Happy birthday to the Man to Die For!

Just want to wish the Man to Die For a fantastic birthday. Sure, he's saddled with an old, bifocal wearing, wrinkly woman for a wife, but he's still waaaay older than me. By a good 9 1/2 weeks (hey, no WONDER we love that movie so much!).

So, happy birthday, my sweet.

The flowers...

Arrived at my desk this morning :)

Dear Bob...

Dear Bob,

Fifteen years ago, we stood in front of our family and friends and swore our love to one another. Everyone there was so relieved, including the rabbi. He made mention of how our relationship was not only rare, it was "well done." He was so flustered that we finally did it (after 9 long years) that he asked you if you took me to be your husband. To which you said No. Which flustered him even more, but made the entire congregation laugh, including us. And when my sister pumped her fist in the air and gave a "Yes!" after we both said our "I Dos", we all laughed again. Our wedding service was a foretelling of our married life – filled with laughter and love.

I remember you singing "By My Side" to me at the reception. A love song you wrote just for me. You woke up in the middle of the night one night and felt me next to you and the words just came to you. I wish I had the talent to express my love to you in a similar fashion. But, alas, I will have to settle for writing you a love letter. One to fold up and place with all the other letters I’ve saved since we met and fell in love in 1985.

The last 24 years have been the most wonderful time of my life. Together we’ve grown up – from teenagers into adults. From selfish, tunnel-visioned kids into open-minded grown-ups with the room in our hearts to encompass our children, our nieces and nephews, our multiple in-laws, and our ever-growing extended family.

I have watched you become a teacher, an uncle, and finally, a father. In each of these roles, you are loving, fair, kind, and compassionate. Your students connect to you in a way that they don’t connect to many others. Our nieces and nephews adore you (how many other uncles out there are nicknamed Uncle Weenie? - Yes, there’s a story attached to this, and no, it’s not perverted.). And I could wax poetic on how amazing a father you are. You have raised up two of the most incredible kids. They are smart, caring, loving, talented kids. Everything that they know about how to treat other people, they learn by your example. You have infinite patience – far more than I!

Our boys will be wonderful to me when we all grow older. They’ve got your example to follow. You take such good care of my mom – no matter what she asks of you, you are always there to fix her TV remote, paint her wall, move her furniture... whatever. Children learn by example, and you set the bar high. I fully expect to be treated like a queen in my dotage. (Feel free to pass that along, BTW).

You’ve shown them the proper way to treat a woman simply by the love and respect that you show me every single day. You always put a smile on my face, always have a gentle touch, never raise your voice, put up with PMS, put up with my book-buying habits, my mood swings, my family, my weight fluctuations... all with a smile and a loving word. Never, ever, ever complaining that there might be something I could do better, or that you wish I was somehow different. You run out to get me ice cream when I crave it. When I have PMS, you find a way for me to be by myself (happy side effect for you is that I’m out of your hair – yes, I’m well aware). You would do anything for me. And I know it. I only hope that you know the feeling is mutual. Oh so mutual.

And did I mention that just looking at you all these years later still makes my heart skip a beat? I love the lines that time has worn on your face. The laugh lines around your blue eyes are gorgeous. I love that your butt still looks un-freakin’-believable in your jeans. I love that you let me warm my cold feet on you in bed without complaint. I love that you have the freakiest sense of humor in the world. And I even love that you have taught our kids to belch and fart properly. How twisted is that? Because you all have fun together doing it. (Ugh). I love that you make me laugh hysterically at the dinner table every night. I love that we finish each other’s sentences. I love that, as the card said and we now jokingly call ourselves, we are two butts with a single mind. And I love that after all these years, you still rock my socks off in bed. Even when we’re laughing at the same time. Which happens a lot.

I wrote this post 2 years ago at our anniversary, and in it still holds true.

You said it best on the first cassette tape you put together of love songs for me, way back in '85...
"You’re my castle, you’re my cabin and my instant pleasure dome.
Wherever we’re together, that’s my home.
You’re my home."*

Our song...
Walk Forever By My Side**

And in the last one you wrote to me, just a few weeks ago...
"I belong to you. I don't know how I know it, but I belong to you. Sometimes I don't show it. But I know I do. Baby, I belong to you."***

All my love and happy anniversary,
LJ













* © Billy Joel
** © The Alarm
*** © Jim Bianco

My current favorite picture

Taken yesterday at a bat mitzvah...


On another note... I've been reading up a storm, but have the blogging blues. How about you? I notice some of my favorite blogs have been a little slower than usual lately. Just busy? Or do you have the blues, too?

All About Me by the Man to Die For

So there's a Meme going around where we ask our kids questions about ourselves, and have them answer them. Holly decided to turn it around and have MM answer them. I thought I'd have the Man to Die For do the same. So here's his take on me.

