And Ariel's white German Shepherds added some entertainment to the holiday
Saturday, November 28, 2009
Good holiday formula
Thanksgiving + The Beach = all degrees of deliciousness
And Ariel's white German Shepherds added some entertainment to the holiday
And Ariel's white German Shepherds added some entertainment to the holiday
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
Like poetry to my ears
Sometimes they unexpectedly say exactly what you hope to hear.
Jenn: How happy are you on a scale from one to ten?
Hal: (without missing a beat) Eleven.
Jenn: That wasn’t an option. Seriously, how would you rate your happiness?
Hal: I guess a nine, only because we’re not married yet and I can’t wear my wedding band. When we’re married, then it’ll be a ten.
Jenn: How happy are you on a scale from one to ten?
Hal: (without missing a beat) Eleven.
Jenn: That wasn’t an option. Seriously, how would you rate your happiness?
Hal: I guess a nine, only because we’re not married yet and I can’t wear my wedding band. When we’re married, then it’ll be a ten.
Monday, November 23, 2009
Grinning and Surviving It
For me, my hair is kind of like a security blanket of femininity. It assists in making me feel attractive. The power of the hair is strange to me and yet, I can admit that if I have a bad hair day it can have a major impact on my mood and outlook. My attachment to my hair and whatever confidence it raises is to me at times irrationally strong. But it’s strong nevertheless. If I lose any more than a few strands in the shower I start to panic that my hair is falling out. Ridiculous, I know, but I’ve let it become part of my identity.
So I can’t imagine what my mother is feeling watching her hair fall out thanks to chemo. As predicted, her hair is falling out steadily and as she puts it, ‘it’s very upsetting and depressing’. Of course it is. It’s the personification of having cancer and a consistent reminder of how this disease has impacted her life. It’s that visual sign to everyone that you’re sick. Point blank, it sucks.
And when it grows back, it will be a reminder of how she survived it.
Until then, however, my mother has started donning kerchiefs and her wig, which I have to say, is pretty close to what her hair looks like. But it’s not her hair, and I imagine when she takes it off at night she’s faced with reality again (although I’m not sure she can ever avoid reality right now). Her head is extremely tender and hurts to touch, but she still manages to smile through the pain.
And that’s how it’s been for the past couple months. Since being diagnosed and starting treatment, my mother has been admirably brave and her outlook inspiring. I know she wonders what the future will bring (or take away); it’s only natural. But I also know she isn’t letting herself drown in the ‘what if’s’ since life is so unpredictable to start with. Like the warrior she is, she remains vigilant in her quest to fight cancer (with a little love and support from family and friends), while trucking along with every day life doing every day things. And when you see her, she’ll be smiling because the chemo, the hair loss, the exhaustion can all be overcome with the right attitude. And if you know my mother at all, this isn’t a bit surprising.
So I can’t imagine what my mother is feeling watching her hair fall out thanks to chemo. As predicted, her hair is falling out steadily and as she puts it, ‘it’s very upsetting and depressing’. Of course it is. It’s the personification of having cancer and a consistent reminder of how this disease has impacted her life. It’s that visual sign to everyone that you’re sick. Point blank, it sucks.
And when it grows back, it will be a reminder of how she survived it.
Until then, however, my mother has started donning kerchiefs and her wig, which I have to say, is pretty close to what her hair looks like. But it’s not her hair, and I imagine when she takes it off at night she’s faced with reality again (although I’m not sure she can ever avoid reality right now). Her head is extremely tender and hurts to touch, but she still manages to smile through the pain.
And that’s how it’s been for the past couple months. Since being diagnosed and starting treatment, my mother has been admirably brave and her outlook inspiring. I know she wonders what the future will bring (or take away); it’s only natural. But I also know she isn’t letting herself drown in the ‘what if’s’ since life is so unpredictable to start with. Like the warrior she is, she remains vigilant in her quest to fight cancer (with a little love and support from family and friends), while trucking along with every day life doing every day things. And when you see her, she’ll be smiling because the chemo, the hair loss, the exhaustion can all be overcome with the right attitude. And if you know my mother at all, this isn’t a bit surprising.
PS, Happy Birthday Dad!!
