Saturday, March 24, 2007

Anniversary

Tonight is the 'eve' of my 17th wedding anniversary - the day I married the man I know without a doubt I was destined to spend my life with. I've said to everyone who knows the story of how we met (blind date) that I knew the minute I met him I was going to marry him. It wasn't lightening bolts or anything like that. My knees didn't go weak. I just knew. And the 18 months from our first date to the day we married was just a long 'affirmation' of that feeling. I never doubted, never wavered in my belief that it was him I was to marry. And I'd spent most of my life looking and 'finding' this person. I'd thought I'd found 'him' a zillion times before - only those relationships all ended - some badly, some gratefully.

I'd been engaged to a sweet young man, T., who turned out to be pretty messed up. We were briefly engaged - and it all came to a crashing slow-motion end when he attempted suicide. Yes, really. It was a nightmarish time. Everyone around us (me) judged everything we (I) did. His family assumed that I had to be 'the cause'. Never mind that his parents were divorced (bitterly) and his father reappeared in his life out of the blue one day and threw the 'kid' he'd left behind for a loop. I do think that like me, he was starting to have some 'doubts' about our planned wedding. My 'gut' was giving me warnings for quite some time that this was not to be.

After T. was out of the hospital, I did my best to be there for him. But it quickly became evident that everyone (my family, his family, friends) were looking to me to 'save' him. To be sure he was taking his medication, going to therapy, etc. And I realized with stunning clarity that I didn't want to be the person who was responsible for him. He had to be responsible for himself - and him getting to that point was something he had to do by himself, for himself. So I broke off the engagement - and yes, I know that is harsh and cruel. But the alternative was to stay with him - knowing it wasn't right, knowing he knew it wasn't right. And that wasn't something that was healthy for either of us.

For the first time in my life, I used exercise as my outlet. I rode my bike and/or ran every night after work. I took a life guard class and started life guarding at the neighborhood pool. I also decided that if being 'single' was what I was destined to be, I would deal with it. If I wanted to be a mom, there were sperm banks for that - and while that wasn't my first choice for raising a family, if that's what was 'meant to be' for me, I was fine with it.

So when a friend called me to ask if she could give a guy my phone number, I was very hesitant. I mean, why 'go there' again - another relationship, a lot of time and effort for something that seemed almost pre-destined to not work out - because perhaps I just wasn't supposed to be married. But what the heck - and I said yes. I figured he wouldn't call.

But he did. And we had a blind date at the San Leandro Marina. He was easy to talk to, funny, smart, great personality. We seemed to hit it off right away and we started 'dating' a week after that first date. We were engaged not quite a year later and married 18 months to the day from the day we met.

17 years ago tonight, I was spending the evening with my mom. I had tearfully said goodbye to J. who was heading to the hotel and who I wouldn't see again until the wedding. I was wishing more than anything that we hadn't agreed to that silly 'tradition' because I didn't want him to leave me that night. Not that my mom wasn't great company - she was. But I didn't want to be apart from him, not even for one night. I didn't sleep much that night. I worked on packing for the honeymoon, piddled around the house. I woke my mom up at 5AM while I was vacuuming. She came out of her bedroom in a robe and said 'sweetie, what in the world are you doing?'. I said 'well, I'm not sleeping so I thought I'd tidy up a bit'. She made me coffee and politely suggested that the neighbors (thankfully, the garage was underneath us) upstairs would probably prefer that I wait awhile for that chore. We laughed and talked and she said 'you're sure, right'? And I replied 'absolutely, without a doubt'.

I include the story of my relationship with T. because through that entire 'engagement', I knew it was not going to work. I knew it. My gut told me over and over and over that he was not who I was meant to marry. It took a huge 'life event' to give me the courage to take the steps to end that relationship - and I regret the pain I caused him by forcing us to end the engagement. But it was the right thing to do. AND, having been through that - I knew with J. that it was right - no doubt, never a doubt, never a hesitation. Never. Not one second. I'd like to think that if I hadn't had that experience, I would still have known that J. was the one. I'm sure I would have. But having been through that life experience, it made the assurances in my gut more certain. More confirming. We were meant to be.