1. What is something I always say to you? I love you.

2. What makes me happy? Being covered in warm laundry.
(I'm a serious freak. He dumps all the laundry fresh out of the dryer onto me. I love it!)

3. What makes me sad? Hmmmm. You're not often sad. When you are, it's the big stuff, like your dad passing, or the loss of a pet.

4. How do I make you laugh? Snorting when you laugh. Walking into walls. Rambling away on a caffeine induced high.

5. What was I like as a child? Well, I didn't know you then, but you look pretty cute in pictures.

6. How old am I? Younger than me.

7. How tall am I? Depends who you ask and how much hair is included. Officially, I think its 5' 2 and 3/4"

8. What is my favorite thing to do? Can't say that here. Your 2nd favorite thing to do is read romance novels.

9. What do I do when you’re not around? Read romance novels. Didn't you read #8?

10. If I becomes famous, what will it be for? If you becomes famous, it will be for making the world's best lasagna!

11. What am I really good at? Again, I can't really say that here. But you're also an awesome mom to our kids, and you are the best wife ever. You are apparently pretty damn good at your job, since they kind of ask you to do everything. And even though you only play once a year, you're still the best flute player I know.

12. What am I not very good at? Folding my laundry the way I like it or loading the dishwasher efficiently.
(He's just a little anal-retentive, huh? I fold the laundry and load the dishwasher perfectly fine. This is how he ended up being the one to do the laundry for the last 20-odd years)

13. What do I do for my job? Everything web and email.

14. What is my favorite food? Chocolate. Oh, and also chocolate.

15. What makes you proud of me? You are the anchor of our family. You hold it all together. (sniff)

16. If I were a cartoon character, who would I be? Tweety Bird

17.What do we do together? Speak in unison, go to concerts, and an occasional movie.

18. How are we the same? Our dads were both physicists, and our moms both nurses, and all lived in Chicago in the late 60's. We have nearly identical socio-political views. We have similar tastes in music, though you lean toward 70's love songs more than I.
(they call me 70s woman!!)

19. How are we different? I'm a boy, you're a girl. Lucky for us!
(Oh so lucky!!)

20. How do you know I love you? I belong to you. I don't know how I know it, but I belong to you. Sometimes I don't show it. But I know I do. Baby, I belong to you.
(sigh. isn't he just the sweetest? listen to the whole song here.)

21. Where is my favorite place to go? Anywhere that's sunny.

I'm too sexy for my...

What do you find to be the sexiest thing on a guy?

I've often said that I love looking at the way that Bob's eyes crinkle at the corners. As we've gotten older, the crinkles have gotten more pronounced - whether from age, more years of laughter, or a combination thereof, I really couldn't say. All I know is that when he smiles, his beautiful blue eyes go all crinkly, and it's an incredible turn on.

Having said that... we were driving in the car the other day, and I looked over at him. He was chewing gum. Nothing special, except that I really looked. For some reason, the action of chewing the gum made his jaw look so masculine and sexy. Maybe it was just my hormones. I sighed, and he glanced over at me and smiled. He chewed gum and crinkled his eyes at the same time. Wow.

So what does it for you? The eyes? A smile? A well-filled out pair of jeans? That wonderful sense of humor? Spill.

Ponderings on weight gain, and resolutions

So as many of you know, because I complained about it incessantly last year, my increase in work hours up to about 70 per week made it really difficult for me to manage other areas of my life. My diet and exercise being one of them. As a result, I gained about 15 pounds last year. Very bad. Unless you're my husband.

A couple days ago, I caught him ogling my (now bigger) chest, complete with cleavage. "You've grown," says he, waggling his eyebrows. "Uh, yeah," says I dejectedly. "It's cause I've gained so much weight."
"I like the effect," says the sex addict. "Don't get used to it," says the runway reject. "I'm going back on Weight Watchers."

Couple items of note: For me, being chesty means I went from an "almost B" cup to a full B cup. Woohoo! Second, I'm very fortunate to have a wonderful husband who doesn't rag on me about weight gain. We have a deal that if I become too huge, he's going to tell me. Gaining 15 pounds has put me into a size 10, and I'm frankly, miserable about it. I know this really isn't cause for complaint, as I'm still well below the "average American woman", but for me, since I barely top 5'4" on a high hair day, I feel pretty huge.

One of MCTC's most popular songs when they play live is "I Don't Mind a Girl With a Couple Extra Pounds". The first time I heard it, I didn't know whether to laugh or be offended. But it's tremendously popular live with the women in the audience, which, frankly, surprised me. When I get home from work, I'll put it up on the sidebar so you can hear it. Point is, both he and his partner, Page, truly believe the lyrics of this song. And the title of it kind of says it all. My husband truly rocks.