Friday, November 20, 2009
Top Ten Goals for 2010 (Take another five)
6. Cook one well-rounded (tasty) meal a week
In our house we eat relatively healthy but I don’t always think we’re feeding our bodies substantially. By well-rounded, I don’t mean six course gourmet dinners that begin with an amuse bouche and end with a port (although that does sound wonderfully indulgent). I’m thinking more along the lines of a protein, vegetable and starch all on one plate, which doesn’t always get accomplished currently. Plus, cooking can be therapeutic.
7. Step out of my comfort zone
I want to make an effort to go down the path not usually taken. I’m able to “turn left” and take detours but I’m admittedly one of those people who prefers a route - the well-traveled path. Feeling lost, either literally or metaphysically, sometimes elicits a fear-induced visceral reaction in me and I panic. I need to adopt that, ‘what’s the worst that can happen’ approach, reconcile with it, and then maybe I can focus on the best that can happen – discovering a whole new side of me.
8. Be more creative
I’ve been writing a lot more these days but I used to be so artsy and crafty. I think I need to rely less on inspiration and the need for a defined “project” and more on just the freedom to be creative no matter what shape or form that takes - like when we were kids and a pile of scribble on a page was considered art. I have to give in to the freedom of creativity even if it ends up looking like a hot mess.
9. Pack lighter
Literally and metaphorically. I think my bag contains my life which is why it’s a source of chronic shoulder pain. I need to lighten the load and recognize that all I really need is my wallet (and tissues). Of course, I won’t go out with just a wallet but leaving some of that peripheral, unnecessary stuff at home makes a considerable difference on lessening the weight on my shoulders. There are metaphors in here somewhere.
10. Commit to together time
This applies to everyone important in my life. It’s really about making an effort to share time with the people that are most meaningful to you. I never want to look back with regrets that I lost time with loved ones.
In our house we eat relatively healthy but I don’t always think we’re feeding our bodies substantially. By well-rounded, I don’t mean six course gourmet dinners that begin with an amuse bouche and end with a port (although that does sound wonderfully indulgent). I’m thinking more along the lines of a protein, vegetable and starch all on one plate, which doesn’t always get accomplished currently. Plus, cooking can be therapeutic.
7. Step out of my comfort zone
I want to make an effort to go down the path not usually taken. I’m able to “turn left” and take detours but I’m admittedly one of those people who prefers a route - the well-traveled path. Feeling lost, either literally or metaphysically, sometimes elicits a fear-induced visceral reaction in me and I panic. I need to adopt that, ‘what’s the worst that can happen’ approach, reconcile with it, and then maybe I can focus on the best that can happen – discovering a whole new side of me.
8. Be more creative
I’ve been writing a lot more these days but I used to be so artsy and crafty. I think I need to rely less on inspiration and the need for a defined “project” and more on just the freedom to be creative no matter what shape or form that takes - like when we were kids and a pile of scribble on a page was considered art. I have to give in to the freedom of creativity even if it ends up looking like a hot mess.
9. Pack lighter
Literally and metaphorically. I think my bag contains my life which is why it’s a source of chronic shoulder pain. I need to lighten the load and recognize that all I really need is my wallet (and tissues). Of course, I won’t go out with just a wallet but leaving some of that peripheral, unnecessary stuff at home makes a considerable difference on lessening the weight on my shoulders. There are metaphors in here somewhere.
10. Commit to together time
This applies to everyone important in my life. It’s really about making an effort to share time with the people that are most meaningful to you. I never want to look back with regrets that I lost time with loved ones.
Thursday, November 19, 2009
Top Ten Goals for 2010 (Take five)
1. Take a Picture a Day
I don’t blog every day and I don’t write in my journal consistently, but a picture is easy enough to do. The whole idea is to take photo that represents a moment from that day. The moment itself does not have to be significantly meaningful or be symbolic of something more introspective. It doesn’t need to be over thought or overanalyzed. It can just be a fun way to record 365 days of 2010.
2. Take care of my body
It’s been over two years since my last physical so it’s time to make sure everything is still in working order. Having family members suddenly struck with cancer makes you realize that you need to make a best effort to take care of your body consistently. At the end of the day, you’re the only one truly responsible for it and your health is the most valuable thing you have.
