The PT actually scolded me a little at the last appointment, telling me to grab some “me time.” Well, ordinarily, that’s my run, but my knee is still grouchy. Had an MRI that showed just a little superficial swelling, and they said I could run “as tolerated,” but since I know I could easily “tolerate” myself into a major injury, I’m still being stingy with the mileage. Makes me grumpy to look at running logs of other JFK participants and see how quickly they bounced back.

At least I’m mostly done holiday shopping,  except for a couple of things…including for Eric. Is it me, or does shopping for a spouse gift get harder every year?

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But that was grace from above for other reasons. Gabe spent all of last night, from about nine o’clock on, in agony from a raging ear infection. I gave him pain killers, which gave him periods of slight relief during which he slept fitfully, but when they’d wear off, he’d wail and gnash his teeth again. We kept him in our bed, so as to avoid disturbing Sam too much, which meant that his every thrash met my body with a solid thump. Eric took him to Urgent Care this morning and got him some antibiotics…along with a set of his own, earned when, while trying to reassure Gabe about the pulse-ox monitor, he and the nurse discovered that he was a few breaths away from a horrid case of walking pneumonia. Now they’re both in bed, languishing. My heart breaks for them (and my head whispers that I might want to wear a mask for a while…); they look miserable.

Related to nothing, I got a pair of Stabilyx tights – a gift from Eric for my birthday – and wore them for the first time today. It was an experience just getting them on the first time. “Put the X around your knee,” the instructions said, and there I was, huffing and puffing to get it to my…ankle. Wow. After much exertion, they seemed to fit all right, and I’m not all that sore post-run, but I don’t know how sore I was expecting to be, anyway; time will tell if they’re truly the magic so many people claim they are!

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Fourteen years today since the day we said “I do” to each other. The fourteenth wedding anniversary is traditionally the “ivory” year, though we’re forgoing that (or any other material gift, opting instead to spend the afternoon together while the kids are in school). I laughed at the website that suggested that couples could take a trip to Africa to admire elephants. That’s not exactly in the cards for us right now, though maybe someday it could be fun.

The modern anniversary calendar proclaims this year to be the year of “gold.” Ah, impatience. Is it that so few couples stand a chance at making it to fifty years, the real Golden Anniversary, together, or is it just that nobody feels like they can wait that long? I don’t like the modern calendar; it feels like it’s trying to hurry things that shouldn’t be hurried, rushing to get to the end of what’s meant to be savored. Gold is for fifty years, and it should take a while to get there. That’s the point.

I’ve been with my husband for fourteen years, and while that is a very long time, it’s simultaneously just the beginning of a journey. He sighs dramatically when I relate it to running, but this is just past the half-marathon mark…and we’re running an ultra. Still so much to see, to learn, to experience together. Those elephants are waiting, and there’s no pressure to get there tomorrow. What might we miss today if we felt like that?

It’s raining today, just like it was then. Rain on your wedding day is good luck, they say. I think luck is overrated, but there’s much to be said for standing in the rain (real or metaphorical) with your partner. Call it luck, or call it love. Just be together.

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But I’ll live. ::sniffle::

By the way, that’s the teddy bear, in the picture, that the boys sent along with Eric on his trip. The photos are all tooth-achingly precious, especially where the folks Eric met decided to get involved. Nothing like seeing your teddy bear perched between a couple of grinning German hotel desk clerks to make a kid howl with laughter. Gabe actually laughed hardest at the photos showing Miles the Bear enjoying his meals, I think. Can’t wait to see the hijinks a stuffed animal can enjoy in Orlando.

Twenty days until marathon day!

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For Valentine’s Day, I got Eric a carry-on suitcase, since he travels so much for work and his current carry-on bag has a busted zipped. This one rolls and is much nicer. He asked me whether I wanted him to get me a gift, and I told him no. This dinner, the one he was planning and for which he was not giving me any tempting details, was going to be more than enough of a gift. I was very, very right.

