Not the New Year’s I Had in Mind

This year, I did not spend New Year’s as I planned: just D. and me, enjoying a nice dinner out at one of our favorite tapas restaurants, then returning home for a quiet evening in front of the fire, or in front of a movie, topped off with our traditional champagne toast at midnight. And then. . . onto something that’s best not described here.

Sigh. A girl can dream, can’t she?

I got the dinner. I got the champagne. I got the fire. I didn’t get the rest.

The problem? A third wheel. And herein lies the conundrum. Should we have just told him our plans, knowing he’d find something else to do—or tell him our plans, taking the chance he’d be alone NYE? Should we have come right out and said, “We’re going to dinner and then spending the evening at home, just the two of us.” Ouch! Can you imagine being on the receiving end of that message? Stay away, we want to get frisky.

The man I married could never do that to a friend. I could. And wanted to. Friends should understand, right?

As it turns out, we had a nice dinner, wonderful wine, and my favorite champagne (apart from Dom, which wasn’t even a consideration). Plus, we brought Actual Meaning into the night by writing down all the things we wanted to let go of ( I don’t deserve this or that, I release my negative feelings about a certain ex, etc. etc.) and burning the little bits of paper in the fire. Heady stuff. Great revelations were shared. Growth was achieved.

I can’t remember any of it because we consumed two bottles of champagne. Three of us. Do the math. But no matter. It felt good to share and the evening was quite enjoyable.

Still, I lament the loss of the night that could have been. A romantic end to 2008. And truly bringing in 2009 with a bang. Dang.

Post # 104 Titillating Things About Me

I've noticed other blogs celebrating their number 100 post. Well, I apparently missed mine, so let's just do this now.

How about 104 things you didn't dare to ask and had no idea you could live without knowing about me?

