Unrelated Side Note

I’ve always liked saying that.

I’m going to pack up all of our pictures and paintings and pillows today, and carry all of the boxes that are upstairs down to the first floor, except for my grandmother’s china, which is off limits to anyone except me! At some point, I’ll work in a trip to the grocery store and to the hardware store. And to the gym …

Sunday also gives me the chance to reflect on the spiritual awakening that’s happening inside of me. Last night, at dinner, Matt said to me, “I like what’s happening with you. Whatever it is you are doing with the whole God thing, it’s working. You aren’t angry anymore. You don’t yell and go off as much as you used to.”

Then he said, “So, have you been praying about all of this? You know, with the house?”

“Yup. Since I’ve met you I’ve been praying, but probably a little more deeply since we got married. I feel open about it, and I have a lot more to pray for now. Stakes being higher and all.”

“So, you really believe that God is going to make this happen?”

“Well, he made us happen, so absolutely. And if it’s not this house, it will be another. Will my heart be broken? Of course, but he will send along something else to heal it. Just like he did with you.”

“Oh stop it.”

“I mean it.”

“I know.”

Not only lucky, but freaking blessed. I have the most wonderful husband in the world (for me) and I can’t help but feel and believe that it was by the grace of God that he came to me.

• He arrived to live the rest of my life with me at the same time a dear friend departed. He carried me, selflessly, through that loss, having known me only a short time.
• He broke my heart into a million pieces, then put it back together and presented me with a perfectly imperfect love.
• He has carried me when I am too tired, or too sick, to carry myself.
• He knows my past, has accepted my faults and my flaws, and has offered me a chance at redemption.
• When I thought I had lost him, he surprised me, forgave me, and married me.
• He has held me while I’ve wept, endless times, and will hold me again when the tears come, which they will.
• He has loved me endlessly, deeply, and without remorse nor fear of what anyone else thinks.
• He has made me laugh, cry, sing, and smile. He has made me angry and joyful. He has made me happy and sad.
• He taught me how to do things out of love, not hate.
• He taught me there is something bigger inside of me that I, in this Earthly life, cannot begin to understand and he encourages me to seek it.
• He fulfills my heart’s deepest desires. I am free with him, and there is nothing to hide.

Five years ago, if you asked me where I saw myself, it would not be here because I didn’t know I could find peace like this by doing something as simple as falling in love.

My darling, wonderful, Matty Bug, you’ve set me free in ways I never dreamed imaginable. I am yours until death do us part. Even then, I think I’ll still be yours in some way, and you mine.

Matt will never cease to amuse me, and will never be able to keep a straight face in front of me, which in turn makes me smile and twinkle and get all giddy inside. And then we get all kindergarten shy around each other …

This morning, we were up and about early after my Spin class and had time for a second cup of coffee. We just talked. I don’t even know what about, we just did, and there’s something simple and wonderful about just talking. It’s easy.

Sometimes, we even talk late into the night. About nothing, just talking like a couple who were just learning about the other. Dreaming, scheming, discovering, and just being warm next to each other and radiating all of that love.

Five years I’ve spent with this man, and I’ve yet to grow tired of him and I learn more about him everyday. 1 1/2 years married and I suppose we are still honeymooning. I hope we continue to do so until we are old and wrinkly and gray and chasing each other in our wheelchairs saying, “I’m going to get that butt!”

It’s amazing what finding this kind of love will do to you. For pretty much my entire life, I’ve wanted to travel the world in search of myself only to find the world and myself in Matt. There’s a Modest Mouse lyric that speaks to this from “People As Places as People“:

All this scrambling around
Hunting high and then low
Looking for the face love
Or somewhere to go

I hardly have places that I need to go
‘Cause you’re the places that I wanted to go
Yeah we’re the places that we wanted to go
Yeah we’re the places that we wanted to go

My birthday isn’t for another five weeks but I have already requested my present, and Matt has more than agreed to it. In fact, he was thrilled by the idea because he does like to spoil me from time to time and I so rarely request decadence. Plus, he didn’t have to think of a gift. Bonus!