Still, I find myself bowing to convention about looks, feeling unhealthy, and not comfortable in my skin with those "couple extra pounds". So, my goal this year is to work less, eat better, and get healthier. All that should help me lose weight, right? I went back on Weight Watchers last week. I've always been incredibly successful with it. Outcome? 1 pound weight gain. Shit.

Happy Anniversary to my Man to Die For

Today is not just election day. Nosiree Bob. It is also my 23rd anniversary. 23 years ago today, I got off an airplane in Denver, Colorado after my sister's wedding. Waiting for me at the gate (back when you could still do that) was this stoner dude with a cheesy mustache, cigarette hanging from his mouth and a beer hanging from his hand. He had the hugest grin on his face. I literally flew down the gangway and into his arms.

You see, for the 2 months prior to this, we'd been playing that sexual tension game – being best friends and knowing that if one of us just took that step, we'd turn into lovers. Well, all it took was being separated for a few days. Since that day, 23 years ago, we've been inseparable.

I know I’ve posted several times about my hub, aka, the Man to Die For, but I really can't say enough about how lucky I feel, especially given the events of the last week. My good friend lost her husband this weekend, and my heart goes out to her. I thought twice about posting this; it almost felt like I was flaunting my happiness in the face of her sadness, loss, and grief. But I'm hopeful that, if she reads this, she will be reminded of all the wonderful times she shared with Bill, and all of the wonderful memories they made together.

So, Bob & I spent 2 months playing that game, as we’ve all read about in romance novels... the will they/won’t they/best friends to lovers theme we all love so much. And I fell truly in love; heartstopping, endless, corny, be all, end all love, with that stoner guy who chain smoked and chain drank (is that a term?).

Together, we've lost virginity (well, mine – even though he wishes he'd never slept with those 2 girls before me, those bitches), had enormous amounts of great fun, graduated college, moved across the United States, lived in sin, been married, made 2 amazing children together, decided how to raise those children in an interfaith marriage with little to no conflict among two very religious families, lived through alcoholism and made it through the other side, lived through 2 testosterone-laden children and made it through the other side (we’re not quite finished, but we're getting there), lived through the death of a parent, laughed and loved and cried, and are still madly in love 23 years later.

I cannot imagine my life for one minute without him. He makes me laugh every day. He makes me cry when he is tender. I love the brush of his hand across my face. I love that he guides me with his hand on my back when we walk together. I love it when he dumps warm laundry on me. Yeah, I'm weird like that. I love watching him parent our two children. He's such an amazing father. I love watching him play his guitar – he feels so free. Most of all, I love being with him, quietly, head on his shoulder, just... being.

So, happy anniversary, Bob, my one true love. I can’t wait to see what the next 23 years hold for us. You are my HEA.

The Man to Die For made me snort... and Junior is a doofus

So, last night was Jeff's first football game for his high school team. I suppose I should back up and start by saying that he chose to go to the rival high school of where Bob teaches. It is, after all, our home school, and all his friends are there. Anywhooo.... first football game. Dad went to see it (I couldn't get off work early enough cause they were playing a team which is out in Burbank for cryin' out loud - an hour away!). Dad even choked on his own spit enough to wear a Jeff's school's t-shirt. (and we got a picture of it to blackmail and send to Bob's principal if he gets out of hand, too!)

We won 41-8. Woohoo! Point is, Jeff forgot his game socks. Doofus. Bob spent the whole game wondering why he didn't play. Benched for forgetting your game socks? Ouch. Tough break. Turns out, our big man's helmet fell out of his bag on the locker room floor before he got on the bus to go to the game, and the doof never noticed. Bwahahahaha!!!!!! Kinda hard to play without your helmet, now, isn't it? Doofus!!

So today, Bob wore his rival t-shirt, and I wore my t-shirt. The kids are off doing their own thing. We had dinner out, and got home, and I mentioned that I wanted something sweet after dinner. "A kiss?" I got my sugar (are you all gagging yet?). Then my man to die for calls me a traitorous bitch and pinches me. For wearing my t-shirt. I found it so funny, I started laughing so hard, I snorted. Bad habit of mine. So I gave him a titty twister. Which led to a tickle fight. At which point Jeff walked in, rolled his eyes, and nonchalantly looked for something to eat. Can I just say? I love that in our 40s, we still horse around and have tickle fights. And that nothing thwarts the doofus in his efforts to forage for food.

Happy Anniversary to the Man to Die For

Today is my wedding anniversary. We've been so busy that we didn't really plan anything, or think about what we are doing tonight. We generally don't exchange gifts. It sounds corny, but I kind of feel like our love is a gift all on its own, or, we're extremely lazy, which is far more likely. (Of course, if a few diamonds were to fall my way, I wouldn't say no!) Actually, what I want for my anniversary this year is for my husband to get a wedding ring. He lost it when we were in Tahoe over Spring break, and we haven't gotten around to replacing it. We're "we'll get around to it" kind of people...

