We are homeowners!

At least I think we are. We were in the house last night until almost 2:00 AM with the insane carpet guy, so I hope there was a good reason for that. That carpet guy was wi-red. I am unsure how many chemicals were competing in his system, but I am pretty sure he got us a good deal. Yesterday was such a day and my vacation starting tomorrow is shaping up to be hardcore, but we OWN a house now. We could tell some discouraging stories about the journey, but now they have a big, bright light at the end of the tunnel (not a train).

Catch Up on Events

Happy Solstice! I am grateful that the sun shall start returning to us northerners now. Sorry southern hemisphere, but you had a good run.

Anyway, here's some stuff that has happened somewhat recently in no particular order:


We delve into the enigma that is Thomas Jefferson.

Brother and Sister-in-law shoot guns.

El Esposo goes for the ride of his life in Maw Maw and Paw Paw's front yard.

Handling our weapons.

We shop for tile.

We celebrate -- us.

Not pictured: I finally give in to the scorn and ridicule and go to the eye doctor to get some more contacts. And, we buy lots of painting supplies, a hot water heater, and a dishwasher.

-- Tomorrow's big adventure?



Merry Christmas! It's true us Christians co-opted the actual day from the Pagans, but why not? It is the first day the sun starts "heading back north" (aka the earth's axis starts to rotate that way). So it represents hope for all northern hemisphereans. Happy day of hope, northerners. Catch you on the flipside southerners? Or something.

Hooray, we made it past the celebrity novelty/starter marriage marker!

I don't think you normally put a comma after "Hooray," but I felt good about it here.

But, this deserves many exclamation points and title case:
Our First Anniversary!!!
(It was on the first, actually, but I wasn't about to blog on that day.)

I can assure all two blog readers that my husband is wonderful and that I am lucky to be married to him (but if you know him you already realize this). Male odors notwithstanding, I pretty much hit the jackpot. A year later this is only more so.

*** Originally I wrote a whole blog full of musings and reflections on marriage year one, but this just doesn't seem like the right forum after all ***

Going to the swampland

I'm leaving in fifteen minutes to go to my birthplace: Lake Charles, Louisiana. I haven't practiced my cajun yell in years, so I'm sure it sucks. AAAAAAAIIEEEEEE. It's actually a very bizarre feeling to go there now as we used to be so close to that side of the family when I was growing up in the south but as soon as we moved to Kansas in Jr. High (and then New Jersey, and then all the places I've been since then) we've been the outsiders. We see them every few years at best for a day or two. El Esposo has never met any of my mom's family so it's going to be a treat. I'm excited for the warmth and for the re-forging of family connections and the totally-different-from-D.C. culture, but I'm trepidatious too. I feel like such a Yankee going to the Southland where I no longer belong.

Know Your Onion

Zombie Steve tagged me on this a while ago, and today I found my shuffle (which means I have not been running lately, since that's what I primarily use it for) and am waiting for someone to finish a paper for class so we can eat dinner, so it seems the time is ripe . . .

1. Put Your iTunes, Windows Media Player, Winamp, etc on shuffle.
2. For each question, press the next button to get your answer.
3. YOU MUST WRITE THAT SONG NAME DOWN NO MATTER HOW SILLY IT SOUNDS.
4. Put the artist after a dash following the song name.
5. Put any comments in brackets.
6. Tag some lucky people to spread the disease.

How would you describe yourself?
Love Spreads Around - The Stone Roses (ok?)

How do you feel today?
The District Sleeps Alone Tonight - Postal Service (Hmm. I will not be sleeping alone, but the mood of this song is kind of fitting? Lethargic and poco melancholic.)

What is your life’s purpose?
Creep - Radiohead (Now that's a lovely assessment. I normally skip this song when I'm running, so I don't buy it.)

What is your motto?
Got You (end of a century) - Wilco

What do you think about very often?
Legal Man - Belle and Sebastian (I do work at the Department of Justice)

What is your life story?
"In the Backseat" - Arcade Fire (When I was growing up my family had this awesome full sized fan with the plush captain's chairs and stuff and my spot on all of our long trips was lying down in the back seat, two brothers in the captains chairs in front of me and the other brother sprawling on the floor - awesomely safe, I know, but this was the eighties - of course my parents were in the front)

What do you want to be when you grow up?
No Cars Go - Arcade Fire (I have a lot of Arcade Fire on my shuffle. I like running to them)

What will you dance to at your wedding?
Barstow - Jay Farrar (Aw. This is kind of sweet, because el esposo spent about half of his mission (for the LDS church) in this city. Great song, of course.)

What will they play at your funeral?
Near Wild Heaven - REM (Awesomely apt!)

What is your hobby/interest?
The Projectionist - The Places (I dunno, but I'm glad I looked this up b/c I meant to get this whole album a while ago)

If you could do anything right now, what would it be?
Shelter From the Storm - Bob Dylan (it is pretty cold outside.)

What do you want most of all?
Lady Madonna - Beatles (uh . . . no I do not WANT to be a single mom. That would be hard.)

What is your greatest fear?
This Heart's on Fire - Wolf Parade

What is your darkest secret?
Act of the Apostle 1 - Belle and Sebastian (uh . . .)

What is your favorite thing in the world?
July - Decemberists (Not my favorite thing in the world but this weird song is wonderful pop that I love dance-running to)

If you could have one wish, what would you wish for?
I Am Superman - REM (Ha. REM is here for comic relief, I think)

What is your theme song?
True Love Will Find You in the End - Daniel Johnston (This absolutely IS my theme song. I didn't know it before, but yeah.)

The next time you hear this song (aside from now, that is), you must dance.
Chicago - Sufjan Stevens (not really a problem)

What will you post this as?
Know Your Onion - The Shins


Ok, I tag Lizzie if she happens to read this b/c she is good at these tag things and she has good music.

This post is for Robyn, but she'll have to get some speakers

I was over at SJ's blog, making some comment about Jurassic Park and the late Michael Chrichton. So, I got curious and googled Michael Chrichton, only to find out that he was the genius behind the movie Westworld. If you have never seen it, it is so worth the rental/netflix/etc. In the words of Steven Malkmus pretending to be Yul Brenner: "Perhaps you saw me in Westworld / I acted like a robotic cowboy / It was my best role / I cannot deny I / felt right home deep inside / that electronic carcass." If you've seen the episode of the Simpsons where they go to Itchy and Scratchy Land and all hell breaks loose, you already know the plot, but it is the stellar acting of Yul Brenner that makes the movie.

Apparently Michael Chrichton had no involvement in Futureworld, the sequel to Westworld, a decision he likely never regretted. However, it has to be said that lackluster though the majority of the movie is, Futureworld has the best dream sequence ever recorded on film, during which Yul Brenner makes his only appearance to reprise his role as the gunslinger. (Warning, I guess, this is kind of erotic, but mostly in a weird way, not a sexy way.) Behold:

Motivation . . . or "I'll see you in Hell"

I'm thinking about adding this phrase to the end of all polite written/email requests I send, just to give them a little more context. "Please get back to me by COB Tuesday or I'll see you in Hell." It's all in good fun, of course. Or is it?

El Esposo and I were especially thinking about ending our latest addendum (#4) to a certain contract (the one we've been waiting on since August 3rd) with the words "Or we'll see you in hell," right after the new deadline. You know something like, "Respond by X date or we'll see you in Hell." What do you think? Would that motivate you? Maybe I could soften it with a smiley face :-).

