We planted the garden last night. I realized again how much I enjoy doing daily work – whether dishes or cooking or cleaning or gardening – as long as I’m doing it with him. We work well together, him and I. I’ve always loved how we’re a good team like that. We don’t step on each other’s toes too much and rarely get too persnickety about how things are done. (Notice, I say ‘not too much’ and ‘rarely’ – we aren’t perfect to say the least!)
Anyhow. We planted our box garden. It is absolutely adorable. I love it. Six tomato plants, six lettuce plants, two pepper plants, six basil plants, several hills of summer squash and zucchini and six cucumber plants. We’ll plant Italian pole beans later.
Now just to keep the woodchuck away from the tender shoots. Ty went out on a call shortly after we finished up and when he got back the stinking creature was sitting right where his car is normally parked, staring at our garden. Barely in the ground an hour and he’s already sniffing the plants out. I hadn’t seen him at all this year up until today when I got home from work! Ty has the shot gun out and is determined not to let our garden get eaten without a fight. Yeah…I think I’m living in the country now!
My darling husband:
It’s amazing how quickly a year can fly by and goodness and you and I know, that the last year has flown by. Me and you…married a year already? Where did the time go? And how did we manage to fill it with so much when it seemed to go by so fast?
May 1, 2011, I married you and truth be told, as precious as the memories are in my mind, the day is already starting to blur – and I blame that on being tired. I know the memories of this first year will blur soon, too; moments from the first four seasons of our married life. Summer, fall, winter and spring. I want to snatch every moment and lock it in a notebook, photo album, video recording – impossible to do, but still I try (and now you know why the camera is always somewhere and I’m always trying to scribble away).
Such a good first year, darling. Our first dance song tells me that ‘it just keeps getting better’ and if the past is any indication, it is true. Oh, I know – it won’t always be easy and already it hasn’t always been easy-peasy-lemon-squeezy this last year, either. But every moment, easy or problematic, it has all been worth it. I haven’t forgotten so quickly what it’s like to go to bed alone (perhaps it’s the reminders of bed alone when you’re out on calls?) and I haven’t forgotten how hard good nights and good mornings were over a phone call. The wanting to be with you and thinking May 1, 2011 would never arrive. But then it did and before we knew it, we were married and well, here we are now. A year later.
Oh and you know what? Marrying you? The best thing that 2011 could have ever brought to me.
So, my darling, here’s to our first anniversary and here’s to many, many more ahead of us. And whatever happens to us, wherever we go and whoever we become as time goes on, I hope and pray with all my heart that it will ‘just keep getting better.’
I don’t know how much better it can get, but I can’t wait to find out.
Two weeks fly by without nary a post or thought from me. Well, not nary a thought – I’ve thought of this little bloggy space often, but thoughts don’t always make it from my brain and into the blogsphere, especially when life gets crazy. And it’s felt crazy-busy lately, stressful busy-crazy [but then again, what else is new?!], so my brain-cells have been oh-so-scattered.
So. A newsy, updatey post, maybe?
First of all:
– Spring is HERE! In all of it’s blue sky and no clouds, sunshine and gorgeous 70 degree temperatures GLORY. The birds chatter every morning as I run out the door to head to work and last week, one night while standing in the Target parking lot I heard peepers in mad chorus. Oh yes, spring doesn’t get better than this. I only hope and pray it stays!
– And with the new spring weather comes renewed interest and ambition in a little something called get back into shape. Ahem, yes, that thing that I haven’t noticed since the fall [I think I’ve been hibernating somewhat this winter!]. I’ve decided that new cute workout clothes [that is, ones that aren’t old sweatpants and paint-stained fire department t-shirts] combined with delicious sunshine and breezes are good incentives to get me outside and walking. My goal is to fit in three to four 20-30 minute walks each week and go from there. Baby steps, kids, baby steps!
– I’ve also cut back on caffeine. eep. Not sure if that’s foolhardy or smart! But I’m trying. I like my morning cuppa, so thank goodness for half-caff coffee that’s weaning me to decaf!
– Work has consumed most of my time and energy [mental and physical], but I’m trying to get the house in order because…Passover is less than 3 weeks away and guess what, peeps? Hubby and I are hosting a Seder! It crept up fast on us, so I’m madly researching recipes online and planning like crazy on top of the house-cleaning. And to top it off, I have an insane urge to declutter ALL THE THINGS, which really isn’t the smart thing to do with Passover just around the corner. I don’t need to be making more messes [which always happens when I declutter], but oh gosh, I have a decluttering and spring-cleaning urge.
– And – just to be random – I made cupcakes today. YUM. Sure, it was a boxed mix, but hey, the jam centers were home-made last summer. Yes, we’re trying to consume as much leavened products as possible in hopes that we won’t have much to throw out at Passover. Anyhow, the cupcakes are fulfilling my sweet tooth craving.