I had mentioned in passing to him that a blogger I follow had very concisely described the vegetarian approach to meal planning as being “a bean, a green, and a grain.” Eric took that and ran with it. Now, he’s not a vegetarian, but he planned four lovely vegetarian courses (the garlicky lentil soup was actually vegan) that left us both feeling perfectly satisfied in both belly and mouth. This beats flowers or boxed chocolates any day of the week, in my book! (I actually want to get him to write down the recipe for the soup, which, like most of the meal, he developed himself; it would be a perfect carbing-up meal for the days before a race).

Running is going adequately. My foot is fine; my groin is mostly recovered. I suppose all things work as they ought to, since I wouldn’t have had time for a long long run this weekend, anyway; Sam’s Scouting pack has “Mike Fink’s Winter Challenge” this weekend, which will involve spending a very long day out in the snow, playing games and such. It’s warmer this week and supposed to rain between then and now, so there’s a good chance the day will be spent in icy slush instead of snow, but I guess that’s what boots are for!

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That was many churches ago. Now we attend a Methodist church, and there’s no book juggling or even robes. I miss that part a little sometimes, but the part I love remains: making music in worship, and especially getting to do so with my husband. I have to admit to silliness between us on occasion, but it’s in good fun. Something about coming together in music brings us back to the goofiness of college, and suddenly we’re picking apart bass lines, critiquing voice leading, or making guesses about the arrangers’ backgrounds. (“That’s no Gmaj9!” I heard him mutter behind me tonight. “And would a French augmented sixth kill anybody?”)

We’re working on a Christmas cantata right now. The bug may have bitten us to offer instrumental arranging work for the next cantata on the schedule; eventually, it seems, all things come full circle. Who knows what comes next? Thank you, Dr. Beall, for this, too. In your studio, I gained so much more than just an undergraduate degree. (And my husband. )

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But the kids had early dismissal, and maybe it was dealing with their excited bickering that eroded my energy. By the time I was delivering boxes to UPS, I could hardly muster the strength to plop the stack on the counter.

Long run tomorrow morning. It’s a sign of Runner’s Mania, likely, that I’m sort of counting on it to give more than it taketh away.

I did spend a little time with Eric tonight, talking through some of my race plans for the coming year. That’s a work-in-progress; tune in for more details later. Let it suffice to say that though he’s supportive and encouraging, my husband thinks I’m loony. It’s okay. He loves me anyway.

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That stinker got the jump on me with gifts, giving me mine last night before we went out together. He got me this dress:

…which is very cute and pretty and makes me feel all feminine. On the other hand, he also said that he chose this style because of my shoulders and back, and how I needed to show them off.

Perhaps a little less feminine. Well, in the old-fashioned sense, perhaps. Girls can be muscled! It’s just been a while since I looked at my back. Some views, others get to appreciate more than we ourselves do. I hadn’t noticed this development until now. Hmm.

Eric’s gift is being given to him on our anniversary, as I planned. He’ll have to wait until he gets home! We weren’t able to go out tonight, as Sam has a Pack meeting for Scouts, but that’s worth the inconvenience. If I’m not entirely mistaken (and I could well be; these things confuse me a lot), I think Sam advances rank tonight? If not, it’ll still be fun. Oh, and my folks got us a fruit arrangement! Can’t wait to dig into that! (But I will, of course. Eric, hurry home! )

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Myself, I don’t eat nearly as much meat as I once did. In fact, I’ve unconsciously moved to a place where I usually eat only a small portion of it, once a day, if even that often. Eric eats more; his meals at work often have meat, and his favorite splurges are meat – wings, for example. I proposed to him that he cut back to once a day, and he suggested going to once a week. Okay, I can work with that.

