Writing Every Day

It's time for me to face the fact that I'll be far more successful journaling online than I have ever been on paper.  As part of my continuing effort to do SOMETHING that will be here tomorrow, to show for today, I'm making it a goal to blog daily.  I apologize in advance for over-sharing and run-on sentences.  Possibly also for excessive use of parenthesis and dashes and ellipses.

We had friends over for supper tonight and they were kind enough to bring the food, so all we had to do was be presentable.  We failed  a bit.  The air conditioner/furnace went out on us today, and we spent all day scrambling to find a temporary fix. I should mention that it has been in the very upper 90s for a week and will be at least that hot for a week more.

 Our guests arrived just as Toby was trying to rinse the dirt out of a borrowed AC window unit and dropped it, slashing his fingers on the sheet metal housing.  Our dining room table was covered with debris from when he brought the beast into the house, only to realize it was dirty and take it out again.

I was standing in the bathroom, putting on makeup when he stepped into the room with an ominous look on his face and a towel wrapped around his hand.  That is never a good sign.  He said he'd cut his fingers up and maybe broken the air conditioner, too.  I calmly finished putting on my makeup because freaking out wouldn't have helped much.  Besides, if we were going to have to get it stitched, I didn't want to look like white trash.  I contemplated if our guests were going to be willing to watch kids for us if we had to visit the Emergency Room.

Luckily, it was just a flesh wound.  One that made me cringe to look at.  In fact, my toes are curling now writing about it.  As a woman who married a man who does lots of manly dangerous sharp and hurty things, I should be used to it.  Three months before we were married, he lopped the corners off two of his fingers in a power miter box building houses with his dad.  He once mangled the pad of his thumb enough that I'm not sure there's a fingerprint left on it.  What I'm trying to say is that Toby is used to getting hurt, and seeing blood.  

All was well with some super glue holding the wound shut.  No ER visit today. We managed to take a deep breath and enjoy supper and a visit. Now it's bedtime, and the AC in the dining room window is happily whirring away.  Somewhere, our electric company is smiling.

Not sparkly.

I found some old photos at my mom's house recently and just had to overshare.  The first two are from October 1996, I think.  Toby and I had been dating about six months.  I had latent goth/hippie/punk tendencies.  He had definite surfer/hippie leanings. Don't we look cool?  I'm talking as cool as two senior band students can get.


And this was October a year later.  We'd both graduated and were engaged to be married in January.  I was going to college in Springfield, and Toby was probably still living at home.  You can see that my goth tendencies came to a head at this time.  I inflicted white makeup and my polyester polka dotted shirt onto my betrothed.

You're welcome. 

This is how Edward should have looked, if he'd had a sense of humor.  

Dozen.

I just thought of a better, if more black, title for this post:  "Still Crazy After All These Years."  It is true in so many ways.  Today is our 12th wedding anniversary.

Twelve years ago, Toby and I were both nineteen.  Our families viewed the match with some skepticism, but we plowed ahead.  The day I was married, Dad, Laural, and I drove to Joplin, ate fried chicken, and visited a rural park to see "the meaning of life."  (Ask me sometime when I'm sure you're not the type to judge....it was hilariously tacky graffiti.)  Later I took a bath, painted my toenails sparkly white-gold, and got dressed.  It all seemed unreal, that the date I had been anticipating for so many months was here.

There's a fine line to walk when you get married young.  You want to do things your way, but are constantly aware that you're already causing enough fuss by tying the knot in the first place.  I wanted to wear white Chuck Taylors, and possibly make Toby chase me around the church for the kiss.  My mortified mother talked me out of it.   I didn't want people to look at me, so I made my veil of a near-impenetrable thickness, and nearly smothered.

What else do I remember?  I remember cracking nervous jokes with Dad and a then-nine Emma in the bell-foyer at the church.  I remember a story the officiator told us about bamboo and its growing cycle and how it relates to marriage.    I remember my very-conservative friend making a lewd remark about the honeymoon in a smirking whisper.

We've spent the last twelve years proving that an optimist and a pessimist can coexist, if not always peacefully.  We've added five kinda neat people to the world.  We've tried and succeeded.  We've also tried and failed, and learned the hard way.  I've said a great many things that I regret, but I've never regretted "I do."

Check out Toby.  He looks like, five.  But in a hot way.

French Party.

Yesterday, my sister came over for a visit, and we watched  "Julie and Julia," which just came out on DVD.  It was great, and I think I'll have to purchase it someday.  Michelle recommended it to me, since she knows I've always had a thing for Julia Child.  I agree with Michelle also, that the movie has MARRIED people, who are actually in love with each other.  There's really not a whole lot of that out there, and it was much appreciated.

I've read My Life In France, which provided all the Julia Child parts of the movie.  It is a great book, and I love her attitude towards life.  She's funny and upbeat, but also very able to stand up for herself.  I adore Julia's descriptions about French life and food.  I loaned this to Laural, along with Mastering the Art of French Cooking.  Yeah, I'm that much of a food nerd. 

If you readers (both of you!) know me at all, you have already guessed that we made a foodie day out of it as well. I made Julia Child's Boef Bourguignon,  while Laural brought the makings for her favorite risotto recipe, from Giada de Laurentiis. We spent time in the kitchen together, laughing and joking and stirring and smelling and tasting.  My family loves to cook almost as much as we love to eat.  I must admit that I didn't follow Julia's recipe exactly, as we were pressed for time and I didn't have all the ingredients.  It was all still fantastic.  We even threw in some brussels sprouts for a little vegetable action.