Heaven, Hell, and the Wilderness

Dear David,

I tried to find a card.  Impossible.

By the time I think of it, the card isles are jammed.  You have to stand on tiptoes and read over the shoulders of complete strangers who are willing to throw an elbow to get what they want.  And for what?  Some insipid sentiments written by somebody who doesn't know what we've been through together, who doesn't know the whole story, who can only guess at how we really feel. 

Do you remember Valentine's Day 2000?  I know you do, if only because I rehearse it every Valentine's Day.  But, I find that I have to talk about it, because it is the evidence of my love, my insides outside.

It was a Monday.  You had left me the night before at my parents' house to head back to San Diego for work.  I was sick.  So past sick.  It felt like if I didn't hold tight to life I might just float away.  I was pregnant with Savannah and my body was not happy about it.  I had been prescribed a new medicine and didn't find out until evening that I was allergic to it.  I could not control my jaw or my tongue.  They called it a distonic reaction.  The top half of my face wanted to face the opposite way of the bottom half of my face.  I could not control my own muscles.  My mom desperately drove me around town trying to get me some help.  Everywhere we went people just stared.  We even ended up at an herbalist, and if you know my mom you know how desperate she must have been by then.  Unfortunately, this only made me throw up black and green.

When it started to get hard to breathe she took me to the emergency room.  When my brother arrived to give me a blessing he said, shocked, "What's wrong with her?"  And the nurse quietly asked, "Is she usually normal?" (Clearly not.)  Eventually they got me the Benedryl I needed and I gratefully went back to just throwing everything up.

And this was only one day in our story.  One day of the many difficult ones.  One day of the many joyous ones.  Can you see how much I love you?  I hope you know it has all been for you.  For us. 

When we got married, I had high hopes for a perfect life.  "Welcome to heaven," and all that.  But as you know, it has mostly been a difficult stint in the wilderness, and even at times, brief moments in hell.  I didn't know.  I didn't know all that we were saying "yes" to.  I am so glad it is your hand I am holding in this lone and dreary world.  I would have quit just outside of Eden if you weren't there loving me despite, encouraging me even though, cherishing me inspite of, staying regardless of, and fiercely loyal anyway.

I love you.  In heaven, in hell, and especially in the wilderness.

Love, Ap

The Rightness and Randomness of Tandemness

'Tis the season, and all that.

I am quite a Valentine's Day scrooge (I just barely bought my kids valentine's to pass out at school, much to their consternation). 

But, in honor of the impending holiday, here are a few things you may not know about riding a tandem bike:

[David just walked by and read this line and said, "What impending holiday is coming up?"

Um, Valentine's day?  That sounds about right.  We celebrate pancakes and spilt milk at our house, but Valentine's day...hmmm, not so much.]

Okay, back to the "bicycle built for two":

A tandem allows two cyclists of differing strength and ability to ride together, pleasurably.

The front rider is commonly known as the "captain."  The captain has two major responsibilities:

1.  To control the bike, including balancing it whether stopped or in motion, as well as steering, shifting, braking.

2.  To keep the stoker happy! A tandem isn't a tandem without a stoker. The captain must earn the stoker's confidence, must stop when the stoker wants to stop, must slow down when the stoker wants to slow down.

Since the stoker cannot see the road directly ahead, the captain has a special responsibility for warning of bumps in the road, so that the stoker can brace for them.  When a couple fails to make it as a tandem team, it is almost always due to either the stoker being scared as a result of an incompetent/inconsiderate captain, or due to saddle soreness.

The rear rider is commonly known as the "stoker."  The rear rider is not a "passenger", but is an equal participant. The stoker has two main responsibilities:

1.  The stoker serves mainly as a motor.

2.  The stoker's other major responsibility is a negative one: The stoker must not attempt to steer! Unpredictable weight shifts on the part of the stoker can make the captain's job much harder, and can lead to crashes, in extreme cases.   When the stoker needs to shift position on the saddle, or adjust a toe strap, or take a drink, it is vital that they do so without disturbing the equilibrium of the bicycle. These activities should not be attempted at all while the captain is dealing with tricky traffic situations or narrow spaces.