3. Plan my wedding
But more importantly, I want to enjoy planning the wedding. It’s easy to get sucked in to ‘how the wedding should be’ thanks to television, magazines and the idea that you can grow a mythical money tree in your back yard. We don’t have a cash crow grazing on our lawn so it’s up to Hal and me to be creative with our funds while also adding a personal touch to our nuptials. I’d much prefer the wedding reflect us and all the love we put into making the day ours, rather than striving to make the cover of Cosmopolitan Bride magazine.
4. Read more books and less magazines and blogs
I’ve gotten into the habit of decompressing at the end of the day by perusing a magazine or various blogs, most of which are wedding-related. I call it research for the ‘big day’ but I’d really like to exercise the brain a bit more with a good book. Escaping my life to get lost in someone else’s world for a little while is not such a bad thing.
5. Define how I feel about work and not let work define how I feel
I’m a meticulous person with a conscientious work ethic, which means I invest much of myself into the effort put forth and whatever the end result is. I’m realizing that I need to stop letting work define how I feel every day since this experience is ultimately fleeting. Sure I’ll always have the skills and the business acumen I’ve gained, but the journey doesn’t start and stop at work. My life is filled with so much more that deserves the effort.
I don’t blog every day and I don’t write in my journal consistently, but a picture is easy enough to do. The whole idea is to take photo that represents a moment from that day. The moment itself does not have to be significantly meaningful or be symbolic of something more introspective. It doesn’t need to be over thought or overanalyzed. It can just be a fun way to record 365 days of 2010.
2. Take care of my body
It’s been over two years since my last physical so it’s time to make sure everything is still in working order. Having family members suddenly struck with cancer makes you realize that you need to make a best effort to take care of your body consistently. At the end of the day, you’re the only one truly responsible for it and your health is the most valuable thing you have.
3. Plan my wedding
But more importantly, I want to enjoy planning the wedding. It’s easy to get sucked in to ‘how the wedding should be’ thanks to television, magazines and the idea that you can grow a mythical money tree in your back yard. We don’t have a cash crow grazing on our lawn so it’s up to Hal and me to be creative with our funds while also adding a personal touch to our nuptials. I’d much prefer the wedding reflect us and all the love we put into making the day ours, rather than striving to make the cover of Cosmopolitan Bride magazine.
4. Read more books and less magazines and blogs
I’ve gotten into the habit of decompressing at the end of the day by perusing a magazine or various blogs, most of which are wedding-related. I call it research for the ‘big day’ but I’d really like to exercise the brain a bit more with a good book. Escaping my life to get lost in someone else’s world for a little while is not such a bad thing.
5. Define how I feel about work and not let work define how I feel
I’m a meticulous person with a conscientious work ethic, which means I invest much of myself into the effort put forth and whatever the end result is. I’m realizing that I need to stop letting work define how I feel every day since this experience is ultimately fleeting. Sure I’ll always have the skills and the business acumen I’ve gained, but the journey doesn’t start and stop at work. My life is filled with so much more that deserves the effort.
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
Parenting, by which I mean Pet Parenting
There are moments when Hal, the cats and I are hanging out and I see us as this little nuclear family. I’ll admit, the cats are treated like our children more often than not, and I do refer to Rascal as my baby (or my little monster depending on the situation). Most of the time, they eat, sleep and poop just like babies, and provide that ‘cute’ entertainment as only pets and babies can do.
Admittedly, I think about of how often I take pictures of the cats and wonder just how obsessive I’ll be when we have kids. All our children will know for the first few years of their lives is the blinding light of a camera flash and the sound of the lens auto focusing. But I'll have these special years memorialized forever (oh boy...). Hal should probably reign me in now.
In many ways, I consider Rascal practice for those infamous “terrible two’s” parents experience with kids. He’s like a precocious toddler who’s constantly doing things he’s not supposed to – climbing on shelves, lounging on the coffee table, playing with the blinds, chewing on inanimate objects and sometimes eating animate objects like bugs – all of which require a degree of patience and discipline on our part. I’m discovering that I’m good with the patience and Hal’s good with the discipline. When either of us is asked to demonstrate the other, I think we do a subpar or ineffective job. He and I should stick to what we're good at. Rascal also has his needy moments where he demands attention, but it’s balanced by his ability to be very affectionate. I can just see us describing one of our kids this way some day.
