quote this afternoon, by the poet Edward Hirsch:

"I don't like the whole language of healing, which seems to me so false. As soon as something happens to us in America, everyone begins talking about healing. But before you heal, you have to mourn. And I found that poetry doesn't shield you from grief, but it does give you an expression of that grief."

I feel like I'm definitely guilty of trying to heal first and then mourn.  I've been in such a hurry just to fucking be okay, that I sort of forgot that still being sad three months after my miscarriage isn't exactly unexpected, and it doesn't mean I'm weak or pathetic or obsessive.  It just means that I need to cut myself some fucking slack.

Anyway, in honor of Mr. Hirsch's words, here are two poems that do a good job of expression some of the things I've felt.  The first is one I penned, the second is by Matsuo Bashō.  I feel they go together quite well, although I did not come across the one by Bashō until about a month after I'd penned mine.  I guess it just goes to show that certain aspects of grief are universal.

Even the sky
Cannot be silent
In her grief 

*** 

All crying done
Nothing remains
But the shell of a cicada

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.

Ace of Cups

drink it up

One

Warm

Cool

(and no, the irony is not lost on me)

Promise

My husband has beautiful musician hands,

Loves Me, Not Loves Me Not

Happy Surprises

The Snow Goes On

Woke up to a pristine winter wonderland today, something I haven't seen in a very, very long time.

Not in Oz anymore.

Nathan drove me to work, where I woman'd the phone for a few hours.  I left once the markets were closed, and got home just in time for the snow to start again- and to have a little romp time in the back yard with Isis (who finds catching snowballs in her mouth to be great fun), as well as a mini snowball-fight with my husband (during which I learned that while I was packing loosely for good explosion effects, he was packing densely so as to whallop me better).  Once our hands were sufficiently frozen, we came back inside and I baked some cupcakes, because being snowy days just call for lovely smells from the kitchen, don't you think?

The Taste of Love

It has not been the best of times in the O household, lately.  Nathan's been suffering from a variety of afflictions and I... I have been dealing with my old frenemy, Depression, and all it's accompanying quirks.  The result of this particular melange of unhappiness has been a certain amount of Unhealthy Eating for everyone.  Because not caring about anything includes not caring about taking proper care of your body.

Fortunately for the both of us, things started to turn around for me last night, which led to me actually talking to my husband, which in turn led to things turning even more towards Better.  Nathan is very very good at giving me what I need, if I can only bring myself to let him know that I need it.  Or not even "it" in specific- most times it's enough just for him to know that I need help- he can generally figure the rest out on his own.

So tonight, when I got home from the gym, I was determined to make us a dinner that would nourish our bodies instead of just filling our bellies.  And my husband, who was determined that I not feel alone in the world, stepped into the kitchen to help.  Between the two of us, we turned out a fragrant dish of apples, shallots, and pork chops in less than half a hour.

Sweet and Savory

Cooking all of your meals from (healthy) scratch is an enormous pain in the ass.  Unless, of course, you're doing it together, in which case it's a fun bonding activity.  For me, anyway.  I feel very loved and cared for when Nathan chops and I cook (or I chop and he cooks).  We're a team, doing something for us.  The fact that we get to eat a delicious meal at the end of it is almost a bonus...

Still Time to Die Young

My husband is home.

It is Good