I was out late with my sister last night, and Ian tried to wait up for me, but wound up falling asleep on the couch. It was around two in the morning and I tried to gently wake him, just enough so that he could stumble towards the bedroom, and as he started to get up he asked me, quite seriously, "Do you think that when his mom isn't home that Jeter really doesn't get his food mashed up the right way?"
"Who," I needed to know to get the bigger picture, "is Jeter?"
"Skeezix's buddy," he sighed, just short of rolling his eyes at me.
Well, of course, it all makes sense.
"Daisy is his girlfriend," he muttered as he stumbled down the hall. "Skeez's. Not Jeter's."
I'm glad I know that little factoid.
"She's a model."
It took a few moments for the whole thing to sink in; he wasn't talking about people, he was talking about some of his favorite cat bloggers. And while I enjoy a few of the cat blogs, too, I don't beleive I've ever had them quite so firmly on my mind.
Deep down, I think he really wants to know, though. Just how well mashed up is Jeter's food? ;)
Saturday, July 17, 2010
Sunday, July 11, 2010
Knot tying
Char's sister, Nika, is getting married in October. What started out as them just wanting to get a few people together and run to Vegas to make it official and to party has turned into a small family affair complete with everyone having to rent formal wear or shop for the perfect dress, and a post-ceremony reception in which there will be an annoying DJ, dancing, and a buffet.
This isn't what Peter and Nika had planned on, but when the discussion over Vegas and would kids be included or not, would there be pre-ceremony drinking or not, Brad got very, very quiet, so quiet that it was hanging in the air and slapping everyone upside the head.
I didn't get to be there when your sister got married, and I was damned sure I'd never be there to see you get married. Since I get to see it, I'd like to see it done right.
“Right” in his eyes means the wedding dress, the giving away of the bride, and a minister overseeing it all, not an Elvis impersonator.
The couple has been living together for a few years and don't really care; they just want to finally make it legal. If Brad wants to see his little girl get married with, as he puts it, style and class, then that's what they're going to do.
What he didn't implicitly say, but Char and I both realized, was that he's actually a little ticked off that we rushed into getting married, and didn't take the time to have a “real” wedding ceremony. He would have flown across the country for it; at the time we didn't think he wanted to. So there's some guilt brewing around here, but there's nothing we can do about it now.
If there's going to be a real wedding, there's going to be a best man, matron of honor, bridesmaids, groomsmen, and a honeymoon. And all of that, too, has become a family affair.
Somehow, in the middle of talking about it all, Char and I wound up agreeing to go on Nika and Peter's honeymoon.
The whole concept of a honeymoon is a little outdated, don't you think? We just want to take a short vacation. Come on, this will be fun!
I don't find the concept outdated; I think it's not only normal but important for a newly married couple to celebrate their nuptials privately, no matter how many times they've already seen each other naked. I agreed to the vacation, but only if we meet up with them a couple of days later.
The kids are staying home; they're not happy about it, but hell, they'll get over it. Brad was invited, but that invitation was met with a snort of derision. He'd prefer to stay home and corrupt his grandkids.
It's something to look forward to, anyway. A few days away with Char, in a nice hotel room, even if I do have to place nice with the in-laws. That's a hardship, you know. Spending time with those people. Maybe I'll spend it drunk ;)
This isn't what Peter and Nika had planned on, but when the discussion over Vegas and would kids be included or not, would there be pre-ceremony drinking or not, Brad got very, very quiet, so quiet that it was hanging in the air and slapping everyone upside the head.
I didn't get to be there when your sister got married, and I was damned sure I'd never be there to see you get married. Since I get to see it, I'd like to see it done right.
“Right” in his eyes means the wedding dress, the giving away of the bride, and a minister overseeing it all, not an Elvis impersonator.
The couple has been living together for a few years and don't really care; they just want to finally make it legal. If Brad wants to see his little girl get married with, as he puts it, style and class, then that's what they're going to do.
What he didn't implicitly say, but Char and I both realized, was that he's actually a little ticked off that we rushed into getting married, and didn't take the time to have a “real” wedding ceremony. He would have flown across the country for it; at the time we didn't think he wanted to. So there's some guilt brewing around here, but there's nothing we can do about it now.
If there's going to be a real wedding, there's going to be a best man, matron of honor, bridesmaids, groomsmen, and a honeymoon. And all of that, too, has become a family affair.
Somehow, in the middle of talking about it all, Char and I wound up agreeing to go on Nika and Peter's honeymoon.
The whole concept of a honeymoon is a little outdated, don't you think? We just want to take a short vacation. Come on, this will be fun!
I don't find the concept outdated; I think it's not only normal but important for a newly married couple to celebrate their nuptials privately, no matter how many times they've already seen each other naked. I agreed to the vacation, but only if we meet up with them a couple of days later.
The kids are staying home; they're not happy about it, but hell, they'll get over it. Brad was invited, but that invitation was met with a snort of derision. He'd prefer to stay home and corrupt his grandkids.
