Little Earthquakes

   I have been back and forth for the last week on whether or not I should even blog about the current status of my life. And because I haven't been able to decide, I couldn't seem to find words for anything else either. Instead of faking it, or denying it or avoiding it altogether, I have just kind of put the blogging on pause.

   Ugh.

   This last summer, I became reunited with a dear friend of mine from my sophomore year of high school. One afternoon, while we sat in a sushi restaurant in Portland, we tried our best to get caught up on the past 13 years of our lives that we'd missed out on. When it came time for me to ask him if he had any questions for me, he said, "No. I read your blog. I know everything I need to know."

  Since then, I have been wondering where to draw the line. What to keep posting here and what I should leave for the pages of my paper journal and the ears and shoulders of my friends. In the past, I have felt from time to time that acquaintences knew a bit too much about me because of what I wrote. They spoke to me in a knowing fashion that I wasn't comfortable with, simply because I didn't realize they knew what they knew. Of course, anything that I have written about was something that I felt like sharing. Still, when you are standing face to face with someone who recalls the nasty posts you wrote when you were 23 and still bitter about being dumped by an old boyfriend and decide to take it out on him and his new wife, well . . . where is the delete button when you need it most?

   However, what I am going through right now definitely is shaping and defining maybe rapid changes coming in my life. I only see it as fair to explain here, (because I do intend to try to keep updating more regularly here. I promise!) why these changes are in fact coming.

    My husband and I are separating. Divorcing, actually. Though paperwork has not been drawn up yet, the furniture and (more importantly) the DVD collection have been verbally split and by the end of the month, we will be living under different roofs. In the past week and a half, most of our conversations have been through text messages and the most time we have spent in person, in the same room together would be that one evening we were able to discuss the furniture and DVDs.

    It is a decision that I have been wrestling with for months and an issue that we have been both working on together and separately since the beginning of the fall. While I will provide him and myself with a bit of privacy as to the nature of the demise of our marriage, I will say that things just did not progress in the linear and positive manner that I had hoped it would for us when we took our vows two and a half years ago. Some of the fault is his and some of the fault is mine. I'd like to leave it at that.

    I have struggled through many ideas and feelings that held me captive for a long time. Guilt, for one. Guilt that I am unable to live up to those vows I took. Guilt that my parents paid as much as they did for our wedding. Foolishness, for another. I am a fixer, a mender. I wanted to fix him in ways that he didn't feel he needed to be fixed or wanted to be fixed. Foolish for not noticing things that were or were not happening around me. Fear as well. Fear for jumping back into singlehood, trying to make it in this world alone again (though my amazing circle of friends has not let me feel alone for even a second). Fear that I am ruining the only chance of love or happiness that I have in life. But I haven't been truly happy in a long time.

    The phrase "Fool or Failure" has been ringing in my head since August. A fool if I stay and a failure if I leave. Which is worse? I still haven't completely figured that one out, but I am hoping I can swallow failure and turn it into some other form of success later in life.

   So 2010 has begun as a year of massive and rapid change for me. But I knew that the moment I opened my eyes on January 1st, greeted by Coldplay's "Viva la Vida" on my 7am alarm clock. I am currently finding much comfort from my parents, Emily, Sarah, Kate, the girls at my salon and many other friends and solace in Sugarland, SheDaisy, Lady Antebellum, Crystal Light, sleeping and hour long workouts on the elliptical. I am hoping that come August of this year, I will have transformed my body, my personal outlook on myself and my life and the direction this adulthood is taking me in.

   In some ways, it is a tragedy. And in others, a rebirth, for both of us (though I know right now, that is the last thing he sees it as). But if nothing else, I just hope someday, we'll both be able to look back and smile, even if just faintly, recalling the good times. They are what I'd want us to remember most.

Typical conversations in our house

"Do you love me?"

Mike eyes my chest. "Parts of you, yes."

Ahhh . . . . true love.

Making this home

In some ways, this house already feels like home. Because when I picture going home at night, it's here that I picture. And when I feel tired in the mornings and wish that I could crawl back into bed, its our ridiculously huge bedroom that I long for. Slowly, subtly I am making the place ours. I have color swatches tacted to the walls as I attempt to determine which red, green, taupe I like where. I've purchased little bins and trays in an attempt to make myself be more organized ala Dooce. I keep a running list in my head of the rooms, drawers, and shelves that I should be organizing instead of watching tv or playing Bejeweled Blitz on Facebook.

But I am not going to lie. I kind of keep waiting for the bottom to fall out. A similar (but definitely not at all similar) situation about six years ago turned my world on it's ear and it all started/ended with moving into a new house. While the only familiar player in this sequel is me, I cannot help but notice the occasional ringing in my left ear of déjà vu. Yet Mike is not him and I am not who I was six years ago and this marriage is nothing like that relationship was.

