A Note About a Thing that Happened Today (and why my house might smell like ozone)

We had our biannual HVAC check today. As the guy was looking at the attic half of our heat pump, he noticed some "organic growth" (mildew) on the unit. He took a very blurry picture, but you'll get the idea:

The solution is to install this UV light system both on this unit and the other half, so they work together. We could do just one or just the other, and neither was cheap. But there was a small price break for doing both. It really seemed like a no-brainer. Not something we actually wanted to do, but, ya know... homeownership!

Anyhoo, James and I were both talking to the tech, and asking questions. Once we got to the end, I looked at James and asked, "What do you think?" 

Folks, my man looked straight at me and said, in front of God and the a/c tech, "You're in charge of the money, so it's up to you."

When I tell you how many years of trauma that undid for me, please understand that I'm not exaggerating or overstating it in any way.

If you have a man who isn't confident enough to hype you up like that, then I am very sorry for you. I've been there.

I hadn't planned to spend hundreds of dollars on a heat pump repair, but even so... pretty good day. Pretty pretty pretty good.

The Other Side of That Coin

I'm well aware that my last post, though full of thrilling twists and turns, was also extremely whiny and self-serving. So please allow me to put here another truth I know to be equal to my own feelings of loneliness in terms of keeping the house and the people in it: I do not pay for it. And THAT responsibility lies solely on the shoulders of my husband.

Simply: I do not possess the earning ability to maintain our current living arrangements, and in that way, James is our only hope of staying here in this place that we love (when there isn't machine-operated construction going on both across the street and across the other street, many days simultaneously, resulting in it sounding like it is IN our front rooms). I cannot imagine the weight of that stress.

If James does not like his job, that is unfortunately not the only thing he has to think about. He can't get fed up and just quit. And if he does ever seek out another job, it has to be a certain type of job, mainly exactly what he's doing now and has done since we got married, in one form or another. I think he'd be an amazing educator, but unfortunately, he simply could not bring home the kind of money we need to pay for our relatively inexpensive (for the Austin area) home on a teacher's salary.

Fortunately, he really likes the company he works for now. I definitely want him to be happy with where he spends so much of his time! They feed him two meals a day, too, which actually takes some of the burden off of me in terms of meal prep. Shortly after Mal was born, I was still making breakfast, packing James lunch, and then putting dinner together. I can't imagine doing that now (much less when Mal was SOOooo much... and I was so frazzled).

I've never been a good "business" person. I've been a "show up and try to do more than they expect" person at any job I've ever had, but I've never worked somewhere that I developed a deep passion for what might become a career for me... except maybe TCBY when I was in high school, but a different shop turned me sour on it when a bunch of weird stuff happened, like my being framed for stealing money, which I quickly disproved by having the manager look on the counter and see that I hadn't even taken the key home and someone else closed up after I left. And NOW, most TCBYs are self-serve, so... well, I'd still probably work there if I needed to make some extra bank. Again, though, that'd be a minimum wage job. I'm basically worthless.

I appreciate James's work ethic, and that he's good at something that lets me stay home with the kids and do what I love to do. I guess it'd just be nice to have an au pair or something who would only come out of their hidey-hole a couple of times a week, and who would work for free.

Now I have to go finish watching them install this septic tank. It's truly fascinating stuff.

The Perfect Guy

Literally every day of my life, something happens that makes me think, "Thank God I married James." James has said to me enough times that I remember it a lot: "I know you're not perfect, but you're perfect for me." And that's exactly how I feel about him. He is *the* partner for me. I tell him this, but probably not enough. It's really quite spectacular.

So to the men (yep, multiple) who tried to change me, and to the church people who tried to steer me straight on more than one occasion... I'm really sorry you wasted your time and energy. Turns out I didn't need you or your "helpful" advice. I am actually fine, and all of the decisions that I needed to make to end up where I am now were fine. I just needed a few years to be truly myself, accepted for what I am, in order to realize who I was, absent other people's approval-based persuasion.

Not a day goes by that I do not marvel at the match James and I make. There have been so many changes to my life and my worldview that would have made me completely unfit for anyone else I might have ended up with. There's a whole laundry list in my head that I can't detail here without insulting people or telling others' stories, but... I heard this on Saturday Night Live a couple of weeks ago, and it will always make me think of my amazing husband. He's pretty easy to love, too.

Ethical Ramifications of the "Indian Card"?

James got his Cherokee Tribe cards in the mail last week. They certify that he is 1/64 Cherokee. Since he has his, the next logical step is to get Mal's. Mal would be 1/128 Cherokee, since I have no Native blood.

There was a girl at D's gym who ended up going to college for free in Oklahoma because she had her Indian card. At the time, I thought that was a pretty cool deal.

I am no so sure about that anymore.

My son is white. He is physically white. He is culturally white. He has every conceivable advantage in the USA right out of the gate, including economic security, a stable home life, relative safety, and a level of freedom from suspicion that many people also born and raised around here just do not have. No one will make assumptions about his potential, capabilities, criminal proclivity, predisposition to diabetes or heart disease.

Doors will likely be easy for Mal to open.

I don't think we should "use" the Indian Nation certification for anything but to remind Mal who he is. He doesn't need any extra advantages.

If something happens to James or we end up destitute and in desperate need, I might change my tune and go back to the "grab whatever you can" mentality I have definitely had during leaner times in my life.

In the meantime, especially as we head into July 4th and I've been trying to figure out how to explain the USA to my 4-year-old, I'm going to be thinking a lot about how to contribute TO the tribe from which my husband's ancestors hailed, as well as the Tonkawa Tribe and Comanche Nation, whose land we now live on. (Also, I think about reparations a lot, as my ancestors benefitted from owning slaves. But that's another post.)

If anyone has any ideas, let me know.

I don't want my child growing up with a myth of what our country is. It makes July 4th difficult to "celebrate." I found a years-old article today that explains a portion of why: The Dilemma of the Fourth of July.

I hope Mal will grow up recognizing the inherent value of all people, as well as the ability to listen and do right by others. D did, and did most of that research and emotional labor alone. So there's hope.

Anyway, my point I guess is that we don't have to exploit every available "opportunity" when we have so many thrown at our feet. I want us to pass opportunities on to others who might not be the "default target demographic."

Updates, including the fowl sort

The other morning, James came down the hall to leave for work, freshly-showered and wearing a "public radio nerd" T-shirt. It struck me that, if I were a single woman who knew him as the guy who came into my coffee shop every morning, or who worked with him, when I saw him, I'd think, "Well, of course that guy is married. They're all married." (James added: Or gay. Also true.)

We've been married just over six years, and together about seven. We certainly do things that irritate each other. But the fact is, and I should likely think on it more frequently, that everything I ever found important in a guy -- empathy, humor, brains, fun, stuff I can't write about here -- James has in a big way.

When I told him this, he was suspicious that I'd eaten his ice cream, but it's true. He's the whole package, and I'm married to him. Lucky me.

I don't believe I mentioned it here yet, so: We got chickens! They have been an absolute joy so far. They're still babies (about 9.5 weeks old) and are growing in their combs and tail fans. We have six, hopefully all hens, and it's been such a balm to look out at that loft and know it's not sitting empty, and expensive reminder of carnage.

I do, of course, live in abject fear for their mortality when they're out; I'm still gun-shy about predators. But we further secured the loft, and are home keeping an eye on them when they're free-ranging until they are a little bigger.

D has spent time with them, and they are so much more domesticated than the pigeons. They don't mind human touch, and will even perch on you if you sit still very long. I mean, they also pee and poop then so I don't recommend allowing that to go on for very long. It's cute, though. Birds are so light.

On the one hand, wanting to be around while the birds mature means that we can't do an overnight in San Antonio, like I've been wanting to do, or go visit my parents for the day for a while. On the other hand, hanging out around here, and not being in the car, is great for the summer heat. Also, it will help us save money for a family trip we've been planning for more than TWO YEARS next summer.

We went to the pool for the first time this season this week. Then Mal had a friend come over after swimming, and they had fun together. We might go over to her house tomorrow.

James is actually on his way home to work from here because all of the electricity is out in his building. Yeesh.

That means it's make-up time. Have a great rest of the week!

This is the Life

This has been a week, guys. Mal probably had the stomach flu, and it SUCKED.

But that's not what I'm here to talk about, for the most part.

It's this: Sometimes, I resent my husband.

