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Seventeen

Mar25
Couple Holding Hands

Couple Holding Hands | Source: Clumpner @ iStockPhoto | Click to embiggen

This weekend marks the seventeenth anniversary of our wedding, but instead of a glorious dinner and a trip to the theater, we’re celebrating a little at a time, between work crises, exhaustion, migraines, and various other little things that have conspired to keep us from going out and doing something special.

But the thing is, we don’t need to do something amazing to celebrate, because even when we bicker, even when I’m bitchy and demanding and he’s stoic and doesn’t voice his opinion, even when what we really want to do is go to opposite ends of the house and sulk, each with a dog (or two, or three) to give us unconditional sympathy, we’ve learned to work through it, and laugh.

And so we do.

And while our lovely dinner may have to wait until after his next business trip, and until after I’ve finished my Big Writing Project, in the meantime we have moments, real moments, that mean more than any special dinner ever could.

Things like weekend trips to the comic book store, followed by lunch at our favorite Mediterranean restaurant, or eating oranges in bed, or getting flowers every time we go to the grocery store, or sharing a grilled cheese sandwich and tomato soup on a rainy day.

So, happy anniversary, Fuzzy.
I love you, always.

The Adventures of Stoic Man – It Runs in the Family

Feb2
Red Tractor

Red Tractor | Credit: sxc.hu | Click to embiggen

If my husband were a super hero, he would be Stoic Man. His costume would be in shades of grey and his symbol would be a period, and, the title of this post aside, he would not have actual adventures, merely…occurrences. He is, after all, a Midwestern Male. When I’m teasing him, I call him “Stoic Man. Period. No Exclamation Mark for You.” When I’m annoyed with him, however, I call him, “Farm Boy,” although that’s muttered with no small measure of affection tempering the annoyance.

Today, I was reminded of a special facet of Stoic Man – his particular use of language. Specifically, he fails to understand the difference between “how are you?” and “what are you doing?”

An example of this linguistic phenomenon comes from his recent business trip. On one of our nightly phone calls, I asked, “I can hear you coughing. How are you?”

His response was, “I’m driving to get dinner.”

I pointed out, as I’ve done many, MANY times over the nearly 17 years we’ve been married, that I didn’t ask WHAT he was doing, but HOW he was feeling.

This morning, I learned that Stoic Man language runs in the family. Witness:

MissMeliss: Did you remember to call your dad? It’s his birthday.

Stoic Man: Yes.

MissMeliss: Did you ask if he’d seen his shadow? (This is an inevitable question for anyone whose birthday is February 2nd, after all.)

Stoic Man: Yes. He said he was seeing it all over the place.

MissMeliss: How is he doing?

Stoic Man: He was doing dishes.

MissMeliss: Did you actually ask how he was doing, or did he mention that your call interrupted a task?

Stoic Man: I asked how he was doing.

MissMeliss: And?

Stoic Man: He said he was doing dishes. (Beat) Now you know, I come by my language issues naturally.

MissMeliss: I think I need another espresso.