Today he forgot and accidentally had some grilled chicken at lunch, but dinner was meatless. I roasted cauliflower, made fresh guacamole, and curried some beans, peppers, and onion (which somehow turned out drastically WRONG until Eric got home and saved it with a few alterations). It was a satisfying meal; it even worked out okay for the boys, who ate the cauliflower and quickly-assembled quesadillas. Now Eric’s at the gym, which also seems to provide an immediate blood sugar lowering effect. I don’t know what he’ll do tomorrow; Tuesdays, he plays Scrabble at a bar with friends, eating wings for dinner there. I don’t think there’s an extensive vegetarian-friendly menu, unfortunately. I forgot to ask him about that.

Anyway, it’s not a huge change for the family, in most regards, but it’ll be something to consider. Thank goodness the Farmers’ Markets will be opening up again soon!

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Apparently, third grade is the year where we’re going to transition into Big Kid work, or at least what I consider to be such. Not only are we regularly writing in cursive (without being officially taught! I guess there was something to that whole D’Nealian thing, after all!) and doing what can only be described as pre-algebra, but he’s now been assigned a six-page research paper, complete with required illustrations and a table of contents. I don’t remember doing that until fifth grade; I guess we were just coddled back then.

It’s to be about a subject relating to our town. Initially, Sam wanted to talk about the old cars once made here, but I wasn’t sure how the research on that would go. (Can’t imagine much is written at his level, uncoddled or no.) I spied a reference on the project sheet to a suggested topic about a “community concern.” Well, I’ve got a friend whose middle names might as well be Community Concern, and one of her pet projects seemed like it might fit the bill to a T. I proposed it to him, and he liked it, so we’re attending the meeting tomorrow night, and he has a list of interview questions written out for the organizers. This ought to be funny; he’s still a slow writer, if an improving one, and I don’t know how well he’ll handle scribbling down the responses. Might have to record them somehow instead. I don’t want to suggest having him email them to her, since it would be very easy for him to slip into copying her answers word-for-word into his paper if they were already written for him.

Sheesh, he’s eight. I can handle seeing him ride off down the street on his bike, and I can handle the new “frequently stinky” phase that’s mandating evening showers (somebody lie to me and tell me puberty is a VERY VERY long time away and this means nothing), but for some reason, helping him with this part is driving home the idea that he’s only a handful of years away from high school. I’m OLD. So very old!

But at least I’m not now undeniably in the second half of my thirties, like some folks to whom I might happen to be married. Today is Eric’s birthday. Give him some love!

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Four more weeks.

Because he is sweet, Eric ordered me a pair of Optic Nerve photomatic sunglasses. I’m not even the member of this family whose birthday is next week…but he’ll have to wait until then to see what we got him. (Not that he hasn’t been trying to guess, but he wouldn’t be Eric if he did anything else! )

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Sometimes I can’t fathom why Eric wants to be around me, let alone love me, but he does, always. I’ve joked that there’s no accounting for tastes, but he pushes that aside as soon as it leaves my mouth. He found me lovely, and even sexy, when I was at my heaviest and most slug-like; he, the smartest man I’ve ever known, claims to feel humbled by the mind that I sometimes wish I could grab with two hands and shake until it yields me even the basics of what I want from it. He works so darn hard to support this family, and even last night was saying that he ought to start going in to work at 6:30 in the morning – an hour earlier than he has been – without a trace of annoyance or reluctance beyond the consideration of how it might affect my running plans.

Sure, he has his flaws, wrapped up in that pesky state of being human, but as far as humans go, I know I’m wedded to one of the better ones. More openly, I’m married to the best one for me. Am I the best one for him? That’s where my insecurities occasionally fall, when they do, but his words of reassurance, his gestures of love, and the admiration and sincerity in his eyes carry me past those moments. A few days ago, he told me to write him a book, as though it was the easiest thing in the world, and even while I giggled, he made it clear that he believed that for me, it would be just that simple.

