Your Possible Pasts

Pink Floyd The Final Cut, 1983

"If you look for it, I've got a sneaky feeling you'll find that love actually is all around." - Love Actually

For Valentine's Day, Manoj bought me a Kindle, a long lusted-after gadget. I bought a few e-books, including a cheesy romance novel. For him, I bought some nice whiskey and his favorite expensive cheese. Essentially, everyone wins in this scenario.

We are a not a gushy, romantic couple.  And I am fine with that - I have had romance and it was nice.  Sometimes even sweet.  One of my favorite Valentine's Days involved a surprise romantic meal at the now defunct Fifi's Restaurant in Lawrence KS.  It involved red roses and wine and whispered sweet-nothings.  Truly it was a beautiful, simply lovely Valentine's Day.  However, I really do not miss that relationship, without going into too many details, let us just say that it was not healthy for anyone involved. 

 To be sure, I really prefer what I have now - a relationship that is honest, faithful and solid. Even if it includes geeky gadgets instead of roses.

Tonight, I am going to pick up some pizza and salads from Spin!, a fun bottle of wine and we are going to snuggle in at home with the Team of Chaos.   We will probably watch some TV and play Donkey Kong Country Returns as a family.  

I would rather be nowhere else.

Coming Back to Life

Pink Floyd, The Division Bell 1979

And yes, I realize that to many Floyd Fiends that a Pink Floyd sans Roger Waters is NOT an authentic Pink Floyd but rather, some severely diluted, puerile version of what had formerly held one of the most amazing song-writers in rock history.  Ahem. Still, I have enjoyed the Gilmour-led Pink Floyd - my main complaint is that the group has  not continued to evolve or create anything new, per se, but I do still enjoy their later albums.

******

I am in a catching up spot here.  I have a few things I want to get out of my crammed attic for a brain.  In the next few posts, expect nothing more than a disjointed rambling of words loosely held together by the laws of grammar.  I am going to blame the stomach virus we had last week.  Or rather, the Thanksgiving Special, a limited engagement in which I formed an intimate, enduring relationship with my toilet. 

Let no man tear us asunder.  

*******

Of course, Manoj was unaffected by the Thanksgiving Special, he of intestinal fortitude worthy of his Sub-Continental Asian ancestors. Arun and his demi-desi colors shone through and he was only slightly queasy on the big day itself.  Anjali?  Her demi-desi credentials are currently suspect.  By Friday night, our little girl was non-stop horking and dry-heaving.  Me and my lily-white colon? We spent Saturday curled up in my bathroom, never more grateful for cold, blissfully chilly lineoleum.  Cozy! Up with the chuck!

Team Chaos gets a cold here and there, but they rarely hit Ragdoll Status.  And man, when they do?  It becomes a tug o' war between Manoj and I over who gets to hold the kid.  Yes, you read that correctly.  Manoj becomes a hardcore Indian mother when his child is sick and will fight me for the right to snuggle that kid back to health.  And with Anjali whimpering "Daddy, my tummy feels better when you hold me", there was no way I was winning this particular battle, so I waved a white flag.  And offered up a small battalion of clean towels in an offering of peace.  Manoj held Anjali all night long while she puked over and over and over again on him.  I stood close by with Clean Clothes.  It all worked out.

Many bloggers have been writing about those things for which they are grateful.  First, I am extremely appreciative of my high-capacity washing machine.  A close runner-up would be my husband.

Listen up, Gentle Reader. He drives me crazy.  I drive him crazy. Some of it is cultural.  Some of it is Man vs. Woman.

Quite a lot of  it is just us.

Sometimes, I hate that we are a bickering, squabbling sort of couple.  Other times, I appreciate that we do not let dark thoughts lie in wait, festering and rotting away the core of our marriage.  I had a friend who never, ever fought with her husband.  Their resentments laid patiently.  Growing roots.  Multiplying. Then, in one grand finale, it all blew up.  Spectacularly.  You could have sold popcorn, folks.

So, on those days when I send pointed texts to my husband to remind him of important things to ensure that I have a written record of that reminder?  I remember that long-defunct marriage of my friends.  A marriage that was long gone before it actually ended.

Yes, I am grateful for my husband.  He is faithful.  He is true.  He is an amazing father.  He will never understand my need for nights out with my friends (something his mother never, ever did for herself.)  I will never understand his need to watch football games when he never, ever roots for a particular team (seriously, why bother!?!)  He will shake his head in pity at my knitting projects, all that "lost" time gone to waste.  I will shake my head at all those hours he spends working, all that "lost" time gone to waste.

The list could go on, but somehow, we meet in the middle.  We make it work. I am quite honest in that marriage is the hardest thing I have ever done in my entire life.  The constant compromise grates at me.  Christ on toast, folks. Will he ever put his damned dirty socks in one, single location in our house? 

No.  He will not.  But, knowing that I am with a man of such compassion, work ethic and integrity has made these last 10 years worth all of that sock retrieval.

Thank you, Manoj. 

Thank you.

Ringing in the New Year

House training our dog was a snap.  However, house training us was an entirely different matter.  Meaning, Manoj and I had no fucking clue what to do when it came to communicating to Lucy what her part in this little Waltz of Bodily Wastes was to be .  To her credit, once Manoj and I realized what we needed to be doing, Lucy jumped on board.  Willingly.

Early on, we hung a bell on the door knob.  When we would let her out, we would ring the bell.  And then, eventually, she got the idea. Awesome, right?

Oh, who the fuck am I kidding.  I did all the training in regard the bell.  Manoj thought the bell was stoopid and simply did not believe the dog would learn how to ring a bell.  Really?