Our second anniversary is quickly approaching and I can look back and say that year two was far more difficult than year one. Year one was a breeze in comparison. While we look around us and see numerous friends' marriages falling apart, we hold each other a little tighter, try to listen a little bit better and speak a little more clearly. I don't want to be a statistic. Or maybe I do; just one of the ones who made it through successfully.

I know without a doubt that this man loves me more than anyone else ever has, aside from my family. I can feel it in every touch and taste it in each kiss. I know that as long as I am willing to keep on keeping on, so will he. He has watched both of his parents marry, divorce, remarry and divorce again. He knew he didn't want that. I see my parents, with their 30th wedding anniversary a week away and know that they are something to aspire to.

Marriages like that are more than just a contract on paper.

Marriages like that are a foundation and walls and fabrics and pictures and everything that makes a house a home. No amount of planting or painting or organizing is going to make this home, because it already is.

Settling down . . .

   Our hallway is littered with empty boxes. You have to nearly brush the wall with your shoulder to get by on your way to our bedroom. Right now, in the living room, three feet before me and between myself and the television sits four packed boxes and another three, also waiting to be filled. I've already taken three massive bags of clothing to Goodwill, though I suspect there will be another trip or two or four before this venture is complete.

   Mike dropped off an early lease termination letter and a money order to the office today. We have till June 30th to pack, clean and vacate our first apartment as a married couple. The apartment I unpacked my wedding china in, filled my drinkware into, got my first dining room table for. 

   We are moving into a house. A home. With a backyard and a door bell and air conditioning. Two car garage! Ice maker! No neighbors living above me, below me or hogging all the open parking in front of us! The excitement is bubbling, but the dread of moving, YET AGAIN, is quelling that excitement at the moment. It is, to say the least, overwhelming.

   I have never made it a secret that I am third generation packrat. A horrible, stifling habit that I am really wanting to break, if possible. I managed to only get my bedroom closet cleaned out and packed yesterday, but that would be because I also was going through everything, creating two piles. One to keep and one to donate. My policy has been to have split second decisions on everything. Keep or get rid of. If I have hesitated, clearly that is nod in the "get rid of" pile. I am hoping that it all goes smoothly in the downsizing of the posessions as we upgrade our living space.

   Ideally, we'd be able to paint and ease on into the new house, come back to the apartment and clean it before the end of the month. This of course, would be in a perfect world, when I don't have to work. So instead, I'll be making the most of my time off of work (you know, in the mornings, evenings and days off) to accomplish as much as I can. The painting will have to wait until after we are moved in.

    But here we are. About to take this step. I knew this year would be magical.

So here is the front, obviously. Not sure how long we'll keep that house color. We are having the siding redone on the sides and back of the house and it may be enough to warrant a complete color change. If not, I'll at least paint the front door.

The living room, entry and a peek into the mud room. The mud room leads into the garage.

The kitchen . . . ahh the kitchen. Bright, open and with an island. I'm thinking red for the walls, as long as it doesn't make the formica look too pink. Yes, formica. Yuck. But that can be changed. The fridge, gas range, dishwasher and stools all come with the house.  

One of the bedrooms . . . most likely to become the guest room/office/my craft room. 

The other bedroom, which will probably become Mike's "Mancave". Sigh. Yes. I married a dork. 

Our bedroom, which is about the size of my dormroom in college. And while two people will again be sharing the space, it is in somewhat different circumstances. Now, we'll be able to have our dressers in the same room with us. Also . . . there's a walk in closet. Walk. Inside. Closet.

Our sweet little backyard. I'll hope to extend the patio by next summer, since we really hope to have plenty of bbqs and get togethers for all our friends. 

I cannot wait. 

Eleven

One month to go until we celebrate our one year anniversary. Mike has already told me that he is planning something pretty sweet for the day (or evening - who knows. It's a Monday this year.) Of course, I have no ideas of what to get him for a gift. None, whatsoever. Neither paper nor clocks provide any help into what I could possibly get him as a first anniversary gift that says "Thanks for marrying me and still thinking/feeling it was the best decision you've ever made. I feel the same way."


Traditional                  Modern
1st - Paper                  Clocks
2nd - Cotton                China
3rd - Leather               Crystal/Glass
4th - Fruit/Flowers       Appliances 
5th - Wood                 Silverware
6th - Candy/Iron         Wood
7th - Wool/ copper      Desksets
8th - Bronze Pottery     Linen/Lace
9th - Pottery/ Willow    Leather
10th - Tin/Aluminum     Diamonds

Before anyone suggests a wristwatch, he already has a nice one that my parents got him for Christmas. And paper . . . well I have no idea what kind of paper he could utilize.

The only thing I can think of is a new and improved wedding band. His original was the ring from The Lord of the Rings, not because I am that big of a fan but because he is a pretty big fan and it was the only ring that he could get excited about. But since the day we said "I do" it's been a poor choice. Great conversation starter, but a poor choice otherwise. The ring was sterling silver dipped in gold, so you could see the elvish written on it. The gold version came in one size and Mike was positive it would fit. It doesn't. It's too big. So for the first year of our marriage, he's been wearing his wedding ring on his middle finger. Also, by a month into wedded bliss, the gold had pretty much scratched off and now . . . well, you can't tell that it once had the elvish on the outside of the band.