The stoker can also do a bit of back rubbing now and then, as well as taking photographs, singing encouraging songs, reading maps, etc.

The team becomes more than the sum of its parts.  An experienced tandem team develops a very special level of non-verbal communication, via subtle weight shifts, variations in pedal force, and general empathy. After a few hundred miles together, you will find yourself coasting at the same time, shifting without the need for discussion, and maneuvering smoothly even at slow speeds.  This is not just a matter of each rider acquiring captaining/stoking skills; when two equally experienced teams switch stokers, something is lost, and this special communication doesn't happen...it really is unique to each couple.

Now this is real romance to me.  A few hundred [thousand] miles in the saddle together, and still pedalling for each other, with each other, because of each other.       

Is This Thing On?

I was reminded last night of that old song Mr. Rogers used to sing, "There Are Many Ways to Say I Love You."  Most of the time I don't think my family has any idea what I'm trying to say, but for the record, what I'm trying to say is "I love you.  Desperately.  Truly.  As deep as I go."

Yesterday was Super Tuesday.  I even heard some commentators refer to it as "Super Duper Tuesday" which made me giggle.  This was a big deal for David.  So here is the baking way to say "I love you.  Madly."

  

I hope he heard me.  (Especially since the Grand Old Party certainly didn't.)

And here is the great literaturing way to say "I love you.  Wildly."

Olivia is deep in the Little House series.  She recently mentioned with a sigh, "I wish my name was Laura Ingalls Wilder.  Isn't that such a great name?  It's soooo romantic.  Laura. Ingalls. Wilder.  Ohhh."  Anyway, she had finished the Big Woods book and needed Little House on the Prairie, but the school library only had By the Shores of Silver Lake.  Being in love and undeterred, she started reading it anyway, not caring that it was out-of-order.  Then she said, "Who's Grace?"  Well, this will never do.  I didn't want her to miss the whole experience.  On Monday after I dropped her at ballet, I ran to a used bookstore and found a copy of the book she needed.  I left it on her bed.  She was almost delirious with delight.  I received a rib-cracking hug and an "Oh, Mom.  I love you."

I love you too.  Did you hear that?

Logging Lots of Miles But Making No Progress

Today was just gorgeous here.  I watched the national news and they talked all about the absolute freezing temperatures across the country.  Just brutal.  But it was beautiful and sunny here in our world.

David took half the day off and we went on a 16-mile bike ride over into another city suburb, and spent a couple of hours at a park.  It was heaven.  My kids pedalled their little legs off and my tailbone is still sore, but we were all proud of our long ride.

But now I'm back in the bowels of hell and trying hard to remember to embrace the entropy because the panic is starting to rise inside me.

My laundry has not been started and my washing machine isn't working, (of course!) my house is filthy, and I have New Beginnings on Wednesday night.  It's hard to know where to start...can I ignore it all until Thursday morning?  I'm going to need some dark glasses and some air freshener.

While we were out at the park David reminded me that he proposed on Martin Luther King Day, 13 years ago...(He was very against proposing on a major holiday so, in an effort to nudge him along, Kelly and Amy made him a list of all the minor holidays from the end of December until the end of March.  He chose this one over Groundhog Day and the U.K. Banking Holiday.  I still have their note.)   I congratulated him on the anniversary of the day he made the best decision of his life.

We hiked up to Delicate Arch (our place) and David proposed under it...it looked remarkably like this picture with snow on the mountains behind it... 

Life has not turned out the way I thought it would.  I don't even have the ring he gave me that day any more.  (It was stolen when our house was broken into a couple of years ago.)  But given the choice, I would say "yes" again, a thousand times over.  (I'm not sure he would ask again, even on a minor holiday, but nevertheless...)  We've logged a lot of miles together since that day, and sometimes I'm not sure we are really making any progress, but there is no one I'd rather be riding with. 

I Am Anna Arkadeyevna

I finished Anna Karenina last night.  *Deep breath.*  And I was astounded by many things.  (You can check recommended reading for my full review.)  But the one which has me quite disconcerted is this:  I am Anna Arkadeyevna. 