I have asked for a three-hour spa package, which “aims to renew your sore muscles with an hour long Japanese Stone Massage followed by our Lavender Stone spa manicure and pedicure.”. After that I want to get all gussied up and go out to dinner at a French restaurant I’ve been dying to try (reservations confirmed), followed by drinks at our favorite local pub, which happens to be within walking distance of the restaurant.

Doesn’t that sound absolutely and perfectly lovely? Oh, and don’t worry, I will certainly arrive early at the spa to enjoy the sauna and a complimentary beverage. You can count on that.

I know it’s busy at work right now, but I miss you. You’re about to go out of town again for a few days, working as the lighting designer for a headlining act. I wish I could go with you, but I don’t have a motorcycle to ride. It rained today, so I couldn’t even test ride.

Sometimes, I dream that you quit the business for a summer and go on tour with a big national act. I dream that I quit my job and join you. I dream that we sell our house and put all of our money in the bank and ride motorcycles around the country, living out of our bike luggage and off your per diem. Sleeping in cheap hotels, planning our future for when we get back.

I dream that I work as part of the crew, and then sit in front of house with you. Night after night, we live and breathe rock n roll, day after day we explore uncharted territory. You pick up my motorcycle when I drop it doing something stupid on the salt flats in Utah. You grow a beard, and I do push ups in the dessert. We meet bizarre people along the way, we visit with old friends, we sleep under the stars, we eat at roadside hot dog stands and drink a lot of lemonade.

I love you, husband. The dream of you, and the real that is you. When I wake up with a cat kneading my jugular and look over at your slack-jawed face snoring the wee hours away, I can’t help but stare, smile, and know that I’ve got it good. I’m safe. I’m loved. Everything in this universe could come tumbling down and I wouldn’t care as long as I had you.

I’m missing you right now. Please take a break from your long, hard hours and come home to me.

Love,
Your Bug

It’s a ba-jillion degrees outside, again. Matt has been working non-stop, out in the heat and humidity, since Thursday morning. He’s been home only to eat and sleep and talk. I’ve often been told that couples don’t become wealthy unless they work long, hard hours, and I suppose that’s true. Matt wants to be wealthy, and I support him in this. Not so we can drive fancy cars or wear expensive clothes, but so that we can be financially free to pursue our life, liberty, and happiness.

In our case, Matt works those long, hard hours because he loves it. He loves business and making money, and he’s really fucking good at both. For a while, I envied his stomach for such a thing and felt tremendously blue for quite some time in regard to where I fit into all of this. I know that for myself, I’m not interested in those long, hard hours. I’ve always felt my efforts are best guided somewhere else, but where?

Then, Matt and I went out for beers last night and he said something that melted my heart and made me realize that I have been putting my efforts into the right place and just didn’t know it. He said, “When I’m working these long hours, I think about you. I think a lot about you, actually, about what a good wife I have. I thought about how when I get home, you won’t nag me about anything, you’ll just start the shower and make me a sandwich or have a plan for us to go out and unwind somewhere together. You listen to me talk about what a clusterfuck everything was, or how great the LD was, or my stories about the crew, the crowd, the hi-jinks with the union. You don’t get mad when I work late. You don’t resent that I love what I do. I couldn’t have gone off on my own without you and I know that I can’t do this without you. You’re a bigger part of my business and my life than I realized. You’re not just a good wife, but you’re a good partner. I really love you.”

I smiled and blushed, said, “I love you, too, Bug. Cheers.” and we clinked glasses because I didn’t know what else to say. I wrapped myself around his arm while he sat there sipping his beer and that noisy bar suddenly felt very quiet. I could feel with every inch of my being that I had chosen the right man to spend the rest of my life with. I was trying to stomach that my stereotypically all-man, manly-man of a husband was able to recognize, feel, and then express such emotion to me. He often tells me that he’s glad I put my Doc Martin up his ass and told him, “You have something so many people wish they had: a way out. Take that way out. What do you have to lose? A house? A car? Listen, Matt, I don’t have a penny to my name but I have your back on this one. Don’t be a coward. Just go do it.”