– In spite of all the stress, the drama, the busy-ness, life is good. I was counting down the days to our wedding at this time last year and watching things disappearing from our registries [yes, I cheated and peeked!]. As much fun wedding planning was and all that rot, being married is a million and one times better. -happy-
And last of all: what’s new with you? Has spring arrived in your neck of the woods?
Love is…watching someone else’s boring TV show with them, according to the Peanuts calendar hanging in our kitchen.
I have to say that it must be true. Or to paraphrase it in my own terms:
But you take her anyway – because she grew up watching the Muppets and loves them, even if they are childish and cheesy, just because she is a little kid at heart in some ways, but especially when it comes to the Muppets.
Yup. He took me to see the Muppet movie last weekend! It was cheesy, it was silly and it was such a Muppet of a movie. And during the first ten minutes, he had the most hilarious look on his face that bespoke of disbelief at how absolutely cheesy it was and how much he couldn’t believe that he was there watching it with me.
But he took me to see it. That’s love.
(It was such a fun movie, btw, at last for the Muppet fans in the audience. I’m sure those who didn’t grow up watching Kermit and the gang weren’t quite as enamored as me and my siblings were. I can’t get the songs out of my head or ‘wipe the smile off my face.’ They’ve given me ‘the world’s third greatest thing: laughter!’)
I remember wondering if we would find it hard to become used to sharing a bed with someone else; I wondered if I would find it hard to fall asleep at night with the sounds of someone else breathing next to me, rolling over and touching me in the middle of the night.
I wondered if I was just too used to being alone, sleeping alone.
How silly of me. Of all the things I’ve worried about, that one should have been the least of my concerns.
It wasn’t hard, it was natural. We slipped into life as a husband and a wife, feeling as though we’d finally come home. And at night, when I go to bed with him, the stress and whatever drama of the day was there, it slips away and I’m home.
And now the irony is, sometimes, sometimes, it’s hard to fall asleep when he isn’t there. The tones go off while it’s still dark and when we’re asleep. He leaves, fumbling for clothes and keys and pager, and while I’ve learned how to turn over, burrow deep into the quilts and fall back asleep, it still feels strange. He’s not there for me to nudge up against and cuddle up to when I’m cold. He’s not solid there for when I’ve had a bad dream. And sometimes, depending on what the call was, I lay there and wonder and pray, unable to fall back to sleep because I know where he is and why it isn’t next to me.
Funny that. Six months, not even that yet, and bed without him feels wrong. It’s just a way of life with a fire-fighter/EMT on call. Even so, I wouldn’t trade sharing this life with him for anything. Even if it means learning to fall asleep without him sometimes now that I’ve learned to fall asleep with him.
May 1st, 2011
Forecasted weather: mostly sunny, temperature in the 70’s and a definite taste of love in the air
And. It. Was. Beautiful.
My fears of cold, rainy weather didn’t come true, in spite of the dusting of snow just a week earlier and so many people’s cheerful warnings of, “You know, it’s snowed on May 1st before!” The most perfect weather imaginable for a wedding.
The Dress: strapless ivory satin, with the lightest chiffon overlay imaginable, ruched at the bodice and waist, with crystal beaded flowers embroidered on the bodice, chapel length train.
Swishability factor: amazing. Light as a feather compared to other gowns, perfect for dancing. With veil, jewelry and blue shoes, it made me feel like a princess and even if my day wasn’t anywhere near the scale of magnitude or elegance of Kate’s day, I doubt the princess was any happier than I.
Ceremony Location: a white steepled church on the town common
… New England personified, gorgeous within and out…perfect for two people who love New England as much as we do!
Time of the Ceremony: three o’clock sharp
…and the bride, for the first time that day, got cranky when she had to wait in the car for a few minutes before the ceremony – “Let’s get this party started!” she thought…
1. “Park on Piano” – Jan A.P. Kaczmarek
2. “The Butterfly Waltz” – Piano Wedding Music
3. “Bella’s Lullaby/ The River Flows in You” – Yiruma
4. “Compassion” – Michael Allen Harrison
5. “Joy” – George Winston
6. “Hallelujah” – Piano Wedding Music
7. “Nefali” – Ludovico Einaudi
8. “Kiss the Rain” – Yiruma
9. “Midsummers Night” – Piano Wedding Music
Bridesmaids’ Processional: “Spirited Away Reprise”
Flowergirl Entrance & Bride’s Processional: “Bonjourno Principessa”
Recessional: “Under the Umbrella”
Postlude: “Something Beautiful” – the Newsboys
I find it hard to keep my eyes on his face, as I walk down the aisle, there’s such love and tenderness written there. I glance away, but my eyes keep going back to him, to my handsome groom. I can’t stop smiling.