It's true! I love him, but sometimes, when he sleeps until noon on the weekends; or when he disappears to heat up his knees after having been gone all day and just having dinner with us; or some other thing he does or gets to do that I think, "I could NEVER just..." whatever... You know, stinkin' thinkin' (tm) sets in, and I can go to a pretty ugly place.

Fortunately, those times are few and far between, often suspiciously aligned with specific points in my, let's say, lunar cycle. Also, I love my husband and I want him to be happy, so that tends to mess up my pouty martyrdom, anyway.

However, today, I was overwhelmed by the reality that the stuff I do on a daily basis is totally amazing, and I'm very fortunate that I am able to do it.

Back to Mal's illness: He was actively ill on Sunday, like 5 instances of his being sick enough to warrant a full load of laundry (five different times) in 7 hours. After that, though, he was just spent. He's known his body can't handle much food, which is cool in that it has suppressed any more symptomatic barfing, but it's also meant he has basically zero energy.

Between Sunday at 1 PM and Monday night, he ate a hashbrown (bye bye) and about 1/4 of an apple. And he had a fever for much of Monday. So he slept. A lot. Tuesday, his fever was gone, but, again, he couldn't think about food. He had a bag of Minion fruit snacks (except for the 3 that were either yellow or orange) and a few more apple slices. And he slept a lot more. Tuesday night, he did ask for a Sonic vanilla shake. He drank maybe 1/4 of it that night. Then yesterday, he was pretty up and at 'em, comparatively, while my parents were here. But he's still been super low-energy, especially for himself, and I've had it pretty darned easy.

Today's responsibilities have basically been making some lazy breakfast for James (deviled eggs and coffee); chatting with D at length about our pigeons; and then taking Mal to Walmart for one thing but finding a sale on Powerpuff Girls Legos, and putting those together at home. Now Mal is watching TV, James has gone to lunch at Quetzal (his office's restrooms are jacked up and as long as they're having to use porta-potties, James is working remotely... incidentally, there are 20+ mph wind gusts, which I can only imagine adds to the "fun" of using an outdoor temporary toilet), and D is asleep for the day.

I do work hard. I often do so many things in one day, it makes me tired to think about it. And I feel guilty for feeling like I don't have time to sit and hang out with Mal as much as I want to. And I feel bad that I'm often very exhausted and heading for bed about the time D is ready to chat. But even the tiring stuff that I do... it's all good stuff. It's all here at home, making it a comfortable place for my people to land.

I don't get to sleep until 11 ever, but I do not have to set an alarm and wake up to be on the road by a certain time 5 days a week (or fewer, if the facilities are messed up to the point that employees wishing to avoid pooping in a box elect to stay home). I have had a nice, albeit a little sad, break most of this week as Mal has rested and recovered; like, I've read the majority of a book. Accomplishment!

My job involves things like potential apples and birds who hold freaky mysteries and lots of flowers and photographs and the lake and watching construction and demolition and adventures to places of recreation. I get to see almost everything my kids do in real time. I am surrounded by ridiculous cats. I can do a bunch of stuff in one day to give myself some slack the next day, and no one complains. If I don't feel like doing something, I can just not do it. My job security is rock-solid.

So, yeah, some days I think it'd be nice to be able to go to sleep when I want (it happens sometimes!) and then wake up when I want (again, occasionally) and do whatever I wanted for a few hours (extremely rare), but for the most part, my life is a whole dream, and that includes the husband part.

Happy weekend, folks! <3

Our 6th Anniversary

Our 6th anniversary is in about a week and a half, and I only thought of it (like since our last anniversary) last night. We don't have plans; I don't remember what we did last year. I'm afraid we might be the worst at creating big celebratory traditions that our son will remember forever.

It's interesting, because I see this happen in so many facets of our lives: The way we live, "big" things can be challenging. What do we get the kids for Christmas when we pretty much get them everything they need and most of the things they want when they ask? How do we differentiate this birthday cake from the cake I made two weeks ago? How do we mark a day to celebrate our marital union when we live every day with so much love and partnership and sometimes even cool meals out?

(On a personal level, the borderline obsession I used to have with menus and novelty food is much diminished now that I feel free to eat whatever I want whenever I feel like it.)

Six years. Sometimes it seems fast, and other times it feels like we've been together (and raising a second child) FOREVER.

It's longer than my first marriage... of which I remember very little. When you don't have someone with you to share your memories, they disappear. So much of my 20s is a blur. It's weird.

It's about half as long as my second marriage. We did hit 13 years, but it was already over by then.

Much like Ross Gellar, I never wanted to be "that person." You know, the one who was divorced twice. And every time I hear people (I admire very much, usually) bemoaning how some Christians can support Trump (I'm not a fan) when, among other things, he's "twice-divorced" or on his third spouse, I'm like... welp, that's me, too. Guess I'm just a big old slimy scumbag.

That was sarcasm, actually. I know my life; I know what I've done and why I did it. It wasn't always pure and blameless.

However, while there are individual things I would be tempted to tweak if given a do-over, where I've ended up is pretty spectacular. In a quiet, comfortable way.

I'm sitting at my dining room table while Mal watched a video and D sleeps. There are two pigeons out on the flight deck of the loft, and about 4 birds (a cardinal couple, a Carolina chickadee, and a house finch) at the bird feeder in the back yard. I can see it all from here (except D). Dinner is in the oven and there's a dog barking outside. I'm vacation planning as I blog, and I'm ready for James to come home.

It's pretty great.

Granted, marriage can be challenging at times. James and I feel like ships passing in the evening/morning in ways that never happened when D was little; Mal just requires more of everything, so it can be a trick even to have a conversation, much less alone time. But there is no drama. There is no waiting for the other shoe to drop. To put it in Harry Potter terms: My scar hasn't hurt in more than six years; all is well.

Happy anniversary, baby! Here's to another year or two, minimum.

Christmas came early! (kind of)

I should have taken pictures of the whole thing, but I didn't.

This year, James and I decided to give each other something a little different for Christmas: genetic testing! Woo hoo!

The packets came in the mail yesterday, and we should have results by the holidays. It says not to eat or drink 30 minutes before, well, it's gross, but... spitting into the vial. And I didn't. However, the last thing I'd eaten, about an hour or so before that, was a red Airhead. So my sample is decidedly pink, and it'll be interesting to see whether that makes a difference or not.

I didn't notice until I'd produced enough to pool, and then I wasn't sure whether I could empty and rinse the tube out, so... I sent it in with my best wishes, and time will tell.

Incidentally, the paperwork said it most people could fill the vial in about six minutes. It took me half an hour. Another thing I read said it took this lady's male friend 4.5 spits. It took me like 20. It took James under 3 minutes, and his spit was super bubbly! Weird! And gross, I know. But you read this blog, and you get what you pay for.

So, you have to sign some permissions and acknowledgements, including opting in to receive three medical reports that they say professional organizations recommend you DON'T receive: namely late-onset Alzheimer's, Parkinson's, and I forget the third. However, we both opted into those because we're not worriers and because the knowledge will just be a tool in our arsenal if, thirty years down the road, we need it.

This was interesting to me:

"There may be some consequences of using 23andMe Services that you haven't considered.

"You may discover things about yourself and/or your family members that may be upsetting or cause anxiety and that you may not have the ability to control or change.
"You may discover relatives who were previously unknown to you, or may learn that someone you thought you were related to is not your biological relative."

Dad and Mom, is there anything you want to tell me?

More updates as we get 'em!

J + L : A long, drawn-out love story

(NOTE: I began this post in August 2017 and just finished it. So this first bit isn't entirely accurate, but it's why I started it.)

Everyone's kids are starting back to school, and I realized recently that it was exactly thirty years ago that I was gearing up to start a public high school after three years in a private junior high. The only people I knew at Van Buren High School were two girls I'd met candy-striping at St. Edwards that summer - cousins Tam Nguyen and Jan Nguyen - and a guy with whom I'd gone to elementary school, and who had moved across the river into our neighborhood over the summer.

I wish I could tell you about how the clouds parted and the sun shone down and lit up my heart the first time I laid eyes on James, but that's just not how it happened. We were in proximity for a long time before he really registered on my radar.

Our school wasn't tiny, but not nearly as big as it is today. We moved in pretty similar academic circles, and had multiple classes together. The one I remember most from sophomore years was French. James sat beside me, either in front of or behind his girlfriend. They held hands under the desks a lot, and were generally disgusting.

By the end of the year, I considered James a friend, that I know. For some reason, I wasn't really close with his girlfriend. Then in junior year, James and I had even more classes together, and by the time summer rolled around, James was no longer in a relationship. And I was interested.