I don’t know what’s got me so maudlin today. I’m not feeling all that well, with a sore throat and a neck that feels stiff and achy, so maybe my enforced idleness, so as not to disturb thing, has me a bit more contemplative than usual. Maybe it was just the extra hug I stole in the bathroom this morning. Maybe it’s anticipation of our date tomorrow night, or maybe it was just the glimpse of him I caught earlier, lying on our bed in the middle of getting ready, with the breeze and early sunlight from the window playing over his face and making a pretty picture for me to carry through the day. Who knows what’s pushing my brain in the direction it goes at any given moment? But here I am, on no day of any importance at all, and it feels like a celebration.

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I was worried about disappointing my parents, too. I called Dad yesterday to explain and sort of apologize about not bringing the grandkids with me. He reassured me that I rank right up there with them. So they’ll be picking me up at the airport, taking me to my hotel, and then probably staying there with me (I had to reserve a double bed room at minimum, so it’s not like I don’t have the space!) the night before and after the marathon. That will be nice and convenient, and it’ll be reassuring for me to have them there. As much as, when it comes down to it, the actual event is all on my own shoulders, having people I know and love there to cheer me on is a hugely motivating factor.

And then I Twittered about it, and I got reminded that there are plenty of people I’ve come to know online who will also be there and who will be happy to root for me. Okay, so a few of them will also be running, and probably doing it a heck of a lot faster than me, but I’m not opposed to a two-way cheering system; I can support them while they support me!

As time gets closer, I’ll try to assemble some more details about potential meeting spots and times. It may not be a family trip, but I’ll make it work for what it will be: my first trip away from my kids ever, some time with my folks, a chance to meet up with some people I’ve been eager to meet face-to-face (some of them for years!), and…oh, yeah, that marathon thing.

Eric’s back at work today, though he was feeling sort of wiped out by the time he was showered and dressed to go. Other than that, though, he seems to have recovered (the fever that was the worst part has finally subsided), so he figured he’d give it a shot. Likely, the exhaustion is due in part to having eaten barely anything over the past few days. Now, the incubation period for these things lasts for about two days maximum, so if we can get through to Thursday, I’ll consider us mostly in the clear!

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I didn’t even try to surprise Eric, since I usually fail at it. Sam mentioned the idea of getting him a new mixer, and I decided to explore that. A little searching led to a sale on refurbished mixers with higher wattage, and after checking with Eric to make sure it would be exactly what would serve him best, I leapt on one, even scoring a coupon for free shipping (on a very heavy package!).

That’s the old one on the left. It still works, for the most part (though a bit roughly and loudly), so we’re searching for a good home for it. The new one has yet to be christened – got to find just the right idea to start. The first mixer made her maiden voyage with Eric’s Chinese dumplings, so maybe we could do a repeat performance of that.

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So! What should I make for her?
Note: There is a poll embedded within this post, please visit the site to participate in this post's poll.

Please feel free to elaborate (what kind of cookies/cake/muffins/bread/whatever?) in the comments!

We’re going to take the train into Chicago and walk around, just hanging out together.

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I heard about the book through MOPS, and I ran across it at the bookstore and decided to get it. I’m not sure it’s supposed to be done simultaneously by both members of a couple, but so far, it’s working for us. We eat, and then I read each little chapter out loud (since I usually finish eating before he does). Each topic is followed by a “dare,” which is really just an exercise in putting the topic into practice that day. We’re only on day ten (there are forty in all), but the exercises have been pretty simple through now. Today’s confused both of us a little, though:

Do something out of the ordinary today for your spouse—something that proves (to you and to them) that your love is based on your choice and nothing else. Wash her car. Clean the kitchen. Buy his favorite dessert. Fold the laundry. Demonstrate love to them for the sheer joy of being their partner in marriage.