We are a happy little family for now. And when the cats choose to spend time with us, it’s really nice to have the furry companionship, especially at the end of a long day. It makes me look forward to raising kids (the human kind), but for now I’ll settle for bonding time on the bed and the sound of them chasing each other around the house.
Admittedly, I think about of how often I take pictures of the cats and wonder just how obsessive I’ll be when we have kids. All our children will know for the first few years of their lives is the blinding light of a camera flash and the sound of the lens auto focusing. But I'll have these special years memorialized forever (oh boy...). Hal should probably reign me in now.
In many ways, I consider Rascal practice for those infamous “terrible two’s” parents experience with kids. He’s like a precocious toddler who’s constantly doing things he’s not supposed to – climbing on shelves, lounging on the coffee table, playing with the blinds, chewing on inanimate objects and sometimes eating animate objects like bugs – all of which require a degree of patience and discipline on our part. I’m discovering that I’m good with the patience and Hal’s good with the discipline. When either of us is asked to demonstrate the other, I think we do a subpar or ineffective job. He and I should stick to what we're good at. Rascal also has his needy moments where he demands attention, but it’s balanced by his ability to be very affectionate. I can just see us describing one of our kids this way some day.
Miss Kitty is our independent one who prefers one-on-one time, whether it’s with one of us or with her toys. She’ll cry (and cry, and cry) for attention but a little goes a long way for her. It was a while before she warmed up to me, but Hal took it as a good sign that she did at all, and in under a year. I guess she accepted that I was here to stay. And now she sleeps on my pillow (or other cozy nooks).
We are a happy little family for now. And when the cats choose to spend time with us, it’s really nice to have the furry companionship, especially at the end of a long day. It makes me look forward to raising kids (the human kind), but for now I’ll settle for bonding time on the bed and the sound of them chasing each other around the house.
Monday, November 16, 2009
Monday Musings
Things I have realized this morning:
It’s 314 days until our wedding. We have our wedding bands. I have my dress (ordered). Hal has a tux. We could get married any day now. Or in 314 days. =)
I still don’t understand the appeal of twitter. Why do I care that your cranium needs a hug? Then again why should anyone care about what I write about either?
This whole Twilight series is so viral. I guess the next movie in the “saga” comes out this week. I told Hal we should go to see “2012” in an effort to keep the Twilight movie from grabbing the top box office spot (because our 2 tickets will really make the difference. No really, they will). Maybe I’ll start my own viral anti-Twilight campaign, “Daylight Rocks”.
Actually, Ellen DeGeneres Rocks. She’s incredible on many levels but she’s proven you can be funny and liked by the masses, and you can be a lesbian and liked by the masses. And if you’re a funny lesbian, you’re loved by the masses. She is a true 21st century media iconoclast that is only required to be herself in order to be wildly popular. I can’t think of anyone who fulfills these specs successfully. See Frank Bruni’s article in the Times…
I love my girlfriends. And I love that it’s so easy with them. It’s one of the few absolutes I can rely on these days. It makes for a Happy Monday!
It’s 314 days until our wedding. We have our wedding bands. I have my dress (ordered). Hal has a tux. We could get married any day now. Or in 314 days. =)
I still don’t understand the appeal of twitter. Why do I care that your cranium needs a hug? Then again why should anyone care about what I write about either?
This whole Twilight series is so viral. I guess the next movie in the “saga” comes out this week. I told Hal we should go to see “2012” in an effort to keep the Twilight movie from grabbing the top box office spot (because our 2 tickets will really make the difference. No really, they will). Maybe I’ll start my own viral anti-Twilight campaign, “Daylight Rocks”.
Actually, Ellen DeGeneres Rocks. She’s incredible on many levels but she’s proven you can be funny and liked by the masses, and you can be a lesbian and liked by the masses. And if you’re a funny lesbian, you’re loved by the masses. She is a true 21st century media iconoclast that is only required to be herself in order to be wildly popular. I can’t think of anyone who fulfills these specs successfully. See Frank Bruni’s article in the Times…
I love my girlfriends. And I love that it’s so easy with them. It’s one of the few absolutes I can rely on these days. It makes for a Happy Monday!
Friday, November 13, 2009
Vibrancy
I'm inspired by how happy vibrant colors make me feel. I think they'll be incorporated into our wedding colors, perhaps starting with the flowers...