For the life of me, I can't remember how this happened, but at some point, I was invited to play Dungeons and Dragons at James's house several times over the summer. I'd never played before, but totally wanted to hang out, so I jumped at the chance. I also sucked really badly at it. I couldn't keep the races straight, or remember what my strengths were, or anything fun like that. I got killed every dang week, early, but I kept coming back because... well, I wasn't exactly having fun, but I enjoyed the company.

You'll have to forgive my foggy memory here. I think I discarded a lot of this to make more room in my brain during the years that history pertaining to James didn't feel like it would be important to my future life. But something happened during this time wherein James and I discussed my job at Harvest Foods (Safeway) and he had told me he'd drop in and say "hi" on this one particular day.

Oh. My. Goodness.

Although I can't recall exactly how that came about, I do remember being extremely excited and nervous. Suddenly all of the "gross" stuff I'd thought about James when he was in a relationship with someone else seemed like it'd be sweet... you know, if I were on the receiving end of it. How great a boyfriend would he be?!

My co-worker and great friend Danielle shared my excitement with me, and kept an eagle eye on the door while I bagged my groceries. She kept telling me how awesome my hair looked, and generally being my hype man.

Finally, I registered the glint in her eyes and looked over my shoulder. There he was! He walked in, kind of looked around a moment, then before he saw me, a curly-haired blonde I'd never seen before trotted in, caught up with James, and took his hand in hers.

What?

Danielle looked almost as deflated as I felt.

Once again, this memory fades into obscurity. I'm sure James and I exchanged niceties. I was just stunned. I'd never seen that girl before, never heard that there was someone James was interested in. Where had she come from?

I know now.

Apparently, James was driving home from work one day and thought he saw someone he knew at a mailbox in his neighborhood. He waved at her, then realized it was not who he thought it was. It was a new person. This girl. And that's their meet cute. (Which, as I've stated, we did not have.)

I went back to Dungeons and Dragons one time. James's new girlfriend was there, sitting in his lap, as I remember. I couldn't after that. I was done.

Right before school started, my friend and I decided that senior year would be a cool time to join the band, in which neither of us had ever played. My friend had the advantage of being able to sight-read music and play a couple of instruments. I could read rhythm charts, so I ended up in auxiliary percussion.

We started practice during the summer. Long, hot mornings in the wide open practice field. The percussion section was fun, though, and I loved it. One particular break, we were standing in line for the water fountain when James, who was right behind me with his girlfriend, said to me, "Laura, I know it gets you all excited to see me so hot and sweaty like this. I get it." I cannot for the life of me explain why I had a double-edged response to this. It was half, "Eww, get over yourself + how can your girlfriend stand you" and half, "That guy has zero confidence issues. That's appealing."

Also, it was very clear that, whatever else he might have said or done, he treated his girlfriends with overt admiration and care. Um, he also did stupid stuff that got him suspended from school for days at a time, but I wasn't aware of those things until much, much later.

At some point I started dating... well, honestly, the first of two gay guys I dated that year. He definitely had some confidence issues, as a closeted man in 1989 small-town Arkansas likely would. But one time stands out. I think we might even have broken up by then. Whatever, we were all heading over to the football stadium for a game, and for whatever reason, the band bus wasn't available. They had a van for the bigger instruments, but told us all to get a ride with people who had cars. (I'd wrecked mine, so didn't.)

I ended up in my friend Tim's vehicle, with some other guy riding shotgun, and James and me in the back seat. It was a totally forgettable 4 minutes in the car, except for what happened when we got to the field.

I got out of the car and was hauling some gear to the bandstands when my boyfriend (wink wink) marched up to me, livid. He said, "You be careful around that James Gates. He only cares about one thing." Seriously, he was shaking. I will never understand that, but... he was kind of right.

So we graduated. We were good enough friends that my mom took a picture of him receiving his diploma, an honor reserved for only about a dozen of my closest buddies. The next fall, I headed off to college near Little Rock, and James went to Kansas. By the end of the semester, we both returned "home."

James's parents had moved, so he and a friend ended up living in a "swanky" bachelor pad near the fairgrounds in Fort Smith. I was going to the community college, and maybe he was, too. At some point, we ended up hanging out again. He was single, and I, once again, was VERY INTERESTED.

Interested enough to hang out at the aforementioned anti-frat-house and listen to a bunch of self-entertained young men recite "Monty Python and the Holy Grail" in its entirety. We also went to see "Dances with Wolves" at the theater (yes, first run; we are not young people) together. James complained afterwards about the inclusion of Kevin Costner butt with no balance of lady butt. At this point, you might be wondering WHY I was so interested. I can't explain it. There was a lot more to James than his juvenile male shtick, but for some reason, that WAS a part of it. I think it still is.

And then James decided to join the Navy. He was going to go to Colorado to be with his family for a bit first, then he was enlisting. I wanted one real live date before he left, so, in my characteristically understated way, I asked him out on a legitimate date... By drawing a short comic book called "Middle-Aged Deformed Kung-Fu Lizards," about some super anti-heroes who end up trapped in a book until they successfully convince James to go on a date with me. Because I like to play things cool.

It worked, though. He agreed. I don't remember this at all, but James said that I asked him to write down everything he'd never done, so I could plan something totally new for him. Not sure he ever completed that assignment, but what I picked was a day trip down to Hot Springs to go to Madame Tussaud's Wax Museum, then lunch, then finishing off at the Midamerica Science Museum.

I picked James up and maybe 20 minutes into a three-hour drive, he fell asleep in my car. I was super irritated! Now I realize he might have been playing possum just to avoid anxiety over my frightening teenage driving habits.

Back in the day Midamerica Museum had an underground viewing room so you could see into the pond that butted up against the main building. As we stood watching the fish swim around, I told James, "When I was little, I'd stand here and pretend I lived in the water. I wanted to be able to breathe underwater so much." Quietly, James said, "I still do." I seriously felt like Cupid had just shot a freaking arrow into my heart and that I might drop dead right then and there.

Spoiler alert: I did not.

As an aside, if you ever have a chance to go to the Midamerica Science Museum, do! It's really fun. We should plan another trip there soon.

So, after a fun day out, I drove us back to northwest Arkansas. And that was it.

Except.

I'd left something at James's house. I'm thinking maybe it was lipstick? Something. Anyway. I needed to pick it up before James left town for good. The night I did so, I was going out with some girlfriends. I believe it was Danielle and Laurie. They sat in the car as I hopped out to meet James in the front yard. We said goodbye and hugged as my heart raced, hoping maybe, just maybe, he would kiss me goodbye. He did not.

When I got back into the car, Laurie said, "That was a very passionate hug." She was wrong, but it was a sweet consolation gesture.

James moved to Colorado a bit before Christmas 1991. I thought it'd be neat to make him a Christmas video, so a new friend I'd made in the local community theater and I drove all over Fort Smith and Van Buren for days, getting footage. In the end, my dad and I edited it using his work editing hardware, which allowed us to lay down a separate audio track, meaning the Christmas parades I filmed were played over Mannheim Steamroller music instead of just street noise. It sounds simple enough now, but at the time, I thought James would have to be super impressed by my technological prowess.

At the beginning of 1992, I moved to Fayetteville to attend the University of Arkansas. James headed off to basic training. We corresponded for some time. I would write him in the third person, as though the person about whom I was writing (myself) were a princess. I related everything as an allegory, rather than the actual boring recounting of going to classes, going to work, etc.

James told me that he would spend hours every night writing letters to people, after days full of working out and studying. He was only getting about two hours of sleep per night, according to his recollections.

Our correspondence died off in time, as we both got busy with separate lives. Somehow, though, over the years, we managed to keep up, even before the internet was much of a "thing." James got out of the Navy fairly quickly. If you know him, you know that the kind of structure and authoritarian nature of the military is just not a great fit for my husband.

The next time we really connected, he was living in Stillwater, Oklahoma, and I was in Las Vegas. As we exchanged a couple of letters, I met D's dad. I wrote James: "To be perfectly honest, I got in touch with you to see if the time was right for us to try to get together. But now I've met someone and we're engaged." James's characteristic response to that news was, "That's nice. But what does your engagement have to do with us?" It was comforting to know that his charm had remained so consistent across the span of time.