Anywho... I just want to say a big I love you to the man to die for. You have made my life a blessing. Every day is an adventure. I laugh each day, and I go to bed with a smile on my face every night. I have a true life partner, a wonderful father for my children, a man who writes me love songs, a horrible punster, a hot stud in jeans, a beautiful soul to share each day and the rest of my life with.

I love you, sweetie!

I won, I won!!

I won the Great Shave Debate!! Woo-frickin-hoo! I never win it. I held out longer than Bob. So proud! He missed the kissy-face more than me. Neener neener! OK, he missed the sex, too, LOL.

And thank the lord, because my leg hair was getting ready to be braided. How's that for a visual? {{{shudder}}}

The great shave debate... and why my DH is watching North & South with me this weekend

How do you all feel about stubble? On your man's face? Personally, I love 2 day's growth. It looks sexy, and feels {{shudder}} heavenly. Much past that, and we're into beard territory. So, Bob is a lazy shaver. He's a Tuesday, Thursday, Sunday kinda guy so that he only has to get up early twice a week. Well, it seems that he decided over a long weekend about 3 weeks ago that lazy is really good, and why get up early to shave at all?

Me? While I love the stubbly thing... the beard? Just doesn't do it for me. Even though it looks nice, the ends hurt when I kiss him, and it feels like I'm in bed with somebody else. Not something I've really ever fantasized about (ok, well if it was Harrison Ford in his Han Solo days, I might make an exception, but there you have it - no beard!).

So, I'm on strike.

No shaving my legs. No kissy-face.

I want my hubby back. My clean-shaven hubby. Not Grizzly Adams. We've been down this road before. I always give in first. Mostly because I can't stand looking at my legs, and have you ever had that sensation when your leg hair rubs the wrong way? Horrors! Plus, I like kissy-face.

But he always shaves in the end.

In the meantime, he feels pretty guilty because he knows I don't like the beard, so guess who is watching the chick-flick with me this weekend? Neener-neener! He did ask if he was required to keep his eyes open the whole time. This from the man who rented Gosford Park? (side note: I was the one who fell asleep during that one!)

Oh, and if you don't think stubble is sexy, check out the cover of Sylvia Day's latest... *please pass the ice*

Where I've been...

First of all... Merry Christmas, Happy New Year, etc to everyone. I hope you all had the very best of holidays. I've been scarce all over blogland. So, what have I been up to? Well, hopefully you'll excuse the incredibly long post, but there's been a ton of shit going on.

First, let me share the best pics evah. We did go to see James Taylor and Carole King together. Wow. 50 people in the entire place and we were among them. Did I mention that Jackson Browne was there the night before? In the audience? And Joni Mitchell? Yowsa. Can these folks draw a crowd or what? (sorry for the blurry cell phone images)



Next we went back to Van Halen again. Remember the tix I won? They ended up being 3rd row. So cool! I thought Bob would... well... erupt in his pants when Eddie payed Eruption literally right in front of us.




As for the rest of it, well, life has been a mix of good and bad. My job has once again gotten the better of me. For the majority of December I worked to meet a deadline and that meant 15 hour days. Yes, 15 hour days. As a result, nobody got Christmas cards, nobody got presents sent to them (I still have to send my niece her presents and her b-day gift!). But the good is that I did take a week off at Christmas and spent it sleeping and hanging with my family. I got absolutely nothing else done, but it was worth it. And my boss realized that I can't keep up this pace. We are trying to work out a solution. Hopefully we'll figure it out sooner rather than later.


The last bit of news is that my husband gave up drinking. For those of you who always thought I have the perfect marriage, I pretty much do. My only regret over the last 20-odd years is that my husband is an alcoholic. He's a functioning alcoholic, not a fall-down drunk, but still. A 6-pack a day, every day, or a bottle of wine at dinner each night is not a good thing. Plus, he has a long family history of it. He's over 40, and we have a son about to hit high school. A couple of hard life truths hit him square in the eyes these last couple of years. So, in October, he quit drinking. It's been tough going, but he's done it. I have never been prouder of anybody or anything in my entire life.

Tonight we had a chat at the dinner table with the kids about his alcoholism and what it means to them and to be an alcoholic. When he gave them permission to use him as an excuse with their friends not to drink ("My dad's an alcoholic and I don't want to go there"), I thought I would cry. My man to die for is truly an amazing, strong human being. As well as being the funny, loveable, cute, sweet man he is, he has an inner strength that humbles me. I'm so proud to be with him, and so honored that he is the father of our children. Not only does he set an amazing example of how to treat a woman, and how to manage a household, he now has shown our boys how to own up to your mistakes, how to deal with life's difficulties in a dignified manner, and how to be a true man in every sense of the word. That is a man to die for. It is now my life's mission to support him in any and every way that I can in this lifelong endeavor of his. I only hope I can be as strong and true and brave as he has been. I love you, sweetie.

