…until my dying day December 29, 2008

Tomorrow is, officially, the ninth anniversary of the day M and I got married.

I’m sort of wondering how it’s been nine years already. Like when you fall asleep really hard, and you wake up, and you’ve been asleep like 13-hours (My God, like I even REMEMBER what it’s like to sleep 13-hours at a stretch…I’m intoxicated with 8…) but it seems like you only just closed your eyes? And then,  in other weird ways, it seems impossible that I’ve only been married to this guy for nine years.

I don’t believe in love at first sight. But I got pretty damned close to it with M. When I set eyes on him, it was like everything sort of shifted into place. I’m surprised there wasn’t an audible *click*.  He’s got a dip where his shoulder joint and his chest meet–and my head fits exactly into that space. The curve of my skull mirrors the curve of his shoulder. We fit together perfectly other ways, too, but frankly: it’s none of your business, and you probably don’t want to know either. 😉

I’m so unbelievably blessed in my husband. I had no idea how good marriage could be, how love could be so big and so vast and so…inexpressible.  

M: there are no new words, and you know all the old ones. I love you for the look on your face when you saw me in my wedding dress for the first time. I love you for the way my hive-y, swollen, snotty cry face turns you on. I love you for the way you know precisely when I need you to grab and squeeze my hand–in joy, in celebration, in support, in solidarity. I love you for the way you get up with our children 99% of the time. I love you for the way you love to talk to me, and know my thoughts. I love you for the way I love to talk to you and know your thoughts. I love you for the way that we can turn an afternoon of errands into a date, simply by holding hands at the bank…grocery store…post office…where ever. I love you for the way you love my body even after 2 pregnancies that left their mark. I love you for the way we can look at one another and know. I love you for the way you constantly encourage me to reach farther than I think I can, to go after dreams that I am sure are only dreams, and don’t get too terribly smug when those dreams become reality. I love you for the person I have become since loving you, and I love you for the person you have become since loving me.

Read the inside of your ring. 🙂

~your beege

Christmas Eve Musings… December 24, 2008

*Does it make me an evil person that the phrase “veiled in flesh the God-head see” seems inherently dirty and makes me giggle?

*I’m two glasses of wine and a Hot Buttered ‘schlager into the evening. I’ve got my Once a Year Pie to make, and M has to put together the vintage kitchen “Santa” got for the girls. It’s snowing, and we’ve got the “Elf” soundtrack on the stereo.  Mom is making her breakfast casserole for tomorrow…I think this Christmas is going to be freaking sweet.

*Tonight at church, during “Silent Night” in the darkened sanctuary with the candlelights, I got to watch Sarah’s face light up with wonder…she’s never (knowingly) seen anything like it. I love being her mom. I really, really do.

Merry Christmas, everyone! Muchas smooches!

Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night! December 23, 2008

So, as an opener, I’d just like to say: this is a CRAP year to work retail, and the current weather pattern isn’t making things any less craptacular. It certainly sucks to have to be at work until midnight. It sucks more having to be at work until midnight for NO customers while watching the snow pile up outside the store, knowing you’re going to have to drive home in it…once you get your car cleared off and dug out from the snow bank the mall snowplow so kindly left behind when he freaking plowed you in because heaven forbid he plow when the parking lot is empty. Stupid poop.

Bah humbug.

I have decided that I need to find some sort of profession that allows me to take the week of Christmas off. Ministry isn’t it. Retail certainly isn’t. But it would be nice to have a whole week to hang out with my girls, do some holiday baking, watch some movies and (this year, anyway) play in the snow and come in to hot cocoa (for them) and hot buttered rum (for me). I need to work on this goal.

Enough of my bitching though. To be perfectly honest: as much as I’m dissatisfied with my job, I’m thankful to have one. There are many, many, many people who would gladly and joyously take my job in a heartbeat. I’ve got a 40-hour work week, 401k, great health insurance, a substantial employee discount, great women to work with–really, my only dissatisfaction comes in because I’d rather be doing ministry, and that because it’s shift work it keeps me away from my family more than I would like.

I’m blessed.

We’ve got about a foot of snow, which is hugely unusual for our part of the state. It’s beautiful, and a bit “Minnesota-esque”, with less snow and few snow plows. Too dry to make snowmen, or do anything much more than blow around (much to Linnea’s dismay). But it’s pretty, and will give us a white Christmas.