1. I'm a Leo.


2. I'm number 8 of 11 children.


3. I'm the fourth, and final daughter.


4. I have seven brothers (obviously, do the math).


5. I love and adore all of my siblings.


6. My parents are 82 and 81.


7. They've been married for almost 61 years.


8. My mom is older than my dad.


9. All of my sisters married younger men.


10. My husband is 7 years younger than me.


11. My best friend in the world grew up down the street from me.


12. We were born 4 months apart.


13. We've been friends ever since.


14. Even though I once pushed her down the stairs at my house. Ouch.


15. I have been married before.


16. More than once.


17. First one didn't count.


18. I had two miscarriages.


19. They were with husband #2.


20. He was a BIG ASSHOLE.


21. So I'm glad there were no children to raise alone.


22. Not many people know about #16 or #18.


23. The older I get the less that concerns me.


24. I have been married to D. for eleven years.


25. He's the ONE.


26. I had an emergency appendectomy when I was 12.


27. It was ruptured.


28. I almost died.


29. But my parents knew better than to come right out and tell me that back then.


30. I still used my "illness" to get away with all kinds of behavior for several months.


31. Then my parents wouldn't have it anymore.


32. I was quite the drama queen.


33. Stayed that way for many many years.


34. I was a straight A student.


35. Until my junior year of high school.


36. In my senior year they almost kicked me out.


37. And still, no one tried to figure out what was wrong.


38. I was accepted everywhere I applied, but I took a year off before college.


39. And then I decided on a program for Respiratory Therapy.


40. And I hate hospitals.


41. And I pass out cold whenever a needle is within 50 feet of me.


42. I have passed out completely unconscious on an airplane.


43. Twice.


44. You should see the commotion they make when one passes out on a plane.


45. I quit college in the middle of the program.


46. So I could work at the mall.


47. I also worked at 7-11.


48. I smoked cigarettes there.


49. I got fired.


50. Not for smoking.


51. My mother inspired me to get the hell out of Upstate NY.


52. I moved to South Carolina.


53. I continued my career, working for international corporations.


54. They were Pizza Hut and Burger King.


55. Someone there showed me how to avoid ringing up cheeseburgers and to pocket the money.


56. We put it in our shoe instead of our pocket.


57. It was the first time I ever stole anything and I felt too guilty so I stopped.


58. It wasn't Catholic guilt, despite my Catholic upbringing.


59. My previously-mentioned best friend has enough for both of us.


60. And all of you.


61. I used to work for a sporting goods (i.e. guns and crap to go with them) distributor.


62. Turns out I was really good at sales.


63. I had a special chair to signify my status.


64. There was much jealousy.


65. I used to smoke there, too.


66. We would let co-workers buy cigarettes for a nickle if they were out.


67. This was 80's perm and shoulder pad time.


68. I got married.


69. Didn't take.


70. I lost 40 lbs.


71. Soon I took up with THE ASSHOLE.


72. I moved to Virginia.


73. Married him for some unknown reason.


74. Left him after five years, but stayed in Virginia by myself.


75. With my dog.


76. Met some of the best people in my life there.


77. Including D.


78. He asked me how old I was on our first date.


79. Which was to see James Carville and Mary Matalin speak.


80. I was so excited when he asked me to go with him


81. He was so excited that I knew who they were.


82. It was love at first sight.


83. We got married 5 months to the day from that first date.


84. Even though I freaked out a week before and begged him not to marry me.


85. He was undaunted.


86. We lived in a house with a pink and green bathroom.


87. Together, we adopted our second dog, who was three.


88. Among other similarities, our child-rearing philosophies drew us together.


89. And we have no children.


90. Didn't even try.


91. People still tell me "it's not too late."


92. I'm almost forty-six for chrissakes.


93. It IS too late.


94. And that is just fine.


95. People think we don't like kids because we don't have any.


96. I just wonder where all the money we didn't spend on kids is.


97. When my first dog died at 15 1/2, I cried for two years.


98. When my second dog died at 13 1/2, I cried for two months.


99. I don't want it to get easier.


100. Our newest dog is 3.


101. I adore her, too.


102. She was a rescue.


103. I don't believe in buying from breeders.


104. I don't believe in heaven or hell, either.

I could go on. Believe me, there's more. But really, isn't this enough? Thanks for helping me get to number one hundred four, yo!

It's Valentine's Day

This morning, D. and I were out walking our dog. This is an unusual event, in that D. does not voluntarily get out of bed when it is still dark out. But today, he wanted to join my friend and me on our Tues/Thurs trail walk. After we parted ways with our friend and headed back, we passed a house with a balloon-covered car in front. A huge heart balloon and several red and white balloons surrounded a hand-written message: your the best thing that ever happened to me. As D. was awwwwwing and smiling, I just had to mention that it was too bad his or her admirer couldn't spell. But then I succumbed to the sweetness and said, "Wow. Isn't it nice that someone thinks that about that person?" D. put his arm around me and said, "I think that about you."



Me too, honey. Me too. You are the best thing that ever happened to me.

Oh God, Not MORE New Year’s Resolutions?!!? Yup.

Monday night, we had a gathering of friends and family (will it EVER end??) at our house. It was lovely, my carpets are unscathed and nobody revealed any naked body parts, intentionally or not. At some point while I was still semi-coherent (the last guests left at about 2:30 am), we went around the table answering the venerable, quintessential New Year’s Eve question: “What are your New Year’s Resolutions?” One by one, we professed a goal or two. Until it was my cousin’s turn. His answer? “I never make resolutions.” His tone? And don’t ask me again next year. We moved on to the next guest.

I’ve been thinking about this—probably too much—but hey, there’s nothing of terrible importance going on right now (as in, no meals to plan). I just don’t get this hard line that folks like my cousin have against New Year’s Resolutions.

To me, the non-believers fall into one or more of three categories:

1. They believe they need no improvement (and that right there is a fat clue);

2. They know they won’t keep their resolutions, so they don’t bother to make them (have they given up on themselves?)

3. They think it’s a silly clichéd tradition, like wearing funny hats and blowing through noisemakers at midnight (awesome!).

Well yes, we all know that it’s cliché, that resolutions are as are easy to make as a bowl of cereal—and as hard to keep as a mammogram appointment. (Two bad similes in one sentence! How does she do it?) And how many of us remember—much less keep—our sincerely made resolutions by April when all we can think about are taxes, not diets or quitting smoking or going to the gym three times a week no matter what?

I love how bloggers are writing about their resolutions, and I’ve decided to join in the fun. My list will be lurking out there in black and white forever. How convenient for beating myself up referring back to when I need reminding of what the hell it was I said I would do in the bask of a golden champagne-induced personal breakdown holiday glow.

To me, there’s no harm in taking stock of myself, blowing through an entire box of Kleenex and bottle of good Syrah, then dealing realistically with my shortcomings (unlike my cousin, the rest of us have them), and vowing to do better.

So here we go. Here’s what I need to improve, and I solemnly vow that I resolve to do so:

1. Be more patient with my husband. As in, no rolling eyes when he asks if we have any butter. This is a tough one because it involves a DNA transplant. Might need help. I reserve the right to silently say, "Have you LOOKED in the refrigerator, by chance?????"
   