Yes, really.

Our similarities are so striking, it's a little scary.  What do we know about Anna?

• She is unbelievably gorgeous.
• Men fall in love with her after one meeting.

Check.  check.

• She lives in Russia.
• She committed adultery and feels absolutely no remorse.

Okay, maybe we're not exactly alike.  (Thank heavens.)

But here's the rub...her CIM and my CIM have the exact same script!  I kept thinking, "She's crazy.  She's crazy.  She's just got to stop thinking!"  As I was telling David all about her and how she ends up in the way she does, he was grinning from ear to ear.  Because he knows as well as I do, that I'm as crazy as she is.

"She did not want strife, she blamed him for wanting to quarrel, but unconsciously put herself into an attitude of antagonism."

"She was glad of this appeal for tenderness.  But some strange force of evil would not let her give herself up to her feelings, as though the rules of warfare would not permit her to surrender."

"For an instant she had a clear vision of what she was doing, and was horrified at how she had fallen away from her resolution.  But even though she knew it was her own ruin, she could not restrain herself, could not keep herself from proving to him that he was wrong, could not give way to him."

"She felt like a fight."  (This line alone!)

"And remembering all the cruel words he had said, Anna supplied, too, the words he had unmistakably wished to say and could have said to her, and she grew more and more exasperated....All the most cruel words that a brutal man could say, he said to her in her imagination, and she could not forgive him for them, as though he had actually said them."  (Ha!  Seriously, how did Tolstoy know?)

Some of you, those who don't know me well, are by now shocked and horrified.  Those of you that know me well are simply nodding your heads, empathetically wondering how David has managed to hold me together all these years.  Occasionally I read a book that changes my behavior.  Angle of Repose was like that for me.  I hope Anna Karenina will be the same way.  That I will remember Anna when my resolution to embrace wavers.   Stop thinking, be quiet, and embrace. 

Word of the Week: Lachrymose

lachrymose : /adj./  given to shedding tears easily.  weeping or inclined to weep.  overemotional.  teary.  soppy.

lachrymose  /adj./  1.  I thought I would be lachrymose about everyone leaving the house this week after a long Christmas break, but I was so concerned (freaking out) about the wedding cake I needed to make that I was immensely grateful for an empty house by Thursday morning.

lachrymose  /adj./  2.  My brother's wedding cake and all the subsequent drama took up the bulk of my thoughts and time this week.  On Thursday I spent about four hours baking, frosting and assembling the cake and then about eight hours rolling out fondant, over and over again.  By the end of the day I had only covered one layer and I was completely lachrymose, the tears making streaks through the powdered sugar covering my face.  I told my husband, "I just need to sit down and cry and then I'll feel better."  My son overheard this and questioned my husband about this line of "reasoning."  David just shook his head and said, "It's lethargic for her."  This turned my sobs into choking laughter as I said, "No, it's cathartic."   But even this fit of laughter soon turned lachrymose and the tears rolled again.

lachrymose  /adj./  3.  As I was sobbing into the fondant (talk about "soppy") I kept thinking of that part in Laura Esquivel's book Like Water for Chocolate, when Tita makes the wedding cake and sobs into the batter and then the whole wedding party dissolves into tears of longing after they eat it.  The whole place is wailing and eventually they all cry so hard, everyone becomes sick and the wedding is ruined.  Thankfully no one but the bride and groom ate my lachrymose cake, and they were all smiles.

lachrymose  /adj./  4.  Ethan was asked to be the ring bearer for the wedding.  I am always a bit stressed about having my children be a part of a wedding because they are unpredictable and, well, children.  When it was time for Ethan to make his entrance he became lachrymose and just stood there with tears streaming down his cheeks.  Eventually the groom had to come help the reluctant ring bearer.