It's something to look forward to, anyway. A few days away with Char, in a nice hotel room, even if I do have to place nice with the in-laws. That's a hardship, you know. Spending time with those people. Maybe I'll spend it drunk ;)
Sunday, July 4, 2010
40
Char began and is ending her birthday the same way: just a little bit drunk. Last night she and her sister went out with a few friends to start the celebrating a little early, and celebrate they did. She called home twice; the first time it was to let me know they had changed their plans and would not be going to a movie after dinner, and the second time to let me know that her dad makes the most BITCHIN' Long Island Iced Teas, and that the new backup bartender has BOOBS OUT TO HERE, and I really might want to drive over and take a look for myself, because, she's is so totally hot that I just might switch teams, but you can come watch.
She denies this now.
She was greeted this morning with a chorus of Happy birthday! from all three kids at once (hell, yes, they knew she'd be hung over) and after that she swore she was never drinking again (that lasted until Brad started making daiquiris.)
What she wanted most out of her birthday was a day with family; she didn't want a bunch of stuff (but don't look at me like that, because I bought her a motorcycle a couple of weeks ago and she threatened my junk if I bought anything else), she just wanted to spend it with the people who matter to her. (When she said that, she wasn't counting on having a hangover, but after some Motrin after breakfast and a really tall daiquiri she felt muchbetter.) We fired up the grill, watched the kids play in the pool, had several mock arguments over who got to hold the baby (her birthday, she won), and just enjoyed the day.
But right now she's a little bit tipsy and she and her sister are sitting out by the pool, having fits of laughter over Brad's girlfriend tripping over her own feet and falling into the pool this afternoon (they don't exactly like the woman) and Travis toddling around all afternoon pointing at people and squealing “You hotstf!”
(Hot stuff; when pressed to tell how he learned that, Erin just glared at Miko.)
Granted, Char isn't happy that she's forty, but then again, she is.
I just hope today was exactly what she wanted.
She denies this now.
She was greeted this morning with a chorus of Happy birthday! from all three kids at once (hell, yes, they knew she'd be hung over) and after that she swore she was never drinking again (that lasted until Brad started making daiquiris.)
What she wanted most out of her birthday was a day with family; she didn't want a bunch of stuff (but don't look at me like that, because I bought her a motorcycle a couple of weeks ago and she threatened my junk if I bought anything else), she just wanted to spend it with the people who matter to her. (When she said that, she wasn't counting on having a hangover, but after some Motrin after breakfast and a really tall daiquiri she felt muchbetter.) We fired up the grill, watched the kids play in the pool, had several mock arguments over who got to hold the baby (her birthday, she won), and just enjoyed the day.
But right now she's a little bit tipsy and she and her sister are sitting out by the pool, having fits of laughter over Brad's girlfriend tripping over her own feet and falling into the pool this afternoon (they don't exactly like the woman) and Travis toddling around all afternoon pointing at people and squealing “You hotstf!”
(Hot stuff; when pressed to tell how he learned that, Erin just glared at Miko.)
Granted, Char isn't happy that she's forty, but then again, she is.
I just hope today was exactly what she wanted.
Thursday, July 1, 2010
Every breath she takes...
If I sleep tonight, I'll be surprised. If I sleep tomorrow night, I'll be very surprised. I fully expect that I'll sit up in bed all night long, listening to the sound of breath being inhaled, breath being exhaled. I expect it because all day I have been consumed with the realization that around 10 a.m. tomorrow, it will mark one year since Char drove through an intersection and was very nearly killed by a drunk driver going nearly 80 miles an hour.
Undoubtedly, the driver's family is going through their own agony, remembering that he blew through a red light at nearly 80 miles an hour, and like a bad game of craps, tossed down the dice that would forever alter the trajectories of two families. I don't dwell on them, to be honest. I'm sure that him being dead sucks, but had he lived it might suck worse. All I care about is what he did, and what he did was change my wife's life forever. He ripped her away from the path she was on and slammed her down violently onto another. She had no choice in the matter, but she will live with the consequences of his choices for the rest of her life.
Don't get me wrong; I am grateful beyond my ability to convey that she lived through it and that the aftermath was not far worse than it was. I waited for that other shoe to drop, ready to dive and catch it, but it never did fall. She handled the resulting nightmares well, she powered her way past a few paralyzing memories, and proved to me again and again that she is far stronger than I will ever be, and that she has more grace of forgiveness than I ever will. But as grateful as I am that she wasn't killed and that we have the hope of many, many years to come, I am still angry that it happened in the first place. I am angry that so many choices were taken from her.
She would tell me to let it go; she has told me to let it go, but that hasn't been something I've been able to do. The truth is, if the other driver hadn't killed himself, I probably would have had to be physically restrained from causing him permanent physical harm. I'm not proud of that. But the heartburn of anger has made me realize that my capabilities to cause great harm could likely not be held in check.