Thursday, November 12, 2009
Mathematical Poetry or Poetic Math
I dug up this piece I had written two and a half years ago. I think at the time I was considering submitting it to the NY Times column, “Modern Love” but didn’t think it was of NY Times caliber. Instead it has been sitting on my hard drive. It’s funny, just the other day I yelled at Hal, “I want more poetry, less math!” He actually knew what I meant, but rolled his eyes nevertheless. He knows (and I know) his romantic gestures tend to be subtle but meaningful to me. And I look back at this and think how far we’ve come (he now says I love you) and how some things don’t change (he still snores).
March 12, 2007
I once read a woman describe her husband as wanting math, not poetry. Granted, this was written in a very different context than my own at the time as she was attempting to express how much she loved her husband despite the fact their marriage was disintegrating. I on the other hand was in a fairly young relationship that was still learning how to grow. Nevertheless, the statement “he wanted math not poetry” struck me since it seemed so fitting for my boyfriend, and for me who desired the antithesis, poetry not math.
The first time Hal and I slept together, and I literally mean slept, I found out quickly that he snores. Earlier that night, I had jokingly asked him if this was a possibility and he said that he didn’t think so as no one had ever informed him of this sleeping vice. Well, he did and still does. The next day, I believe I referred to the snoring as “cute” to my friends who warned me that the cute factor would wear off quite quickly, especially if it leads to sleep deprivation.
Being a relatively light sleeper when I’m in a bed other than my own, I did have an opportunity to learn of Hal’s other slumber idiosyncrasies beyond the vibrations of his soft palate. He twitches, marked by occasional sudden, jerky motions that tend to startle me awake if I’m not already. He also clenches his teeth making me wonder if he’s dreaming about biting into a succulent piece of sirloin.
He also sleeps with his back to me most of the time, which I initially interpreted to be a form of rejection (why do women torture themselves this much). But not wanting to be “that girl” just yet, I refrained from asking (pleading with him), ‘why do you always turn away from me when you sleep’, but I did finally question Hal as to whether he preferred sleeping on his right side. This seemed like a safe, non accusatory approach. To this he responded with the affirmative. So he really wasn’t making an effort to reject me during the night, but it was just a comfortable sleeping position. Phew.
Not too far into the relationship, I quickly arrived to the over analytical stage (hence the aforementioned questionable sleeping position) where I began to ponder his true feelings for me. When we first started dating, he used to say affectionately, “I like you”. And I liked hearing that since it was the only verbal confirmation of his feelings towards me. But what does that really mean? Then when hearing even those words ceased, I realized I didn’t know how he felt about me. That’s where I believe the math was introduced.
I could tell from the start that Hal was a low key guy who purposefully avoided complications in life. When it comes to relationships and matters of the heart, ‘math’ would seem to be the uncomplicated approach. There’s something straightforward about math and its formulaic nature which can pave the way for a rather rote simplicity. Math sits on the surface of the paper, laid out completely with no need to delve deeper into a meaning; it is not made to leave room for interpretation.
Hal liked to express what was on the surface. The most verbal affection I seemed to get out of him was, “I enjoyed having you over this weekend”, or, “it was nice having you here”. Low intensity, somewhat general statements that are of a positive nature but seem a bit banal, especially when as the receiver of these comments, you want POETRY. I wanted the stuff beneath the surface; the feelings.
I wasn’t looking for grand gestures or Shakespeare, no corny movie lines like ‘You complete me’; nothing like that. But I figured a little bit of poetry could set my increasingly obsessive mind at ease in a big way.
I decided to bring this to his attention, his preference for math and not poetry. I was determined to have the dreaded heart-to-heart one morning in early March when we were lying in bed. Then something happened while I was being little spoon to his big spoon. Hal entangled his body with mine, wrapping his limbs around, over and in between my own, making sure I was tightly pressed against him. At moments, he would lightly caress my arm or my hand, running his fingers over me with a gentle affection. His breathing was shallow as his chest moved peacefully up and down against my back. I’m sure many couples share this kind of closeness, but sharing it with Hal I began to realize that this could be his poetry. When he rubs my back or teasingly tickles me, or we breathe contentedly in syncopation, these sweet interplays could provide the assurance I was looking for without involving any words.