I think there are tears in his eyes and I wonder at the dryness of my own. I shake from head to toe with excitement. Later, I learn that my husband’s colleagues on the fire department were making bets as to which of the two of us would pass out at the altar and I’m the favorite apparently, because of my quivering.
But – I don’t faint. And neither does he.
Under the chuppah, we stand and in front of family and friends, we say our vows. I love this moment. As I say the words, I want to laugh and cannot stop smiling through every syllable. No hesitation, no reservations, I’m ready for this, ready to be his wife.
And suddenly, I am. And he is my husband.
There’s a ring on his finger and another on mine. We hold hands as family members read the traditional liturgical prayers, the Seven Blessings, and I can’t stop tracing the gold encircling his finger. My husband.
We drink from the same Kiddush cup, the first drink to meet our lips as a married couple. With a stomp of his foot, he smashes the glass and the room erupts with shouts: “Mazel tov!”
And with that the chaplain pronounces us married (!!!) and we share a kiss for the first time as husband wife.
(it was a good kiss)
The music begins and just as it bursts into a volley of trumpeting notes, we sweep off down the aisle…
We did it!
Let happily ever after begin!
Next up…photos and the reception!
(photo credit to friend Sharon P.!)
I always thought that I’d enjoy cooking for and feeding my husband. And don’t get me wrong, I don’t hate cooking for him. But during the work week, I’m finding it a challenge to feel anywhere near enthused about it. I get up at 5:30 and by 6:15 am on the road to start work at 7 o’clock. I put in a 9 hour day (1 hour lunch break) and finally punch out at 5 PM. Another 40 minute drive home and by the time I walk into the apartment and get changed, it’s 6 PM and I’m struggling to find my second – no, wait, third wind.
(That would be why I found myself sputtering and resisting the urge to sink down on the kitchen stairs for a good cry the other night when I spilled spaghetti sauce down the side of the stove and across the kitchen floor – murder scene anyone?!)
So generally, my cooking experiences tend to consist of me standing in the kitchen for a good ten minutes staring at the contents of the fridge and cupboard, asking myself, “What on earth am I going to make for supper?” Then as I finally settle on something and begin throwing it together, I start muttering things like, “What on earth am I doing here? I’m not a good cook. Man, I am so not good at this, good grief, THAT was brilliant, just burn the garlic now, nice going, Ace… Why is it so hard to cook for just two?! Good grief, I know how much spaghetti to make for 12, why is it so hard to judge how much for TWO?!”
And, I get to do this every day.
It’s at right about this time that I start thinking that as much as mice aren’t my favorite creature on earth and as much as I hate having my hair pulled, it would be amazing to have a little chef residing in the non-existent chapeau on my head. Gusteau in Rattatoulle says “Anyone can cook!” and okay, I’d agree that overall, it is true. Anyone can cook, but I don’t think it comes easily to everyone, especially the insecure perfectionists that don’t find playing in the kitchen second nature (sorry, my husband’s family are all foodies and can throw together a delicious meal out of nothing without batting an eye, so it’s hard for me not to play the comparison game in my head!).
So. Cooking for us is an experience.
It’s not until after the meal is cooked and set on the table when I realize how much I like being able to cook for my man. When I’m in the apartment alone, ready to throw my apron up over my head (I try to wear cute aprons in hope of finding myself inspired – I’ll let you know when the cuteness finally kicks inspiration’s butt into commission), I think: I HATE COOKING.
Until I call him, that is, and tell him that supper is ready. “Supper’s ready?” he says, “Oh boy!” Even over the phone, his enthusiasm is catching. And then when he walks in the door and smells dinner, sees it on the table, it gets even better. “Oh, honey, that looks AMAZING.”
(The man has a knack for cooking himself and an ability to throw ingredients together and make something delicious, an ability that doesn’t come easily to me. And yet, he thinks I’m the most amazing cook EVEH. Oh how it warms the cockles of me heart. Newlywed bliss, yup.)
But, it’s not until we’re both sitting next to each other at the dining room table (the one he made by hand himself), eating dinner (that I made) together, trading stories about our work days and laughing about silly things like my boss’s story about smelt and the books I got at the library…it’s then that I think, yeah, maybe this cooking thing isn’t so bad, especially with end results like these. Just two weeks ago, we were living 40 minutes away from each other and eating and sleeping apart from each other. And now? I get to cook for my husband and eat dinner with him every night. That, definitely, I love.
(I also love it when he volunteers to do the dishes afterwards. 🙂 There’s nothing more attractive than a guy who helps out around the house and doesn’t see it as beneath his dignity!)