Char usually brushes the changes off as nothing; she reminds me that our lives are, in the dying wake of the accident, better than they were. The kids are happier; they're thriving in the new neighborhood and in the availability of both of their parents. I am, aside from unexpected moments of being pissed off, a much calmer person than I was before. Char is more direct with me; she says what she wants and she makes sure I understand how important some things are to her.
But she had to give up a lot. She says it just isn't as important as it was, but I know she misses teaching TKD. She misses jogging with me; hell, I miss her jogging with me and as a result don't get out nearly as often as I did. She hates the reactions she gets from people who haven't seen her since the accident, and she hates the lingering pain. We all hate that the pain is likely permanent.
So yes, I am still angry about it. I haven't been able to let it go, give it over to the universe, whatever. While I am grateful that she was able to create so much good from the turmoil, bringing our family even closer together, I still resent the way it happened.
I resent the hell out of the grandiose selfishness the idiot who hit her must have had.
But, I am grateful. And a year later I am amazed at how far she's come, how far we've all come, and how worth it the fight to get here has been.
She spent her 39th birthday in ICU, too drugged up to speak, in too much pain for more than moderate awareness. This year, her 40th, when she probably would have been complaining about it being forty, we're all celebrating that she gets to turn forty. The woman could have anything she wanted, I would do anything she wanted to mark the occasion, but all she wants is her family around her. she wants to spend the day with the kids, her father and sister and almost brother-in-law, and with our niece and grandkids and You're-Here-Again? Dack and Theresa and TK. So that's what she's getting; she doesn't want stuff, she wants us.
And cake. A very large spice cake sprinkled with cinnamon and powdered sugar, and God help anyone who get in between it and the birthday girl.
But tonight, there's a very good chance I will sit up in bed to listen to her breathe, and trust me, I will treasure every breath she takes.
Undoubtedly, the driver's family is going through their own agony, remembering that he blew through a red light at nearly 80 miles an hour, and like a bad game of craps, tossed down the dice that would forever alter the trajectories of two families. I don't dwell on them, to be honest. I'm sure that him being dead sucks, but had he lived it might suck worse. All I care about is what he did, and what he did was change my wife's life forever. He ripped her away from the path she was on and slammed her down violently onto another. She had no choice in the matter, but she will live with the consequences of his choices for the rest of her life.
Don't get me wrong; I am grateful beyond my ability to convey that she lived through it and that the aftermath was not far worse than it was. I waited for that other shoe to drop, ready to dive and catch it, but it never did fall. She handled the resulting nightmares well, she powered her way past a few paralyzing memories, and proved to me again and again that she is far stronger than I will ever be, and that she has more grace of forgiveness than I ever will. But as grateful as I am that she wasn't killed and that we have the hope of many, many years to come, I am still angry that it happened in the first place. I am angry that so many choices were taken from her.
She would tell me to let it go; she has told me to let it go, but that hasn't been something I've been able to do. The truth is, if the other driver hadn't killed himself, I probably would have had to be physically restrained from causing him permanent physical harm. I'm not proud of that. But the heartburn of anger has made me realize that my capabilities to cause great harm could likely not be held in check.
Char usually brushes the changes off as nothing; she reminds me that our lives are, in the dying wake of the accident, better than they were. The kids are happier; they're thriving in the new neighborhood and in the availability of both of their parents. I am, aside from unexpected moments of being pissed off, a much calmer person than I was before. Char is more direct with me; she says what she wants and she makes sure I understand how important some things are to her.
But she had to give up a lot. She says it just isn't as important as it was, but I know she misses teaching TKD. She misses jogging with me; hell, I miss her jogging with me and as a result don't get out nearly as often as I did. She hates the reactions she gets from people who haven't seen her since the accident, and she hates the lingering pain. We all hate that the pain is likely permanent.
So yes, I am still angry about it. I haven't been able to let it go, give it over to the universe, whatever. While I am grateful that she was able to create so much good from the turmoil, bringing our family even closer together, I still resent the way it happened.
I resent the hell out of the grandiose selfishness the idiot who hit her must have had.
But, I am grateful. And a year later I am amazed at how far she's come, how far we've all come, and how worth it the fight to get here has been.
She spent her 39th birthday in ICU, too drugged up to speak, in too much pain for more than moderate awareness. This year, her 40th, when she probably would have been complaining about it being forty, we're all celebrating that she gets to turn forty. The woman could have anything she wanted, I would do anything she wanted to mark the occasion, but all she wants is her family around her. she wants to spend the day with the kids, her father and sister and almost brother-in-law, and with our niece and grandkids and You're-Here-Again? Dack and Theresa and TK. So that's what she's getting; she doesn't want stuff, she wants us.
And cake. A very large spice cake sprinkled with cinnamon and powdered sugar, and God help anyone who get in between it and the birthday girl.
But tonight, there's a very good chance I will sit up in bed to listen to her breathe, and trust me, I will treasure every breath she takes.
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