It’s the “out of the ordinary” part that’s throwing us. We do things like the ones mentioned on a regular basis, and it’s difficult to think of something that would be atypical for this. The chapter specifically called out the topic as being about agape love, not eros (sexual) or philea (friendship), so that rules out some of the ideas we initially brainstormed together. So I’m still pondering, and it’s only 10:30, so I guess I still have time to come up with something. He’s out with friends for their weekly Scrabble night tonight, so whatever I do will need to be worked around that. I may have a few ideas brewing…

(For the record, if you didn’t follow the link, the book is a Christianity-based one. If that’s not your cup of tea, you’ll probably want to know that before buying it.)

Still tapering. (Duh.) Here’s a fun issue: I’ve gotten so used to eating to fuel those big mileage weeks that it’s hard to stop now that I don’t really need to eat quite so much. I’m not hungry, per se; I’m just used to the feeling of being famished and then eating the appropriate amounts to satisfy that. Add to that the Easter candy around here, and…yeah. My stomach isn’t happy right now, with the excess sugar I’ve given it just sitting there, not being burned off. It’s a yucky feeling, and it makes me jittery. I need carbs, sure, but Cadbury eggs are probably not the way to go right now.

So I made awesome oatmeal pancakes this morning, as a way of stepping down gently from Mount Sucrose. Hidden wheat germ, for the win! And I need to work extra hard to make sure I’m getting all my water; I’ve been a bit slack on that the past few days.

Eighteen more days!

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We now enter a second solid week of Sam dressing to the nines for school. Today it was a black dress shirt and tie. This girl must be exceptional (though now he’s suggesting that there may be a second girl catching his attention, the little player). Of course, the alternative is that he’s enjoying the attention he gets from adults in the school for looking like this, or that he’s relishing the role of “boy interested in girl.” He tried to insinuate that I was proud of him because he “finally found a girl to like!” but I shut that down in a hurry. Good grief, Mister Seven Years Old. On Friday, he went with his dress shirt open at the neck, with a hematite cross pendant around his neck; he looked like a member of a church praise band. I’d take a picture, but I don’t know how much I care to encourage this. On the other hand, he did choose to dress like a complete slob all weekend long…

Eric has taken to heading to the gym on a regular basis! He’s going in the evenings, which works nicely with my morning running preference. He’s actually doing a walk-run thing on the treadmill, and he’s musing about possibly eventually working up to being able to do 5Ks. It’s a struggle, now, not to want to talk about running ALL THE TIME with him, which would be a complete turn-off for him…but, like I said, it’s hard not to. He does need new shoes, fitted properly, so that lines up nicely with my desire to get up to one of the big running stores soon and check out fuel and hydration systems for the marathon. My Crush Fuel Belt isn’t going to do it, I think I’ve decided. Just too much of a pain to get the bottle in and out; once, this past run, when I tried, I managed to accidentally rip the whole belt off my waist. Suggestions for an alternative, and one that hopefully carries more than a single packet of something besides the bottles? (I hate gels, so need to carry Beans, Blox, etc.)

Been running a smidge earlier in the morning than I have to, so that I have time to sit and eat breakfast with Eric in the morning before he heads to work. (Meaning that he, too, is rising before he had been, so he’s not rushing and eating a few bites while standing over the kitchen counter.) It’s nice – so much more satisfying than an extra 15-30 minutes of sleep time would be.

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How about a recipe?

Basmati and Wild Rice w/Asparagus

• 1/2 cup wild rice, cooked (I use a pressure cooker for this)
• 1 cup basmati rice, cooked (you may substitute any cooked rice: long-grain, brown, etc. I wouldn’t use a short-grain rice, though.)
• 1 bundle asparagus (my store sells them in bundles. YMMV)
• 2 tblsp butter
• 1 tsp olive oil
• 1/2 yellow onion, sliced
• 1 clove garlic, minced
• juice of 1/2 lemon
• lemon zest
• Salt & pepper to taste

1. Trim the asparagus and blanch it, either by steaming for five minutes or immersing it in boiling water for approx. 1 minute. After blanching, rinse with cool water to stop the cooking process.
2. Melt the butter in a large skillet or sauté. Add the garlic, olive oil, sliced onion, and a pinch of salt and sweat for five minutes, or until the onion is translucent.
3. Increase the heat to medium-high and add the asparagus. Cook for five minutes, stirring frequently.
4. Reduce the heat to medium-low. Add the lemon juice and cooked rices and heat through. Season to taste with salt & pepper.
5. Remove from heat. Stir in the lemon zest. You may optionally add a little olive oil and chopped fresh parsley, too.