My subconscious told me to post this

Last night I dreamt that Michelle Obama came to my Sunday School class at church. Only it wasn't my regular sunday school class; there were only about eight people in it. Weirdly, no one was really talking to her. No one was saying "Oh my gosh, you're Michelle Obama," or anything of the sort. I was feeling very shy, but I kept stealing glances at her. Later, I followed her out to the parking lot and told her that I really admired her and that I was very "proud" of her husband. She was gracious about it, but also very guarded. I realized that she had started smoking a cigarette but was trying to hide it, especially from the group of kids that had apparently followed me out. I decided that maybe she was embarassed so I abruptly/politely ended the conversation, walked away and brought all the kids back with me so they wouldn't have to know she smoked.

Later in the dream I was thinking to myself about how I totally needed to blog about my run-in with Michelle Obama.

And now I have.

Over 25% of Identity Theft Involves Someone You Know

I just saw this ad (see the title) on bankrate as I was perusing the daily mortgage rates (which I do every single day) and it made me laugh, so I thought I would share it with you two or three people.

I'm just wondering why the criminals are targeting the people I know so hard? Or is it the people I know that are the perpetrators in 25% of cases? I mean, seriously, how many people do I know? A few hundred? Okay, maybe a thousand if we're stretching it to include all possible acquaintances? And there are what like 6 billion people on the planet? If you're reading this and you know me, you better be careful.

Everything is New Again

Last night el Esposo and I exchanged a high-five when President-Elect Obama (that seems so weird to say) mentioned people that stood in line for three or four hours to vote. I think that might have been the moment the realization started to flood, the full knowledge of what the country had just done. I actually like McCain pretty well. I would have voted for him in 2000 (at which time he seemed much more moderate). But the tide has very much turned since then and his time has passed and in 2009 the United States of America will inaugurate our first black president. Not only that, but our president is going to be a guy with a name unlike any of the 43 before him. Just saying it-President Obama-seems so surreal. The movies can no longer indicate "the future" by showing a black president on a tv screen. We are already there. It is so cool.

I am wary of the coming years a bit because there are going to be a ton of challenges for a president who really is pretty untried in challenging situations as an executive. Of course, I only have to think about Abraham Lincoln. Lincoln was a state legislator for 8 years and a U.S. Congressman for 2 years (during which he did not particularly stand out) before he was elected president.

Three hours later . . .

I voted! And I got a sticker. And I was very late to work. And everyone was cool with it. Yay for living in a democratic society. Yay for election volunteers. Yay for not drinking anything before I got in line.

My Uber Fandom is Out of Control

I figure it's almost election day, might as well post something of transcendent value. Anyway, somehow in the last month, El Esposo and I have become "huge fans" of the kid from the movie Holes.

The place we stayed in Vermont had satellite TV and we watched the movie Transformers. Then the weekend before last we went on a double date with our friends we've been meaning to hang out with for over a year. We saw Eagle Eye. And finally this weekend, we rented the new Indiana Jones. All movies starring our friend from Holes and Disney Channel fame. I feel like it is my duty to review each film and particularly the performance of the kid from Holes, as I am now an expert on his body of work.

Holes

In the movie, Holes, the kid from Holes begins to establish his street cred as the go-to young male actor for the harmless outcast/underdog role. He plays a kid with a long history of bad luck who is trying to change his fortune and break the "curse" on his family. He is sent to some sort of juvenile prison camp in some random out-of-the-way desert area in the lovely United States. There he interacts with several outcast/reject types with various issues, teaches a boy to read, escapes, brings down the evil prison camp, and clears his name. This movie is good fun. I watched it with five or six thirteen year old boys and we were all equally satisfied. It's a touching film.

Next we have Transformers
In this film, the kid from Holes plays a high school outcast who bought a car that turned out to be alive. The car "chose" him because his grandfather was the discoverer of this thing-a-ma-jig that will destroy earth or something. Anyway he fights the evil machines with the help of the good machines and saves the world. This movie plays especially to the adolescent male crowd with the fantasy of the nerd/underdog getting the "hot chick." That angle was pretty amusing, but the dialogue in this movie was also quite amusing. I think a fun game to play with the movie Transformers might be to count the non sequiturs. The plot is not very developed, but the random things people say in the movie make for some good entertainment.

Eagle Eye


To continue the historical journey we should have the Indiana Jones movie next, but I'd rather go in the order that I saw the films. So next we have Eagle Eye, complete with family baggage and evil machines. The kid from Holes plays the less-favored, less-capable, dare-I-say "outcast" twin brother who is thrust into this mega- super- hyper- uber- intense series of high impact action where he is being monitored and told what to do through technology. It's a classic fear of technology film, but I found it to be good fun and I would highly recommend it. It's quite enjoyable to make jokes about technology controlling our lives after viewing this film. The kid from Holes continues his accidental action hero routine.

Indiana Jones and The Kingdom of the Crystal Skull

Finally, we have the new Indiana Jones movie. To be frank, it is not very good. Ten minutes in, we paused it to get our frozen pizza out of the oven and El Esposo was already saying Harrison Ford is not delivering the goods as normal. I assured him that it's Harrison Ford and if anybody can charm with witty remarks amidst unlikely action it is him. He just needs something to work with. Wait for it. So we waited and waited and then it was over. The Holes kid plays the secret son of Indiana Jones, who has a bit of a tough kid outcast act (though of course he's loveable and harmless) and, oh yeah, family baggage from not ever knowing his father. The action in the movie is pretty inventive and it's not like the acting is actually bad, just adequate. It's mostly a weak script here that is at fault, but the difference between this movie and every other movie on this list is that this not fully realized script has pretty much no redeeming qualities. No entertaining non-sequitirs, no playing on real fears in real life, and no classic Harrison Ford wit.

In summary, I remain a huge fan of the kid from Holes, but break from the super-fan sentiment that he can do no wrong and every picture he is in shines.

Bobby Pins

Something woke me at 7:57 am. It was not my alarm. No, that had long since failed. It must have been my conscience. Or my instinctive fight-or-flight mechanism. The thing that sometimes motivates me when nothing else will:

OK, the fear of getting fired.

I woke, I turned to my trusty phone and saw the numbers 7-5-7. "What?" I said. And then for good measure, "What?" El Esposo mumbled something and turned over. I was supposed to catch the 8:05 bus.

As I leapt and ran across to the bathroom, I briefly considered going as is. But then I remembered that I had not showered post-yoga last night. Cute as my hair looked curled in a nest atop my head, I was not going to work stinky. We have no showers there and grossing out the client is not good business practice. My best hope was the 8:17 bus.

About 8:13 I was clean and dressed and looking at my partially dry, mostly wild-looking hair style in the mirror. No time for niceties such as hair product, I turned to that trusted and true standard of hair taming, the bobby pin. Grabbed a few on my way out the door, ran all the way to the stop, and have been living fabulous ever since. Wikipedia says this hair fastener became the standard in the twenties when the bob was in style. What I could not find out, though, was exactly when it was invented.

My mini epiphany about doctors

So not that long ago, I am sitting in my doctor's office on the bed with the butcher paper for a checkup and I say:
"So doc, I started taking this herbal stuff for this annoyance of mine. What do you think?"
And doc said, "If it works for you, you should use it."
"You don't have any recommendations about it?"
"Not if you like it."
"And on the bottle there's some bit about seeing your doctor about whether to use this stuff if you get pregnant*. But it's really just like a type of sugar, so I'm thinking, how bad can it be?"
"Right. Sounds like BS to me," says the doc. "I wouldn't worry."
(*I'm not pregnant, just thorough.)