Survivor's Guilt

This is a difficult post to write. Lately, it seems that several of my friends are splitting up with their spouses. One of Bob's bandmates is getting divorced, another has a rocky marriage that I anticipate won't last (although I hope they can work it out, optimist that I am). Several of my friends have split up or are splitting up. Infidelity has been an issue on several break-ups. 'Nuff said there. But in some of the others, it seems to be just plain old incompatibility, or one of the couple is just plain.. well... an asshole. And it really irritates me to see my friends being treated like crap. Although, I must admit, I do have one friend at work that was the asshole, and I told him so, thus ruining a several-years long friendship. Apparently, he wanted my undying and unswerving loyalty. But I call a spade a spade (or an asshole an asshole). Doesn't mean I didn't like him otherwise, but frankly, he was treating his wife like crap, and I told him so.

Anyway. Point being, that I still have a really damn happy marriage. I've been with the Man to Die For for 22 years. We're about to celebrate another dating anniversary this weekend (yes, we celebrate that as much as we celebrate our wedding anniversary). And we still love and respect and are devoted to each other as much as, if not more than, we were all those years ago.

But I feel survivor's guilt. And that pisses me off. Some of my friends avoid me. Some of them don't look me in the eye anymore. Some of them feel we don't have as much in common. As if all the things that we gossiped and laughed about, and enjoyed together (which frankly, hardly ever included hubbies anyway) somehow aren't relevant anymore. Some of them won't return my calls. This gives me survivor's guilt.

I've been incredibly blessed with an amazing life partner. I'm the first to admit it. But I'm also not a coldhearted bitch. I'm not going to rub someone's nose in my happiness while their life is not so happy. But, at the same time, should I feel like I can't express my happiness in my life to my friends? Because friendship does go both ways, doesn't it? My survivor's guilt is turning into survivor's anger. Will I pass through all of Kübler-Ross' stages before I'm through?

Bottom line is, I miss my friends. I miss joking around; I miss emailing back and forth, and IMing. I miss going out to lunch (on the rare occasions when I actually take a lunch). I miss hanging out. But most of all, I miss that feeling of acceptance, and I feel like I've been tried, judged and convicted all without my knowledge. Convicted of a happy marriage and being unable to sympathize? Empathize? Relate? True, I can't understand everything my friends are going through, but I certainly can lend support in their hard times. I can lend an ear to listen, a shoulder to cry on, a nod of agreement when they just want to bitch out the asshole. Cause that's what friends are for.

The dumbass man to die for is famous!!!

(note the update at the bottom)

Some of you have asked when Bob's new album will be released, so I thought I'd let you know that it's available on iTunes! If you've got an iPod (or a new iPhone, damn you!), you can now get Bob's new CD there! Search for Mary Carves the Chicken - the CD is titled Love and Respect.

Holy cow - my man to die for is so cool! Way neat early birthday present for him. Or as he would say... Woot!

UPDATE: For those of you who complained to me that you don't have an iPod, the CD is now also available for download for non-iPod mp3 users at Napster, Rhapsody, MusicNet, eMusic, or Sony Connect.

The man to die for’s dumbass move, or Why married men should never be allowed to do things for themselves

So we went to Pebble Beach for Bob's grandmother's 95th birthday. As the mom, we all know it's my responsibility to buy the cards for every birthday, anniversary, etc for any one that we want to be acknowledged with a card, right? I see you all nodding out there. OK. So I've bought the cards. And, I handed out said cards to various male people in my house to be signed. Steve signed his card. No problem.

Here's the dumbass move. First, a question. How long have Bob & I been signing joint cards? Give up? (Bob apparently didn’t know the answer either). 22 years. I'll spell it out for any dumbass husbands out there. Twenty-two years. It goes like this. When a card gets signed for his family, he does the writing. When it's for my family member, I do the writing. Either way, both our names get signed. This is not rocket science. It's worked this way for 22 years. Well, Grammy opens her cards, and there's one from Steve, and one from Bob. None from Lori. Huh? Dumbass husband didn't know he was supposed to sign my name because he saw me with 2 cards. He assumed the other one was from me.

Ever since Jeff was born, every grandparent or great-grandparent has gotten 2 cards – one from us, and one from the grandkids. I repeat – not rocket science. What makes this birthday any different? Oh, I know. I didn’t specifically tell him – "Sign it from both of us." Silly me. Dumbass husband.

P.S. I offer up my heartfelt thanks to That 70's Show and specifically to Red Forman for the fantastic introduction of dumbass into my vocabulary.