   
2. Scoop the cats’ litter boxes every day. This will be an easy one: if I do it each morning after I feed them, it will only take a minute, max. Maybe it will cure the phantom pooper, too. I don’t know any cats who get scooped every day, but I’m sure they’re happier than mine, who deserve a cleaner environment in which to poo.
   


3. Be kinder. I am not completely unkind, mind you, and I will never be one of those annoying public-sweet-closet-bitchy women. I keep it real. But at times, that realness lands on others with a thud, or worse—with a smack. It’s not what I say, it’s how I say it, they say. I’ve heard it enough to know I need to work on it.
   


4. Write. I have two novels in the works. I need to get back to them.
   


5. Get organized. Since we moved into this house in April, I have never felt completely unpacked. There are still two unfinished rooms where boxes are shoved into corners, the closets are jammed full of crap, and nothing hangs on the walls—because we haven’t painted them yet. My mind is not at rest, and every time I walk into those rooms I feel stressed. I will pick out the paint and get started. Hang the pictures and clean out the closets. Breathe easier.
   


6. Attend Boot Camp faithfully. I have done better than I expected—I have survived two 8-week sessions of Boot Camp, and I’m stronger, my clothes fit better, and I love the class. I’m signing up for round 3 (I need the discipline of a class structure) and I vow to not miss any classes unless I’m sick or out of town. Three hours per week is no big deal. I just have to make myself get dressed and leave the house.
   


7. Be this girl (come warmer weather, of course—I’m not going near the water now).
   


8. And this girl.
   


9. Get myself on one of these, purchased, rented, borrowed—whatever it takes. Because I had nearly forgotten the pure happiness I feel when I’m sailing. I don’t want to forget.
   



10. Take good care of myself, however I define it, each day. Naps, massages, walks, bike rides. Be with people who are good for my soul. Simply put, do more of the stuff I want to do and less of the stuff I do not.

Well, this ought to be enough to set me on the path to self-love, family harmony, and life balance. Who knew it could be SO EASY? Stay tuned.

10 Things

Oh, the temptation to analyze what's passing for “news” these days. . . such as the current scandal involving that troubled young singer’s even younger sister’s troubles. Or the nerve of that other troubled young celebrity showing up at her boyfriend’s football game and making his team lose! She must be stopped, apparently, and this is a BIG DEAL that people are actually discussing on the internets. And let’s do talk about the presidential candidates' holiday ads, which I thankfully have not witnessed—but! Luckily for me, NPR provided a fascinating analysis of all dozen or so of these special holiday greetings, interviewing two experts in their fields who told me what I should think of Sen. Clinton’s generosity or Rudy G’s sincerity. Whew! My personal holiday season is so much the richer for that. Thanks, NPR!

Oops—those sarcastic remarks snuck out after I implied there would be no news analysis. Here I go, adding to the noise. Well, what else is there to do on a delightfully rainy Pacific Northwest Saturday-morning-before-Christmas when smug little me has no shopping or any other sort of seasonal prepping to do? I’m eatin’ my oatmeal and drinkin’ my coffee and readin’ the newspaper. Life is good.

So good, in fact, that on this particularly good day I feel compelled to write a “10 Things” list. I’ve seen various lists on other blogs, usually initiated by a meme, which I have not been on the receiving end of (forgive the dangling preposition, Mrs. G.!). But instead of writing about myself, this one will be a pay it forward kind of thing. In the spirit of the season, I'm thinking about someone other than me!me!me! I invite you to do the same. Today's list is about my sweet husband, who, despite being as challenging to live with at times as, oh, I dunno, perhaps I am, is still the best person I’ve ever known.

This is for you, D.

10 Things I Love About My Husband

10. You like almost everything the same as me.
9. You like to lay around the house in jammies for entire weekends.
8. You do all the research about every new gadget, piece of electronic equipment, or appliance that enters our house so I don’t have to.
7. You don’t have foot odor. Amazing.
6. You are a snappy dresser.
5. You enjoy shopping at Target.
4. You have never answered the question, “Do I look fat?” in the affirmative.
3. You say I look exactly the same as when we met eleven years ago.
2. You set up the coffee every single night so it grinds and brews before I wake up.
1. You love my family.

And here are 10 more:
1. You are the best doggy and kitty daddy in the whole world.
2. You cut the grass.
3. You pump the gas.
4. You hate raisins. This is cute.
5. You are a good son and brother.
6. You are an incredibly talented musician and know more about music than anyone I’ve ever known.
7. You write poetry for children—and we don’t even own any.
8. We have never had a single disagreement over how much money to spend on our animals.
9. You ask directions without hesitation.
10. You let me be who I am like no one else ever has.