Of course the over analytical itch in me thinks, maybe I’m just making myself feel better by creating poetry that’s not really there, bedroom poetry. But why the hell shouldn’t I? We’re taught to avoid a false sense of reassurance, but being devoid of that kind of comfort can make you cranky and unhappy. I finally decided that it wasn’t about living in a self-proclaiming fantasy or searching and waiting for an ideal poetic moment that may never come. It was about enjoying the time you had with a person whose company you liked keeping, even if he does snore.
March 12, 2007
I once read a woman describe her husband as wanting math, not poetry. Granted, this was written in a very different context than my own at the time as she was attempting to express how much she loved her husband despite the fact their marriage was disintegrating. I on the other hand was in a fairly young relationship that was still learning how to grow. Nevertheless, the statement “he wanted math not poetry” struck me since it seemed so fitting for my boyfriend, and for me who desired the antithesis, poetry not math.
The first time Hal and I slept together, and I literally mean slept, I found out quickly that he snores. Earlier that night, I had jokingly asked him if this was a possibility and he said that he didn’t think so as no one had ever informed him of this sleeping vice. Well, he did and still does. The next day, I believe I referred to the snoring as “cute” to my friends who warned me that the cute factor would wear off quite quickly, especially if it leads to sleep deprivation.
Being a relatively light sleeper when I’m in a bed other than my own, I did have an opportunity to learn of Hal’s other slumber idiosyncrasies beyond the vibrations of his soft palate. He twitches, marked by occasional sudden, jerky motions that tend to startle me awake if I’m not already. He also clenches his teeth making me wonder if he’s dreaming about biting into a succulent piece of sirloin.
He also sleeps with his back to me most of the time, which I initially interpreted to be a form of rejection (why do women torture themselves this much). But not wanting to be “that girl” just yet, I refrained from asking (pleading with him), ‘why do you always turn away from me when you sleep’, but I did finally question Hal as to whether he preferred sleeping on his right side. This seemed like a safe, non accusatory approach. To this he responded with the affirmative. So he really wasn’t making an effort to reject me during the night, but it was just a comfortable sleeping position. Phew.
Not too far into the relationship, I quickly arrived to the over analytical stage (hence the aforementioned questionable sleeping position) where I began to ponder his true feelings for me. When we first started dating, he used to say affectionately, “I like you”. And I liked hearing that since it was the only verbal confirmation of his feelings towards me. But what does that really mean? Then when hearing even those words ceased, I realized I didn’t know how he felt about me. That’s where I believe the math was introduced.
I could tell from the start that Hal was a low key guy who purposefully avoided complications in life. When it comes to relationships and matters of the heart, ‘math’ would seem to be the uncomplicated approach. There’s something straightforward about math and its formulaic nature which can pave the way for a rather rote simplicity. Math sits on the surface of the paper, laid out completely with no need to delve deeper into a meaning; it is not made to leave room for interpretation.
Hal liked to express what was on the surface. The most verbal affection I seemed to get out of him was, “I enjoyed having you over this weekend”, or, “it was nice having you here”. Low intensity, somewhat general statements that are of a positive nature but seem a bit banal, especially when as the receiver of these comments, you want POETRY. I wanted the stuff beneath the surface; the feelings.
I wasn’t looking for grand gestures or Shakespeare, no corny movie lines like ‘You complete me’; nothing like that. But I figured a little bit of poetry could set my increasingly obsessive mind at ease in a big way.
I decided to bring this to his attention, his preference for math and not poetry. I was determined to have the dreaded heart-to-heart one morning in early March when we were lying in bed. Then something happened while I was being little spoon to his big spoon. Hal entangled his body with mine, wrapping his limbs around, over and in between my own, making sure I was tightly pressed against him. At moments, he would lightly caress my arm or my hand, running his fingers over me with a gentle affection. His breathing was shallow as his chest moved peacefully up and down against my back. I’m sure many couples share this kind of closeness, but sharing it with Hal I began to realize that this could be his poetry. When he rubs my back or teasingly tickles me, or we breathe contentedly in syncopation, these sweet interplays could provide the assurance I was looking for without involving any words.