Really.  That little bitch of a dog loves, LOVES her bell.  And no thanks to my sweet husband, but Lucy loves that bell with a vengence.

Now?  She cannot be stopped.  She rings the bell, does her thing, then comes and scratches at the door.

Lucy: It seems I need to pee. *RING* RING*
Lucy: Um, am bored now, folks.  Need back inside. *SCRATCH*SCRATCH* 

Lucy: Hey wait a goddamned second, is that a mouse?? *RING* RING*
Lucy: Nope, just a leaf. *SCRATCH*SCRATCH*

Lucy: Oops, forgot to poop.  *RING* RING*
Lucy: All done, Bitches.  It's cold our here.  *SCRATCH*SCRATCH*

Lucy: Let it SNOW!!  SNOW!! SNOW, I love SNOW. *RING* RING*
Lucy: Okay, am cold now.  Back inside. *SCRATCH*SCRATCH
Lucy: Seriously, Bitches, I am DONE.  It is cold out here.  BARK!!BARK!!

Lucy: Oops, forgot to poop. *RING* RING*

And on and on and on.  The part that will drive me to pull my hair out one by one is this:  Manoj is usually working right by the back door.  I can be deep down in the bowels of our basement and still hear the the bell ringing.  Take one guess as to who cannot hear it?

One guess.  No cheating.

If a man is standing in the middle of the forest speaking and there is no woman around to hear him - Is he still wrong?

Lest folks think that X stood with a whip under the ladder as I embarked upon Adventures in Larvae Eviction, let me be clear. X was all for calling an exterminator. But he married me, Kelli Courtney Oliver. I grew up in a house where my parents did as much as they could on their own before calling a knowledgeable friend to help. If that failed? Then, you called a professional.

And I married a man who is all about hiring folks to do things. We work it out, we find our common ground. Sometimes, that common ground finds me on a ladder, cursing him. But hey, it works for us.

My post last week was really about the Grind of it all, the special blend that comprises many SAHMs days.

I suspect every single person out there has their own house blend of Grind.

**************

I read several blogs where every Monday there is much grumbling about a busy weekend and how tired they are. I am generally very selfish with my weekends. Fridays and Saturdays are open, but I try to keep Sundays free for doing "our" stuff - the gym, laundry, housework. It is a holdback from my days of college, trying to catch up on homework and then later, my days of working, trying to catch up on housework before another crazy week began.

This weekend was an exception to our rule because we had a family event on Sunday. And Saturday? Was crazy - we went to the Scottish Highland Games, then trucked over to Tonganoxie to hang out at my sister's house, then went to a friend's house to watch the Tonganoxie City Fireworks. It was a great day, but I was really scrambling on Sunday to catch up. Not because I was over-loaded with work, but rather, because I am used to being extremely lazy on Sundays.

Anyway - Highland Games were totally worth it! The smells (pipes, and Scottish meat pies), the sounds (pipes, Scottish meat pies) and the sights.

Also, I have a special Scottish edition of Handbag Thursday coming this week - stay tuned.

If one grandpa can wear a lungi, why can't the other wear a kilt?

Clan Fraser, Represent!

It is rumored in tight circles that my step-mom had an inkling as to what she was getting into when she married my dad. However, in her defense, he was NOT wearing skirts back then.

Future Clansman

Kilted.

The Games themselves were awesome to watch - brute tests of strength with lots of grunting and cheering. FUN. However, I loved how some of the contestants' kilts were daintily tucked behind the chairs as if to not wrinkle them.

*Drool*
Insert your own damned NomNom noises [HERE]*

Scottish meat pies are the bomb, but fortunately, not the Belly kinda of bomb. Ahem.

*I am very weary of the LOLcatese that has proliferated blogs these days. Dude, you are NOT a frocking cat. Speak HUMAN!

Can I Quote You On That?

Today's theme is Love. Dedicated to You Know Who....

We come to love not by finding a perfect person but by learning to see an imperfect person perfectly.
-Sam Keen

Marriage is not a ritual or an end. It is a long, intricate, intimate dance together and nothing matters more than your own sense of balance and your choice of partner.
-unknown

Everyone is alone. It's just easier to take in a relationship.
-Anonymous

It doesn't matter what you do in the bedroom as long as you don't do it in the street and frighten the horses.
-Mrs. Patrick Campbell

Love is like racing across the frozen tundra on a snowmobile which flips over, trapping you underneath. At night, the ice-weasels come.
-Nietchze

And most importantly......
Nobody loves no one.
-Chris Isaak

Is it December yet?

Okay, NaBloPoMo is kicking my ass. However, it is not the posting, it is the reading. On top of it, in my new role of Food Blogger, I am now plowing through food blogs to add to my blogroll over at the FoodieBytes blog. Speaking of which, I am posting over there today about portable chopsticks - did you know that disposable chopsticks use up trees to the tune of 25 million a year?? Holy crap!

Anyway..... today marks a special day. On this day, in the year 2000, X and I had our first date. Oh sure, the state of New Hampshire legally bestowed our Love with rights and responsibilities in 2003, but I think there is something particularly poignant about the First Date. Probably even more so than a wedding date. We will not do anything special today, but I do like to remind X that his life changed drastically for the better on this day.

It is crazy to think how much our lives have changed these past 7 years. As much as I say my children are the center of my life, X is everything else. And I am not ashamed to admit that. It seems that often, women are discouraged from hanging their hopes and dreams on a man, but whatever. Our hopes and dreams are so intertwined and tangled at this point it would be a far easier task to untangle the Christmas tree lights skulking in our basement.