Well, the two-week Southern Cali vacation is over- Darin and I head back up to the Pacific Northwest today. And not a moment too soon! I miss the hot days and cool nights, the best coffee in North America, the crisp air, the occasional cloudy sky... By the way, cloudy days in the PN are gorgeous, not depressing- I've called them "Poet's Days" since I was nine.
One thing I am not looking forward to? Seeing Dad in his underwear.
It's inevitable. There hasn't been a single visit without seeing my pasty father in his sick, white, thinning briefs. The question is, when? When I collect clean clothes from the dryer? A bathroom visit at 3 am? My morning coffee? Nothing is safe anymore, I tell you!
I must remember not to raise my voice after he goes to bed. If anything comes in the way between Dad and the Sandman, take warning sailor. A naked monster will emerge, grunting exclamations: "Uh? Ugh? I'm trying to sleep! Uh!"
*shudder*
I'll keep you posted.
On a fully-clothed note, my uncle gave me an exquisite amber necklace in gratitude for house and dog-sitting while he was in Poland. He doesn't surprise me with the unwelcome sights of hairless thighs and saggy rears.
Thursday, July 27, 2006
Saturday, July 22, 2006
One year
Today is my first wedding anniversary. Hot diggity dog! There is no emoticon for what I am feeling right now.
This past year proved to be a dysfunctional cornucopia of laughter, uncertainty, pain, joy, and bodily functions. "It was the best of times, it was the worst of times..." Yeah, somewhat like the French Revolution.
I made a most important discovery about myself. I make a very poor wife. Before you start consoling the computer ("Oh, Louise, don't say that!"), it's completely true. In our first year of marriage, I barely cooked, cleaned, paid bills, or contributed to any sort of marital duties.
Whoa. That was harder to type than I thought.
This caused a few difficulties, as you can imagine. Darin as the responsible man of all men, myself as the somewhat inconsiderate roommate. (It didn't help that we had almost opposite work/school schedules, resulting in too many lonely nights.) We argued about it, I cried and pouted, Darin grunted... He wanted to know exactly why I wouldn't help him. I didn't even know. It took a good eight months to figure out why I, a hardworking and compassionate person, a 'dem fine gel', could not bring myself to take on the role of WIFE.
Sacrifice.
I couldn't do it. If I committed myself to this marriage whole-heartedly, I would lose myself. I would lose my individuality, my person. I would lose Louise. This thought was excruciating. I like me.
Why did it take almost eight months to realize this? Well, I am Louise, after all. But now that I know what was holding me back from giving God and Darin all that I can possibly give, it can be fixed. "I'm not dead yet!"
And can I say how happy I am to be back home? Apartment living in Southern Michigan really brings out the worst in people. So glad to be home. It's much easier to sacrifice. (OK, that was meant to be ironic.) Sigh... And through it all, my husband still likes me.
This past year proved to be a dysfunctional cornucopia of laughter, uncertainty, pain, joy, and bodily functions. "It was the best of times, it was the worst of times..." Yeah, somewhat like the French Revolution.
I made a most important discovery about myself. I make a very poor wife. Before you start consoling the computer ("Oh, Louise, don't say that!"), it's completely true. In our first year of marriage, I barely cooked, cleaned, paid bills, or contributed to any sort of marital duties.
Whoa. That was harder to type than I thought.
This caused a few difficulties, as you can imagine. Darin as the responsible man of all men, myself as the somewhat inconsiderate roommate. (It didn't help that we had almost opposite work/school schedules, resulting in too many lonely nights.) We argued about it, I cried and pouted, Darin grunted... He wanted to know exactly why I wouldn't help him. I didn't even know. It took a good eight months to figure out why I, a hardworking and compassionate person, a 'dem fine gel', could not bring myself to take on the role of WIFE.
Sacrifice.
I couldn't do it. If I committed myself to this marriage whole-heartedly, I would lose myself. I would lose my individuality, my person. I would lose Louise. This thought was excruciating. I like me.
Why did it take almost eight months to realize this? Well, I am Louise, after all. But now that I know what was holding me back from giving God and Darin all that I can possibly give, it can be fixed. "I'm not dead yet!"
And can I say how happy I am to be back home? Apartment living in Southern Michigan really brings out the worst in people. So glad to be home. It's much easier to sacrifice. (OK, that was meant to be ironic.) Sigh... And through it all, my husband still likes me.
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