Of course the over analytical itch in me thinks, maybe I’m just making myself feel better by creating poetry that’s not really there, bedroom poetry. But why the hell shouldn’t I? We’re taught to avoid a false sense of reassurance, but being devoid of that kind of comfort can make you cranky and unhappy. I finally decided that it wasn’t about living in a self-proclaiming fantasy or searching and waiting for an ideal poetic moment that may never come. It was about enjoying the time you had with a person whose company you liked keeping, even if he does snore.
Monday, November 9, 2009
Priceless
Dinner date in the wine cellar at Il Fresco with lots of food, a bottle of wine and a boisterous waiter = 3,000 calories each, at least
Shopping at Woodbury to expand Hal’s upgraded wardrobe = 2 sore feet (mine of course)
Signing up for a membership at Costco (we finally gave in) followed by our purchase of just 6 products = $150 (for what??)
Raking leaves and then pushing each other into our gigantic pile = 2 hours and a shitload of leaves
Celebrating Hal’s dad’s birthday = 61 years young
Hal keeping me warm as we stare up at Orion’s belt = 2 minutes (it was chilly)
A lovely weekend together = perfect
Friday, November 6, 2009
What’s in a name?
It used to be a given that the bride took her husband’s last name once they married. They also used to say, “I now pronounce you man and wife”. They might as well have stamped “property of Man” on the wife’s forehead. Let’s face it, up until recently women were considered, treated and behaved as if they were subservient to their husbands. The image of the 1950’s housewife with her apron, a wooden spoon in one hand and a vacuum in the other was glorified and represented a traditional role that had been perpetuated for generations.
Things have evolved (to some degree) and now what used to be a given, the taking of the husband’s surname, is now considered tradition. For the first time, I think my generation has been asked more than ever before “are you taking your husband’s name?” Regardless of the response, the reactions are now also mixed and as the bride, I feel like we have to justify our choice either way.
I was recently asked by a coworker if I was going to change my name. When I said yes, she said, ‘oh, that’s very nice of you’. I wasn’t sure how to take that. My choice to be Jennifer Skelley is not a gesture of kindness towards Hal; it’s not motivated by generosity, tradition, or a show of respect. It’s my choice to share his last name. Is there a rational reason for this decision? If you consider the following to be rational:
- When I see or write or hear Jennifer Skelley it makes me smile
- I like that sharing a name represents that we share a life together (I recognize one is not at all dependent on the other)
- I’m looking forward to one day (hopefully) being a family of Skelley’s with our TBD number of children
These reasons are not necessarily practical nor do they need to be. Like many decisions having to do with a relationship, they’re for the most part emotionally driven and based on what will ultimately make me/us happy.
The big question really is, why do we even need a reason to change or not to change our names? It’s a name and how important that is to you should be personal and not up for public judgment, right? This is a rational argument and yet it doesn’t stop me from feeling the need to justify my decision regardless if the reaction is one of acceptance, praise or criticism.
Maybe Hal and I will adopt a new name completely and become the Smiths. Give people something totally new to question.
Monday, November 2, 2009
Looking Gooood
Last year, Hal grew his hair long for the winter. It got to be this curly, bushy afro that was actually quite impressive at times especially when combed out. I had no idea his hair was capable of such volume. Since the au natural fro was not the preferred look for work, he became obsessed with hair product. It was like a new world opened up for him down the hair styling aisle and I found myself getting calls at work from a confused boyfriend who didn’t know if extra strong gel or hair putty would be best. Using the right product to mold his hair into the right shape and the right texture became a time-consuming art form that often left him running even later than usual. And I often caught him examining himself in the mirror, moving any unruly curls into place with the precision of a sculptor. A monster had been created…
This year, the hair is still short and product-free. However, the hair may have grown to new heights last year but the waistline has shrunk this year, and so begins a new obsession for Hal – looking gooood. “Obsession” may be a bit of an exaggeration but it’s my blog so I can overstate at will. Anyway, his svelte physique has prompted the “need” for new clothes.
Shopping for clothes never seemed high on the enjoyable activities list for Hal. Because of that, if we are shopping for clothing it’s most likely for him, and only him, and it’s an efficient trip otherwise he gets that look like he’s road kill being dragged from store to store. This was pre-weight loss.
Now inspired to show off his new waistline, extensive time has been dedicated to finding him jeans, sweaters, button downs, jackets, and even things unaffected by his downsized physique, like boots. I know I shouldn’t complain. He looks great and no longer has that look of dread when entering a mall or the outlets. But just as the hair styling became an all-consuming task, so has shopping to make sure Hal looks goooood.
