Life With Each Other

In a close second to lover, "companion" was one of Craig's three most important aspects of marriage. An easy prospect to consider; harder if your personality differences bring new meaning to the catch phrase "Venus and Mars". But, for nearly 17 years of courtship and marriage, we've figured out ways to make it work.

The secret? Want to be with the one you love. Then be with them. In whatever way you can, every time you can. And reap the whirlwind of reward.

TV and music have been two of our "every way, every time" hallmarks. He'll watch Jane Austen and History Channel if I watch comedy and sports. Know what I discovered along the way? Craig often knows better than I what I'll actually enjoy watching...and he picks the shows with the best music. Case in point: Friday Night Lights.

I could write an entire post just about the nature of this show: its critical acclaim but hard-to-niche following; its wandering trek from network to network in search of just one more season; or how its faithful viewers trekked right along with it...until the recent series finale. Craig was one such trekker; certainly, more than one DVR, Hulu queue, and Amazon loader has seen the Friday Night Lights logo and geared up for multiple Plays - first, his. Then, mine. When we sat down to watch the finale entitled "Always", we found ourselves curled up, silent, waiting (as most finales have you) for the final frame to begin.

And then came the music.

When those final frames began, it was against the backdrop of this song by Delta Spirit. I say these to you: iTunes. Amazon. eMusic. Find it. Buy it. Listen to it. Repeatedly. As always, here are the lyrics for your persual:

Devil Knows You're Dead

And the sun shine warm upon your face
May the rains fall soft upon your field
Until the day we meet again

And the roof that hangs over your head
Find you shelter from the storm

Before the devil knows you're dead
May you be in heaven, my friend

May good luck find you at your worst
And bad love lose you at your best
May your days be rich and full of wealth
And your nights be long when you need rest

And the roof that hangs over your head
Find you shelter from the storm

Before the devil knows you're dead
May you be in heaven, my friend

And the road, may it rise to meet your feet
And be downhill all the way to your door
May the grass below be green and the sky above be blue
May it be so forever more

And the roof that hangs over your head
Find you shelter from the storm

Before the devil knows you're dead
May you be in heaven, my friend

I've listened to it 50 times if I've listened to it once. Every time sheds new light on someone I think about, someone I love. For that matter, it sheds light on saying goodbye. Saying "Until I see you again." Saying, "Be well. Be blessed. Be rich."

The rewards of companionship with my husband are many. And profound. And gifts. But they aren't all supernatural and abstract. Sometimes, they are the simple gift of a song found in a television show watched simply because he liked it. 

And because I like him. 

A lot. 

So I watch. 

And discover He's got something for me, too.

Like music I listen to again and again. 

Like music that Craig sits and listens to with me...again and again. 

Because he's my companion. 

Like I'm his. 

Sharing the simplest gifts. 

To discover we're living the biggest one He's got...life with each other.

A Word Fairy Tale

Here's today's Word Fairy Tale.

Once upon a time, there lay undiscovered in The Land of Quirky Linguistics a treasure trove of tids and bits only the slightly nerdy level of word-interested would appreciate. The wealth of oddities was abundant and heady, but one zany offering outshone the other jewels. The word was "mondegreen", and its meaning was....

Yeah, I don't know, either.

But the blog "the hot word" from Dictionary.com does! Yes, yes I know: I'm a nut for this page. As long-time readers already know, it is one of my favorite indulgences - so much so, in fact, I refer to it as one You Really Ought to Know. Have I mentioned there's so much more than just the word of the day, flashcards for your mobile, or captivating quotes to ponder? Well, now I have. Check out their blog list. And, since you're there anyway, why not pick through their What's New? column where other samplings of The Land of Quirky Linguistics (like words most misspelled, slang most bizarre, and phobias most "feared") reside?

But, for now, sate your curiosity - Whatever. You know you're totally wondering. - with this oddity. There is, in fact, a word "mondegreen." It does, in fact, have a narrow meaning. And, I'd wager a guess, you've committed this little musical foible: I know I have.

Just another example of "Huh. Didn't know that. Not necessarily critical that I didn't know that. But I find I rather like making friends with a little something/someone others folks haven't quite gotten around to meeting yet. It's quirky. And different."

Kind of like reading a Word Fairy Tale.

The Center of the Party

To complete the trifecta of process posts, here's another to consider.

Our return trip from Iowa had us carrying parcels of all sorts from my mom who stores up the goodies and then saves a bundle on shipping when we depart with them in tow. So, the back of the van had pots and pans; toys; arts and crafts supplies; books; and dishes.

