As though it knew it has only two days of misery left, February has dug in its heels and thrown a little more snow our way.
Let it do it's worst! Spring is alive under the crust, yesterday everything smelled warm and earthy and water ran down in sheer sheets along the roadside.
A word to the wise: don't tell your husband about plans to redecorate until after it's been accomplished. Firstly, he won't notice the changes unless they're pointed out to him after the fact, but he will most certainly object with mule like stubbornness before they are enacted. Secondly, he doesn't know how attached he is to John Deere place mats until their dominance on the dining room table is threatened. Best not to stir up this deep held, atavistic attachment until after the table has been reset.
The whole thing took me by surprise, as you can see. At first, I thought it was funny until I realized he was serious and then I got mad and then I got up and did the dinner dishes in order to kill any opportunity to say anything I would regret later.
"This is really important to you, isn't it?" asked my husband when I returned, his eyes opened.
"Yes!" I exploded, arms spread wide. "I'm a woman! This is what I do! I decorate! And it's not like I was going to go out and buy a whole new set of furniture, I just wanted new place mats and some new candles! I can do this, I can do it cheaply and I can do it well!"
(Passion, anyone?)
"Well, just don't throw anything away. And I want the John Deere place mats safe upstairs in the Man Room," he said, resigned and a little awed.
Wanna bet after all that I don't actually do anything at all? Heh.
I went shopping at Wal Mart yesterday...(I know, I said that I would eschew it. But where else is one going to find a reasonably priced humidifier as well as a gallon of milk? It's diabolic, I say. Or else the crowning achievement of capitalism.)
Keith called to suggest that we meet up for lunch, I told him I was in the meat department. A few minutes later, while I was examining the cuts of steak, a soldier grabbed me from behind and kissed me, causing a passing shopper to jump with alarm. I did too actually, I was expecting to see him coming.
There's nothing like being grabbed by a man in uniform and, my blood stirred, I made out with him in our car after lunch. Yum.
Two appointments are coming up, a Pap smear and an introductory counselling session, both of which I made weeks and weeks ago. I feel like cancelling them both, but what would life be like without something to dread, right?
I keep having this nagging feeling that something buried this way comes, to mangle a quote. I know myself and something is not quite right, internally. Will more buried memories come up in the next few months? Do I have to reprocess the old ones, in light of becoming a parent? I don't know. I wish I didn't have to find out.
I sat with my mom on the couch during this recent vacation, in the dim light of a lamp. It hit me, how powerful we are, as women. The strength of us are like gnarled oaks whose roots go down right into the heart of the earth and can't be overturned. We've lived through things most people can't even bear to imagine. We've looked them in the heart and walked right through, we commanded the pain. I love my mom, my battle buddy and my comforter.
I hope I have as good a therapist as I did the last time.