And you love good movies and hate bad acting and you're not a sports guy and you're totally in touch with your feminine side, which makes you a good shopping partner, and you like to cook with me and drink good wine and you agreed to start this amazing adventure called marriage even when I tried to talk you out of it.

What, dear reader, do you love about your S.O., sister, brother, parents, friends?

Happy Anniversary, Mom and Dad

Today is their 60th wedding anniversary. He was just over twenty years old; she, almost twenty-two: like all her daughters to come, she married a younger man.

They were gorgeous. He looked a lot like Bill Clinton, only much better looking. He stood very tall, with the straight back of a US Marine. She looked very Irish, with her dark hair and blue eyes; fair skin and trim figure.

On that day, they looked really happy. They look as happy 60 years later. They are best friends, have the admiration and respect of all of their children, grandchildren, the community, and scores of their children’s friends. They receive letters from people whose lives they’ve touched in their subtle, steady, loving way.

They are deeply religious, but not judgmental. They took care of my grandmother into her nineties. They take care of each other. They worry about their kids and grandkids without prying into their lives. They are proud of us for whatever we have accomplished.

They truly gave us roots and wings, as they saying goes. Roots grounded in decent behavior toward others, belief in human rights, and a real work ethic. Wings that allow us to be who we are and to live our lives as individuals, responsible for ourselves and to our communities.

They are loved. Happy Anniversary, Mom and Dad.

Where Did All My Girlfriends Go?

When you're in a relationship as long as I have been, you tend to fill your weekends with couple activities. On weekends, D. and I usually hang out together.

But tonight D. has gone to a real, professional baseball game with our friend D. And I find myself facing a solo Saturday evening. What possibilities for fun! Only I really don't have a best friend I can call and say "Hey! Let's _______!" What would we do? Get together at a nice wine bar and chat? Head down to the waterfront park and listen to the band? See a summer stock play? Shop? Have a nice dinner?

I can do any of these lovely activities alone. The thought of having an entire beautiful summer evening to myself makes me really happy in a way. I thought I'd probably write, read, go shopping, relax at home, maybe see a movie. I could take our pooch on a sunset hike. I could go for a bike ride. Clean out several closets. Sit on the porch with a big glass of wine. So many choices! I'm free to do whatever I choose.

But I'm not a loner. I'm not an introvert. I love being around people. So what I'd really like to do is call my best girlfriend and hang out with her. But she's in LA.

Note to self: cultivate some friendships.

What's that? The phone ringing? And it's a (new-ish) girlfriend! She, too is mateless this evening and we're going to hang out and drink some wine. And I'm going to ride my bike over.

Perfect.

Forget Jesus, WWAGD (What would Al Gore Do?)

Imagine Tipper Gore buying a Humvee. Or Susan Sarandon going Republican. What would Al and Tim think? How would they feel? What would they do?

What do you do when your mate chooses to act in ways that are against your belief system? What do you do when the person you love the most lets you down? When you start thinking that he or she is a hypocrite? That's a big, bitter pill to choke down. How do you deal with it?

How do you balance your beliefs with another person's freedom to choose? How do you define dealbreaker and how does that definition change from when you're just dating to when you've been living together happily for ten years?

I have been a vegetarian for eighteen years. It's one of the ways I define myself. My mate stopped eating meat pretty soon after we met. He did it completely on his own, after reading Diet For a New America by John Robbins. I was thrilled; not only was I madly in love with a person I admired and adored, he was now a vegetarian, too! I had never imagined having the good fortune to share my life with a fellow veg. Seemed too good to be true, especially after the years of dating meat-eaters who put up with my lifestyle but didn't understand it.

For five years, nary a morsel of meat passed his lips. Then a temptation became too great and, while I was shocked and dismayed, I didn't go ballistic. I thought (or was that hoped?) it was a one-time thing. Trouble is, the one time turned into several more over the years, and lately they're coming fairly regularly.

Pepperoni pizza from Pizza Hut? Like that was good when you used to eat meat? Why? Why? Why did you eat that?

I don't get the eating of it but even worse is the doing it behind my back.

My feelings run deep and strong on this subject—and he knows this. I don't harp on others about their eating habits; if you want to eat dead animals, go for it. It's disgusting—to me—and while I don't hate meatheads, I do hold a very special place in my heart for vegetarians. Besides, I learned long ago that people have a hard time giving up the meat, so I gave up the preaching and converting shit years ago. But animal rights and my respect for the little voiceless buggers are just very big to me. I believe that it's wrong to raise and kill animals for the purpose of eating them. But my hub is his own person with his own free will, and I can't make him do anything he doesn't want to do; nor can I ask him not to do what he wants.