Good dishes.
Neat dishes.
They're red and black.

And trendy and cool. Which I am neither so, of course, I should have dishes that are, right?

What's that got to do with process? Well, to make the perfect shelving system for my new serving set, a wee bit of rearranging had to be done. With Craig's astute input (yep, he's the go-to on all manners of decorating), I came up with this.

 The formals on the right of the kitchen, closest to the formal dining room.

The casual colors on the left of the kitchen, close to the casual bench seating.

I know, I know. The excitement over such an organizing coup is arguably much. But, then again, organization that leads to simplifying my life brings me joy, indeed.

Now you'll know where to look when next you stop for a bite.Or look for a mug. Or need a cold drink of water.

Or, for those friends far, far, faaaarrr away...why not celebrate anal retention - even (or especially, maybe) if it's someone else's dishes at the center of the party?

Where Your Story Begins

In keeping with the theme of processes describing personality, here's another to chew on.

Literally.

Since camping always means roasting marshmallows and hot dogs, we couldn't leave them out on our "faux-campout", either. But this process turned out to be one of the most hysterical of the night as our campers attempted to get their yummies done just right.

On a stick. 

Over flames.

They started with the basics

and quickly set to work on the cookin' side of things.

But, when, you're a golden-browned, slightly this side of squishy kind of marshmallow guy this

is not the result you're looking for...which results in the picture-perfect moment of spitting char flakes.

Judsen felt it strongly necessary to bun his own hot dog since we so cruelly disallowed him the opportunity to place himself anywhere near the open flames of a burning pit. (Horribly mean of us, I know).

 And when he got it just right....

 The look was pure glee.

He ate two.

Yes.

Two.

By the time the meal was over, tummies were rounder and grins bigger...

... just in time for sunset and a few rounds of Red Light, Green Light (which somehow became much funnier when Mommy played, too).

It was a day of processes that afforded golden opportunities to study and observe our children simply by dwelling with them in the moments that make memories.

It wasn't without work on our parts, sure. But what's a little sweat if you're carving out the tablets on which their their tales of home are written?

Someday, we hope they remember these tales and great love and devotion floods their very hearts. We pray they recall our devotion as it was and will always be: true and steady and standing the test of time.

Me thinks that would make a great story.

And, after all...

home is where your story begins.

Raising Them

Seems the theme of last weekend was "process". Everything's a process: really, if we think about it, our lives are comprised of batches of hours consumed by processes. Sometimes we call them routines (we brush our teeth, wash our faces, select our clothes, fill our coffee mugs to head out the door for work), but processes they still are - steps we take from spot A to reach our goal of spot B.

The processes we like tell as much about us as the processes we don't: my dearest Jessi and I, for example, both like to iron. My friend, Nic, has the most exact process of making her morning cup of coffee - it makes me laugh every time. Let's face it - we're quirky folk! And processes give us an outlet of expression as well as a vehicle to get it done.

But when you introduce the wee ones into any given process...well, now you're really gonna' find out what you're made of. Last Friday, we had planned to set out on a camping adventure with dear friends when an unexpected family commitment took them suddenly out of town. Though Craig and I considered going alone, it fast occurred to us: Why go through the drive and the work of a tent site when we've got the backyard?

It didn't hurt the Schedule of Fun that it was also the last weekend before Back to School arrived, and we determined to say goodbye to summer with a cap of great memories...and a process or two.

So, after surprising the kids with a trip to Kung Fu Panda 2, we headed home - and announced, "Let's go camping!" Shazam! They were shouting and fist-pumping and great joy was to be had in the kingdom. And so began the process. (Btw, thanks to Micah and Becca for loaning the outdoor room for 10!)

First Step: Working as a team to unroll tarp and tent. So far so good.

Then came malleting the stakes...

Erecting the poles...

 Tying and staking the finishing touches...

And - kaboom! - the process was complete!

Now, I don't know exactly how long it took (enough for Craig to work up a good sweat, but not so long we all fell apart...that math is up to you). All three of the kiddos helped fully in steps of the process while Daddy led them all.
Which then came to the "bestest" part of all - loading their room in the tent with all the necessary supplies. Which meant, from the adult perspective, assortments equaling nearly a third of their rooms but, to the kiddos, the mere necessities needed to make it a home.

For this scenario? Whatever brought them joy made us happy, too.

See?! The process was worth it: we worked as a team for a common fun without friction or failure - my definition of success, indeed! But, most of all, I'm reminded of the following truths:

When you introduce the wee ones into any given process...well, now you're really gonna' find out what you're made of.