We were married at noon that day - a Sunday. The ceremony was very quick and then the party that followed was so much fun. My sisters, my niece and my good friend S. were my maid of honor and bridesmaids. J.'s brother and cousin were his attendants. It was a fun day and went by so quickly. We had a terrific time. I didn't sleep much that night, either (yes, there was that but mainly I was just too excited to sleep). And J. snored. Like a freight train.

We left for Cancun the next night - after a day of running errands, etc. My mom took a cab to the airport in mid afternoon after J. and I had unwrapped gifts with her. We kept saying we'd drive her but she said we had plenty to do. We packed, got the house ready to leave for 2 weeks, accepted well wishes from our neighbors and friends. We left for the airport after dinner for an all night flight. And I finally crashed. The plane had 4 seats in the center and 3 seats on each side of the middle section. It was thankfully a very 'non-full' flight and I moved into the center section, took up 3 seats and passed out. Didn't hear the dinner service, missed the movie. By the time I woke up, J. was asleep and we were almost there.

17 years ago I married the man who has redefined love for me. He has given me everything I've ever wanted - a family, a home, someone to grow old with, someone to come home to. He is quite possibly the only person I could ever be married to - I'm not easy and he is patient, loving, forgiving, kind and adores me and the kids. When I thank God for my many blessings every night, J. is top of the list. He is my best friend and I am the luckiest person on the planet to say 'he chose me'.

I love you, sweetie. Thank you for making me your bride and for being the father of my kids. You are amazing and I love you with all my heart - and so much more than I ever could have imagined 17 years ago. True love grows and our relationship is proof of that.

Venus

I'm not one to advocate or endorse any particular 'products' on this blog. Mostly because there are about 5 people who read on a regular basis so it's not like my recommendations will have any impact on the market place. But today, I am going to highly recommend you ladies out there try something.

I received a free 'Venus Breeze' Gillette razor in the mail yesterday. I had seen the ads, seen them at Target. I resisted mainly because I always laugh at J. when he has to have the 'latest' 'new' razor out there. 4 blades? 5 blades? Someday, he'll be shaving with a 20 blade razor for the 'closest shave yet' and the darn thing will be too heavy for the average man to lift to his face.

The Venus Breeze has 3 blade 'technology' and that right there was enough to scare me away from trying it. I don't want my legs shaved to within an inch of their life - I just want the hair off. I don't care how often I have to shave - because frankly, I don't shave that often - more in the Spring, plenty in the summer and rarely in the winter. I'm too old to risk falling and injuring myself getting in and out of a tub so if I can't do it in the shower, I just won't/don't. And the process of shaving - using creme or something to lubricate so I won't get razor burn - is just not something I make time for on an average morning where I'm rushing to get somewhere. I shave my underarms every few days and use hair conditioner (yes, hair conditioner) as 'shave cream' because it's 'there' and easy to apply.

The Breeze eliminates that entire 'cream' step. It has some 'gel' on either side of the blades - you wet it and shave. It's FANTASTIC. Easy, quick and requires no shave cream, lotion or anything else. Yes, I did use Aveeno moisture bath on my legs after but I use it on my legs many mornings - because I've finally figured out how those 'stars' always have such beautiful, slightly 'shiny' legs - they moisturize the heck out of them! I slather on lotion everyday and use Aveeno in the shower and then strut around the garden in my Walmart shorts (post on those soon) with my slightly shiny legs and feel so pretty!

I'm 'hooked' on this new razor. Have no idea how much they cost (and will be shocked like we always are when we buy J. new razors at Costco) but I don't care - it was fast, effective and easy and I'm going to buy them no matter how much they cost. (I know this is contradictory to my previous post about 'Value' but hey, I'm a multi-faceted, open to change kind of lady). I will donate all my old disposable, unused razors to the McHenry House in Tracy - a homeless shelter - and feel fine with 'switching'.

I will however, avow here and now, that 3 blades is my limit. Gillette, take notice!