lachrymose  /adj./  5.  The most touching part of the whole wedding, for me, came at the wedding luncheon.  My brother, Christian, is deaf and his new bride (Sara) is not.  We had an interpreter there for Christian and his deaf friends, but in an effort to make Christian feel part of their family, Sara's mom had learned all the sign language to a little speech that her dad gave.  She had practiced for hours.  It was one of the sweetest gestures I have ever seen, especially from two people who just gave their precious daughter away.  Both of them had tears in their eyes as he spoke and she earnestly signed their message.  Admittedly I was already lachrymose from the cake, but I couldn't help shedding a few more tears at their generosity. 

lachrymose  /adj./  6.  Last night, instead of scrubbing my kitchen down, I ignored the mess and watched the final installment of Masterpiece Theatre's version of Jane Eyre.  This has long been my favorite book and I found myself lachrymose and sobbing as Jane spoke her feelings aloud to Mr. Rochester.  (Even I have a hard time calling him "Edward.")

"It is a long way off, sir."

"No matter--a girl of your sense will not object to the voyage or
the distance."

"Not the voyage, but the distance:  and then the sea is a barrier--"

"From what, Jane?"

"From England and from Thornfield:  and--"

"Well?"

"From YOU, sir."

I said this almost involuntarily, and, with as little sanction of
free will, my tears gushed out.  I did not cry so as to be heard,
however; I avoided sobbing. 

Jane is a stronger person than I, as I could not help sobbing.  But eventually, even Jane becomes lachrymose.

In listening, I sobbed convulsively; for I could repress what I
endured no longer; I was obliged to yield, and I was shaken from
head to foot with acute distress.  When I did speak, it was only to
express an impetuous wish that I had never been born, or never come
to Thornfield.

I remember the night I read these lines for the first time.  14-years-old, 3-in-the-morning, sobbing uncontrollably in my bed.  I thought my heart would break.  And I stayed up the rest of the night reading, as Jane's fate was as precious and interesting to me as my own. 

All in all, it was a very lachrymose week and, as Jane says, "I was obliged to yield."  Oh, yes.

Word of the Week: Cosset

cosset : /vt./  to treat as a pet, pamper.  coddle.  overindulge.  dote on, cater to.  cuddle.  nurture.

cosset  /vt./  1.  For Christmas (and much to my delight), David cosseted my vain side and gave me a whole bunch of MAC cosmetics.  Of course I had no idea how to use them properly, so I made an appointment for a make-over at Nordstrom's on Friday morning.  David went with me, and explained that he had bought me all this make-up, but had no idea if he had chosen the right things.  Then he had to step away to take a phone call from work. 

After he left, the girl who was doing my make-up asked, "So did you get anything fun for Christmas, besides a whole lot of MAC cosmetics?" and then before I could answer she said, "That was really nice of your friend." 

I thought, "Friend?!"  And then giggled and hooted inside at her assumption.  

David asked me why I didn't just explain.  I told him it would have blown her mind.  Married 12 years, 4 kids, and still don't know how to put on make-up.  She didn't even think I could manage to keep him as a boyfriend...let alone all the rest.   The kind and merciful thing to do was to leave it alone. 

cosset  /vt./  2.   I have been relishing every minute of the last week...with all of us home, together.  And have spent most of the time cosseting my husband and children.   We have spent hours and hours playing "Ticket to Ride" (US and European versions) and "Mexican Train" and "Settlers" and a whole lot of "Canasta."  David and Caleb even got in one long game of "Axis and Allies."  Hibernation is delightful.

cosset  /vt./  3.  I took one small break from all that hibernation to cosset my young women and take them ice skating.  We had a great time playing on the ice...especially once I got my skating legs under me again.  I only had one bad fall and thankfully my knitted beanie cosseted my head and saved me from cracking it wide open.

cosset  /vt./  4.  Real life is going to be a brutal re-entry on Wednesday morning.  I have been completely cosseted this past week and a half...sleeping in, staying up late, pajamas and games all day, everyone home, including David.  Spoiled indeed.  I have been having that melancholy-Sunday-evening-feeling-of-looming-abandonment for the past couple  of days.  Mourning the moving clock and regretting the march of the calendar.  I am definitely dragging my feet and will probably be really and truly grief-stricken by tomorrow evening. 

Mayday

So I finally made a list.

Of things that have to be done by Christmas.

Honestly, I think this only increased my anxiety. 