We still managed to keep up, exchanging updates every few years, until we connected on Facebook in maybe 2009 or so. James was never extremely active on Facebook, but I caught him online every once in a while, and we chatted. After my divorce in 2011, we started talking a lot. For once, I wasn't interested in him romantically. We were both trying to date people, and we'd commiserate about the frustrating stuff.

In October 2011, I went up to Tulsa for the Oklahoma Sugar Arts Festival and saw James at a contra dance to which he'd invited me. He was there with a girl he was dating, and I didn't realize it at the time, but they were in the process of breaking up. It was the first time I'd seen James in person in twenty years. He hardly looked different; his hair was longer, but that was about it.

In time, I learned that James and this girl weren't seeing each other anymore. He seemed a little less communicative than usual, so a couple of times, I invited him to come down to Dallas on one of the weekends I didn't have D. On one of those occasions, he said, "That sounds like fun. A lot more fun than watching my dad die."

James had gotten laid off of his job just in time for his family to contact him and tell him that his dad was very ill and he needed to get there as soon as possible. James spent about six weeks in a hotel with his stepmom as his father received whatever care they were able to administer, then he passed away.

I agonized over attending the funeral. I tried to figure out a way to make it work. I calculated driving up to Kansas the day of the funeral and driving back immediately afterward. I couldn't make it work.

Then James disappeared.

Months later, I happened to see him online when I was down in Temple for an insurance thing. I told him I'd be home over the weekend and asked if he wanted to visit. He said he had no means to get there, so I offered to come see him. I asked him his address. He wrote back something to the extent of "Listen, I wish I could be what you need for me to be right now, but I can't." I said, "I'm coming to Tulsa. You can send me your address, if you want." For some reason, that broke through some wall, and he said, "I suppose I could hock a guitar for gas money." I told him no need; I'd just head up to Tulsa after driving home, feeding the cats, and repacking.

I didn't actually get a response from him until after I'd gotten home, regrouped, and headed north supposing I could enjoy the city if I didn't hear back from him. I did. He warned me to stay in my car until I saw him, because he lived in a dangerous apartment complex. He also warned me that his place looked like a train hit both a bookstore and a liquor store. He wasn't kidding.

My first thought, when I saw James come around the corner of the building was, "He looks like a little kid." He'd lost a significant amount of weight since I'd seen him the previous year. I'd been worried that James was depressed, and I think he was. But he genuinely likes a "pleasantly" cluttered space. His apartment was that on steroids. Plus, his complex had bedbugs. And roaches. And... you get the idea. I had no idea how to make sure he was going to take better care of himself.

We went out to dinner to catch up. The next day, James took me to the Philbrook Museum of Art, where we rescued a bright blue and green lizard. Then we went to the grocery store and I bought stuff to make beef and broccoli, brownies, and several other dishes he could freeze to eat later.

While we cooked (at my hotel, as his counters were covered with dishes, boxes, paperwork, etc.), we showed each other videos that were meaningful to us. We talked about politics. About religion. About friends. About what we were doing.

It was a great weekend, and I returned home hopeful that he'd been cheered up at least a little bit. For once, I wasn't hoping anything. I hadn't had ulterior motives in visiting. I had no expectations. But James was already messaging me when I returned. He knew I was planning to move to Austin and wanted to see me again before I left, if that wasn't too much to ask.

And, I don't know, we ended up falling in love.

There was a lot more to it. Like, I helped hook him up with a job in Dallas, and he moved there several weeks before I moved to Austin. Yes, I could have changed my plans. But I'd learned from a previous experience not to change my life's trajectory because of a new relationship, no matter how promising it seemed.

Then I moved to Austin while he worked in Dallas, from August until February. The long distance thing sucked. But when he moved to Austin and got a job here, it was worse. At least we'd spent weekends together when we were in separate towns. Once he lived in town ,we'd manage an hour or two here and there, but he was otherwise exhausted from the new grind, or I had things going on with D.

It was wearing on me and putting strain on our relationship when one night in the middle of March, James had come over for dinner and said, "I think we should get married on April 1. That seems appropriate."

The rest, as they say, is history.

I'm going to tell you the truth: James and I were both super hot messes when we got together. We were both 40ish, but when I think back to some of the things we were doing or thinking or saying to each other, I feel like we were still babies. The fact is, we were both still reeling from a lot of emotional damage. We probably should have waited longer before pursuing a relationship.

On the other hand, we've both been very, very good for each other. I think we balance each other out in so many ways. I've never been as content, hopeful, and secure with myself and my life as I am with James. I think he gets something good out of this, too... Like the fact that I check the mail and make sure bills get paid and minutiae like that.

James has also made me a better parent, also because of the balancing factor. He's chill and has perspective and patience when I'm freaking out. He also provides for us so I can stay home with both kiddos, even the one who doesn't really need me too much anymore (sniff... but not really).

I have told James, and continue to believe, that whatever I might have fantasized being in a relationship with him might be like, the reality has surpassed it.

A funny side product of this is that things I used to LLLLUUUUUHHHHHHHHVVVVVVE, I now still enjoy, but not nearly as much, because my actual life is so enjoyable. Examples: Back when Rockapella was verboten (don't ask; I couldn't explain it), I extracted so much happiness from their music and seeing them perform. When they came to Austin a few years ago, James and D went with me to the concert. And it was so good. But it wasn't the super-bright mark in a pretty dark existence that it had been in the past.

Another one: We just got back from vacation, and we had a lot of fun and delicious meals while we were there. In the past, I would have poured over menus ahead of the trip, and decided on what to order long in advance. I deprived myself of so many foods that I loved, except on special occasions, that I was just obsessed with meal planning, especially on vacation. Now, I eat what I want when I want whenever it's available. So I had fun getting "free" food on vacation, and things I don't normally eat because we don't eat out a whole lot. But it wasn't the luxurious break from a monotonous relationship with food that I've had in the past.

This is, of course, a vast improvement over what my life was before. When your life is so pleasant that it's hard to make it MORE pleasant, that's pretty amazing. And James has given me that. Finally. (!!!!)

Daddy Gone, Day 4

Yesterday was Day 4. We woke up with Mal in tears that the Cars book we'd ordered on eBay the night before wasn't here yet. After he cried again about something else, I put him in the car and we drove to an HEB that isn't the closest one to us. But the Cars 2 soundtrack and the drive soothed him.

When we came back home, Nana came over and spent a few hours. We had freaking amazing hamburgers from J&J BBQ, and Mal had fun playing with someone who wasn't, you know, tired of playing.

Later in the day, we were waiting for the refrigerator repair man when Mal ran into his room and asked me to come play with him. I was sitting on the couch, looking outside, when Mal came in and said, "You didn't come play with me!" I had fallen asleep for... two minutes? Five? Seven? A hot minute, anyway.

After the fridge guy and the lawn guy, we were playing in Mal's room when a girl rode her bike up our walkway. She's probably 9ish years old, and a couple of months ago when we were going out for a walk, saw her crash her bike into the empty lot across the street. She'd made a really long ponytail holder ribbon and it had wrapped around her back tire and wiped her out. I'd helped her clean up, get the wheel loose again, and gave her a few bandages. Since then, she's kind of hung out in front of our house a couple of times. We decided to go out to say hi.

Since she was on her bike, Mal decided he'd ride his. I've been trying to get him out there for weeks, since he was riding the bike through our living room and down the hall like a boss. This is what finally encouraged him.

We decided to go to the lake, but Carol was out. We tried to get her back inside, but she wouldn't have it. We got all the way to the park before Carol decided we were MUCH TOO FAR AWAY from the house, retreated into the bushes, and yowled like she was being injured.

We turned around with my promise to Mal that we'd get her inside and drive back down to the park.

Mal found some friends at the park, and last night generally a pretty easy night, as nights go. 

That is where James is right now. It's weird; the first leg of his flight took off 50 minutes late, and the second 35 minutes late, but he is only scheduled to land 10 minutes late. Still, it will put him smack dab in Friday rush hour traffic, so I'm glad he has a Super Shuttle. 

I haven't cooked all week, but am preparing dinner. Because I'm that kind of lady. My kids can take care of themselves, but that guy needs homemade food, ya see.

Daddy's Gone, Day 1

Good evening, fellow humans I'm sure are still out there even though I'm holed up in my house alone with a couple of kids and no one to talk to about the day's news and minutia. Okay, maybe I'm being overly-dramatic. James has left town before, but only for one or two nights. This week, he's gone the entire work week, and while I weathered longer periods of singe-handed toddler care with D, as we've noted ad infinitum, Mal is different. Good different, but, you know.