And he did. He woke up one morning, wrote his resignation letter and went out to be his own man. And I’ve watched him work his ass off. I’ve watched him struggle to pay himself when the phone wasn’t ringing in August to hiring two full-time employees and needing a third. I watched him go from one pallet-shelf worth of gear to a warehouse so jammed they have to use serious logistics to figure out where to put stuff.

And all this time, I’ve been home, happily making dinner and keeping our domestic affairs in order. I’ve been his counsel and, I like to think, a little bit of his inspiration. Next time someone asks me what I do, I’m not going to say, “Technical writer” or “Spin instructor.” I’m going to say, “I’m Matt’s wife,” because it’s my favorite role, my favorite job, and the one thing I do that I know is truly and deeply appreciated from the bottom of someone’s heart. THAT, ladies and gentlemen, means more to me than any raise or promotion ever could.

Matt got home at 11:00 p.m. last night after having been at work since 6:00 a.m., most of his day spent out in the oppressive, wet heat that is Maryland in early June. We got into bed and decided to watch an episode of “Party Down,” which is awesome and hilarious, and I fell asleep only to be woken up at 6:37 this morning with Diesel kneading his paws into my jugular.

I rolled out of bed, chugged a glass of watrer, stumbled downstairs mumbling something about coffee, pressed the startup button on our espresso machine and stood there staring at the damn thing while it warmed up. Matt came downstairs and said, “Are you going to feed them?”

“Feed whom?”

“The cats. They are swarming at your ankles and making horrible noises.”

“I hadn’t noticed,” and just then the machine said it was ready for use so I slid my grandfather’s DAD mug in, pressed LARGE and stood there while it brewed my coffee, “Bacon and eggs alright for breakfast? There’s some strawberry pie left in the fridge, too.”

“Yes, I suppose I should feed the cats.”

“Mmmm hmmm,” the machine put the finishing touches on my coffee and clicked off. I slid my mug out, took a sip, and said, “Every time, that coffee is just too damn good. From the first sip to the last.”

“So, are you human now? You know, you don’t have to wait up for me and get up with me, right?”

“Yeah, but you get so busy with work, those are the only times I get to see you, so I don’t mind. Give me a hug.”

So we stood in the middle of the kitchen and embraced. I wish I could describe the feeling I get when we embrace. Whatever stress or anxiety I feel just melts away. Love is good like that.

I once overheard a trainer telling a client that “breakfast is for whole grains, protein, and healthy fat. Ain’t no pig on my plate at breakfast.” Well, I guess I’m doing it wrong because my all time favorite breakfast is a cup of coffee and a couple strips of bacon. Guess what I’m having for breakfast this morning?

Still no resolve on the collision front. I’m highly annoyed that this gentleman has not taken care of the issue like he said he would. It’s been over a week, you fucking douchebag. I want my car back! Although Matt and I have been getting used to the one-car-family thing. In fact, having one car has kept me home a little more, working on things around the house. It also inspired me to take Matt’s GS out for a spin on Saturday and what a glorious ride it was!

I was intimidated by his motorcycle when he first brought it home. Why wouldn’t I be? It’s huge! Thirty-three inch seat height, it weighs four times as much as I, it’s aggressive, it’s beautiful …

But, hell, I started it up and rode the h-e-double hockey sticks out of it. I stood up on it while cruising back roads, I stuck corners and felt smooth on the highways. I pulled out of gravel patches with ease. I giggled when people looked up and positively GAWKED at me at stop lights. I could see everything for miles since I was up at SUV height and thought, “My GOD, this is the motorcycle for me. I feel so confident on this thing.”

Then, on a whim, I decided to go to the BMW dealer and buy side luggage for the bike. Matt is going on a road trip with some friends and said a few times last week, “I wish I had side luggage but I won’t have time to get it and I don’t want to spend the money.”