Ok. That's one solution. Leave him be and go on my veggie path alone. Recognize the fact that he is no longer a vegetarian. Get over it. Move on.

Or end it. I can't overlook that option. It is not what I want, but it would certainly eliminate what has been making me weep for two days: how can I live with a person who cares so little for me that they keep doing the one thing that bothers me more than anything? And why should I stay with a person who has changed so fundamentally since we were married? What would Al do if Tipper went off the environmental deep end and started leaving every light in the house on, bought a big-ass speedboat and an SUV, and became a raving NASCAR fan? Would he let her live her life as she chooses or boot her energy-wasting ass out the door?

Each time D. has eaten meat over the past few years, I've either gotten really really upset and angry (and we've had many discussions over it) or I've resigned myself that there is nothing I can do about it (especially when we're dining with others, and I've had no choice but to keep my mouth shut). BUT. IT'S. NOT. OKAY. It's not ok. It's not ok like he never puts shit away is ok. It's not ok like he's not that great at laundry is ok. We all have our strengths, and dear hubby has many. The reasons I love him are also many. He's one of the finest humans on the planet. He is one of the best people you'll ever meet. This is not about him, however. This is about ME.

The biggest piece of my "who am I?" pie chart is "animal lover/vegetarian". The two bits are inextricably linked together. I have been a vegetarian since 1989. That's most of my adult life. And I've defended it, explained it, and snarked about it for all of that time. I've really had it up to my ass with the whole explanation thing. I hate feeling defensive about it, yet I seem to be put into that position far more often than I ever thought I would. Food is a powerful connection point for us humans. If I reject what you eat, I reject you (or some seem to believe).

So while I care what everyone else eats--in the sense that if they didn't eat the animals, it would do a lot to improve the world—I don't make a big stink about it, and I don't choose my friends depending on their food choices. I make one exception; I very much care what D. eats. I care because I love him and he loves me and we are two peas in a pod making a life together in the world and we've been through oh! so much and we're still here and still strong ten years into it. I care because I live with him and I want him to think highly of me and my ideals. I want him to respect my very very strong feelings on the subject. I care because it matters to me that he not eat dead animals because that pretty much disgusts me to no end and I care because I married a vegetarian and thought he would always be one, only he's not anymore.

D. is not a vegetarian.
D. is not a vegetarian.
D. is not a vegetarian.

I'm trying to come to terms with this.

This is very difficult to reconcile.

So, for the past day and a little more I've been pondering this new reality. It is enough to make me weep. I go back to the choices I can make, based on this soul-wrenching issue that he has presented me with.

And this time, I think, I cannot bear it. I cannot turn a blind eye or pretend it's ok with me because it just is not. It's too big a part of me to not expect--or demand--that my life partner support me and respect me enough to grant me this one, very important request: do not eat the meat.

And then the tears come again because I know he won't do this for me. And it's the knowing that makes me so very sad. The knowing that he doesn't care enough. The knowing that he's not the moral person I thought he was. The knowing that he does not have the courage of his convictions. This, the guy who just a week ago was agreeing with me that we need to brush up on which companies conduct animal testing. Now he's eating the pepperoni.

So what do I do with this new, hurtful knowledge? Ouch. Cry a bit more, take the dog for a run with my Ipod on my workout playlist and cry again when the shuffle hits Save Me by Queen and dear Freddie is pouring his soul into the lyrics and he gets to "How I loved you, how I cried. . ."

And, then I get home and I'm still depressed and I can cry instantly and unexpectedly just sitting on the deck. And I realize that I love D. very much. I love him and I love him and what am I supposed to do with that?

I try to talk to him again. He is hurt that I rejected his previous attempt at reconciliation. I thought he was trying to brush it off, pretend it didn’t happen and nothing was wrong. Our nerve endings are raw and we're not as nice as usual. He suggests seeing our counselor, which is great; I was thinking a check-in with her would be a good way to work through this.

Then I ask the question, "Can you stop eating meat?"

And he says, "Sure."

And I think, why didn't he just say so?

I think we're ok again. And I think this time, he's doing it for me. For me. And that feels really, really good. I'm crying again, but for a whole different reason.

There were two ways for this to have ended; both involved one of us giving in out of love for the other. In the end, love prevails. And you don't get through ten years of marriage without it.