Footnote to "Ode to My Husband"

Apparently I aggravated a couple of people because I said:

I've seen blogs that people have used as weapons against those they "love," blogs where they air their private grievances publicly, where they even criticize their "partner's" abilities in the bedroom in a public forum, and it sickens me.  I use the quotes because I find it hard to understand how a person can so casually slap someone they supposedly "love" with these libellous and insulting lines.  I also find it hard to understand how the victims can continue to live with, or date, people so vicious and shallow that they would rip and tear their "mates" before a crowd, then leave them lying there bloody.


These blogs make me think so strongly of one line above, "...and when we quarrel, we shall do so in private and tell no strangers our grievances."  But, then, we meant our vows.  However, we as a species live in a disposable society - marriage, children, morality...  Everything is disposable these days.  But I digress...


Apparently I made these people angry because I believe that, if you love someone, you should not belittle them in front of others.  Would you want to spend a life, or even a day, with someone who stood on a streetcorner and called you a "wh--e" or a "pr--k"?  I wouldn't.

Now, when I wrote that, I did not have anyone in particular in mind.  I named no names, and was not "aiming" at any one specific person, or even a group of people.  I have seen a lot of blogs - way too many - that fall into that category.

So, if you felt that I was writing about you, or if my opinions pricked your conscience so badly that you were angry or felt guilty, then perhaps it's time for a little introspection and self-analysis.

Ode to My Husband

I just realized how rarely I've mentioned my Husband in my blogs.  Lest anyone think otherwise, I thought perhaps I should say a few words about My Love.  I suppose my comments are so few and far between because, as a general rule, we are very private people where our relationship is concerned.

When +Geoffrey Brumback and I were married nine years ago, we wrote our own vows - heck, we wrote the entire ceremony!  We incorporated the Celtic Marriage of First Degree as part of our binding.

"You cannot possess me for I belong to myself.  But while we both wish it, I give you what is mine to give.  You cannot command me for I am a free person.  But I shall serve you in those ways you require and the honeycomb will taste sweeter coming from my hand. I pledge to you that yours will be the name I cry aloud in the night, and the eyes into which I smile in the morning. I pledge to you the first bite from my meat and the first drink from my cup. I pledge to you my living and my dying, each equally in your care. I shall be a shield for your back, and you for mine. I shall not slander you, nor you me.  I shall honour you above all others, and when we quarrel, we shall do so in private and tell no strangers our grievances.  This is my wedding vow to you.  By these vows we swear to be full partners, each to the other.  If one drops the load, the other will pick it up.  This is the marriage of equals."

I've seen blogs that people have used as weapons against those they "love," blogs where they air their private grievances publicly, where they even criticize their "partner's" abilities in the bedroom in a public forum, and it sickens me.  I use the quotes because I find it hard to understand how a person can so casually slap someone they supposedly "love" with these libellous and insulting lines.  I also find it hard to understand how the victims can continue to live with, or date, people so vicious and shallow that they would rip and tear their "mates" before a crowd, then leave them lying there bloody.

These blogs make me think so strongly of one line above, "...and when we quarrel, we shall do so in private and tell no strangers our grievances."  But, then, we meant our vows.  However, we as a species live in a disposable society - marriage, children, morality...  Everything is disposable these days.  But I digress...

My Husband.

My Love, my Heart, my consummation.  My partner, my lover, my provider, my childrens' father, my closest friend, my most vexing puzzle.  He is all of this and so much more.

I love to watch him with the kids.  It makes me all soft and gooey inside to watch him play with them, tickle them, share snacks with them, snuggle them, take naps with them, comfort them - everything.  I love it when we manage to get all four of us into "the big bed" to tickle and snuggle, and I love it when we manage to get just the two of us into "the big bed," too.

I know that I can always tell him anything, no matter what it is, big or small.  I can always share myself with him openly.  I know that there is nothing in the world that can make him stop loving me, or me him.  We're sure of each other.  I know, at this point in our lives, that this is definitely forever.  We've weathered our storms, and our ship is sound.

What?  You thought I was going to pretend that the whole nine years have been candlelight and roses?  Get real.  We're two adult individuals, with our own unique quirks and philosophies, sharing a household, bank accounts, and children.  Of course we have disagreements!  In earlier years, we did and said some pretty mean things to each other.  The "seven year itch" is more than just a joke.  Fortunately we've outgrown those days both as a couple and as individuals.  The wine has mellowed.