8 Things About Me, According to Bob

Hi all, I know I've been totally MIA, but I just saw that I got tagged by Holly, so I talked Bob into doing this. His question... "Are there any restrictions?" Nope, I said. Gulp. (Not unless he wants to get lucky tonight (hehehehe).

So, here are the rules:
A. Each player gets a loved one to list 8 facts/habits about the player from the loved one's point of view.
B. The rules of the game are posted at the beginning before those facts/habits are listed.
C. At the end of the post, the player then tags 8 people and posts their names, then goes to their blogs and leaves them a comment, letting them know that they have been tagged and asking them to read your blog. (I think everyone's already been tagged, so if you haven't already done it, consider yourself tagged!)

One other thing. I promise I'll return with a post about what's been going on in my life. I miss you all, too :) Without further ado, here's my hubby...

1. Lori's second toe is longer than her big toe, on both feet.

2. She knows every word to every song written in the '70's, especially the obscure, one-hit wonder ballads, and anything by Barry Manilow.

3. She can hear a phone number once and remember it for ten to twenty years, but sometimes forgets her PIN code at the grocery store (really, she's called me from the checkstand).

4. Her high school nickname was 7-Up. Never had it, never will (boy did she prove them wrong on that one!).

5. When I met Lori, she was deaf in one ear and legally blind. She had the classic "Coke-bottle" glasses (when she wasn't wearing contacts). Her vision was so bad that when my college roommate took her glasses and put them on, she stood a foot away from him demanding "Where are my glasses?!" Thanks to laser eye surgery for her, and years of loud rock music for me, she can now see and hear better than I can.

6. When we were in college, I could make her laugh by just saying the word "nipples." That doesn't work anymore.

7. She has birthed and raised (with a little help from me) two of the most beautiful, talented, and intelligent children the world has ever seen. She is sometimes critical or doubtful about her parenting, but she is an amazing mom.

8. I often tell Lori she is "The best wife ever" and I always mean it. She tells me and shows me how much she loves me several times a day. She celebrates my triumphs and comforts me through hard times. She listens to me. Unlike many married people, we still have an active, exciting sex life (while my male friends complain about how infrequent sex is with their wives). As a musician, I am often away from home. As a wife, she knows how important music is to me, and knows that it makes me a happier man and a better husband and father. Needless to say, all my friends are jealous, and the single ones often say, "I want what you guys have." She is the best wife ever.

BOB

WOOT! and the art of Colloquialisms

So I'll begin this by saying that I love my hubby. I do. He cracks me up. This one was too funny not to share. First a little background. One of the benefits of my company is that after a certain number of years, they give you a free trip to London (where we have an office, so they write the whole thing off as long as you "visit" the London office for half a day to say hi to your colleagues).

So in August, Bob and I are going to the UK for a quick 10 day vacation. Then I found out that I have to go back to the UK at the end of August for work. My boss, being the cost conscious person she is, wasn't sure if the second trip was going to happen (it wasn't in the original budget - and if it's not in the budget, usually it doesn't happen). So... now the email exchange with hubby that started it all, then the rest of the evening so far...

From: Me
To: Bob
Subject: FW: London meeting

OK, I'm cleared for both the anniversary trip and the London
meeting. Woot!

From: Bob
To: Me
Subject: Re: London meeting

Woot?
BOB

From: Me
To: Anne, Jen
Subject: FW: London meeting

Had to share this. I was laughing my butt off. Love my hubby. He's so clueless. I was explaining to him that I'll be heading off to London twice in August.

From: Anne
To: Me
Cc: Jen
Subject: Re: FW: London meeting

LMAO! Men are so totally clueless. That is
PRICELESS. I can just see it...
Woot? huh?
*scratching head*
WTF does that mean?
Long pause.
Woot? shorter pause.
Woot. It's starting to click now.
Woot. Ooooooh. Woot! = woo hoo only different.
Got it.
Ding, ding, ding! We have a winner! LOL

From: Me
To: Anne, Jen
Subject: Re: London meeting

Nope. Bob said it was a 1 step process. "WTF is that?" That was all.
LMAO.

So I get home. I share with hubby that I have made fun of him with my good friends Anne and Jen. All he says is "Woot!" Every fricken word out of his mouth is now Woot. I swear I was rolling. He sounds like an owl. Out of the blue... "Woot!" "Woot!"



Then came the best part. Trying to use it in a sentence. "Hey baby, wanna see my Woot?"

At dinner... "Dinner was really good. Steve, let's give 3 cheers for your mother. Hip, hip, WOOT!"

Says Steve, "Huh?"

Says Bob, "I'm Wooting for your Mom."

OK, see Bob is on vacation this week. That usually means lots of sex. Cause he's not tired. I, on the other hand, am NOT on vacation. But I'm usually up for lots of sex anyway. Last night, apparently, he tried to get it on, but I was just not into his... WOOT.

