On being married

Today is the day my husband returns from a year long tour of duty overseas. I am beside myself with emotion. A fluttering of feelings coming and going. It feels like just another day to a certain degree and not at the same time.

The normal stuff -- cleaning up dog puke, vacuuming the house, cleaning the kitchen, feeding the dogs, running to the bank, picking up some moving papers/bubble wrap, steam cleaning the car seats, watering the flowers.

The not so normal stuff -- shaving my legs (every square inch), scenting the sheets.

The insane stuff -- Will he be disappointed that I didn't lose 100 lbs while he was gone and that I don't look like a model? Should I have cleaned out the garage anyway? I never did watch any of the tapes he left for me, will he be annoyed? How long before we are back in our routine? Will he be disappointed that I rented the house for three (3) years without asking him? Will he care that I did online banking instead of ever writing a check? Will he notice the burn holes in the carpet from the fire place? Will he like how I rearranged the house? Will the cat like him when he returns? Does the yard look good enough? What do I wear when I pick him up? Will he like my long hair? Is the house clean enough? Should I wash the windows? Should I show cleavage? Do I have enough time to pull some more weeds? Will the smell come out of the carpet from where the dog got sick? Will he want to take the checkbook over right away? Pants or skirt? Will he be willing to go out to eat after he lands? Will we make love right away?

I love this man so much. Never did I believe I could love this much and so deeply again. Dreamed about, wished for, hoped for. Read about and witnessed in others, but never for myself.

How grateful I am to God and this man for opening my heart to receive such a wondrous gift. How grateful to my family and friends to their encouragement and patience as I learned. Grateful to all the teachers, counselors, gurus, mentors, coaches who've each contributed greatly to my life -- they helped me learn about who I am for myself and inside relationships. That I honor my word. Hold my partner to account. Be honest. Love like there is no tomorrow. Be humble and grateful for my blessings.

and now...

I leave for the airport to pick up my husband. Confident and in love. I am truly blessed.

Cheese Whore, That's Me!

It's official. I am a cheese whore and proud of it.

My friend Susan and I became best friends one night when we were going to go out to dinner. It was a little past the normal dinner hour and we hadn't really picked a place to go. We met at Common Grounds (a coffee spot in the Highlands). A nice folksy hip part of Denver. A plethora of nice little intimate restaurants and boutique stores jammed into a two block radius around 32nd and Lowell.

"Where do you want to go? What are you in the mood for?" she queried. "I don't know but I'd like to try someplace I've never been...but I'm not really that hungry. I would like to visit with you, someplace where we can hear each other, maybe have some cheese and wine. That would be good. ", I rattled.

A smile filled her face. She chuckled, "Have you ever been to St. Kilians?" "No, what's that?, I reply. "Come with me.", she beckoned.

We cross the street to a little place that from the outside looks like a pub. As we enter, we are greeted warmly by a grey headed man in his 40s. "How can I help you", he asks. I am mesmerized. Cheese, glorious cheese fills the glass fronted display. Creamy triple cream from France, a hard pale yellow with brown rind Manchego from Spain, veiny blue cheese from Portugal, a short wide round of brie from France, a firm tangy Cachel Blue from Ireland, a creamy round log of white bliss goat cheese from Greece, and at least another two dozen I'd never seen or heard of before.

In that moment, I was in heaven. Heaven on earth. Pavlov's dogs had nothing on me, as I began to drool. Susan giggled and a love affair began. It was safe to admit that I was content with some good bread and some cheese for dinner. Like kids in a candy shop we each chose one we knew we liked already and then we each chose one neither one of us had tried before.

Ah, a fellow cheese whore. Nirvana. Susan asks for her card. Seems as though serious cheese aficionados keep track of the cheeses they've purchased in the past. We cradled our purchases and thought of where we could go to get good bread. The Denver Bread Company was close but alas it was late. "I have some good bread and wine at home." Susan offered. "I'm in", I exclaimed.

We spread out our bounty on her wooden cutting board, chunks of thick hearty bread, a juicy sliced pear, and some walnuts. A bottle of wine, comfy chairs and food of the Gods. Three hours later we emerged from our stupor. Conversation flowed freely and time disappeared.

A pact was formed. Someone who loved cheese as much as I. A tradition was born that night that serves us even now. When the time comes for indulging -- there's nothing better than picking out two or three cheeses, grabbing a loaf of bread, and calling your friend.