I nod, but I immediately start going over the conversation in my head and I realize that all the doctor had really done is agree with me. So I start to think what use is his expertise. He's the doctor, not me. Shouldn't HE be telling ME whether or not this stuff works well? And then it hits me. The answer to this question is NO. The doctor does not know more about me than I do. And why, in fact, should he? He's trying to see as many of us as quickly as possible and why should I blame him as something has got to keep my insurance premiums down?

A short few weeks later I'm rowing a canoe with el esposo (see pic below) and I start telling him what I think about doctors. I tell him I think sometimes people get the wrong idea. They expect doctors to be like this omniscient being that knows exactly what's wrong with them and how to fix it. So then when the doctor misses something and gets a diagnosis wrong or gives them a medication that doesn't fix everything, people get so angry. On the other hand, some people assume their doctor is preaching the truth even when it doesn't seem quite right to them based on their experience, because as everyone knows doctors are omniscient. I think we can assign both too much power and too much guilt to doctors. I tell El Esposo that we are the ones that are really responsible for our own health.

El Esposo agrees and offers the addition that people often don't keep track of themselves and their illnesses enough to give their doctors all the info they need to make the correct diagnosis. His grandfather has always received excellent medical care because he keeps excellent notes.

I'm not saying doctors don't do amazing things and don't have loads of valuable experience and knowledge from years of intense schooling. Of course they do. I respect them and their expertise. They can also be responsible for the severe errors in judgment they sometimes make. However, I think in most circumstances the onus of responsibility for our health is on us (or the parents of a child, of course). Feel empowered. I do.

And I'm not even going to talk about health care coverage. I'm just not. Because that is a whole other topic.

The most relaxing vacation of my life

It's not really that hard to earn the title of "most relaxing vacation of my life" since I am used to family vacations where you wake up around 6 AM every day to cram as much high-velocity action! action! action! as possible into the minutes and hours. And of course there's often some sort of melt-down to add to the excitement. In short, my family is awesome. But just as there is a time to be awesome, there is a time to chill . . . (That was definitely a quote from the Bible, yes?)

This vacation also easily beat out the honeymoon for most relaxing since I did not have vertigo and we made zero stops at the emergency room. Though true that you have never lived unless you have spent hours just sitting in a chair trying not to move so as not to disrupt the ear canal or better yet walked down the street in a jaggedy un-pattern just waiting to fall on your face, sometimes you just want to have some control over a few simple bodily functions . . .

This trip was basically perfect. It was beautiful, tranquil, and felt very much like the calm before the storm. (No, I'm not pregnant.) Though by the end of the week we were pretty much ready to get back to the semi-city life. Ah, Vermont. Land of the unpopulous, where the only major chain restaurant is Ben and Jerry's, where hippies and kids that belong in the movie Juno (wielding pipes--what WERE they doing?)roam the streets of your capital city by night, where reside the paradoxical friendly/guarded folk, where everyone is conscientious and conscious and McCain stands no chance, where every town is a small town, and the hills/mountains roll on in unobtrusive beauty. We probably couldn't live there long term (well maybe if I become a famous writer and am asked to teach at Middlebury), but a week was wonderful.

Quick, before the memories starts to fade, here are some photos:


This is the view from our back porch where we stayed on Lake Elmore:

This is in Burlington:

El Esposo is standing on the remains of a cabin overlooking a vista on our hike up Mt. Elmore.

This is the only picture we remembered to take at the Ben and Jerry's tour. I think it's supposed to be a giant straw or something?

Us Canoeing. The picture is kind of odd, but I kind of like it.

Middlebury:

BACK to work on a holiday

The hard thing about coming back to work on a federal holiday after a week's vacation is the nagging conscience that seems to think it might be a good idea for me to consider at least pretending that I might possibly care about trying to complete any actual work with 3/4 of the workforce at my office gone.

I would insert a youtube clip of Gwyneth Paltrow in The Royal Tennenbaums if that didn't conflict with my desire to do nothing.

Ch- ch- ch- changes are my favorite

So I've been living in the same metro area for over five years! It's insane. The only plausible explanation would be that I did it for a boy, and that would be basically true. And of course it's worth it.

I have also now been working at my same job for two years, which is easily a record. I sort of tried to leave earlier this year but then I got one of those offers you can't refuse.

Interestingly, one of my biggest fears is stagnation. (Okay I'll confess "interestingly" is an inside joke between me and a co-worker that does not read this blog, based on an email that was sent to us that included a bunch of work for us to do. "Interestingly" was the first word in the email and it had absolutely nothing to do with the rest of the contents, which were the opposite of interesting. Just a common case of adverb overuse, I guess.)

So, yes, staganation. I used to fight stagnation by going to some random location (like a national park) that I'd never been to work for the summer. Now I have to live vicariously through others doing really exciting stuff and take on random projects like say teaching a class, taking a class, doing some pro-bono freelancing, planning a wedding, writing a novel, what-have-you. This way I can ingore when my job gets REALLY boring so that I can continue to collect a paycheck and sock it away for an eventual world takeover (or to buy a house, gosh darnit, silly willy little short sale madness arrgh, me matey!!!).

Also, I occasionally get massive haircuts. Like the one I'm getting today. Two fun bonus things about really massive haircuts: a) you can congratulate yourself for doing good by donating your hair to make wigs for kids and b) you can get someone at a decent salon to cut your hair for free. I would say that these two items are of equal importance to me, but the thing I like most is the big change in appearance. There is some fear involved, certainly (like I hope I don't get really terrible looking too-short boy hair), but that makes it all the more exciting.

Before and After photos to come as events unfold . . .

OK. So no real "normal" before pictures. We were in a hurry, but there was some documentation, via camera phone, as follows:


My luxurious locks. If you look closely, you may see the photographer.

The stylist is cutting into my defenseless little braid!

The look immediately after first chop

The final product, from the back.

Still working on the exact stylin' but I think I like it. Perhaps I'll get a better photo soon, also.

In the meantime I am going on vacation with El Esposo and will be sans internets. "Catch you on the flipside."

Thursday Thing One and Thing Two (letters)

Yes it's Friday, but these happened on Thursday:

1) I finally wrote a letter (well email) to my high school English teacher, thanking him for being so awesome. He was by far my best teacher in high school and his influence lasted for long after that. Not only did his enthusiasm and sheer coolness (he was the teacher that wore jeans, talked about music, and some of the girls had crushes on - yep, I was included) turn me onto literature like never before, but really it was the respect for his students that made the biggest difference. He led us in these great philosophical discussions, but he was much more the facilitator than the taskmaster. He expected us to have good ideas and to help him arrive at a better understanding of the meaning of literature, just like he helped us. I was already a pretty independent person, but he helped me trust and challenge my own brain as a teenager when we got plenty of messages that we were not good enough and the bane of everyone's existence. I have also tried to emulate his style in teaching when I have taught, which is above all else to expect your students to be up to the challenge, to respect them and their ideas, and to treat them as near-equals (hey, you still have to give them a grade).

He replied to my email soon after I sent it, sincerely and sweetly telling how much it had meant to him. I could also tell he is still the intelligent, sensitive, and hip person I remember. I thought to myself how easy it is sometimes to make another person feel good. That was cool.

2)I got a letter from my sponsored child Raul Esteban who lives in Chile. I've been sponsoring him for over two years now and I have been mostly lazy about my sponsorship: the money gets extracted every month and I hardly notice it. Recently for his birthday, I actually sent him a real letter and birthday greeting. He returned my letter with a very enthusiastic and authentic-sounding letter of his own. I had a great time trying to translate it and then checking with the version the Children International people had put underneath it. It was such a sweet and grateful reply. I had told him about getting married and he congratulated me and "sent" me a big hug and a kiss (for El Esposo too). He said he hoped El esposo would be a good husband. It was so nice. And, by the way, yes I do have a very good husband.