PS - I did a Google search for Gillette to be sure I was spelling it correctly (I wasn't - two t's) - and saw there are a couple other 'Venus' razors out there for women, including one that is 'powered'. J. tried the 'powered' version of the men's razor and hated it. So I'm referring ONLY to the 'Venus Breeze' razor. It's name is appropriate 'cuz it makes a tedious task for women a 'breeze'

Friday, March 23, 2007

Value

I pulled out of the Starbucks drive through with my $2 20 oz iced tea in my hand and saw a homeless person on the corner. I approached the corner and pulled as close to the curb as I could. The light was green. There were cars behind me and I couldn't pause for long. I reached into my purse and pulled out the first bill I found - a $20 I'd just withdrawn from the bank at the ATM - which I had stopped at to deposit $117 in rolled coin into our "Fun Money" account. I held it out to her and she gasped in shock. She said "God Bless You" and 'Thank you very much' as I pulled away.

I thought to myself 'when did I arrive at the place where a $20 to me is no big deal - in 'either' direction - no big deal if I have it, no big deal if I give it away'. And how is it that as a society, there are so many people who gasp at having a $20 while so many of us don't react in any way. As we drink our Starbucks and haul our loot (in my case $50 of flowers for my garden from Home Depot - paid for with a gift card I had from one of my credit card 'reward' programs which I earned how? By spending money).
I have had this feeling many times - like when I find a couple $20s in the pocket of my freshly laundered pants - and I hadn't even missed them. Never gave it a thought - 'hey, didn't I have $40 and where did it go'? I forgot all about that $$ in my pocket and wouldn't have missed it had I not found it. I never realized I'd 'lost' it. Isn't that incredible? It is to me. I wasn't raised this way. Is it just the 'times'? or do I just need to admit to myself that I am one of the 'haves'. And what can I/am I willing to do about that?

We took a 'gift assessment' test in our church retreat last week - I have the gifts of 'giving' and of 'administration'. We give freely and often and generously to a variety of charities. Our family name is inscribed on many 'bricks' at the Monterey Aquarium and Habitat for Humanity has purchased many hammers and nails and tools with our donations over the years. Giving is easy. Writing a check takes a couple minutes AND because we are able to itemize (again, a function of income - how much we can afford to mortgage), I get to write off all our donations as well. Giving is simple - giving saves us money.

I hope someone else gave that homeless lady another $20. And maybe then, with the other 'donations' she had throughout her afternoon, she will have enough to get a room at one of the very inexpensive motels around. Maybe she can afford a room at Motel 6 - which I admit I have never stayed in and would never consider staying in. I feel embarrassed about that - but it's the truth.

I think that's why my thoughts lately turn to 'simplifying'. Acknowledging that I have 'too much' while others have so little. And wanting to 'fix' that as much as I can - simplify and do with less for us so we are able to offer and do more for others. J. is 'with' me on this. The kids, less so. But all this work and stress and lovely existence has to be for something more than just 'us'. If we're going to continue to 'plug away' until the kids are out of the house, then all this effort and 'reward' has to start going for something besides just 'us'. We are already very generous to our church and to charities. But I want to be MORE generous. And I want to start finding more people like that lady - putting the cash in their hands so they can see and feel that someone does care about them.

Then, as I pull away from the curb, I'll only be thinking 'I hope they aren't going to drink that $20 later'. But if they do, I hope the buzz keeps them warmer on a cool night. Or makes sleeping on the ground or a bench slightly more comfortable.

Wednesday, March 21, 2007

Simpler

I sometimes long for a simpler life. My life as it is couldn't be any more blessed or full or fun. But it could be a lot simpler. My post a couple days ago about the beach was remembering those days. We were so happy when we were at the cabin - and we had NO electricity, cell phones, DVDs, etc. We played cards every evening, sang around the campfire. The big 'treat' was turning on an AM radio in the evenings and picking up stations from all over the US - Texas, etc. Always amazed that we could 'get' a signal at night from so far away - and could NEVER get that same station the next morning or anytime during the day. Every night, we would search and 'hunt' on the dial for a station playing the Top 40 - so I could hear John Denver. NOW, anything my kids want to 'hear', they buy for 99 cents on iTunes. But in the 'good old days', I tuned in nightly from thousands of miles away in another country to hear my 'tunes'. Once a day.