This weekend was fun and weird. A lot like our family, in general.

First, my parents came over super early Saturday so James and I could go see "The Incredibles 2." Alone. Because neither child was interested. Hmph. Well, we enjoyed it. Then we went to Logan's Roadhouse for James's quarterly meat ingestion (thanks, gout!).

After we got home, almost as soon as my parents left, I got the overwhelming urge to dig up some stuff from our planter outside. Some stuff had sprung up rather quickly earlier this spring, and I had decided to let it grow a bit to see what it was.

We have some Mexican Petunia, which bloom gorgeous purple flowers that last one day and replenish entirely the next. It's amazing. They're self-propagating, and spreading in that bed, but I knew it wasn't that. Then I was doing some research to find out this vine that's taking over our yard was, and learned it is Carolina snailseed. In the process, I realized that the fast-growing plants beside the Mexican Petunias, two inches away from our home's foundation, were TREES.

They needed to come out, and it seemed like a thing to do, so I did. In the process, I got really irritated about how nasty our rose bushes are and took them out, too. As soon as I finished, it poured rain, so I was glad to have gotten it over with.

Then Sunday morning, Mal and I went to the Hill Country Water Gardens and Nursery after church. Love that place.

Found a couple of bushes, one of which I believe I had in Sherman. If so, when they bloom next spring, it will smell AMAZING.

Got home to plant those, and I was just super beat from the day before, and the heat an humidity. Plus, I found more than twelve feet of root all down the bed from a nearby tree. Had to hack that out before I could dig holes for the bushes. Also pulled out all of the tubing for the sprinkler system, which doesn't work, anyway, and it's hard to dig around.

I was just pretty much worn out when Mal came out and wanted to play with the hose. Once he came out and gave me a shower every few minutes, I was able to complete the job! I didn't take any pictures because I didn't weed the bed or anything, so it's not pretty. I just plopped the plants down in there and we'll hope for the best.

We took James to Dos Salsas for dinner for Father's Day, and otherwise just hung out and helped (or watched) James pack for his trip.

Oh! Mal slept from about 9:30 PM until 6:00 AM last night! That;s the record to beat!

This morning, Mal was awake to watch James leave in the Super Shuttle. We played and watched his flight, then went to Target, where I bought Mal a big collection of PJ Masks characters he's wanted, with the understanding that it's all we're buying while Daddy's gone. (We'll see if he's able to keep up his end of the bargain.)

Then we came home, had lunch, played, watched some TV, and Mal was ready to get out again, this time to Jump Street. He played there for about an hour, and I didn't take any pictures, but here's one from Friday.

We actually went twice on Friday. Most kids pay by the hour, but kids 4 and under are a set price for the whole day because they can't do much. We figured, why not make the most of it, and James went with us later in the evening that day.

After Jump Street, Mal wanted to go to Walgreen's, but it and the bank I needed to visit were on the "wrong" side of the road during rush hour, so now we have something to look forward to tomorrow.

We had dinner, and Mal was asking again to go to the store. I talked him into the lake, which we haven't visited in some time. The water level is really low, but it was beautiful out here, nonetheless.

On our way home, we were getting ready to walk up the big hill when I saw a German Shepherd peeking around the curve at the top of the hill. I stopped to see what it was doing, and as it turned to walk back, I could see it was not on leash.

It could have gone back to its owner; I had no idea. So I waited a minute and when nothing else happened, I told Mal we were going to have to walk home a different way. I started to turn around when the dog and a chihuahua friend of his came bounding around the corner toward us. We were still about half a block away, but I never like to encounter off-lead dogs. These both had collars and tags but were very much alone.

I knew I didn't want to approach them, and also knew that there was not time to unstrap Mal from the tricycle stroller thing and try to get anywhere away from them, so I just stood there and left Mal confined so he couldn't do anything to spook the dogs. I also turned both Mal and me sideways so we weren't in an apparent stand-off with the dogs.

When they got closer, I held my hand out and down and looked at the German Shepherd. He clearly wanted nothing to do with me. He and the chihuahua watched us carefully as they pulled up to us and then walked past. Once they were clear of us, they sped up.

I started slowly up the hill, looking back every few feet. I have to tell you: adrenaline really helps that climb not seem so deathly. It was barely an effort.

Anyway, it was a tense few moments and, of course, Mal had no idea what an iffy situation it was. He just came home all chill and with his treasures and construction trucks in tow.

At about 9, Mal announced that he was ready for bed, and he was! I love easy early bedtimes. So we survived Day One! Only four more to go...

Adventures With Tentacles

The other night, my day job sponsored an "end of fiscal year" celebration at Dave and Buster's.

I was one of the few who invited my wife. I'm pretty sure I was the only one who dragged along a small child.

It was fun. And Laura got lucky enough a couple of times that we were able to pick up enough points to walk away with some good swag (including a couple of spiffy novelty glasses).

We also got a little glow-in-the-dark rubber tentacle finger puppet thing. Every time Mal breaks it out, I act completely grossed out and terrified of it. He assures me that it's nice, and it's okay again until the next time.

This evening, I woke up from my knee-heating nap to hear her on the phone, engaged in some sort of serious conversation, and Mal demanding that she count for him.

So I shouted out that I'd do the counting and dived in to try to give her a breather.

We spent a while playing "scare and seek." Which is basically hide and seek, except that suppose the hider is supposed to leap out and scare whoever's "it." Something along those lines.

I'm not very good at it. I just hid until Mal tracked down Laura to ask for help finding me. The first time, she might have helped a little. Or maybe just encouraged him enough to convince him to put some effort into looking). The second...he wound up sitting outside with her for long enough that I just gave up on it and move to the recliner in the living room and broke out my phone to check the news.

He decided he was ready to move on to running races. Which basically amounts to lining up in a single file (we take turns in the poll position) and chasing each other in circles around the house. Eventually, we wind up in his room, with Mal proclaiming the he won.

I spent about 45 minutes doing this Friday or Saturday night, while Laura got some alone time. It was long enough that my ankles are still sore, but it was great exercise that the rest of my body desperately needs.

Tonight, I'm sore enough that I couldn't.

So Mal decided to just join me in the recliner.

He played a "game" that starts with cleaning Pepa Pig's teeth using a variety of dentist implements. He's already fixed hers, so he's unlocked Rebecca Rabbit's, which are much nastier. He always gives up as he's getting close to the end of hers, so he hasn't unlocked Emily Elephant yet.

Today, I messed with his ear with that tentacle thing from D&B while he told me that he couldn't and needed help.

I finally told him that he totally could, but didn't have to. It's a game, so he should stop playing if it isn't fun. He jumped right over to "What's a tentacle?"

I tried to explain it, then came up with the brilliant idea of showing him videos. So I googled for "tentacle."

For the sake of your sanity and whatever innocence you may have left, never make that mistake. Luckily for the sake of my illiterate child, the results didn't come back with pictures.


Searching for "octopus tentacle" returned results that were safe enough that I felt comfortable switching over to focus on videos.

We watched a couple of those. I don't think he was impressed enough by the ability to squeeze your entire body through a hole the size of your beak.

Fun fact: the real plural for octopus is "octopuses." A bunch of academic snobs managed to foist "octopi" on us a couple of hundred (or so) years ago. But that's Latin. Since the roots are Greek, the "proper" plural would be octopodes.

I don't think Mal appreciated the subtleties of these distinctions.

He got bored with the octopus video (it was too long, and the predation didn't have enough cheesy dialog), so we moved on to one about the skin of squids. I thought it looked fascinating, but he wasn't interested.

So we watched one about jellyfish for a bit. He proclaimed that they're "bad." I tried to explain that we should stay far away, but they aren't really "bad." That's another distinction that's lost on him. I probably should have just agreed, but I don't want to be one of those parents who tells their kids something's bad just because it can hurt you a bit.

Somehow, that led to a video about "the glass couldn't contain it."

It was a long video, but it was Mal's speed. Because it was basically a sequence of 3 second clips of predators in zoos trying to what they do. Except for the glass.

I think the scariest one was a polar bear in a swimming pool. There was a kid about Mal's age crouched down just below the water line. The kid stood up, popping his head above water, and the bear struck. You could see its jaws clamping down.

Mal thought the entire thing was hysterically funny.

He got bored when the pace slowed down and they switched to discussions about this time a bear (grizzly? it looks to big to be anything else) managed to splinter the glass, but it looks like it didn't actually break through. One of the witnesses commented about how the bear was a clown that had been playing with the rock for a long time.