So, enjoy. Here’s a not-so-good picture of it, in this case topped with oven-baked Neapolitan meatballs. Oven-baked (in a mini-muffin pan, so they won’t burn) since the boys hate tomato sauce.

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Can you guess what the boys are giving him? Handmade gifts are the best, especially when the givers are so very, very proud and excited about what they’ve made.

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Eric wants to ride his bike to work, but today turned out to be a bad day to try for it; it’s supposed to rain all afternoon. Maybe he’ll eventually turn out to be a diehard who cycles in all weather conditions, but right now it would work against his goal to just enjoy riding. Still, he’s really eager to get back on; yesterday afternoon, he went on his longest recent ride to date, and he wasn’t very sore at all this morning. How cool will it be when we can go on long family rides together? Maybe take a picnic and really enjoy the day?

And in completely unrelated news, Gabe has decided that he wants to be a “white bunny” for Halloween. This is a 180-degree switch from his previously held position, in which he was determined to be something scary, or at least (as in the case of his policeman costume from last year) “scary to the monsters.” He wants “a bunny tail, ears that stick up, real whiskers with string, and pink on my feet bottoms.”

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He went there this afternoon. When he returned, I glanced through the upstairs window at the bike rack and said to myself, “Oh, he got a new seat.” Then I came downstairs and got a good look.

Its name is Walter.

Apparently, just about everything about Eric’s old bike was wrong for him – the fit, the style (for what he wanted to do), all of it. This new bike is a “comfort bike,” which is so perfect for what he has in mind. Eric just wants to enjoy riding. He wants to go on short rides, slowly building but not focusing on heavy “training,” and perhaps commute to work. The riding position is upright, as he strongly prefers, and the seat is very wide and very soft. Walter is the squishy armchair of bicycles. The color is “root beer,” which is just the icing on the cake.

Sam, who has always been a “root for the home team” kind of guy, adores the fact that we all now ride Treks. He’d never given his own little bike a name, but now he thinks he’ll call his “Speeder.” Now, if we can just get Gabe to learn to pedal, we’ll be all set!

I’m so happy that Eric did this for himself, truly. He has trouble taking care of himself often, so seeing him get his own nice bike warms my heart.

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Eric is an awesome, awesome husband, and he has done his best to make today’s prep better. He turned my white bread into nearly fat-free croutons, cooked my clear broth with vegetables (strained out) and seasonings to make it yummy, and baked me some flounder with spices so that it was delicious. My stomach still feels crazy-empty, but he worked mightily to save me from mouth boredom. It’s been a very long day, though; tomorrow will be longer. And I feel so much better than I did even a couple of days ago, so I know in my heart of hearts that this test is freaking pointless.

I added a run tracker to the sidebar. We’ll see if it’s user-friendly enough for me to maintain it or not. I’m not retroactively adding runs, that’s for darn sure.

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In other news, in two days, I’ll have been married for eleven years. That’s a heck of a long time, no? Eric’s trying to throw wrenches into things by idly mentioning that he still needs to pick up a gift for me, and then in the next breath telling me not to get him anything. What sort of equality is that? I mean, not that I was coming up with many good ideas, anyway, but still! I enjoy giving even more that getting presents, especially when I know that I’ve hit on something good…and I probably could have done that…

Completing the trifecta of unrelated items, my body clock is all messed up. I’m still able to wake up at 5:30, but my mind immediately starts screeching that it does NOT want to get up and run at that time – no, no, no. On Monday and Wednesday of this week, I let it talk me into snoozing later, and then I wound up having to go to the gym to run instead of running outside. Today, I started having the same problem, but I mentally muscled through it, even though it took me a bit and I wound up having to cut my run short as a result. Argh! What’s up with this? Can’t let bad habits set it! I’m also having issues with craving junk food, which might just be related. Going to have to get strict and show myself who’s boss.