Last night I showed my husband the list.  His eyebrows went up.  (He always thinks I don't know what he is thinking, but his eyebrows are little novels to me.)

I said, "You have to help me."

Crazy-inside-me said, "You HAVE TO HELP ME! Do you think this is a Christmas pleasure cruise, where you get to just float along enjoying the delights of the season?!"  Luckily, she was inside-me.

He just stared for a bit.

Then after I huffed and got up to leave the room, he said, completely baffled, "What do you want me to do?"

Clearly there is a communication gap at my house.  I'm sinking and he has no idea.

I just sighed, but CIM whispered, "Burn the list."

Exhibit A

When they haul me away in a straight-jacket, you'll know why.  I would like to enter the following picture into evidence:

I vacuumed through the girls room today and found this under their beds.  Please keep in mind that we keep some of our food storage under their beds so there is really only about 6 inches of space to cram things out of sight.  This is what I found in that six inches.

The part of this that makes institutionalization a real possibility is that yesterday we couldn't find the ward phone list.  (Which is absolutely necessary for survival around here.)  I asked David to go look under the girls' beds.  (I know, don't ask.)  He came back and reported that it wasn't there.  Do you see what this means?  Yesterday David looked under these beds and saw all of this stuff and happily left it there.  Arghh!

Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I beg you.

When Your "Little Black Dress" is Too Little

David had a big fundraising gala for his hospital on Saturday night.   He has been planning this event for a year...I have been "patiently" listening to these plans for even longer.   I have two black dresses for these black tie affairs (which happen more often than you would expect.)   On Monday, Dave said too casually, "So...what are you going to wear on Saturday?"  My radar immediately went up. 

"Why?"

"No reason, just curious."  Yeah, right.

"What are you trying to say?  Just say it."

"April."  Firmly.

"Well.  I have two black dresses...I was just planning on seeing which one I could still fit into and wearing that one."

No response.  Just eyebrows.

"What?!  Don't worry, I'll be gorgeous."

Well.  At least I had no worries, until he started to zip me up on Saturday night.   Uh...

I said, "Is this one of those moments you wish you would have married for looks instead of brains?"

"April."  Very firmly.  And then pointing at the zipper, "How hard do you want me to try?"

We ended up taking two cars to the event.  I had to rethink my wardrobe...have you seen that bluefly commercial where the woman goes to the party naked...it crossed my mind.  (Wow, is it disturbing that I've talked about being naked in two of my four posts?)  I also briefly considered sewing something "real quick,"  or (getting desperate now) tying an ace bandage really tightly around my bodice. 

Finally, I tore my closet apart and ended up in this...

I was the only woman there NOT wearing a black dress.  Seriously.  The woman who does the Arizona society page took a picture of every woman's dress at my table, except mine.  Seriously. 

The one plus...I matched the tablecloths EXACTLY!  Oh, that's not actually a plus!

Despite the fashion faux pas, the night was fantastic.  It was held at the Buttes in Scottsdale.  All the money raised goes to fund cancer programs for patients at Banner Desert Medical Center...here are a few shots of David's hard work.  What is it about seeing your husband at work that makes you completely amazed and a little turned on?

A view of the silent auction...

The dessert looked better than it tasted...   

The other woman in David's life...his marvelous administrative assistant, Suzanne.  I teased them that this was their "last night together."  Suzanne is leaving to take a position where she can work less hours and, most likely, to preserve what she has left of her sanity.   Poor David will be lost without her.  She was very good to him and once lamented to me,  "He's going to make himself an old man."  I love that she loved him too.  She is truly irreplaceable and I expect to hear him bemoaning this very thing for the next couple of months while he trains a new assistant.  

Finally, for all you Arizonans out there...I thought you would appreciate this picture of David doing the "Shimmy Shake" with 12 News' Rick DeBruhl.   There's nothing like two middle-aged white men tearing up the dance floor together. 

Next year I've got to be a good wife and go shopping or find a really tight corset...I'm not sure which one sounds less painful...then again maybe I'll just find out what color the tablecloths are and see if I can make another grand entrance.