M and I are gearing up to celebrate our 9th anniversary the weekend after Christmas (which I guess would make it this weekend. I’d better call and get some hotel reservations!). We celebrate by getting a hotel room, jumping one another’s bones immediately upon entering the room, then sleeping for several hours, getting up and going out for an insanely delicious dinner, going back to the hotel and talking, drinking wine, and more bone-jumping, we each pop some Excedrin PMs and then we sleeeeeeeeeeeeeeep. I never thought that sleep would be as good as sex. But five years into sleep deprivation? SO totally is. Better, even. Because sometimes you have a nice, spicy sex-dream, but don’t have to wake up. Sleep AND sex, at the same time! Nice.

I hope y’all have a merry Christmas! I’ll be hunkering down in the snowy weather, keeping my babies close.

Hey–if anyone has any tips on preparing a 14-lb prime rib, leave them in the comments, please! I’ve never cooked prime rib before, and that’s what we’re having for Christmas dinner…

My new wheels… December 1, 2008

Except that my new car is a pretty burgundy/red color…

 

My man is so butch…

M has been having a very testosterone-y week. In the last 7 days he’s:

1. Fixed my mom’s washer. The agitator wasn’t turning. Mom was freaking out that she’d need a new washer (and there’s no money in anybody’s budget for that right now…) and knowing that M and I had socked a little money away, asked him if we could use it to buy a new washer. He said, “I guess, but I’d rather try and fix the one we have, first.” So I offered M’s services as handyman. Mom said no. Dad said, “Hell, yes!” and that pretty much settled it. What Mom didn’t realize is that M is absolutely brilliant when it comes to mechanics. He can just look at a piece and know it’s the one not working furthermore: why it’s not working. For $80 (including the rush shipping), M fixed the washer as good as new. He is my mom’s new favorite son.

*This weekend, he climbed up on the roof and hung the Christmas lights, because both my mom and I were terrified that if he didn’t: my dad would and neither one of us wanted that. Both my brothers were home this weekend, and neither were inclined to do the chore, so M went up there and did it himself. Shamed my baby brother into going out and helping him. 🙂 So now, because he saved hundreds of dollars in services fees and/or a new washing machine AND because he hung the Christmas lights thereby assuring that my father will escape falling off the roof and killing himself: he’s mom’s new favorite favorite son.

*Yesterday, we went out to the car to drive to church and found my new car with a flat tire. Like REALLY flat. My man got that tire off, a spare put on, took the flat one to the tire shop, got it fixed, and put it back on my car today. Plus, he purchased and programmed the new garage door remote we had to buy for the Kia.

He’s having a pretty butch week. 🙂

Sarah is continuing to break out in hives, although they are much more mild and fewer in number than they were. I’m really not sure what to do, but they don’t seem to bother her any, and they fade pretty fast, so: we’re just playing a waiting game. I think it might be bananas, which seems like a weird thing to be allergic to. She had something going on last night…she was awake from midnight until about 4 AM. She’s exhausted, but almost too exhausted to sleep. She’s so little, there’s really nothing we can do to help her over that. If it was Nea, we’d give her half a Dramamine. But we can’t do that with Boog. Poor baby. She’s having a rough time.

Oh! And I got a haircut! And you know what? I’ve got curly hair.

I think I’m not going grey. I’m going curly. I never used to have curly hair–it was pretty much straight. There was a slight wave to it, but nothing to get too excited over. But within the last year or two…curly. I got a haircut the other day and said, “I want a cut that will help me work the curl.” and dude: I got it. People think I got a perm. Nope. It’s all natural. My stylist said, “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I kind of want to call you ‘bitch’ for going curly instead of grey.” I said, “That’s OK. If I were you, I’d want to do that, too.”

Hmmmm…what else. I mashed my finger, and now my nail is all black and blue. My mom has had apple pie sitting out on the counter since Thanksgiving, and I’m kind of wondering at what point that should have been refrigerated. I’m like so far over my job it’s not even funny, but I don’t have any other options on the near horizon, so: stuck. My BFF, Jen, introduced me to Starbuck’s Gingerbread lattes our senior year of seminary. She also bought me Hanukkah socks that year (inside joke). This morning, I got a ginger snap latte and wore my Hanukkah socks, which makes me happy because I always think of Jen this time of year. Gingersnap lattes and Hanukka socks–and people say I’m high maintenence!

That’s really about it. I’m mostly blathering so that you’ll know I didn’t go into the witness protection program.