This is what I have in mind to get him:



It's a Tungsten Carbon Fiber ring with a comfort fit, which a friend recommended to me. I need to take Mike to the jeweler to let him pick one out, but I like that the tungsten is scratch-proof. I think this one may be too embellished for him.

Anyone got any suggestions??? Ideas?

The scars of all the ones we never knew

One of the things I quickly noticed about Mike when we first met was the noticable absence of video games in his life. Having been in more than one relationship in the past where the guy was borderline obsessed with Grand Theft Auto and Midnight Creatures 2, I found this absence refreshing and promising that there were in fact men out there who weren't tethered to their Playstations. Sure, Mike played one of those games online where there weren't even images, but just words that the various players would describe what their trolls were doing to the evil elves.

Yeah, I married a dork. But my dork was one that seemed to be removed from the pause buttons of my past. Seemed being the keyword in that sentence.

I cannot blame Mike for wanting a Playstation or an Xbox 360. All men are little boys deep down and boys love toys. I should be thankful that Mike enjoys video games over 4 wheels and motorcycles and hunting. But there was something inside of me that wanted to scream out "NO!" when he first started talking about getting his own Playstation 2.

It's a scar from a previous relationship, one that still sits close to the surface and is easily snagged on by silly little things like this. My ex and his father and brother would spend countless Sundays or weekday afternoons playing John Madden Football, drinking all the Pepsi in the house and smoking illegal substances. Naturally, they'd want to play on the good tv, with the clear screen and the sharpest images, so I was banished to either the bedroom or the kitchen and if I was going to be in the kitchen, would I mind much in making some munchies for them? Bring them a couple more sodas? And what drove me a bit batty was the fact that they didn't really play the game, as in manuveuring the team players throughout the game but would just build teams for the season and watch the stats as the season played out. If and only if their team made the Superbowl, then they would play the game and I would get to hear the vocal recordings of John Madden himself, who is a bumbling idiot.

For awhile, Mike was annoyed, but understanding of my 'not letting him' have a Playstation. But that period was short and he soon was bringing it up way too often for my liking. I finally sat down and explained to him what a Playstation 2 symbolized to me and why I was hoping that deep down, he really didn't want to have one.

It isn't fair to punish him for things someone from the past 'did' per se and I am not saying that having a Playstation in my old relationship was what destroyed it. Still, I hated it. I hated feeling like I was second to a black box and a couple of controllers. I especially hated that I had saved my money to buy him a brand new Playstation 2 for his birthday but just weeks prior to that, his brother turned up with one that he was looking to sell and my then-boyfriend couldn't wait. His brother could use the cash and why not just buy this one? Why not? It turned out to be hot and broken to boot, so within three or four months of owning it, Z was ready to drop kick it out the window. So eight months after I had bought the first one, we ended up buying a second one - a brand new one. Yeah, I'm still a little bitter about that one.

Mike finally talked me into letting him get a Playstation 2 around Christmas and when we received a cash check from his grandfather for the holidays, I decided it would be better for him to spend it on something tangible than groceries or gas, as he originally thought I would make him spend it on. And for months, that seemed to be enough. But Playstation 2's are old (since I've been battling them since 2002) and there are such better games and technology in Xbox 360s or Playstation 3s.

Of course, an Xbox 360 was the one and ONLY thing he wanted for his birthday. Forget about a party or any other gadget. After seeing how my friends Kate and Aja pooled their money together to help me get a professional pair of sheers, he got the idea for me and my parents to pool the money we'd be spending on his birthday gift together so he might be that much closer to an Xbox. I couldn't argue with his logic and as much as I hated the idea of having another gaming system in my home, what else could I do?

The Xbox arrived today, sadly after his birthday, but he was thrilled and was grinning ear to ear when I got home.

I'd just better have earned some extra credit bonus "Awesome Wife" points today over this. I just plan on keeping the "My turn" card in my pocket for my next Coach handbag. I'm allowed one a year . . . and 2008 is already nearly half over.

Not just another day

Mike is clearly one of those men who is going to only get better looking and more distinguished as we get older.  There will come a day when he is the better looking of the two of us; I have already come to accept that. With his jawline, his eyelashes, his charming grin . . .  well I am absolutely shocked that he didn't have more women falling for him before me. I guess it's just my luck.

But I know that he will always see me as he did on our wedding day. The day he proposed. The first time we locked eyes on each other.

Mike turned 27 today, with little fanfare or hoopla. He didn't want a party this year and was even cool with having to work all day. But we'll be having our own little celebration for him tomorrow.

I don't think I can ever gush enough about how much I love this man. It comes so easily and naturally to me, loving him, that I sometimes forget to express it as much as I should.