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I’m not even really afraid of snakes. Lightning-fast, aggressive snakes that can magically open doors with no hands, though – they might be another story.

So I’m reading For Women Only, by Shaunti Feldhahn, and I must say that if you’re in a relationship with a man, this is an eerily useful book.

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I have physical therapy this afternoon, though I’m not sure what we’re doing at this point. I’m stretching, he’s showing me stretches, yay for stretching, but do I need biweekly appointments to be shown how to stretch? Just give me a printout, and I can do the homework on my own. Last time, he did something with an ultrasound machine that was supposed to ease the pain but really just felt like I was…getting an ultrasound. Not pleasant, not soothing, just warm and slimy. Maybe it’s helpful for other people, but not me.

Happy Friday, everybody. I hope you have a more relaxing weekend than I’m likely to.

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Also, I could swear that I’ve heard people say that they were allowed to listen to music through headphones while being in the machine, so I brought mine, but the tech wouldn’t let me wear them. Good thing my head was free, so I was able to read my book instead; I really don’t think closing my eyes and resting silently would have been able to distract me from the sensation of being in a coffin wired to a loudly ticking bomb.

I’ll have the results back in a while, so now I just wait and continue with the icing and stretching. Yesterday, I stretched the heck out of my IT band before running, then stopped when I started to become “aware” of my knee, before I felt any actual pain. That was about three miles, and I did another three miles on the bike and then used the elliptical, neither of which cause any discomfort at all. I suppose it’s a good workout, but I’m really hoping for improvement soon. I should get a foam roller, except that I know darn well that the boys would adore it, try to claim it as theirs, and probably destroy it within a week by bending it into various shapes.

Eric got back last night from a work trip and fell into bed with horrible nausea, stomach cramps, and fever. He though food poisoning, since it started right after he ate lunch, but I don’t know of any food poisoning that is accompanied by high fever, and it’s still here this morning. Seems more like a stomach bug to me. I hope he’s feeling better soon; it’ll be very difficult to keep Gabe away from him all day, and toddlers bouncing on the bed aren’t a good mix with nausea, poor guy.

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Supposed to reach mid-40s today and tomorrow, but will be back in the 30s by Saturday, when I’d be able to get out for an outdoors run. Of course.

Unrelated except by calendar day, Eric has to go bowling with a work team on Saturday, and he just found out that his team’s “uniform” involves jeans. In the nearly fifteen years I’ve known him, he’s had a single pair of jeans in his possession, which he wore one time to make me giggle. And that was in the first year we were together, 1993. I wish I could have seen the precise look on his face when he got the email yesterday informing him, effectively, that his denim-free streak was over.

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And then he goes and takes them and turns them into this:

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(Side note: Relatively late in my adult life, I was informed that “gotten” wasn’t really a word in the strictest sense. “Gotten” is firmly embedded into my vocabulary, and for a long time after that, whenever I found myself using it, I became irrationally angry with myself. I tried to avoid it, just for the sake of not using a made-up word out of habit, but I couldn’t help it. Then I saw that the criticism of the word was wrong, so I feel vindicated, but I’m now hyperaware whenever the word “gotten” escapes my lips or fingers. Jerks. It’s just like when I slip into the (Appalachian?) regionalism of dropping the infinitive “to be” from certain verbs: “The lawn needs mowed,” or “The dishes need washed.” I’ve been scolded by many people, but I just can’t stop. End rant.)