I love him.  I love the dimple in his cheek when he smiles.  I love his laugh.  I love how he calls me at work to tell me that he loves me, too, before he goes to bed in the morning.  I love the sweet, tender, and sometimes naughty text messages I find on my cell phone.  I love how he voluntarily does the laundry so I don't have to go up and down stairs with my knees.  Like the song says, "I love how [he] loves me."
I love his butt.  He has an absolutely perfect butt.  (Quit groaning - how did you think we ended up with two kids?)  I love his soft, sweet lips.  I love the way he trails his fingers across the small of my back when he passes through the kitchen as I cook, and I love to press my body against his back and wrap my arms around his waist as he does dishes.  I love his hands.  I have always been fascinated with his hands, with his dexterity, with his strength, with his gentleness.  I once wrote a poem about his hands, titled (fittingly) "Your Hands".

I love your hands.

You play my body like

A consummate concert pianist,

Running your fingers delicately

Over my skin and

Making my senses sing.

You draw beautiful melodies

From the depths of my soul,

Stroking the strings of my heart,

And all with but the tips of your fingers.

Gentle, strong, you reach

Into me, grasping my core and

Setting my nerves a-tingle with

Lapping tongues of fire and ice.

Slow, your caress,

Mastering me, controlling me -

Your instrument -

Tuning me to please your tastes.

Then, playing me, building,

Coaxing, demanding, lifting me to a

Crashing crescendo, denouement

Soft and tender.

I love your hands.

I have not, however, written a poem about his butt.

I love my Husband.  All that I was, all that I am, all that I will ever be, always and forever.

Postponed Surgery & Nine Years of Marriage

I should have posted this weeks ago, but I haven't had time for the computer recently.  Ellie's surgery has been postponed while we do some re-evaluation of her gait structure (in Ameringlish for Laypeople [like me] that means we went to the Chicago Shrine Hospital for a gait study last week).  She is definitely going to have to have the major surgery at some point, but maybe not just yet.  The surgery on her heel will have to be done, but I'm hoping maybe not until the end of summer because she likes to swim so much, and the casts will be itchy.

In other arenas, Husband and I celebrated our ninth wedding anniversary on Friday.  Nine years.  We knew each other for nine years before we started dating, and now we've been married that same length of time (counting the time we dated, we've now known each other for 19 years), but the first nine seem a lot longer than the second nine.  You'd think people would get bored with each other after nine years - at least, I would, or rather, I did - but, amazingly, miraculously, we're not.

Family members and former DeMolay may not want to continue reading past this point.  Consider yourself warned.

My parents kept the kids Friday night so we could go to dinner, a movie, and have some incredibly rare grown-up time (I'm out of the house from 7:30am - 7:00pm or later, he's out of the house from 8:30pm - 8:00am, and if I'm home the kids are home.  If I have to work late, we sometimes go days without seeing each other).  We ended up with a funny sort of theme night, accidentally.  Dinner was PF Chang's China Bistro, I had Dan Dan Noodles.  Movie was Kung Fu Panda, and noodles are a recurrent theme.  Then we went home.

You know, when you've been with the same lover for an extended period, you learn his (I say "his" because I have a "his," but this goes both ways) likes and dislikes, favorite places and touches, favorite naughty whispers, etc.  Your body knows his, and you have a conjugal rhythm that you naturally fall into together.  After kids, which means a huge loss of time and energy for fooling around, intimacy does get to feel somewhat scripted because you always want to do the favorite things and have your favorites in return.  Which is not to say that it's bad or boring, it's usually fantastic (after all, you're giving & receivng your fave tricks), but it does lose the spontaneity.  You get to thinking, "Here's where I pull his hair," and, "Okay, he's going to bite my neck now," instead of going with the flow anymore.

So we get home after the movie, and I have mixed feelings.  On one hand, I'm eager because we hadn't had grown-up time for almost four weeks due to various issues at work and with family health.  On the other hand, I'm kind of suffering performance anxiety.  I want to be fresh and exciting, but somehow have to make sure I hit all the right buttons, and I don't want to follow the same old script.

I'm not going into detail, but I didn't have to worry.  I will say that we didn't try anything new or particularly adventuresome, but OH MY!!!  After a decade as lovers, I still had never experienced anything in my life that could hold a candle to what happened that night!  And I don't ever expect to again!  I'm surprised I survived it - I have high blood pressure now - but what a heck of a way to go!  Husband was strutting, albeit a bit stiffly, the next morning, and he had every right.  He was brazen enough to do a little crowing at my mother!

I was pondering the experience Saturday, trying to figure out what was different.  Then, I had an epiphany... I am 34 years old, and a woman.  I have achieved my sexual prime!  Merrowwwwrrr!  I am Cougarlicious!
I put forth this theory to my mate, and he laughed himself silly.  Ah, love.