Well, Matt, that’s why you have a wife, to spend your money for you, and by GOLLY are wives good at spending their husband’s money. So I strolled into the dealer, dropped $1000, and squeed with delight and excitement all over the parking lot after I put them on. My enthusiasm got everyone who was hanging out in the parking lot all geared up. I suppose it’s not often a chick comes rolling in on a beast of a bike and gets excited about doing something nice for her husband.

“He lets you ride his bike?”
“You’re just doing this on your own accord?”
“I thought women liked to spend their husband’s money on purses and shoes?”

I took a center stand lesson (epic fail without an assist) and learned how to maneuver the bike when off the bike. The latter is essential since I can’t really touch the ground except on tippy toes so reversing is really difficult. Mastering this skill is vital to my ability to ride the damn thing.

Then I peeled off to go buy some balloons so that when Matt came home at 2:00 a.m. from his 19-hour day, he’d see the luggage. Sure, enough, he did, and he was speechless and totally casual about accepting the gift. I told him it’s wasn’t really a gift as much as something he needed and I wanted him to have it. We can work on getting me my own bike this summer. In the meantime, he should enjoy the road trips he has planned and I’ll sneak off with the bike from time to time when I get the itch. He was extra excited when he opened the top case and in it was his birthday present: a RUSH R30 concert DVD and “Road Show: A Concert Tour by Motorcycle” by Neil Peart, who rode the Adventure model of Matt’s bike around the world on the R30 tour. Matt was flabbergasted, “How did you find this combination? Why are you so awesome today?”

We watched the DVD together and it was spectacular. I know very little about Rush, so little in fact that I was floored to discover that Rush is a three-man band. Holy friggin’ crap, that makes them all the more awesome as I always thought they were at least a six-man band. The film production/direction was amazing, and the lighting was classic and simple, all moving lights, and really well done. We always enjoy picking apart concerts:

“Hmm, a little late on that cue.”
“Peart missed a beat there. Hey, he missed another one.”
“You see that one red light in a row of green? Someone got fired for that after this show.”
“Woe, just wow on that chase and strobe.”

So, I’m working the good wife angle this week. What can I say? I love my husband, he makes me a better person and has since the day I met him. Seeing him happy, and doing things to make life a little easier for him fills me with joy. Although, I still punch him in the arm every now and then …

“What was that for?”
“For kissing me without asking permission. For making me surrender and fall in love with you.”
“You’re still not over that, are you?”

*punch*
*snicker*

I’ve always felt this way. It’s the perfect cliche for me because I feel like everything in life happens in big stages:

Everyone goes to college
Everyone gets married
Everyone buys houses
Everyone has kids
Everyone sells their houses and buys new ones

And I’m just sort of blaaaaaaaaaaaaahing along, still figuring shit out. I’ve never had a problem with this but sometimes I wonder, “Am I missing out on something? Am I doing everything too late if I ever do it at all?”

Then I think, “I’m a smart, motivated, emotionally intelligent human being. It’s my damn life, and I’ll do with it as I please.”

So, I’m sitting here in my pasty white skin, non-descriptive clothing, glasses, unbrushed shoulder-length hair, with only my wedding rings for accessories, and a touch of chapstick and mascara and I’m doing what I’m supposed to be doing with my life. What’s right for me. Fuck the world. As long as I’m living a decent, non-violent, honest life, I’m doing it right and when I go home tonight Matt will look at my face and say, “I love you” and give me a big kiss.

I’m not perfect, oh GOD I am SO FAR from perfect. I’m angry, I’m selfish, I’m impatient, I’m annoying, I’m repetitive, I’m vain, I’m unbearably frustrating at times, I’m indecisive and loud and brash and pushy and demanding, but I’m loved by a man who can see past all of that and loves me so much and hugs me so hard that it smooths out those sharp corners and sometimes that square peg seems to fit just right into that round hole without forceful shoving and pushing. I found someone who appreciates my squareness, or at least makes an attempt to understand it.