He made me go back to the beginning so we could watch the first 12 minutes (or so) again.

The second time through, he allowed us to keep going. They showed a segment of a gorilla charging the glass and managing to make it spider web. They showed that segment over and over.

I'm not sure where they were going (the volume was way down). We moved on to playing Mal's "I don't know" game.

Laura wrapped up her conversation by describing that, then rejoined us before I could show him what that gorilla had really done to that plate glass. I think her conversation up to that point revolved around dysfunctional relationships and the difficulty of finding a good man.

I'm pretty sure it didn't have anything to do with the tentacle videos.

Honest, sweetheart. That's why that's why such an awful thing is in my search history.

Five Years

These pictures were taken 5 years ago yesterday.

We had walked from the Nuthaus to Nau's Enfield Drug store for breakfast, but got there too late and had to have lunch. A few things about this day: 1) It was HOT, and we're all sweaty. 2) Mei Li's feet were bleeding because she hadn't realized we would be walking all over creation and had only brought flats (and we still had to walk home... uphill). 3) D was there but I didn't include that picture, since D doesn't like public photos at this stage. 4) My back was in constant searing agony. Bonus for 5) James and I look pretty young, and he looks well-rested (I wasn't sleeping more than a couple of hours at a time because of my back).

It's only in hindsight that I know what happened to my back, but here it is: The weekend I moved into the RV park in Austin, I slipped and fell in the laundry room because water had accumulated in a clogged grate in the middle of the floor. I went down in the splits and my left knee swelled to ridiculous proportions almost immediately, though I didn't remember hitting my knee. That was in mid-August 2012.

It wasn't until December 2012 that my back started hurting. Once again, Khrys and Mei Li were visiting, but this time with Patsy and Kitana. Every time we got into a car, I writhed in a shock of pain. It got worse and worse until I couldn't sleep more than 3 hours at a time because I had to get up and stand up. I couldn't sit normally, either. I stood and I found one of those 1980s ergonomic kneeling chairs. I had sciatica that was excruciating, and lower back pain.

The night these pictures were taken, March 30, 2013, I actually told James he didn't have to marry me if he didn't want to, because I was a different person than he had started dating. I was sleep-deprived. Everything else in my life suffered because of this. I was moody and exhausted and couldn't go on road trips. I felt like my whole life revolved around avoiding pain, which I couldn't, so I felt like a failure. My sweet kid would often ask, when I cried out, if I was okay. At some point, I said, "I'm not. Please don't ask me anymore. Neither of us can do anything about it."

Several months later, I would find that I had a ruptured disc, and after pursuing many treatments (chiropractic, acupuncture, massage), time, gabapentin, and a failed pregnancy healed me completely. I only took gabapentin at night for about 3 weeks, but that allowed me to sleep through most of the night for the first time in months. That, I believe, gave my body the energy to start healing. Then the spike of pregnancy hormones, I fully believe, finished the job. Also, I'm well aware that the gabapentin might have contributed to that pregnancy loss, but we were not expecting to get pregnant so early, not even sure that was a possibility.

By the time we went to Haiti in June 2013, I wasn't too uncomfortable on the plane or in the shuttle van. By the end of summer, I was pain-free. The whole cycle took a year.

I mention all of this in conjunction with our anniversary, because I had an epiphany this week...

The RV park where I lived ended up reimbursing me for my medical costs due to the injury. That was the only concussive thing that had happened to me. It was the cause. But I exacerbated the situation by not listening to my pain, and by "pushing through" to work out.

I remember vividly lying in the floor of the trailer, trying not to half-ass workout components I had done easily for years. Tears would stream from my face as I pulled and stretched, fighting against my body, which was telling me, "STOP IT! This isn't the 'good' kind of pain! You're hurting yourself!"

But I couldn't stop.

Why?

Because I was afraid of what would happen if I stopped.

I was afraid that if I didn't work out, the nightmare would come true.

I would get fat.

And the lesson I'd learned all of my life was that gaining weight was the absolute worst thing that could possibly happen to a person.

When I was in junior high, a friend's mom told her daughter and me that we needed to watch what we ate, because her husband once told her that "boys don't want to hold on to no chalk."

How I wish the 14-year-old me had had the confidence and swearing ability to tell her, "Then eff those guys."

Because, seriously, EFF THOSE GUYS.

(Side note: same message for the ladies who won't date someone shorter than they are. Idiots.)

I overheard a guy saying he couldn't date me because I was "too much woman" for him.

I felt like I was a pretty cool chick, but never had a boyfriend, while all of my friends around me did. I was desperate for someone to love me. I dated gay guys, not knowing even if I kind of "knew" because they were the only ones who didn't seem put off by my large physical presence... which, at the risk of being offensive, is really part and parcel to being a "beard."

Then I got married. Twice. When people enter into a marriage, they promise to love each other through all sorts of situations. However, it became clear to me that "fat" was not one of those circumstances.

Both of my husbands had issues with my weight. Neither of them said anything initially, but they both began to treat me with disdain. I could feel the resentment boiling beneath the surface, and confronted them about what was going on. Denial. Confrontation. Denial. Confrontation.

Finally, they both cracked and told me. I was overweight. It was difficult to be attracted to me. I looked pregnant. "Why didn't you say anything earlier? "I was afraid you wouldn't marry me."

I tell these stories together, because they were strikingly similar. They played out almost the exact same way.

In one situation, the guy had a breakdown later in the day of our conversation, confessing that he was afraid I would leave him. I wish I'd had enough gumption to tell him that was it. Or at least to inform him that he didn't have the right to have a crisis of confidence in which I had to reassure him. It was my turn to spiral out of control, and he needed to man up and take responsibility for the pain he'd caused. Instead, we stayed married more than 4 years after that. I developed an eating/exercise disorder, lost a ton of weight, and was pretty dang hot for a few years.

I garnered a lot of attention with my newly-slim body, and after a while, was over being ignored and left alone by the workaholic husband. We got divorced, and a couple of years later, I married my second husband.

After OUR conversation about my weight, he is the one who said he wanted a divorce. I fought against it, as we had a 1-year-old child. I lost weight in a more "healthy" way (meaning I ate more than jellybeans and candy corn and fat free bread with fat free butter substitute and jelly), and kept it off for a long time. We stayed married 9 years after the "you need to lose weight" conversation. Sometimes, he seemed pleased with me, but mostly he seemed to dislike me a great deal. And I always knew I was only a stone or two from losing his affection entirely.

Even my failed attempts at dating after my second divorce reinforced this idea that my natural body was not okay. One guy I tried to date referred to my "weight fluctuations" and how he weathered those, still finding me attractive... when I didn't realized my weight was fluctuating. I had long jettisoned a scale, knowing my relationship with it was not healthy. And I was post-divorce, trying to keep my head above water, so was focused on other things. Apparently he was not.

And a second person I met online told me after our first meeting that he couldn't date me because he wasn't physically attracted to me. I can only assume that this was because I am heavy, since I'm pretty symmetrical and have (or had, when I had the time to "do" it) great hair, and my eyes are amazing, and all of that.

Incidentally, this guy changed his tune after a while, when he got to know me better and realized that my high school self was on to something: I'm a pretty cool chick.

Why all of this, and what does it have to do with my anniversary?

I haven't wanted to have to worry about my weight. Ever. When I worked in an all-woman office in my mid- to late-20s, I saw ladies in their 50s and 60s obsessing over the latest diet, what they could and couldn't eat, how grossed out they were by their appearance. I'd seen the same thing in my first post-college job at a newspaper, but that was young women my age.. I was incredulous that women were wasting decades of their lives focusing on depriving themselves and being negative about themselves. I didn't want to be on that track.

It's taken a long time, but now, at 45, I'm finally 5 years into a life that is giving me the gift of loving myself because I'm married to a man who loves me unconditionally. He loved me when we first got together. He loved me when I was a mess because of chronic, unmitigated pain. he loved me when I had baby brain. He loves me when I'm over-tired and grumpy. He loves me when I'm dressed up or when I'm still in the pajamas I wore to bed two days ago. He just loves me. And knowing that I don't have to be anything I am not to retain his affection has made a revolutionary difference in how I live.