It's a whole bunch of little things that make up our lives, and sometimes the little things don't seem to amount to much. But then again, sometimes they do, and then I'm like, Oh yeah, duh. That's what it's supposed to be like.

Book Club

At work we started a book club. Actually, I didn't start it but I was invited to join. It's not a book reading club. It's a book writing club. I've got to say it adds an extra sense of purpose to my work day on Friday. We meet during lunch on Fridays and one person is kind of the star of the show and talks about their book and we offer feedback. Some of these people in the club are people I work with closely and I was a bit worried as the "team" structure of my office is not really that team-y. One of them is someone that tells me what to do some of the time and one of them is someone I tell what to do some of the time. So I thought it might be awkward. But it's not. Anyway, if you want to spice up your office and put a new spin on traditional reporting structures, I offer this book writing club as a good idea.

Today's Couplet

It's not exactly a couplet, but it feels like one.


I know someone who’s wasting her life
And that someone is me
All my new devices
Quickly becoming vices


I wrote it yesterday after work when I was surfing this world wide web thing instead of working on two projects I knew I needed to work on.

Round Two

I figured out how to convert the errant file format. Turns out it was really easy. Anyway, these are the answers to the challenge question: 4 songs whose lyrics start with the words "I lost."

Cardboard on the Dance Floor

Napkin

Fifty Bucks (or Someone Else's Wife)

(In Which I Fight the Devil in the Guise of Trenton Ashburn)


Feel free to vote your favorite. If you pick mine I will appreciate your loyalty, but may question your taste (I am working on a new version with completely different less annoying music). Nevertheless, the buzzer went off. And yes, I suppose I am giving myself the luxury of a caveat because it is my blog. Discuss amongst yourselves the fairness of that. Thank you all participants! Winner chooses the next challenge!

NEWSFLASH: Presidential Candidates Have Big Egos and other items

I know, I know, I need to post the songs. A certain someone needs to send me theirs in the right format, also.

Anyway, this post is not going to be about the headline so much, it just kind of bugs me when people talk about how they could never vote for the "other" candidate because he/she has way too much self love, as though their candidate is the model, the paragon, the quintessence, the tumescence of humility. Their candidate who is running for President. Of the United States.

Now then, I watched the Obama acceptance speech last night and I liked it. There were a few honestly inspirational moments. Like when he talked about taking action on consensus:

We may not agree on abortion, but surely we can agree on reducing the number of unwanted pregnancies in this country. The reality of gun ownership may be different for hunters in rural Ohio than for those plagued by gang-violence in Cleveland, but don't tell me we can't uphold the Second Amendment while keeping AK-47s out of the hands of criminals. I know there are differences on same-sex marriage, but surely we can agree that our gay and lesbian brothers and sisters deserve to visit the person they love in the hospital and to live lives free of discrimination. Passions fly on immigration, but I don't know anyone who benefits when a mother is separated from her infant child or an employer undercuts American wages by hiring illegal workers. This too is part of America's promise - the promise of a democracy where we can find the strength and grace to bridge divides and unite in common effort.

Or when he basically quoted me about inidividual responsibility and mutual responsibility--that we can't let government solve all of our problems for us; we need to take repsonsibility for our own actions as well. (Once upon a time, when we were feeling fed up with political parties, Ms. Tom and I were going to create a political party founded on the values of reponsibility: personal, mutual, corporate, etc. We decided not to reinvent the wheel after all.)

Anyway, I support the general message of Barack Obama's speech, the idea that our country can do better 1) to give its citizens access to the resources they need, 2)to regain the bit of respect we used to have in the world, 3) to work together, despite our differences.

Then, there were a few things that gave me that not-so-gung-ho feeling.

One in particular that I have heard politicians, most often democrats, give lip service to a lot in the past several years, is the idea that we can somehow stop jobs from going overseas--often manufacturing jobs or even jobs that are on their way to being technologically obsolete, and of course there are always the call centers and help desks. No doubt it sucks to work in a factory for 25 years and suddenly the plant closes down and you have no job. But, we are never going to be able to give businesses the number of tax credits they would need to make it financially smart to keep these jobs here. I just don't see how it is a viable solution in our global economy. Can we do something to promote job growth? Sure, we can encourage new technologies. Can we do something to help train people that lost their jobs to do something else? Yes, why not? I just don't think we can keep these jobs from going away. Maybe I'm missing something.

And yes, like most of the country I doubt that we can afford to do everything Obama has in his plan.

Also, anytime the supporters started chanting something, I will admit I got creeped out.

Nevertheless, I do feel he expresses the needs and hopes of the country, particularly the disenfranchised, better than most, and I feel that the direction he talks about is the right one.

Just some thoughts and my reactions. I was also very interested to see McCain's VP pick. I know nothing about her, but I am kind of stoked that either way we are starting to break away from the two white guys mold.

The Quest for Joint Expression

Or QJE.

El Esposo and I spent a couple hours last night trying to write music together. Here's the rub: El Esposo is leaps and bounds ahead of me in skill on the gui-tar. He'll be like "What do you think of this?" and play some multi-layered complexity, "And then we could go into something like this for the chorus," and the multi-layered complexity continues, but with different underlying chords. And then inevitably I'll say something like "OK, so what was that first chord again?" We'll do this sort of thing for a while and in the meantime I'll be searching for some gnarly new chord to START a song with and all you'll hear out of my guitar is an occasional plink.

The problem with a songwriting team, if it truly is going to be a team:

. . . is that you are limited by the ability of the lowest skilled contributor.

So, for a while, when little brother and I lived in the same town, and we were roughly at the same skill level (I was probably slightly better but he was catching up to me fast), this was not much of a handicap for us and we wrote some fun songs. They might not have been utterly brilliant (I still think "Climb Trees, Please" was pretty close at its apex--can't remember how to play it anymore, unfortunately), but they held together nicely and were easy to sing along to.

So then El Esposo says, "How did you write songs with your brother?" And I tell him one person has to play four chords or so over and over and over and over while the other person tries out what to play along with it. So we do this, and it starts to work. Of course El Esposo keeps wanting to break out into something more challenging, but he is pretty patient with me. Then we get to the lyrics and realize here is another barrier. Because we think differently. So what do we do? We make a rough recording of what we have so far and we take a break.

And so, bit by bit, we are closing in on joint expression and a more unified marriage.

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The current status of the songwriting challenge is that three songs have been written that I know of. I still need to write and record mine by this Saturday. Rumor has it the competition is fierce this time. Have fun.

Songwriting Challenge # 2: Loss or whatever

It is time to open up the songwriting challenge to all my fellow songwriters. For any first-timers, the rules are simple:

a) Write a song based on the prompt (you are encouraged to put your own spin on it)
b) Practice it a little
c) Record the song in the simplest fashion available to you: one-track-one-take is the general rule, but if you really screw up it's ok to do another take
d) Send it to me by the deadline via rocktastica at gmail dot com
e) I will post links to them for all to hear and vote upon

Note: It's more of a challenge than a contest per se, but if you want to believe there's a lot of competition involved, feel free to indulge yourself. I think of it as just a little exercise to stretch the muscles.

The challenge this time is very simple:

Write a song starting with the lyric "I lost . . ."

The deadline is Saturday, August 23rd.

For Challenge #1 entries, scroll down a bit. The results of the voting for Challenge #1 were not unlike a soccer game for toddlers: a big fat tie. Everyone's a winner.