Random thoughts on love and marriage

A few posts by my fellow bloggers have made me think about my love life, and other friends and acquaintances have asked Bob & me how we keep such a good thing going. So I started thinking...

We truly, honestly like each other. I think Bob is one of the nicest people I have ever met. And funny? Don't get me started. He totally cracks me up. Our senses of humor totally mesh. One of his friends told him if it wasn't for sarcasm, Bob would be mute. Ummm, sarcasm, anyone?

I love the way that we think completely in sync with each other. We literally finish each other's thoughts. Constantly. Perfect example. Last night we were at temple for my nephew's confirmation. We were looking for a parking place in the lot, which was packed. Steve asks, "What are you doing?" At the same time, we both say, "Trolling for a parking spot." Bob looks at me, eyebrows raised. How many people would say trolling? Looking for a spot, yes. Trolling? And this happens to us all the time.

I quite simply adore my husband. I think he's sexy as all get out. He has the most amazing laugh lines around his gorgeous blue eyes, not to mention his great butt :) We have rockin' sex, still, after all these years. (He does give EC a big thank you salute, BTW *g*). But I think the key to it all is 4 simple words. Love. Compromise. Respect. Laughter. We always respect each other's opinions. Even when we disagree, we always respect the other's right to have their dissenting opinion (even if I'm always right, we've been together long enough for him to have perfected the "yes, dear" phrase *g*). And when we do disagree, we compromise - who is the issue truly important to? 9 times out of 10, that question clears up any doubts we may have about which way to go. And we laugh. A lot. At each other, at our kids, at ourselves, at life in general.

If I'm selfish today, I can't be selfish tomorrow. Selfishness has to be the exception, not the rule. As the exception, it is understood, and accepted. "Bad day" and all that. As the rule, you are simply selfish. Selfishness has no place in a relationship. The relationship has to be open and only have room to expand - to take in each other, your children, your friends, your family. You have to give each other the freedom to be who you are. Bob is a musician. If he wasn't in a band playing his guitar and singing, he would wither away. It's not only my duty as his wife and partner, it's my pleasure to support him in that. Even if it means that he spends 2 nights a week away from us. It's what makes him happy and whole. Without it, he'd be unhappy, resentful and not the man I fell in love with. He, in turn, doesn't bat an eye when I ask him to skip a practice - I'd only do so if it was important. If I want "alone time", or want to go away to meet friends for a weekend, he's right there encouraging me.

I can't remember a night in 22 years that we haven't gone to sleep without saying "I love you." And I don't say it in the "take you for granted" way either. I really mean it when I say it. We had our anniversary earlier this week. My mom asked me what I got. Nothing. We don't do gifts. We spent the evening together. That's our gift to each other. (She couldn't fathom that, btw).

Our kids have never heard us fight. Ever. Not because we do it in secret - we just don't fight. Not even over money. Not even during PMS. This man to die for recognizes PMS at its earliest signs and tells me to leave the house and go buy a book. How can you not love him? (even if he really just wants me to leave LOL). I think our last fight was in 1986, when we broke up for a whole day. {{{shudder}}} that was horrid!

So where is this all leading? Well, beats me. But for our friends who say to us "I want what you have", my first instinct is always to say you can - you just have to be willing to work at it. But then I realize how precious and rare my love and marriage is, and I pause. If you have that special someone, you definitely can. But it takes courage and commitment. Love. Respect. Compromise. Laughter.

Edited to add Bob's thoughts: First, he came to bed crying last night because he read this before he came in to bed. The only thing he had to add was one other word to my 4. Patience. He cracked a joke that no other woman would have waited 8 years for a marriage proposal. But seriously, only one of us is allowed to lose it at a time. It's tacitly agreed. And we agreed on one other thing. All these things work together, and make for a happy marriage that works, but they only equal true bliss if you are with your soulmate. We feel truly blessed.

Wedding memories just for Holly

Holly is doing a survey of married ladies about their wedding experiences, so here's my $.02.

How did he propose? Or did he at all?
We'd been dating/living together since 1985. On our anniversary Nov 4, 1993, we were at Gladstones celebrating when Bob just looked at me across the table and said "We should get married." No pretty proposals, no bended knee. But that's just Bob. Of course, you always think of the good comebacks after the fact ("I don't know, this is so sudden", or something like that would have been perfect), but all I could do was cry and say, "uhhhh, yeah, we should." He, of course, was crying, too.

How long were you together before he did?
8 years. He claims he waited so long so that the parents wouldn't care that I'm Jewish and he's Catholic. All they would care about is that we would just get married already. Which was true, LOL. (Actually, he just wasn't ready). All the years (and years and years) my mom told me to give him an ultimatum (shit or get off the pot) and I said nope, I'm perfectly happy. I finally asked Bob what he would have done if I'd given him an ultimatum years earlier. "I'd have married you." Fuck-a-duck.