During the outlet shopping yesterday, a majority of the time was spent shopping for ‘Hal clothes’. I don’t mind helping him choose outfits (I actually like feeling needed in these situations) or motivating him to buy dark wash jeans (which was no easy feat, trust me), but when you’re tired, hungry and in need of a ladies’ room, no amount of your fiancee’s good looks can satiate those problems. When we went into “my” stores, he was really great about being patient and giving opinions (for the most part), but these detours were relatively short lived. And while most of the stores did have clothes for women, Bass, Timberland and Eddie Bauer just aren’t really my style. Although I have to admit I did get an awesome down jacket at Eddie Bauer that makes me long for sub zero weather.
So it was in the Columbia store looking at yet another fleece/raincoat/windbreaker/light jacket (all of which became indistinguishable to me), that I broke down. It was toward the end of our shopping trek and as I watched Hal try on one more piece of outerwear or look at one more forest green sweater, I lost my ability to take it like a champ. I became the impatient, whiny kid who was clearly in need of a nap. To his credit, he was everything I couldn’t be at that moment, patient and tolerant. When our last stop ended back at Timberland so he could try on black boots and more jeans, I found myself acting and feeling like the (albeit exhausted) adult I arrived as some four hours earlier. I won’t lie, the chocolate covered macaroon from Godiva may have helped.
Back in the car, Hal leaned in for that kiss that says, “We’re all good and I love you”. I assured him that it was a fun afternoon, and indeed it was. Why wouldn’t I want to help my fiancée shop for clothes that I helped pick out? I just hope this latest shopping excursion will keep him looking gooood for a while.
This year, the hair is still short and product-free. However, the hair may have grown to new heights last year but the waistline has shrunk this year, and so begins a new obsession for Hal – looking gooood. “Obsession” may be a bit of an exaggeration but it’s my blog so I can overstate at will. Anyway, his svelte physique has prompted the “need” for new clothes.
Shopping for clothes never seemed high on the enjoyable activities list for Hal. Because of that, if we are shopping for clothing it’s most likely for him, and only him, and it’s an efficient trip otherwise he gets that look like he’s road kill being dragged from store to store. This was pre-weight loss.
Now inspired to show off his new waistline, extensive time has been dedicated to finding him jeans, sweaters, button downs, jackets, and even things unaffected by his downsized physique, like boots. I know I shouldn’t complain. He looks great and no longer has that look of dread when entering a mall or the outlets. But just as the hair styling became an all-consuming task, so has shopping to make sure Hal looks goooood.
During the outlet shopping yesterday, a majority of the time was spent shopping for ‘Hal clothes’. I don’t mind helping him choose outfits (I actually like feeling needed in these situations) or motivating him to buy dark wash jeans (which was no easy feat, trust me), but when you’re tired, hungry and in need of a ladies’ room, no amount of your fiancee’s good looks can satiate those problems. When we went into “my” stores, he was really great about being patient and giving opinions (for the most part), but these detours were relatively short lived. And while most of the stores did have clothes for women, Bass, Timberland and Eddie Bauer just aren’t really my style. Although I have to admit I did get an awesome down jacket at Eddie Bauer that makes me long for sub zero weather.
So it was in the Columbia store looking at yet another fleece/raincoat/windbreaker/light jacket (all of which became indistinguishable to me), that I broke down. It was toward the end of our shopping trek and as I watched Hal try on one more piece of outerwear or look at one more forest green sweater, I lost my ability to take it like a champ. I became the impatient, whiny kid who was clearly in need of a nap. To his credit, he was everything I couldn’t be at that moment, patient and tolerant. When our last stop ended back at Timberland so he could try on black boots and more jeans, I found myself acting and feeling like the (albeit exhausted) adult I arrived as some four hours earlier. I won’t lie, the chocolate covered macaroon from Godiva may have helped.
Back in the car, Hal leaned in for that kiss that says, “We’re all good and I love you”. I assured him that it was a fun afternoon, and indeed it was. Why wouldn’t I want to help my fiancée shop for clothes that I helped pick out? I just hope this latest shopping excursion will keep him looking gooood for a while.
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