Hush, hush, keep it down now . . .

So it's been a while since I've caught any live music, and it's been even longer since I blogged about live music. But here's the thing: Aimee Mann is so darn unassuming that when we saw her Saturday, she actually played her big hit "Voices Carry," from the 80's, when she had a band called Til Tuesday and a rat tail:



She said she did this in order to balance out all the new songs she had played. Many indie musicians get all uppity about playing their one mega radio hit, perhaps because of the intense cuteness and lack of irony involved, but she was so cool.

Another thing about that show: electric guitar-free. It was so interesting to see and hear all of her tunes played with keyboards, organs and the like (plus her acoustic guitar). She had two guys playing the keys and they were excellent. I think there were a total of maybe eight different kinds of keyboards on stage. It was very fascinating/fun.

Break Even Day!

As of today's paycheck, I am finally in the black for the first time since grad school. The amount of money I owe the US government (they are my only creditor) is slightly less than the amount of money I have in liquid assets. Who knew that some day I would be a contributing member of society? It only took thirty years.

I have to revel in it while I can, since as soon as we buy a house this is all gone. I know a house is an asset, but it sure is a liability too.

Life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness sans health insurance

As I am home sick today with some kind of stomach virus, the time is ripe for this post . . .

Between the time I finished grad school in May 2003 until I "sold out to the man" and "got a real job" in January 2005, I had no health insurance and I lived on cheap foods that were not particularly nutritious. It was pretty dumb of me to not get my own insurance, but I was only twenty-four and as luck would have it I did not once really need medical attention during that time. I know plenty of horror stories of people that opted not to have health insurance for a brief period and then ended up needing serious surgery after they broke their leg in a rock climbing or skateboarding or car accident and then were in debt for pretty much forever after that. Woman of danger that I was, I liked to think I had some idea of what it felt to be without health insurance. But, I didn't.

The last few days I have been trying to research what a person with a chronic disease can do without health insurance. I am researching this on behalf of an actual person I know with a chronic disease and multiple complications, all of which are currently untreated. I am looking into medicaid, social security administered disability, and what to do if you can't qualify for either. I have learned a lot.

For instance, from the official CMS website: "Medicaid does not provide medical assistance for all poor persons. Even under the broadest provisions of the Federal statute (except for emergency services for certain persons), the Medicaid program does not provide health care services, even for very poor persons, unless they are in one of the designated eligibility groups." So what do you do if you are very poor and so sick that you can't work, but don't technically qualify for medicaid? In my current experience, it is clear that some people do nothing but wait for deliverance. Perhaps because they don't have access to the internet to do their research or because they are uneducated or even because they were taught not to ask for help for themselves, but to put others first.

I am now researching low-cost or free healthcare clinics that exist as a safety net to keep those on the margins from being lost. Many are managed completely by volunteers, which is so admirable to me. However, because they are run and staffed by volunteers they have limited hours and services. Still, this may be the best solution.

I wonder if it should be this hard, though. I expect that when the US constitution was created, health care was completely different. It was common for the sick to just die and for women not to survive childbirth with much greater frequency than today. But with the advances in medicine today there are still people that die in their homes because they either can not afford the medical care they need or because they are unaware of how to get it. So these pursue happiness and are guaranteed life and liberty in the space between the bathroom and the bedroom only until their bodies succomb to otherwise treatable conditions.

I know there are many people that know a lot more than I do about this topic, and this is just my paltry couple of cents based on only a few days of searching in between my work and life activities. Do with it what you will.

Finding "the One"

It's all about timing. I know I've said this before, but it's true. Whoever said you have to kiss a lot of frogs, that's true too. And it's also probably true that there's not really just one for anybody. Nonetheless, it feels kind of magical when your paths intersect at just the right time and in just the right way and soon (or not soon) you realize you can actually make this work. You have to be ready for the effort it will take, though. And it may take you a series of heartbreaks to get ready. But this is okay. This is part of the joy you will feel.

At least that is what I'm hoping. You see, we have already "fallen" twice in this house hunting process so far. We fell into this sort of blissful imagining of the future we would have in a particular house, but it was not to be. Mio Marito (I'm learning Italian, sort of) does not believe the adage that we should not get emotionally involved in our house hunting. I think what he means, which is true, is that you can not separate your emotions from the process, because if you do you may end up buying a place that is an awesome value for the neighborhood and that will re-sell very well, but that you just plain old don't dig the idea of living in and that is lame.

Other things that apply to both dating and house hunting:

When something just feels wrong, go with your gut and get out of there. One of the places we saw Wednesday had an immediate bad feeling about it. The step up to the house from the porch was huge--it just seemed off. And it was only down from there: burn marks in the middle of the living room floor, broken glass from the chandelier all over the dining room, and then we went upstairs where the place was riddled with offensive messages written or carved into doors and walls. One of the rooms had several holes in the walls as well. Sometimes you can go into a house and see beyond these cosmetic things, but here I could not. Bad things had happened here. Also, we didn't really love the layout. It was small and crampedish.

You will get your heart broken and learn that you have a heart, which is a good thing. The last place we saw Wednesday, we were already excited about before we got there. We'd driven through the neighborhood before and knew it was a good location and that the townhomes were nice and built in the eighties so they had better layouts (the seventies townhomes tend to be pretty dark and dank). The place was so spacious and bursting with potential like an absess with fluid. It had the largest kitchen area we had yet seen in our price range. The basement was huge with a high ceiling and very sunny. The master bedroom had three windows and a killer walk-in closet. Yes, we were enamored. It needed new flooring throughout, as someone had pulled some seriously doofus manuevers with the flooring, but we were ready to deal with that. The surrounding area was also nice and the place was begging for a real nice deck. What happened? Oh, it was under contract by the time we got home that night. I felt dumped, I really did. But maybe it was just a crush anyway. It might be true that I should avoid completely throwing myself into something in the future, but I should also remain open to possibility of loving again.

That's enough similarities for now. In other news, I've been trying to revive that freelance writing idea and am now moving forward and working on the portfolio. Il Marito and I are learning a little Italian for our trip that is still a good nine months away. I'm trying herbal remedies for annoyances that have plagued me and I am somewhat hopeful. Also, I have become a library-goer again. I gave it up for many years, but figured with the name change they probably wouldn't be tracking my previous activities.

Last but not least, some of my coworkers were taking me out to lunch this week in honor of my birthday (oh yeah, I turned the big 3-0 last Saturday), and one of my coworkers that had seen a picture of El Esposo/Il Marito described him as looking like a "Young Hugh Hefner." I found a picture and it is proudly displayed at the top of this entry. Don't get any ideas, mi amore.

I Ain't Afraid to Love You

Without further ado, the results of the first songwriting challenge...

MJ's Version

Little Brother's Version

El Esposo's Version


And remember your vote really counts since there's only two of you!

More bedazzlement to come

Are you dazzled by the new look on Rocktastica? Well, let me tell you about it. See, in preparation for the awesome new feature "Songwriting Challenge," I decided "we" needed a new look. Five points to anyone that can identify the rocker behind those crazy inverted colors courtesy of everyone's favorite graphic manipulating tool, Paint. What are the five points redeemable for? The nice smug feeling of victory.

So far, little brother has contributed his one-take garage band recording of "I Ain't Afraid to Love You." After I get past my personal technical recording difficulties, I will be able to present to my two readers the fruits of the first songwriting challenge. Stay tuned!