I fantasize a lot about 'what if'. What if we cashed in everything we own, sold our personal property, took our retirement savings and the equity in our home and moved to say, Mexico, or anywhere in a foreign country with a 'beach'? We could quite probably live a comfortable life for the rest of our lives. Never 'work' again - at least not in the context of working like we do now. Maybe teach at a school - or build houses with Habitat for Humanity. We would live in a far smaller home, maybe not even one we own. We'd have less 'stuff'. A selection of bathing suits, beach cover ups, flip flops, lots of good hats and sun screen. Books, board games, couple decks of cards and our poker set. Chess set. I'd take every book we own, buy a bunch more before we moved and read them over and over and over.

Dream of possibly no more 8-5 Monday through Friday, drudging through the weeks. To get to a weekend that is so jam packed, it doesn't feel like a weekend. That's how I feel lately - we have no time for anything but 'survival'. We get up early, go to work, come home, trudge through evenings full of kids 'needs' and activities, get through 'til Friday, do mountains of laundry, a bit of housekeeping, gardening, church, eat out one night - and then it's Sunday evening, watching 60 Minutes and the sad realization that we are starting another week. Just like the last week. Fraught with dangers and commitments and 'stuff' that often times doesn't seem all that important.

If it were just J. and me, I honestly think we would pack our bags and head for some remote place to live out the rest of our lives. Our luxuries would be few - high speed Internet, a good computer (or two) and golf clubs. Maybe a DVD player so we could get movies and shows from NetFlix or Blockbuster via the mail to give us something to watch. I'd go to the 'market' everyday and buy whatever we felt like eating that day. I'd cook more. I think I could be happy with a lot 'less' - fewer material possessions, smaller home. I could 'live' without a lot of things that I have now - thought the computers and Internet are sort of important to us - and at least I can rationalize the need for them 'cuz we have to handle our finances somehow and the Internet makes that do-able from wherever we happen to be. Life would be simpler. I'd learn a new language or two. Walk on the beach a lot. Swim everyday. Dive in to knitting, cross stitch, quilting. Nap everyday. Plant a garden and grow food. So many things I can imagine doing.

But it isn't just the two of us (yet). We still have two young men to educate and get out on their own. If When we win the lottery, I won't hesitate to move wherever the spirit takes us, and include a first rate teacher for the kids and they can be 'home schooled' anywhere we decide to stay.

For now, we stay put and keep trudging along. Saving for the future, plowing through our jobs. I hope to stop plowing someday. It's exhausting and stressful and some days, frankly, not a lot of fun. But it pays the bills. So we stay. For now. But nothing lasts forever - and I don't see us doing 'this' life for the rest of our lives. Maybe we will - this is a fine life and retiring here and traveling sounds fun, too. But if not working sooner would be possible if we were to drastically simplify our existence, that's a tempting thing for me. I just have to convince J. As long as there's a reasonably priced golf course in the vicinity of wherever we were to 'land', I think I can persuade him. And I'll either learn to play myself, be his caddy or just drive the golf cart and look forward to something cold from the drink cart while enjoying the beauty. Golf courses ARE really pretty.

Monday, March 19, 2007

Labels

I've been meaning to mention this:

If/when you need printed address labels, DON'T buy them. Just send a $10 check to March of Dimes (or the charity of your choice) and your mailbox will be FULL of labels. A never ending supply. We bought two rolls of labels when we first moved into this house (six+ years ago) and still have most of those left. We get HUNDREDS of address labels every month. All 'cuz we send in checks to various charities.

And now, we're piling up quite a stack of note pads.