This is definitely a process. I'm only about 18 months out from the time I saw a picture James snapped of me on his cell phone and declared, "If that's how I really look, I should just kill myself now." I'll never forget the shock that flashed across his face. That was the last time I tried to drop weight, and I did so by eating only 1200 calories for two full months and seeing zero difference. I was hungry, obsessed with food thoughts, packing the early part of my day with food and then not being able to eat after about 3 PM, and constantly thinking about food. I knew it wasn't healthy, in addition to not working. I've probably messed up my metabolism horrifically by all of the times I've lost 25-50 pounds (which is probably 3.5 times, and I've kept weight off for five and then almost ten years, but it's always come back).

So I stopped. And I decided I was going to try to love myself and focus on other things. It's amazing how difficult it is to accept myself. I have a photographer friend who has captured a few candid moments between Mal and me over the past couple of years. One was of us giggling and having a good time at the apartment pool. My first reaction to seeing the picture was to pick apart "problem" areas on my body, but I forced myself to ignore that and focus on the joy. And I put the picture away to enjoy when Mal is 10 or 11 or 12, and I know it will just be more precious to me then. Same thing with a picture of my holding his hand, walking him down to the lake. I wanted to think, "That shirt is NOT flattering... I look so short and stocky!.. The rolls!" but again forced myself to see the relationship instead of being vain and making it about my physical appearance.

Because that's the crux of it. My weight loss has never been about health. Most people's isn't. It has been about vanity. About looking good. About earning the male eye of approval.

My husband's eye of admiration regardless of what is going on at the moment has been the catalyst to the greatest strides I've made on my journey to freedom in this area of my life. And I am grateful.

Half a Decade Down...

Five years ago, I had a secret. James and I were planning to get married, and we were doing it quietly for a few reasons. One of the biggest is that we're just nerdy enough to think announcing our nuptials on April 1 would be extremely humorous. Another is that we were not making an event out of it. I wasn't 100% confident that a specific individual from my past wouldn't try to show up and mess with things. There were several people in our lives who had definite opinions about our getting married (these were voiced out of love, I know, but were still negative). Plus, this is my third marriage. I figure most people are rightfully like, "Oh, again? Well, good for you, I guess."

Suffice it to say, I have made some pretty substantial mistakes in the past. But the idea I had as a 16-year-old, that James would probably dig me a lot if he just gave me the chance, and that we'd make a good pair, was not mistaken. It just took a while to pan out.

It's cliche to say "I love him more now than I did then," and I'm not sure that's an accurate statement. I was deep in the throes of limerence and quite smitten with James before we got married. But now, all of that is settled. I don't freak out any more. We were coming from such divergent places, there were times for each of us early on when we had our, "Ugh; this is hard. Is it worth it to go on?" moments. Before we got married, I mean. But even afterward, getting used to living with someone and building a family... you learn a lot, and not all of it is fun.

But we've worked and compromised and have been at a place of equilibrium for years now. I've never had that in any relationship before in my life. It's incredibly comforting, and secure, and very exciting.

Photo credit Alec Hilliard Photography

We laughed a lot that day. We've laughed a lot since. We've cried some, too. But mostly, it's been a great time. We've moved 4.5 times. We've blended a family. We've had a beautiful, eye-opening, life-affirming visit to a foreign country together in the midst of a miscarriage. We've had a child in our 40s. We've purchased a home together (his first!). We've gone through lay-offs and job searches and new opportunities. Sleepless nights, days of exhaustion, moments of joy so acute it's almost painful. Tedium. Health issues. Sharing ideas. Growing closer. Navigating speed bumps. Learning each other's strengths. Filling in where the other is weaker. Being comfortable. Being home.

And it's only been five years.

Here's hoping James takes better care of himself over the next 40 years than he did the first; I am looking forward to our 50th anniversary!

This Week in Review

So, hey. How's your week been? (Pretends to listen intently for about four seconds.) Really? Great. Mine's had some ridiculous ups and downs, plus womanly hormones, and... well, I'm just ready for a new week, frankly. Here's a roughly chronological review.

We started the week with the SUV we'd just bought in the shop for a repair. We knew it needed an EGR valve replacement, but found out when we took it in Saturday that it actually needed the valve AND a whole new fuel tank. Since salvage yards aren't open over the weekend, and the repair shop really wanted to save us some money, they asked if we could wait until Monday when they could call around. (Shout out to Klingeman Car Care on this front. We used them in Oak Hill, and are fortunate that there's one even closer to where we live now over in Cedar Park.)

Sunday morning, Mal and I were going to visit a different church than we usually attend. It starts a half hour earlier than our home church, and since Mal is such a late riser, we pretty much had to throw his pants on and get him immediately in the car. The old, boring car, because our new (to us) car was in the shop. Do you remember that part? Yeah.

We drove way out into Leander, which isn't too far, but feels like another planet because we rarely go that way (we need to; there's a Bahama Bucks pretty close by!) and found the school where the services are held. But the only vehicles there were 3 cars and the trailer ubiquitous to haul-in churches. It was right at 10, so the only options were that they'd changed their service time and hadn't updated their website, or that only three cars' worth of people go to that church, which means their website is misleading and we're not interested because I'll explain why we were even visiting a different church in a minute.

A less introverted person would have gone in to see what was going on, but instead, I sat in my car and sent an email. I have not heard back from anyone. Thanks for making us feel welcome, church!

We ended up going to our church, and for the second week in a row, Mal was the only kid there. We love our church. We love the kids who go to our church. But none of them come regularly. Ever since school started back in the fall, it's like if there's a special thing, everyone shows up. Otherwise, it's Mal and maybe one or two other kids, but 3 weeks out of 5, it's just him.

The past two weeks, he's declined to go to childcare alone, and so the week before, we just left after the children's message. This week, he was interested enough in some magnets that we stayed. But he was so happy to go to McDonald's after and play with some kids.

In case you're wondering, I went through the drive-through at Taco Bell first and got two orders of nacho fries with two sides of cheese.

Do you realize we're only at lunch on Sunday so far?

Anyway, after we got home, I researched some churches around here, and that got really depressing. Here's the thing: I know exactly what I want in a church. Obviously, the very first and most important thing is what they teach, and what they believe about the Bible, and how that informs how their church works. I can tell from about 90% of the websites I look at that it's not for us.

Another way I can tell it's a big, fat "no" is when they have 40 staff. I have done megachurches. I'm over them. I want a smaller church. But smaller churches usually mean there isn't a lot of programming. And apparently if there isn't programming, busy-busy stuff, parents aren't super motivated to bring their kids. Especially since we homeschool, I need my kids to be able to make connections anywhere we spend a chunk of our time.

Monday, we had fun. Mal and I went to Jump Street and he played for a while with some rando kids who were there, then his friend Alexei met him and they had a good time. While we were there, Mal asked if we could use the photo booth. We usually do that at Chuck E. Cheese, but it's only 2 credits, or about $.50. It was $5 at Jump Street, but he was so excited. And here's what he had in mind.

He picked the frame, too.

On Monday, the car people told me that they'd found a fuel tank at a salvage yard, $400 cheaper than buying a new one from the dealership. They still needed several new parts, but we were grateful for the break. Also, we'd actually paid enough less than the couple was asking for the car that even with the more major repair, we were only out $100 more than we had initially thought we'd be paying for the car itself.

Also, we're getting quite a bit of money back from the IRS, mostly because James's old office withheld at a ridiculously high rate when they paid him out for his PTO. When we asked them about it, they said that was normal and it had to be done that way. It made that payment less than two-thirds what we were expecting, but I guess it all worked out because we will be able to use the money to pay off that repair. And some others, but we'll get to that. We're still just on Monday!

Incidentally, I'd had to contact the person who sold us our SUV because I needed her to sign the Texas title transfer. She was really weird about it, saying she'd signed over the (out of state) title and that meant she didn't own the car anymore. I further explained that we could not title the car without her signature, so she agreed to come over and sign it, which she did Monday morning. Then after Jump Street, Mal and I saw her again; she's a cashier at a dollar store. It was weird. Maybe I've seen her there before. She left a CD in the player of the SUV. It's labeled "Travel Music." The first song is "Margaritaville," and the second song is country, which Mal demanded I stop and turn on "the real music." That's my kid!

We got some Orbeez I'd ordered in the mail, and on Tuesday, we played most of the day with those. Mal even took a bath with them, and I have to tell you that it was a lot harder getting them out than I'd anticipated.

Even Carol is intrigued. 

Tuesday, I spent most of the day on standby mode, waiting to hear from the auto shop. I downloaded Lyft (which I've never tried; we did Uber a few times before they left Austin several years ago, though I suppose they're back now) and saw that it'd only be $8 to get a ride to pick up the car and save James that trip after commuting like he does.