And hey, if you're a songwriter you can join the fun. Either wait until the next challenge is issued or write your own song with the title "I Ain't Afraid to Love You," record it in one-track-one-take fashion, and send it to me or rocktastica@gmail.com. You have until I have uploaded mine and el esposo's versions to do so (which means at least through the weekend as we have a weekend trip scheduled). I will save them all on my googlepages, present the links for everyone's enjoyment and the two readers can vote for the winner! But don't think of it as a contest so much as a golden opportunity to rise to the challenge. More challenges forthcoming . . .

Rocktastica is . . . born?

My little brother has issued a challenge. We are each to write a song entitled "I Ain't Afraid to Love You" (el esposo might get to play, too) by the time we meet for a family vaycay July 2. Then we play our songs. I don't know if it's a competition exactly, but if you wuss out (as we used to say circa 1990), you are a lo-ser.

I'm thinking about upping the ante and saying we have to upload a lo-fi version of our songs, which, incidentally, is starting to sound like a really cool use for a blog.

Hmm.

Possibly a blog called Rocktastica.

Anybody have a good idea for the logistics of such a blog--like where/how to post the audio files?

I knew that I would

I feel good today. I'm at work, I've got things to do ranging from utterly boring to somewhat interesting and I'm feeling good. Why? Because I got enough sleep. In the past I've conducted a study on myself to determine how much sleep I need. Studies show* the sleep required varies per person. For me it is very much an exact science: 7.5 hours. Actually, more than that would probably be okay, but that is a rarely studied happening, so there is room for further study. 7 hours 15 minutes does not cut it. Without fail, I will fall asleep on the bus and then at work my eyes will get heavy as I stare at the computer screen and inevitably they will start to close. Last night I got my 7.5 hours (barely) and I feel like a million bucks. Sleep means everything.

*I know I read this somewhere sometime. Maybe it was pop reporting, but it doesn't matter as I know for myself and that's plenty of data for me.

What Recycling is Not

Yesterday my co-worker was telling me that people that make a big deal out of saving the environment and then go have children are total hypocrites. I tend to think people can just be multi-faceted. However, the whole discussion reminded me of other things that masquerade as saving the planet but really aren't.

My nice brother and sister-in-law got us a subscription to ReadyMade magazine as a wedding present. It's a fun little magazine with some cute craft projects, most of which are beyond our abilities and/or level of patience, but which nevertheless seem nice and like something we might try . . . someday. (Several years ago, a friend and I stole the idea of the pillowcase skirt from ReadyMade, so you never know.) But there is a trend that ReadyMade influences that just kind of bugs me: calling something recycling that is not recycling. It may be hip to make something artistic involving some old household objects AND other materials, but it's not exactly recycling. Creative? Sure. Re-use? Maybe. Less of a waste of resources than buying something? It depends. But not recycling. Definition number 1 for Recycle: to treat or process (used or waste materials) so as to make suitable for reuse. And, okay, I understand that an argument can be made that turning something into art is processing it for re-use, but I just think it can be taken to extremes. For example:

El Esposo and I were recently trying to find out how to recycle a broken television we have. We found this little gem of an idea from "Marie" at some website called world.org under the "how to recycle a television" section:

Gut a dead television and place an aquarium inside. Fill with fish.

Odd? Yes. Interesting? Possibly. Post-modern? I think that fits the bill. But, to me, recycling is when you decrease the total amount of waste, not increase it by--say--buying an aquarium.

I'm not saying creating a lamp from an old radio (like we saw at Artomatic last week) is not cool, I just prefer not to bastardize the term recycling to the point that we forget that junk is still junk. Like, um, what am I doing with the rest of the television that I just gutted? And how will I eventually dispose of the aquarium?

Vinyl, baby

When I was in elementary school, 4th or 5th grade, I did an "independent study" on the music recording business for the nerdy/gifted class I was in. (Sidenote: this class basically saved my life as I was criminally shy and always felt uneasy in regular classes.) I studied how to make records. I remember going down to this big warehouse that was mostly devoted to manufacturing records and also had a recording studio, for this small-time recording company in Houston. I walked away with this big hunk of vinyl with a hole in the middle. It was like a record in embryo. So cool.

Yesterday, el esposo's co-worker GAVE us her old record player. So cool. She also gave us a pretty substantial record collection, which may be the oddest record collection ever. It's like nothing but B-sides, maybe C-sides, even. Basically, it's a lot of musak - translation: more boring versions of popular recordings as performed by more boring artists. However, there are some bizarre gems. El Esposo was particularly fond of this one:


Songs with the word "kiss" in the title as played on the electric harmonica. Oh yeah. How jealous are you?

Don't Look So Happy

That's what the security guard said to me this morning as I walked into the building. But, being the astute observer of vocal tone that I am, I could tell he was being sarcastic. We're not friends or anything, though I do recognize him as one of five security guards I am likely to meet upon entering the building. So a virtual stranger was basically telling what sort of facial expression I ought to have.

Here's the thing: I was in no way grumpy or in a foul mood at all. From what I remember, I was just thinking over some logic problem in my head--something I often do (while vaguely preparing to give some sort of courteous nod)--and he startled me out of my thoughts. The best I could say was "Oh. Sorry."

I have never figured out the right response in this scenario, which happens with relative frequency and has for pretty much my whole life. Since I was a kid, I have had a big tendency to both a) daydream and b) be totally unaware of my facial expressions.

So what should I say when someone points out an expression I am giving which I am totally oblivious to? (side-note: my husband does not completely buy my claim that I am oblivious, but just because he studied psychology doesn't mean he knows everything.) And is it cool for a complete stranger to be telling me what to do anyway?

I'm thinking if I had a prepared response to this situation, it would be a very handy piece of equipment for my life--nothing too snarky as I'm interested in simplifying and defusing the situation so I can move on. Do any of the 3 or 4 people that read this blog have an idea?

Literary Nerd Moment: Allusions in Bob Marley

So I'm not a Bob Marley scholar or anything, but the other day we went to this picnic to celebrate a friend's graduation. She's a writer, and as I well know, graduate school writers tend to either BE hippies or at least BEfriend hippies, so of course there were several Bob Marley fans at the picnic and before you know it El Esposo is playing Bob Marley tunes on a borrowed guitar and everyone is singing along. Could it have been otherwise? I don't know.

Fast Forward to this morning when I am reading the Old Testament in Genesis and I'm basically finishing up the Joseph in Egypt story, which--just as a reader, I must say--is the first truly compelling story in the Old Testament. And it is a redemption story. Anyway, I read this blessing from Jacob/Israel to his son Joseph (after he was sold into slavery by his brothers, spent many years in prison, eventually was promoted to be Pharaoh's CEO so that he became quite rich and powerful, and was able to provide for and forgive his long-lost family during a famine) in Genesis 49--note the bold text:

"22 Joseph is a fruitful bough, even a fruitful bough by a well; whose branches run over the wall:
23 The archers have sorely grieved him, and shot at him, and hated him:
24 But his bow abode in strength, and the arms of his hands were made strong by the hands of the mighty God of Jacob; (from thence is the shepherd, the stone of Israel:)"

And what did I hear playing in my head?

"Oh Pirates yes they rob I
Sold I to the merchant ships
Minutes after they took I
From the bottomless pit.
But my hand was made strong
By the hand of the almighty.
We forward in this generation
Triumphantly.
Wont you help to sing
These songs of freedom? -
cause all I ever have:
Redemption songs;
Redemption songs."
--"Redemption Song," Bob Marley


The song is clearly talking about African Slavery at this point, but this is also a clear biblical allusion. It made me start thinking about Rastafarianism and its relationship to Judaism. I'm working on it.

boating fun

El esposo and I have not been doing anything that exciting lately. Partially because I've been stressed out and busy: job interviews, paperwork, lesson plans, grading, educating myself on home buying. There hasn't been that much time for fun. Which is dumb, actually. Fun is underrated I think. But last weekend we took some time to go camping. One of the highlights was rowboating. Watch as the pictures plus a few brief captions tell the story . . .