Friday, March 16, 2007

Beaches

I grew up spending most weekends on an 18 mile stretch of white sand beach. My father went on a fishing trip with some buddies and came home and told my mom that he had purchased a 'home site' on the beach in Mexico, near a small town called "Puerto Penasco" - Rocky Point. He took her there - with her two teenagers (my older sister K. and my older brother C.) and her two babies (me and my sister P.) and showed her the 'site' - basically a sand lot with the vague beginnings of a cement foundation. She camped there pretty much every weekend with her 4 kids - while my dad and the families who lived there year-round helped him build a 'cabin'. Two rooms, plus a bathroom. One of the rooms was a screened in porch, basically. Running water but not drinkable water. No electricity. We used a propane refrigerator and kerosene lanterns for light. Had campfires most nights. Heated water for showers in a solar 'heating bag'. Showering once every few days was a luxury. The non-potable water was from a well many miles down the dunes and it was trucked in. We paid $5/tank (on the roof), I think. And we made it last. We brought in bottled (distilled) drinking water. We would 'clean up' every evening for "Happy Hour" and socialize until dinner. The adults would enjoy a cocktail. The kids (of all ages) would play volleyball, or go for walks or runs on the beach, or have a campfire and sing. Dinner was very often fresh fish, tortillas, etc. It was a great way to 'live'.

After my father died (I was 6, my sister was 5, my older sister was 15 and my brother was 19), my mom kept that beach house where so many memories of my dad remained. That house is the only place I have any memories of him at all.

We continued to go 'to the beach house' as many weekends as we could and for the month of June every year. As soon as school was out, my mom packed us up and off we went. July and August were too hot to be there - the ocean breezes couldn't cool off the heat enough for it to be 'tolerable' to us folks used to A/C. But June was perfect. The ocean was like bath water. At first, without my dad, my little sister and I were scared to go. But we had plenty of uncles and aunts and cousins (some actual relatives, others just 'friends' who had always been my aunts and uncles, though not related) to 'help us' get used to just going there with our mom. We had so many adventures there - and I've always appreciated how my mom made even the scariest thing (and there were some scary things that happened from time to time) - seem fun - she always said 'well, we just had another adventure'.

When my little sister and I became 'teenagers', going down to the beach wasn't so great anymore. I dreaded spending an entire month of the summer away from my home and my friends.

I look back now and would give anything in the world to still have that place to go to. Even though we live very far away and probably wouldn't visit too often, I'd still pay any amount of money I could afford to have it back. I appreciated it a lot then, even though I griped about it - but now, I know how amazing it was to have that growing up. I became self sufficient, learned to think and plan ahead and grew up revering the ocean and nature and the sheer breathtaking beauty of ocean and sky and sunsets and beaches. I miss it still - like a hole in my soul that I can't fill. I dream about that beach pretty often - those dreams are the only dreams where one or both of my parents 'present' themselves to me in dreams. I miss it and long for it and can cry at the drop of a hat if I spend too much time thinking about it.

When my mom sold the cabin, she talked to me and J. about it - and at the time, though I longed to say 'we'll buy it', we couldn't. We had two babies, day care bills, not a lot of savings, etc. We were doing fine but living paycheck to paycheck just to cover daycare, diapers, etc. It wasn't feasible - though I still wish we had figured out a way. I would give anything to have it back again.

The old house had to be torn down, I've heard, through friends I still keep in touch with. My 3rd grade teacher and her husband still own their cabin, just up the hill from our old place and some family friends (of theirs) bought our place from the couple who had bought it from my mom. It had finally reached the point where the hand made bricks (which my father helped make) had disintegrated to a point that they had to be replaced. It isn't the 'same' house anymore, but it is - it still sits where ours sat. A quick walk down the dunes to the most breathtaking beach I have ever seen.

I am going to get that back in my life somehow, someday. I need it. If not that beach, then a beach. Somewhere. I wish my kids had that in their life. I wish they knew the relief an ocean breeze brings on a warm summer evening. Or the relief you feel when you've managed to get the beach buggy unstuck and avoided the tide all by yourself. It changes you to grow up knowing the beauty and risks of the ocean and the creatures in it. It's hard to teach those kind of life skills in a city - in a world where help is only a cell phone call away. I wish we had that experience for them. I wish we had that escape for us.

Someday.

March

I'm starting to think maybe I will just do a monthly post and call it what it is - whatever month we're in.  Here we are winding dow...