I stress eat a lot when I'm restless, so that was the theme of Tuesday.

Wednesday morning, I called to check on the car. They said it was going well, but they hadn't gotten all of the parts in until Wednesday, and that they'd be done with the car that day.

Oh, hey, it was also Valentine's Day. We got the kids a couple of little treats, but James and I didn't do anything for each other. I got all sentimental about how fortunate I am to have James, and was going to write a thing about it, but have realized that I don't love writing as much as I used to at this moment. I will say this: I've been in several relationships where things similar to what have happened this week were sources of stress and blame and punishing. It's so nice to be able to be frustrated about a circumstance, but not have to worry about the reaction if I am to be the bearer of unexpected inconveniencing news.

At 5:14, 15 minutes before the garage closed, they called and said they were done with the repairs. Mehh. I told them I'd get it the following day.

Thursday, I was taking D and Mal to the Austin RV Expo. I figured we'd just get a Lyft to the garage, then go on from there. But James was home pretty late Thursday morning, so as soon as Mal and I got up, we got him to take us in to get it. I noticed from the street that the hood was released, and mentioned that I didn't want to forget that when I was driving home.

After James dropped us off and left, I found out why the hood wasn't secure: They were having to jump start the car every time they needed to run it. Apparently, he'd called to tell me about it, but 1) I never have my ringer on and 2) in this case, my phone was all the way off and I hadn't looked at it since the day before. He suggested we take it in and have it warrantied out because the battery was pretty new. I explained that we'd gotten it from a private party, and he shot out a couple of things it could be, one of which was a "phantom drain."

That reminded me that James and I had both noticed a green light on the tow wiring glowing all of the time at the back of the car. Although the gentleman offered to try to diagnose the battery problem, I wasn't in the mood to deal with it, and said we'd try to figure it out later.

Outside, though, while the guys were jumping the car for me, I mentioned the tow wiring again. One of the guys brought me a fuse and said he'd unplugged it. That was apparently all it was. It's started for us every time we've tried.

Oh, but it looks like they disconnected the gas gauge. I called to let them know, but I'm not emotionally able to take it back in for a few days. I told James I should take the bill from the rather hefty auto repair and write on it with a Sharpie, "Here's your CD," then wrap the CD in the bill and mail it to the lady who sold us the car. I have many passive-aggressive ideas I do not act on. You're welcome.

Thursday, I woke up early and bought airline tickets for a trip we have planned for the fall. Southwest just released the tickets yesterday, and I'm hoping that having bought them the day they went on sale AND purchasing the auto-check-in will mean we can at least have some choice in where we sit. After that, I went back to sleep for a bit.

Later, we woke D up and drove downtown to the RV show. It was fun. The trends I noticed (since I bought my RV 7 years ago) were: Outside kitchens pretty standard, fold-down patios as an option, and electric fireplaces. D is thinking about purchasing an RV in a few years, so we scoped out some possibilities and got some budgeting ideas. It was nice, but I could tell that after about an hour, we'd reached D's limit.

We passed the AAAS annual meeting setup on the way in and out, and really wished we were signed up for that! It looked super cool. We also passed this, just sitting in the middle of the big lobby of the Austin Convention Center.

It's a breast-feeding/pumping hut.

Interesting. There are two bench seats and one little table area, and a tiny mirror. Mal and I both fit in there, and it was cheery enough for such an apparently claustrophobic pod.

When we got home, it was gorgeous out, so Mal and I spent a couple of hours in the yard, and I totally forgot about fixing dinner until James got home. Fortunately, we had some tasty left-overs.

It was too pretty to stay inside

This morning, I woke up earlier than Mal again. It's interesting. He's been sleeping 6-8 hours straight the past 3 nights. He starts waking asking for "nursies" between 5:30 and 6:30, but then will usually sleep until 9ish.

Today, while I was eating breakfast and waking up, D came into the kitchen to report an apparent roof leak. There was water pouring out of the light fixture. Fortunately, our electric system worked. As soon as the water started pooling, the breaker had tripped, shutting off D's noise-maker fan. That woke D up, and revealed the leak.

I was about to call my friend Jacob (at Birdcreek Roofing) and decided to see if I could tell what was going on first. I climbed up into the attic -- which was dark because the power was off to that part of the house -- and could first hear and then see that it was the water heater. Steam was shooting out from the top of the unit.

Here's my scientific way of choosing a service provider: Open Yelp! and look up the category. Pick the first one near me with mostly all-5-stars. If they answer, they win. If it goes to voice mail, hang up and call the next person.

I ended up speaking with Blue Dragon Plumbing. When I described what was happening, he pretty much nailed what was wrong. He was on the south side of Austin but said he'd make his way up and call me after an appointment he had.

It's interesting, I was too distracted to be icked out by the attic, and then later James advised that I not try to shut off the water to the house (which I'd done hours before) because our inspector said we had black widows in the box. Fortunately, I didn't remember that particular bit of information at all, nor did I see any spiders.

The dripping slowed once I'd shut the water off and emptied (I thought) the water heater. I called ServiceMaster to get them out and drying everything, but it went to voice mail. They were our first pick because James used to work for them, and they're recognized nationally as experts.

But I moved on because I needed speed! Tetris Cleaning Service answered and was at my house within the hour. He had a neat water-vision camera (I don't know what it's called, but it's so cool). He was able to see that we had some water at the seams of our bathroom walls/ceiling, and then D's whole ceiling was just a wet mess.

I don't know if you can see, but pretty much the whole ceiling is damp. But the water was only dripping through at the light fixture, and that one big bubble at the drywall tape.

He was able to verify that the water was clean, and that the stuff in the middle was still HOT. It had absorbed into the fancy new insulation we just had blown in a few months ago, and was holding heat. He removed all of the wet insulation (which we're still paying for, because 2 years was zero interest, so why not?), put two fans in our bathroom, and put 3 fans and a dehumidifier in D's room.

D's room is shut off now, and so D will have to find somewhere else in the house to crash. But the fact that it is closed off means that the rest of the house isn't too loud; it just sounds like when the dishwasher is running. The fans in the bathroom aren't any louder than a box fan, either.

The cats are kind of freaked out. They won't use the two litter boxes in the main bathroom because it's so close to D's loud mystery room, and because the dehumidifier drain hose runs through there and into one of the sinks. The litter boxes are surrounded. But hopefully they'll get over it and get used to it soon. We should have the fans until Monday or Tuesday, and they have to run constantly. He said "24/7," but he meant "24/4."

We filed a claim on our homeowners insurance (shout out there to my agent, Moses), but will probably end up closing it out, since it's likely we'll spend just under our deductible, anyway. I need to remember to call the adjuster tomorrow.

The water heater guy got here while the water damage mitigation guy was still here, and they both left around 4. When James got home, we were trying to decide what to do about food, and I couldn't help him decide anything. He kept talking about going somewhere, but I was so gross. I'd gone to sleep with Mal last night, deciding I needed sleep more than a shower, but then missing out all day when I couldn't catch one this morning.

James would suggest going out, I'd blanch at that, he'd say he'd go into town and get something, and I didn't like the idea of his leaving again, or of his having to drive more after his commute.

Finally, I realized I was being a giant poop and just put on some different clothes and a baseball hat, and we went to this place that has an outdoor playground for Mal... Only to find that they are permanently closed. So we ended up having dinner at Freebirds, and I felt tons better after getting some veggies and cheese into myself.

We went to Walmart after dinner and finally found Mal the only 3 color-change Hot Wheels they had left. They were only $3.50, which is anywhere from 1/5 to 1/10 the price I've found for the color-changing Cars cars he's wanted. When we go home, he played with those for a good hour, going back and forth between between the colors.

Now I'm ready to go to bed. I've done 3 loads of laundry and a dish-washing load since the water came back on. Mal's been asleep for almost 2 hours, which is an early bedtime for him. James is on the phone with his brother. D is in our room enjoying the big brown recliner. I'm tired. I'm glad James has 3 days off, and hopefully when he goes back to work on Tuesday, our house will be back to "normal." And our car will stay fixed. And things can go back to being normal.

Have a good weekend, friends!

Oh, and here's a tip: WHEN YOU LEAVE YOUR HOUSE FOR A FEW DAYS, TURN OFF THE WATER AND DRAIN THE WATER HEATER. You might never have needed it, but you do NOT want to come home to a week's worth of what we had 12 hours' worth of today.