LCD rowing happily as we leave the shore


Me relaxing while LCD rows happily. Later my skin would take on a hue similar to my shirt. We forgot the sunscreen. Also, though my expression is slightly odd in this picture, it would later take on my patented look of frustration which you will simply have to imagine. That is because the rowing got really hard. It was especially really stinking hard in the shallow areas. Both of us had a hard time turning the boat around when on the edge of the lake. And I've been working out and everything! Well . . . once a week for the arms, but that's much better than usual.

Later we discover why rowboating was so much harder than we thought it would be:


LCD flashes his look of irony and defeat as he reveals the concrete slab of an anchor that had been in the water the whole time. Curses!

And thus, we turn the corner to Easy Street (job search over, one class to go), having survived five months of marriage. I think FUN is about to pick up.

meet the new job: same as the old job

i was raised on classic rock.

anyway . . . hooray! i just got hired! to do my same job!!! yup, it's true. but now i'm going to work for the main contractor instead of the subcontractor. those of you that know i have been looking for a new job, the path was circuitous, both winding and eventually a circle, and i found it! it was here all along . . .

it makes more sense than you think.

really.

also i have a funny rowboating story but it works best with pictures and el esposo has all the pictures so i will have to hunt him down.

Plans

Lately I have been in planning frenzy mode. Not that I really have time for that. Well lesson plans, of course. I have no choice there (five classes left!). I also have a stack of papers to grade that my students are not getting back this week. In the midst of this and job stuff and what are we doing this weekend and what am I going to do with my tax return and when are we taking vacation this year and when will we finally have a weekend to go camping and when will I have time to start freelancing on the side (the side of what???) blah blah ad nauseum I am also looking at how to buy a house(!) and also if it is even a possibility.

Though sweetiepieface and I have been saving all our nickles and dimes for two whole years (give or take), we do live in one of the most expensive housing markets in the country and neither of us is a high-powered anything. So we placed the whole idea of buying a house on the backburner of our minds. Recently, though, we looked around and realized the prices they are a droppin'--not into the range my relocated middle-american family is dealing with right now (actually their prices didn't even drop as they hadn't been inflated in the first place)--but still it's significant. And if you're going to buy anything, you might as well buy at the bottom, right? So I've been perking up and looking at real estate online, and then very recently I started learning about all this stuff that had just been random terminology before: like mortgages and credit scores. I started getting into the details: mortgage insurance, fixed-rate vs. adjustable rate, real estate taxes, "points" (which is part of your insurance paid up-front to decrease your overall interest rate), credit scores, and more.

The more I learn, the less I realize we can afford. Odd blue townhouse that I thought was in our price range:

is--alas--not quite.

However, each time we revise down our estimate and I look at property in our price range I realize that we may still be able to find something that is at least a little nicer (well, bigger anyway) than the place we are currently renting, and that will serve our main purpose and build some equity. Something like--say--this:

Of course, the real telling thing will be when we actually go to look at some of these places. For example, here's a question: are the kind of people that can not afford to pay for their mortgage such that their house gets foreclosed (is that a verb?) the type to have been very vigilant about the upkeep of that same house?

I've also learned that what we need in terms of financing might not exist, since we are planning to be making significantly LESS money in a couple or three (i think some relative of mine says that) years than we are making now, when I plan to go freelance part-time/mommy part-time. So much stuff to think about and then think some more about. I'm thinking maybe if I do this one step at a time it won't seem like such an impossible adult math problem. Our next step, I think, is to check credit scores and get ourselves ready for the big loan meeting. Also, a camping trip is pretty much in order.

Are you guys bored yet? Have any great tips?

A blog is not a journal

You can't write about any of the most interesting experiences. I was thinking to myself how recent experiences need to be recorded somewhere. Either for posterity or just for myself so I can keep from re-making mistakes. AND so I can even remember how I did it when I happened to do something so exactly right. EVEN just to put something that happened into a larger context so it can make some actual sense instead of just fester in my brain and keep making noise noise noise and no meaning. Then I remembered the Journal concept. Journals: Turning brain noise into usable life lessons. That's my slogan for the journal lobby. Takers? You owe me a dollar. Or maybe just a citation.

How my husband became my husband (Part 3 of infinity)

READ PARTS ONE AND TWO BELOW.

In this part, we actually start dating, I promise. But how did that happen, exactly?

Timing.

I had just read War and Peace. This probably seems unrelated, but it’s not. Let’s just ignore what War and Peace is actually about and talk about the character of Natasha. Pre-epilogue Natasha, as the epilogue to this great book nearly made me barf. Of course Natasha is beautiful and elegant and feisty, but the genius of Natasha, the thing that really seems to attract EVERYONE to her, is her unabashed love of life and determination to enjoy it as much as possible. Everything is a great adventure and everyone is assumed to be having as good of a time as she is and she never ever doubts herself. To be fair: she is a bit childish, and this becomes a problem for her later, but the key point for this story is that her power comes from her total embracing of the beauty of life and also the charming nature of herself. No one could possibly convince her that she is not charming. Nor would anyone try.

At this point in my life, I was pretty comfortable with myself and I was just feeling quite Natasha. I was in the groove. I think everyone has these moments and it is best to take advantage of them. My roommate at the time, who is so awesome, planned a relatively chill party and I took it upon myself to make sure everyone I had flirted with of late was invited. I was in the mood to be Natasha. For good measure, I threw LCD into the invite pool. He had seemed a little extra excited to see me of late at social gatherings, so why not?

At the party, I made sure to be very friendly to everyone, but particularly the ones I had added to the invite list. Weirdly, nothing seemed awkward. I was just enjoying life and being charming. I could even introduce these people on my mental list of possible suitors to each other and feel no awkwardness. I divided my time between several people, but somehow it seemed, every time I turned a corner there was LCD again. And then we would start talking and it would suddenly seem intimate. Remembering what my brother had said, I asked him at one point, “How come we never hang out anymore?” It was supposed to be kind of a joke, because hanging out had always been rare between us. But, LCD immediately pulled out his pocket planner (which he is never without) and set up an “appointment” for us.

I know LCD particularly enjoys hanging around to a party’s end, but this one seemed different than normal. (psst. It’s because the magic fairy dust of love was descending.) He helped us do the dishes and then he proceeded to borrow my guitar and we sat down while everyone was in the other room. He taught me blues scales which I had known before but forgot. And it was like everything started to change color. Like my hiking trip in the White Mountains when the afternoon light opened a whole new view of the fall colors that was so vivid I could only think of those over-colorized old black and white movies. He touched my fingers to show me where to put them and it felt so different than anything had ever felt been between us.

So about halfway through our hanging out "appointment" the next week, I realized that it was in fact a date. He paid for me, flirted, and seemed nervous. And by the way we talked with smiles on our faces, and by the way we knew--without really saying it--that he would come in when he dropped me off (so we could keep talking--no funny business), I coudl also tell I would see him again soon.

