“Do you remember, when we met? That’s the day, I knew you were my pet. I wanna tell you how much I love you.” So begins the song Sea of Love, written by Phil Phillips.
The song is on my mind for two reasons. First, Val Erde created a beautiful graphic painting titled, “Sea Love“, and she is sharing it with her readers. Second, today my husband and I are celebrating our 9th wedding anniversary. Between the Sea Love painting and the Sea of Love song, I am in a wonderful place.
The sun is up, its rays starting to slip through the blinds, gently lightening the room. The smell of fresh brewed coffee fills the air, mixing with the morning conversations. She is surrounded by friends, yet she feels alone.
True, there is a history of drama prior to trips. The packing, the cleaning, the caring for the kids creates tension within her. She tries to keep it inside, but more often than not – the tension breaks out, spewing anger everywhere. Read more
Okay, okay. Since everyone else is writing about their Dads in honor of Father’s Day, I will, too. No, I am not going to jump off the bridge if everyone else does, but I would be happy to watch and write about it.
Actually, I am not going to write about my Dad. I will tell you I miss him, because I do. He died when I was 25yrs old. He never had the opportunity to meet my husband or my two boys. I’ve written about Dad in past posts (here’s a good one). When I read posts written by others about their Dad, tears well up in my eyes, as I feel a similar sense of pride and love for my Dad. But. I’m not going there today. For whatever reason, I feel like sadness is creeping in to my blogosphere, and I’d like to try and brighten things up a bit.
So. I am going to write about Rob. But, please don’t tell Rob, OK? See, Rob hates it when I talk about him on this here blog. Hates it. If I post pictures, he hates it even more. I’ve had to pull pictures from my blog, per his request. He was only a little nude. Read more
Fine. If you are going to require me to be honest, I admit I have passive aggressive tendencies. Wait. What do you mean you don’t require me to be honest? That’s not fair. I was set up. Set up! I say.
Oh well, now that the proverbial cat is out of the proverbial bag, I might as well put all my cards on the table. I am currently doing a dance of the bedsheets. What is the dance of bedsheets? The dance of bedsheets involves moving the clump of clean bedsheets (needing to be folded and put away) from the bed to the chair, based on the need of either the bed or the chair.
When will I stop doing the dance of the bedsheets? When my husband has folded and put the bedsheets away. I’ve been dancing for nearly a week, and I am showing no signs of tiring.
My husband tried to trick me into stopping the dance, when he mentioned he was overwhelmed with work. As I walked back into the bedroom, seeing the sheets clumped on the bed, I hesitated. “Lenore, it won’t take but a minute. Just put the sheets away. Why are you doing this? You’re being silly.” The rational voice in my head whispered. Read more
Update: March 26, 2012. Today, I am linking up with ‘Blog Bash Link Up!‘ This opportunity given to us bloggers by Ado and Alison is in honor of their 1yr Blogoversary. The requirement is simply to share your favorite post, along with a brief introduction explaining why the post is your favorite.
My favorite post is this one: My Marriage and the Septic Tank. I started blogging in January 2010, because I was at a crossroads with my life. Depression and divorce was heavily on my mind. A year later, thanks to writing, counseling and medication, I found myself in a better place. This post reminds me that crap exists but maintenance can keep the pipes of life clean.
Septic Tank Man arrived this week, and he is a super hero. Armed with an excavator, an empty tank and a long hose, Septic Tank Man was here to pump out our tank. Septic Tank Man was here to clean up our crap.
When I started this blog over a year ago, I wrote to save myself and my marriage. I was battling depression and pushing back advice to take medication, and I was ready to leave my husband. (How very logical of me to decide to leave my husband while depressed, don’t you think?) Writing gave me a place of my own, where I could freely express my thoughts in a way that allowed me to deliberate and navigate my way through the maze. Today, I have my depression under control and my marriage is solid. Read more