"Hey, I've got some gooooood cheese. Sure hope you are available cause I could use some help eating it. I'm coming over. You better call me and let me know if it's not a good time cause otherwise I'll be there in five." When you get there they're on the porch with the wine ready and let you know that you have perfect timing.

You know you are a cheese whore when, you want to smear Cambozola all over your body and have your husband taste you.

Yup, I'm a cheese whore.

On being a Mom

Realizing that your child is older today than you were on the day he was born is an interesting mental space to be in.

My son turned 29 on Monday. I was 25 when he was born. Full of hope, promise, and dreams for both of us.

I still am. I now have a thirty year perspective on those hopes and dreams. His birthday is the anniversary of my being a mother. Reason to celebrate indeed.

For him, I prayed that he would be healthy, happy, and fulfilled. However that looked. Would he be smart? Funny? Would he find his way in this world? Would he always be late? Would his Father become his Daddy?

When I first met him, he was screaming. The nurse held him over me and I asked him, "What is that all about?" He turned his head, those charcoal blue eyes looked into mine, and he stopped crying. He's never been much of a crier since. He had all his fingers and toes. I felt like I had known him forever. He was a handsome baby (but then of course he was mine). He slept through the night from day one. He grew in the 90th percentile his entire life. Smart and funny. Stubborn and generous. Forgiving and compassionate.

Well he is relatively healthy. He got a mix of his parental genetics. He has ADD. Not sure which of us gave him that or if it was just a mix. Both sides provided strong influence for alcoholism within the family tree. He is smart. I'll take credit for that! His happiness comes in spurts. Overall he loves life.

Is he fulfilled? No. I don't think so. He is still finding his way. Which aren't we all? His path looks different than I imagined. My dream was that he would be a high school football star, popular, college grad, professional man, married with kids. ACK!

Is he funny? Oh yes. A sense of humor that is self-deprecating and sharp. He sees the humor and the pain in the world. Hugely sensitive and intuitive.

Will he find his way in the world? Yes. Like all of us, he finds his way every day. Some days there is no movement, others he is speeding towards his future, others he is reflective and methodical.

Will he always be late? I think so. Perhaps a better way to say it is -- He does things on his own time schedule. Always has! Since birth. Whether it is being due on May 5th and being born by c-section on June 7th. Graduating in June of one year or in June of the following year -- for no reason other than not turning in a paper. It will happen when he is ready.

Will his Father become his Daddy? No. That has not happened and there is no sign of life there. A genuine sadness for me. I say that this missing makes him a better man and provides a desire to be the kind of Father he never had. He is great with children. He is finding a role model in my husband. What a blessing that is.

For me -- I wondered if would I see him grow up. Have an opportunity to see what he looked like as a man. Would I do good by him? I have! He is a handsome man who finally sees that. A tough big bear of a man with a heart of gold. Responsible for his choices. A man who loves deeply.

He has grown from a 10lb 3oz baby into a 6.8ft man. His heart and smile are infinite and easy to lose yourself in.

As his Mom, I now simply desire that he be proud of his choices, pick a way to make a living that enlivens his heart as well as his pocket book, and that he find a partner to share this life with. Grandkids would be nice someday too!

Going with the flow

Best laid plans. No matter how much I plan, create, and intend -- there always comes a time when I let go. Trust in God. Trust in the Universe. Simply Trust.

Crying seems to be my first reaction. Releasing the pressure. Tears -- my own personal pressure valve. Well tears have been shed, the facade of strength has given way to being with what is so. Here is what is so --

- It takes less than 5 minutes to be under contract to sell a house.

As long as it takes to read the offer, sign it and send it back.

- How ever it turns out will be the best in the long run.

However much that either looks or does not look like I thought it should.

- Renting the house out is better than losing the house.

- I do not know what this is going to look like.

- Choosing how I react to the uncertainty is my call.

Power in choice. It's the uncertainty that drives me crazy and makes me nervous. Choosing how I react is under my control. While I am prone to over thinking and sometimes over planning, I am reliable for being with what is so.

As of 11:28am on June 9, 2010, here is what is so:

- Neither of the houses is under contract or sold.

So what? That can all change on a dime. I believe. I know. I trust.