So the video game show wasn’t quite what Eric and I had anticipated. The website seemed to imply that there’s be much more classic video game music involved, but really, if you weren’t familiar with the music of Final Fantasy, Halo, or Metal Gear, as we aren’t, you were doomed to be rather left out for most of the show. I mean, we were able to enjoy the visual presentation, and Eric and I can always enjoy good live music for what it is, but we weren’t peeing in our seats like the group of young gentlemen (and, boy howdy, do I use that term loosely) behind us were. “WOOOOOO! OH MY GOD FINISH THE FIGHT AAAAAAAAAH!” Er, okay, then. Hey, this guy was there, though! He did another couple of medleys, too, that were really well done; the man has chops.

Ran into a work friend of Eric’s there, with her husband! They hadn’t seen me for probably almost a year, so they didn’t initially recognize me when I walked over with Eric. The husband said that one of his initial thoughts was actually, “Did Eric remarry or something?” That’s pretty gratifying.

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She and her fiancée were awesome. I spent the evening hanging out with them, and we had so many common interests it was frightening. Television, music, backgrounds, hobbies…it was bizarrely cool. They’re both very into photography, and we had a blast taking photos at the bar – I can’t wait to see some of the shots he got. On the whole, just a fantastic time! I knew it was headed that way when, after initially seeming to get off on the right foot, her fiancée was looking at my phone and I mentioned that its name was Ianto; he quirked an eyebrow, I asked him if he watched “Torchwood,” and he said, “No, not yet, but I’m a huge ‘Doctor Who’ fan.” Then I come home, look her up on her sites, and find out that we had even more in common than we discussed! She knits! Nitpicks grammar! I told Eric that she couldn’t be his work wife anymore, because I was claiming her.

Now, tonight, the Video Games Live date. It’s going to be terrific! I can’t decide if we should take our time and have a great dinner before the show, or if we should rush dinner so we can get to some of the pre-show festivities (costume contests! game demos!). An embarrassment of riches, we have before us.

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Yeah, yeah. As though I didn’t positively hear his brain and gut screaming to pronounce the word “hea-thern” when we were singing in church this morning. Ironically only, of course, but some things run deep enough to hit bone.

(He gets to tease me way more often than should be equitable, really. Of course, our marriage vows didn’t include an oath to keep the mocking balanced, and if the minister had suggested it, I’d have been first to state that teasing should always be administered on an as-needed basis, not by taking turns. If, for example, I were to egregiously mispronounce a word like “poignant,” as I did once when we were dating, the fact that I’d only seen it in print and never heard it spoken is no reason for Eric not to giggle every time he sees the word to this day, muttering, “Poig-nant!” Brought it on myself, I did. But you’d think that every once in a while, life would let me catch him in a slip, wouldn’t you? )

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GABE: “Want scrambled egg pizza!”
ERIC: “Scrambled eggs?”
GABE: “Scrambled egg pizza!”
ERIC: “You mean you want an omelet, like Mommy’s having?”
GABE: “Yeah! How you make it?”
ERIC: “Well, you use a little butter here first…”
GABE: “Want lettuce in it!”
ERIC: “Lettuce?”
ME (chiming in): “He ate mine with the arugula last time.”
ERIC: “Well, okay then.”
GABE: “Yay! Scrambled egg pizza with lettuce!”

Now he’s chowing down happily on an asparagus and arugula omelet with mushrooms and onions. Never let it be said that all toddlers are picky eaters. (Of course, Sam wouldn’t touch this with a ten-foot pole, so there you go.)

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Happy Father’s Day, Eric; your boys and I love you so, so very much.

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And what she wouldn’t give to have those legs again.

Happy anniversary, Eric. Ten years, and it still feels like it was yesterday that we were standing in the back room of the church, and our friends were lying to me, telling me that yes, of course, all five members of the wind quintet were present and accounted for. (Reassured, I didn’t even notice until the recessional that the oboist never made it. Priorities…)

I love you, and I’d do it all again in a heartbeat!

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