When did you get married (Time of year, date, time of day, etc)?
May 21, 1994. 7:30 pm (had to be after sunset since it was a Saturday and we had to wait until Shabbat was over). Since the ceremony was so late, we called it for 6:15 and offered hors d'oevres before the ceremony (sans the bride and groom), then went directly into dinner after the ceremony. It worked out great.

Was it big or small? Did you regret doing it one way or the other (i.e. if it was small and intimate, do you regret not having a larger celebration?)?
I'd say it was the perfect size. We had about 125 people. Around 175 were invited, I think.

Where did you register? What's the best gift you received?
I think we registered at... Broadway? (anyone remember that store?). The best gift we got was from Page, Bob's partner in MCTC. Unbeknownst to us, he gathered and saved the glass and napkin it was wrapped in from the ceremony and bought a really cool tabletop trunk to hold it. (At the end of a Jewish wedding, the groom breaks a glass - explanations at the end... see below) He gave it to us about a few weeks after the ceremony. It sits on the end table in my living room. Every time I look at it, I remember our wedding and the laughter and fun we had. Especially when the rabbi, who was really nervous because he had known me since I was 7 and was a family friend as well, asked Bob if he took me to be his husband and Bob said, "Uh, no." We all got a huge chuckle.

Who was your Maid of Honor? Do you still have contact with her?
My sister (aka The Bitch). We used to have a much better relationship than we do now.

What were your colors?
Royal blue, black and white.

Any tips for cutting corners you can offer?
Putting disposable cameras on the tables and having your guests take pictures is always a good idea. I also went to a bar mitzvah where the mother bought all her flowers at Costco and did the centerpieces herself along with a friend. Loads of work, but they were positively gorgeous. Otherwise, I'm clueless. I was fortunate enough to be able to spend until my folks said "enough - stop".

I will say that I sympathize, though, because I'm in the process of paying for a bar-mitzvah right now, which is about as expensve as a wedding. Thankfully the guests of honor are 13, so aren't quite as snooty as some wedding guests might be. Phew! I think we're looking at about 13 grand for 125 people. For a luncheon. We were going to have an evening party but it was too damned expensive. By the time you add up the DJ, the photographer, the videographer, the food, the alcohol (you don't hold a Jewish affair without loads of booze!), the room, etc... it's un-fricken-believable! Sheesh!

Any advice for the bride-to-be?
~Sounds trite, and so easy to say when it's not you getting married, but try to relax and enjoy it. Laugh. A lot.
~And remember what's important. The marriage, not the wedding. Hopefully that'll be easier for you to do the 2nd time around :)
~Only have a flower girl if you don't mind giving up the spotlight to the "awwwws". I know some women who were totally pissed off at sharing the limelight with their adorable 5 year old nieces. I think it's silly, but it's a good thing to know about yourself going in.
~We did our pictures before the wedding, instead of after. That way we were able to enjoy the party without having to do the "formal" pics.
~I've been to too many weddings to count, and here's the one thing I hate more than anything. Paying for alcohol. No offense to anyone out there who has done this - just my own thing. If all you can afford to offer to your guests is beer and wine, just serve beer and wine. If all you can afford to offer is the toast, just offer up the toast. But I abhor having to pay for my drinks at a wedding. I think it's just because Jews don't do that, and I'd only been to Jewish weddings until I was about 25. I was shocked the first time I had to pay for a drink. I've actually been to a wedding where they made the bride pay for her alcohol. She had to go looking for someone to buy her a drink. {{{shudder}}}

Gratuitous religious educational information.........
Why do we break the glass at the end of a Jewish wedding ceremony? There are several explanations, here are a few...
Breaking the glass reminds us that although this wedding has provided joy, the world is still in turmoil, and requires our care and love. Its breaking is not only a reminder of sorrow, but also an expression of hope for a future free from all violence.
Fragility of the glass also suggests the fragility of human relationships. The glass, then, is broken to protect the marriage with an implied prayer, "As this glass shatters, so may your marriage never break".
The tradition of the breaking of the glass is a symbolic prayer and hope that the love for one another will remain until the pieces of the glass come together again. It is also a reminder that in the midst of all the rejoicing we should be mindful of all the pain and suffering that exist elsewhere in the world.
Also, we should be mindful of the needless barriers that people erect between one another, and try to think with the breaking of the glass, of breaking down those barriers and helping to build a world of respect, unity and peace.
Others explain that this is the last time the groom gets to put his foot down. hehe. Love this one!
My rabbi explained it was also just a sign of relief!

So, Holls, hope that helps :)