As wonderful as that was, and as big of a crush as I had two and a half years previous, I was not immediately smitten. In fact, one of my other “prospects,” if you will, was also starting to “bite,” if you will, but he kept asking me out when I had already made plans with LCD. I didn’t know if this guy was serious or he just liked to play the game of asking me out, but I can say that he was a very cool guy and I kept hearing this Clem Snide song play in my head “because I love the unknown, I love the unknown . . .” As I had built up loads of respect for LCD over the past couple years, I did want to give it a serious shot, if warranted, but I also had to get to know the unknown or I would not stop thinking about it. So I gave him a time that I knew I would be free and we went out. It turned out this guy really was really cool. No doubt about it. And it was even a little easier to talk to him than LCD.

My first thought when the mystery guy dropped me off was, I want to call LCD. The unknown was no longer unknown and guess what? He didn’t do much for my heart. That simple. I must have had the inkling even early on of what I would become with LCD, of the fact that he would let me be sweet—I’d never gotten to be sweet with a guy before; it had always seemed so silly. Any earlier time in my life I would have attempted to date the other guy. Turns out I was never the girl for him anyway, but it was an important moment in helping me realize that my heart can actually trump my brain. And it can be wonderful.

Dating LCD was so easy for me for the first four months. This is partly because he was doing a lot of the work. I did give him a little reassurance from time to time, but he did a lot of the asking, sharing, even declaring of feelings. I told him I was just rollin' with it. Of course I liked him a lot and I was having a great time and I daydreamed about our future sometimes, but I was pretty determined to NOT overthink anything. That whole Natasha feeling had not worn off and, like hers early on, my actions were mostly effortless. LCD was more affectionate than anyone I had ever dated and after having a talk with myself and realizing that this was okay, I began to follow his lead in the affection department and I really started to like it. Eventually, somewhere around four months, I stopped just rollin' with it.

I began to ask myself whether I was in love--like really in love--and I actually didn't know at first. I liked him a lot and we seemed so compatible in so many ways. He actually got my writing, for one thing. One way we are the same is that we hate being flaky. We hate to say we're going to do something and not follow through--so we generally don't do that. Also, we're both musicians and we love it and we talk about being rock stars, but we could actually never REALLY live that lifestyle (even though LCD is probably good enough). I think now that love is simpler than I thought it was then. It's neither a checklist nor a complex of squishy passionate feelings. The day I realized I was in love with LCD, I was just driving around and thinking about how people say they belong together and how I normally resist that idea, because--you know--I'm like (brace yourselves--nerdy reference) Eowyn in LOTR and I fear a cage. But somehow the idea of me belonging with LCD seemed very natural and non-scary and I realized that was because I love him. It does not mean that we blend completely into one person, but it does mean that we are willing to have permeable membranes and we are ready to surrender our pride. After this realization, something interesting happened: things got a lot harder.

The story after this is actually even more important, but it doesn’t tell as well. It’s about work and love and how they are the same thing. There are a million beautiful memories. Like when my sweetheart first said he was falling in love with me and asked me to please do the same. Or like the time when I was about ready to give up on our relationship . . . because it was so much work and I couldn’t see the end . . . and then I went for a run during which I both cried and prayed . . . and when I got home, quite suddenly, I got a clear picture in my head of our future family—mine and his . . . as a gift, I think, to keep me going. Or months and months of us recording music in his basement room, me being continuously frustrated with how hard it seemed for me in comparison to him, and then listening to what we made together. Or when he tricked me into thinking the reason he was sweaty and stinky was due to a bad reaction to the food we had eaten while camping on the beach, when really it was because he had been carving out the words “Marry Me” in the sand. Or when we sat next to each other waiting to be called into the room where we would be married and everything we had worried about washed away and we beamed with our joy as we held each other's hands and shed a few small tears together. Or how about two days ago when I came home from grocery shopping (which I utterly loathe) for two and a half hours and when I asked my husband to help me unload the car he told me to start putting away the cold items in the fridge first and I very crankily and reluctantly agreed only to find he had bought me flowers for our quarter-anniversary (as in 1/4) . . .

This is the story that continues forever.

interlude

Installment Three is coming--as soon as I have enough time to write it. Right now I am listening to Okerrvil River and doing the dishes, which is actually a welcome change from grading papers and dealing with technological breakdowns on my way to writing a halfway decent lesson plan. In honor of my whole family, almost, who moved to Kansas City in recent times...

How my husband became my husband (Part Deux)

READ THE POST BELOW THIS FIRST

So I failed to mention the inauspicious circumstances of our official meeting, which included someone introducing us at a party and saying to me, basically, "this is the guy we've been telling you about," and then us having a three minute conversation.

To continue the story . . .

So I got over my crush, moved on with my life, tried to make a living (a whole other story but the synopsis is I had a really hard time paying the bills for my first year and a half in DC), and started to regenerate my sense of self. One thing I did was go on a super-rejuvenating backpack trip to the Presidential Range of the White Mountains in NH. It was one of the more beautiful things I have ever seen--we timed it perfectly to catch the fall colors. Another thing I did was start volunteering at the Food Assistance Center. At the time I was only a paycheck removed from the people that came there. It made me really humble, but really grateful at the same time. I also made an effort to focus on my personal spiritual development (aka: get right with God). Even though I was barely scraping by I started to feel more like myself than I had in a long time.

Next, the roommate that was dating LCD moved out and I also moved somewhere else, which was a welcome change from the dank basement life I had been enjoying.

Next, I met a really intersting and cool guy who I am still a big fan of, and he asked me on some dates. Our relationship was one of those amorphous things. It was hard to tell on a given day if we were actually dating, but it was always obvious that we really liked each other. Anyway, he kept me very entertained for the next five or six months. I even flirted with the idea that he might be the one, but guess what? He wasn't. Still it was really fun sometimes to pretend and to live in this bizarro world where everything is ironic and weirdness is the goal and being standoffish is a kind of affection. One thing that I learned from this was that standoffishness is not REALLY a kind of affection. Anyway, later he called me his ex-girlfriend, so I guess that's what I was. I was pretty disappointed that it didn't work out, but I think the reason I took it hard was because the timing of our dating conincided so nicely with the time I started feeling good about myself and so I wanted it to mean something. It was a version of love but not the real kind. He's an awesome guy and still one of the most intersting people I know, we just weren't an awesome couple.

Fast forward to me getting a real job, putting money in the bank, having lots of fun, and eventually forming a super-fun band with my little brother. Writing songs with my little bro is one of the choice experiences of my life. As he lives in AZ now, I mourn those days sometimes. In the meantime, LCD was always in the background. He stopped dating my former roommate but ended up dating other people. I had wiped nearly every trace of romantic leanings re: him from my mind. I would always see him at little music open mic things we both played at or other parties. Every once in a while when my house had a party I would make sure his name was on the list and he would always come. What's more he would always bring something. I developed a strong opinion of him--that he was a trustworthy and dependable person. He was high on my list of people most of the time, but sometimes he was scarce and we were not really intimate in any way. We did not hang out.

Sometimes I asked LCD for favors. Like when my little band wanted to play a little show I asked him to do the sound. He was always willing. Slowly I was realizing that he was not some hipster rockstar, but he was just a truly decent human being--and even kind of nerdy. Case in point: I invited him to come play board games over at my house one time and he showed up. My roommate had doubted it because he seemed too cool, but I guaranteed her he would come.

Sometimes people would ask me if I had ever thought of dating him and I would say yes I thought about it before, but I didn't think it would work out.

Then one day, oh about 2 1/2 years after we met, I was talking to my little brother and he asked me, "Why don't we ever hang out with LCD? I feel I should be good friends with him but we never hang out." I told him I wasn't sure that LCD was actually into the stuff we were into--going to shows, wilderness hiking, etc. But my brother had planted a seed.

END PART TWO