Aug 11

14 years ago

14 years ago, I couldn’t sleep, like I can’t sleep tonight. 14 years ago, I was hours away from slipping into a frothy white dress and walking down an aisle on my father’s arm and signing papers and swearing in front of a church full of people that I did, I would, yes, forever until death do us part.

We are so changed from those people we were 14 years ago. We are so different. We are more wrinkled and grey-haired (yes, even Adam, it’s in his beard and don’t let him try and tell you otherwise) and battle-hardened. We have fought battles we didn’t even expect we would have to fight. We have done so many things together, so many amazing, wonderful, hard things. We have laughed and we have cried and we have always, always been there for each other.

I can’t think of a single decision in my life, not ever, that has been as good as the decision I made to tie my life to this one person, this tall, blue-eyed man who knows how to fix stuff and how to talk and how to listen and how to make me feel like the most beautiful, most funny, most important person that he has ever met.

My lover, my husband, my best friend.

I would do it all over again in a heartbeat. Even for those times–especially those early years–when we argued and we made threats to leave and we doubted ourselves, over and over again. I would do it all over again to have what I have now, which is this: a beautiful marriage of 14 years.

Happy Anniversary, Adam. I love you.

Feb 11

Happy Valentine’s 2011

Adam and I are celebrating with dark chocolate, The Lord of the Rings Trilogy, Vicodin (just me), and bloody discharge from my nose post-sinus surgery (also just me). Good times.

Dec 10

Always by my side

In the ER Tuesday night

Emergency room, waiting room, Chemo Infusion room, Radiology (well, right outside the door when they’re doing the scans as they won’t let him inside the room itself), doctor’s offices of all sorts. He’s just simply there, right by my side. It doesn’t look like he’s doing much besides reading emails on his iPhone or playing games on his iPad but he’s doing so much more than that. He’s making me laugh, he’s telling me stories, he’s making friends with the doctors and nurses, he’s fielding phone calls, he’s holding my hand, he’s listening to me, he’s letting me cry, he’s nodding his head in agreement, he’s talking me down from a ledge, he’s acknowledging that he gets scared too, he’s holding me close to his heart.

How did I get so lucky?

Dec 10

Meat Closet

I believe it is testament to the strength of my marital bonds, or, perhaps, to my inner strength and fortitude as a person, that when I open our home office closet door and am greeted by the sight of hanging meat of some sort I simply think to myself, “oh, of course, now we are making our own cured meats,” shut the door, and resume my day.

Aug 10

28 Hours

In the grand scheme of things, 28 hours is not that much time…..but this week, it was enough time to get us back in the groove of things….enough time to celebrate 13 years of marriage…enough time to sit in/by the pool and talk, to walk around Santa Monica and laugh at the sights, to drink wine and eat dim sum and sushi and Pho. Enough time to be us–Adam and Jen– and not “Anna’s Parents.” Come to think of it, 28 hours is an eternity. 28 hours is brilliant.

Dim Sum, Chinatown. Hot tea for two. Stuffed ourselves silly for $25.

Mmmm. Pork Buns.

Wine, cheese, and crackers? Yes please.

On our way to Most Delicious Sushi Restaurant Ever

Leaf chopstick rest. So elegant.

Mmmm. Sweet shrimp head, about to be dropped into the deep fryer.

Anna and the newest addition to the household, Toodle the Poodle (Anna named it)

Still…we were really, really happy to come home to Anna’s smiling face. We kind of like her. I think we’ll keep her.

Aug 10

Lucky #13

I am thankful for every little bit of this, all these years.

Jul 10

Happy 34th

This is the fifteenth (15??!!!??!?!) birthday of yours that we have celebrated together and, damn Babe!, you keep getting finer every year. Like a fine wine, you are. I love you, my younger man. Here’s to many more: many more years, many more tears, and, most definitely and beyond a doubt, many more laughs!

P.S. Nice hat.

May 10

Cleaning: DIY or outsource?

Housecleaner. Do you have one?

We do. Adam and I budgeted for once a week housecleaners at the same time as we budgeted for a weekly landscaping service. Why? Because it helps to save our marriage. ; ) Because if we remove these tasks from our to-do lists (always, always too long to reasonably accomplish in a lifetime) there is more time for fun time. Because if we remove these tasks from our lives, then there is less resentment and hassle and “it’s your turn! No, it’s your turn” in our lives.

One of my friends recently noted that they had decided to cancel their housecleaning service because she was afraid of what it was teaching her kids–that someone else cleaned up their messes. That they were not responsible for cleaning their rooms. This gave me something to ponder. I know I have had a few cringe worthy moments where Anna has noted that “Priscilla does that” when I’ve asked her to pick something up. Eek. Definitely have had conversations with her after statements like that. But, on the whole, I still think it is worth it. It is a thing of privilege. There are so many things in our lives, though, that are things of privilege. We outsource so many things. I’m letting this be one of those things because, honestly, the cleanliness of the house (and lack thereof) was one of those niggling little things that became the center of many heated, pointless arguments. And I’d rather not go there. Even if my kid learns that someone else cleans our house.

(P.S. Anna and I do some of the cleaning ourselves–our housecleaners are just okay, not great, and there are many little projects–and some big projects, too–that I end up doing myself. Things like cleaning fingerprints off the walls, scrubbing at stubborn spots on the kitchen floor, clearing out the under-the-bed dust bunnies, and things like that. Plus, I do sweep and–occasionally, like when something gets spilled, hee hee–mop.)

Any thoughts to share on this one? What do you do in your house? Just curious.

May 10

Yesterday, on Mission Street

As I drove Anna to school yesterday,  there was a car in front of us that only sort of pulled over to the side of the street. I slowed down, curious whether the driver was experiencing car troubles or ? and saw this scene: woman in driver’s seat, man in passenger’s seat. Both yelling, crying. Heated argument.

I flashed back to years (a decade?) ago, in a car (our blue BMW sedan). Me in the driver’s seat. Adam in the passenger’s seat. Monrovia, California. Just a couple of blocks from our house. Heated argument. It was one of those moments that, in retrospect, feels like a make-it-or-break-it moment. The moment upon which the world turns. Things were spoken: ugly, terrible, un-beautiful things that could never be taken back. Words meant to hurt, to sting, to break. Unforgivable words.

And yet…..and yet. These words were forgiven (eventually). The wrongs were made right.

There was never anything that was really and truly awful, except that, somehow, it was. So young, so innocent, so optimistic we were. And it felt, for a while, like we were drowning. That it was all too much: too much work, too little fun. Too many of those words, those raised voices and heated arguments in cars.

It got better. It got way better.

Somewhere along the way, I’ve let some things go. Learned to take it easy (a bit), forgive, try not to point fingers. Learned to try and have fun. Learned the ebb and flow of love and living together.

Undoubtedly there will be words, there will be raised voices and questions and arguments in cars (and at home and other places, too).


How grateful I am to not be in that car yesterday, but, instead, to be riding high on my memories of recent times together–memories punctuated by kisses and holding hands and meaningful conversations (the deep, soul-baring kind) and a general feeling of being on the same team.

My new lease on life is also a new lease on love, it sometimes feels. Every minute a minute to be grateful for, not to be taken lightly. This here, this now–these, all of these moments, moments that I wasn’t sure I would have. Washes of panic over the future (because who knows what it holds?) drowned out by delight in the present.

Yesterday, on Mission Street, I saw my past. Here, right here and now, I see my now. And, good golly, I think I like it.

Apr 10

The times without

This last weekend Adam and I had the rare and unusual opportunity to have some time alone, just the two of us, for thirty straight hours. It was….awesome. It was…weird.