Turns out, we're made of fun without friction or failure. Which is pretty good. 

Know what else? As our children age, we discover (at least for the most part) that we enjoy a life of processes with them, realizing that every tent or movie or Back to School Day are single processes in the biggest process of all...

raising them.

The First Day

We've bagged the supplies; packed the lunch; met the teachers; and X'd off the laaaaast day on the calendar.

The big day is finally here!

Off I walked our beautiful 5th grader...

and our handsome 2nd grader...

who remind of all that's fresh and good and filled with hope and life.

It's a new school year, and oh the places they'll go!

Hard to believe that just one short year ago, they looked like this:

Which only proves the old adage that time flies fast before they fly away for good.

 

It was the same one-block walk to the same one-story building: the routine is one we know well.

We saw familiar faces and met a few new ones, too.

We waved to some neighbors and dodged one or two sprinklers.

Really, it's no different than it's always been...except that it was.

The kiddos are different. Bigger. Older.

One step closer to growing up and going on - a bittersweet future still a bit away.

But each year's First Day reminds me to treasure all the more the one we're in right now.

The Here. The Now. 

And all the good that is...

The First Day.

Rooster to a Hen

This summer has been one of childhood introductions - namely ours to theirs. Most of the "Howdy-Do's" have been at the hand of Netflix, actually - aka The Streamer of Everything That Was Old is New Again.

Flipping through the option icons first brought me across MacGyver - and I was instantly certain that, Elijah being Elijah, this would be his new must-see tv. I was right.

The rest of the sweltering weeks have been leg-warmered and Mr. Pibb'd with conversations on the finer lights of growing up 80s. Much to my sometimes delight and always surprise, they've been digging it: from Michael Jackson to Girls Just Wanna Have Fun, it would seem discovering the era of our Wonder Years is akin to looking at as-yet undiscovered evidence of the "Ooooo-kay...but what were you thinking?"

But the walk down memory lane hasn't been entirely without yellow bricks for me, either. Some of what I remember not getting at all is downright funny to me now. Case in point: while the kiddos were elsewhere playing, 9 to 5 was on Netflix in the background. Remember that one? I let Grace tune in to the very beginning where she confusedly remarked, "I don't think you can talk to women like that. I mean, that just seems mean. And inappropriate! Doesn't he have a wife?"

(Reason number 1,345,689 why I love that girl.)

I tried to explain that the 80s were a different time for women altogether, particularly in the workforce. So, after our brief exchange, off she goes before this fantastic scene rolled. In it, Doralee (played by Dolly Parton) discovers her boss has been spreading rumors she's his mistress. And she says....

"I’ve got a gun out there in my purse and up to now I’ve been forgiving and forgetting because of the way I was brought up but I’ll tell you one thing, if you ever say another word about or make another indecent proposal, I’m gonna get that gun of mine and change you from a rooster to a hen with one shot! Don’t think I can’t do it!"

Rooster to a hen.

Noooooooowwwww I get it.

No wonder all my mom's working friends loved that line.

Perhaps there's more to learn through the 80s than I thought.

My Schedule Tells Me So

Today's schedule is already halfway complete...and it's 9:48 am.

8:30 Day begins with phone conversation from the resplendent Zee.

8:50 Literacy Testing for E 

   (with the oh-so-fabulous Kate Motley as his 2nd grade teacher...proof - along with beer- that God loves  

       me and wants me to be happy).

9:30 Piano lesson for G 

     (we love our Amy A...come to think of it, that's two back-to-back appointments with most excellent     

       women - an extra heap of icing on my cake? Yes, please!)

Aside: The fruits of a great neighborhood mean that we get to walk to school AND to piano lessons on a  

     brilliant sunny day with not a cloud in the sky!

9:45 Attempt to meet new neighbor's wife. Again. Failed. Again. I think I can. I think I can. I think I....

9:48 Jot a quick blog.

10:00 Pick up G

From there, it's a stop at Lowe's; a swimming lesson for the wee one; lunch; moving dressers to the newly combined boys' room (yeah-huh! Post to come.); back to the school for Meet the Teachers this afternoon; dinner; early to bed BECAUSE.....

it is back to school tomorrow.

Which is really what prompted this post: not so much to convey how my schedule volume is as abundant as every other out there but rather to point out that, at least for this household, summer is O-V-E-R over. 

Over!

Yes, fall is officially here.

For my schedule tells me so.