Another Two Weeks

Today was our 20th wedding anniversary.

We didn't do anything particularly special today other than share a sandwich at lunch.

Ian got up early to run, I swam.  There was an appointment with a roofer to get another estimate on the latest house project that needs to be tended to sooner rather than later.  When I left for work all the kids were nestled into spots on couches and cuddled together to do things on laptops.

I did a lot of bow work today at the store.  Ian brought me lunch and did work on his side of the store which is so different from my side.  His thing is all Quickbooks and bills and rental lists, and mine is all chisels and knives and planes.  It's a good thing we have each other because each of us is lost on the wrong side of the store.

In the afternoon he picked up this week's farm share box on the way home where he had to do an Army conference call.  I finished my last few appointments and then swung by the house to grab the kids to go volunteer at the soup kitchen downtown.  Then we stopped at Michael's and Goodwill to poke around for stuff for a project I'm doing, and then home where we were unsuccessful at coaxing the dog out from under the couch for a walk.  (Chipper currently remembers how to do stairs, but has forgotten he likes to go for walks.)

What Day Is It?

I was checking Facebook this morning before heading out to swim and was reminded it's the birthday of my cousin's daughter.  She's five today, which is exciting, but then I remembered that her birthday is the same day as our wedding anniversary! 

I kind of forgot we even have an anniversary.  I looked at Ian and said, "Hey!  Happy Anniversary!" and he looked surprised and then smiled and said, "Oh yeah!" 

Then we took a moment to do the math and realized it's been 18 years.  We are a whole-legal-to-vote-person-amount of married.  Kind of cool! 

I remember years ago in college my family threw me a surprise birthday party one year, but since I obviously didn't know about it I started the day feeling disappointed that nothing special was happening.  I was just going with Ian to my grandma's house for dinner the way we did every Sunday.  But then I realized that what was an ordinary kind of day for me was better than what many people get for a special occasion, and I had a lot to be happy about on my birthday.  And then, of course, I got to be super extra happy anyway when we pulled up to grandma's and realized everyone had gathered there. 

But I never forgot that genuine sense of contentment and joy that I came to just thinking about how good I have it in my day to day life.  Today's anniversary is like that.  I love my marriage.  I like it just the way it is day to day.  I don't need the super extra happy to enjoy it.  Big gestures and special things can be fun and exciting from time to time, but I wouldn't trade that for how nice my life is in general at its most ordinary. 

My husband spent the day doing all manner of things to keep our household running smoothly and to make our lives better.  I hope I was as helpful to him.  I think we're a good team.  (Even if we're not good at remembering to, you know, check the calendar sometimes.)

One Year in the Quiet Corner

Today is the one year anniversary of this blog.  I like it here.

It's curious, and sometimes sad, to look at paths not taken.  When picking a major for college I decided of all the areas that interested me music was the most likely to deteriorate and not remain a viable option if I didn't continue it.  So I headed that way, unsure of what I would do with it since a performance career didn't appeal to me and at the time I didn't plan to teach.  When I stumbled on the idea of instrument making it felt like finding a home, and I'm glad it's something I pursued.  I'm unlikely to reach the top of my profession, but I appreciate the challenge of trying to earn a place there.

A different direction that I had the option to take was writing.  I love to write.  It was always the easiest thing for me in school.  I was one of those (irritating) people who could put off a paper until mere hours before it was due and dash off something that the teacher would not only give me an A for, but praise as an example to other classes.  But I only wrote as part of school assignments and that was it.  I didn't decide to take a stab at writing on my own until I was in my mid-30s.

Fifteen Years

Today was my fifteenth wedding anniversary.

Ian's at Ft McCoy.

For our tenth anniversary he was stationed in Iraq, so I prefer him just a few hours away, attending classes on military history instead of participating in it.

Back when Ian and I got married we were in a phase of life where most of our friends were getting married.  I felt like I was constantly trying on bridesmaids' dresses and everyone was pairing up and settling down.

Now we are in a phase where it seems like more and more couples we know are coming apart.  In the past week I've helped two different friends in the process of divorce move their things out of their former homes.  I've watched as they've struggled with difficult emotions and tried to find new ways to do the best they can by their children.  Both were couples we liked very much and never suspected they were troubled.

It's so strange putting other people's lives in boxes, labeling bits of their history for storage.  It's sobering.  And it can't help but make you reflect on your own life and the path you're on.

My friends' homes and possessions are strikingly similar to my own.  I boxed art supplies and children's keepsakes and moved many books.  If you'd asked me a year ago I wouldn't have guessed their marriages where much different from mine either.  You just never know.

I can't fathom what it must feel like to have to ask permission from my husband to step foot into a home we made together and raised children in.  I can't imagine not having him on my side anymore.

I don't know why after fifteen years my husband and I are still happily married.  I love him more now than I ever have.  I hate that he's away tonight.  I was pleased he called me to tell me how his Army classes are going and I can't wait for him to come home.  I feel like I'm biding my time somewhat while he's away.  The kids and I are having a nice time together, but it's not complete without their dad in the picture.  I can certainly get by on my own, but it feels off kilter.  There are gaps in our family without Ian here.  He helps me to be my best possible self.  I like that he tells me I'm stuck with him.

Back when we first started dating over half our lives ago, we used to joke about giving our relationship another two weeks.  That didn't seem like an overreach, so every Thursday on the anniversary of our first date we'd say to each other, "Another two weeks?" and decide to go for it.  It used to just seem funny, but now I don't know at what length you can make such predictions.

Can I say for certain we'll last the next fifteen years?  No.  All I can say is I want to, and hope with all my heart we get to continue down this path I've enjoyed so much for the past fifteen. 

(Ian?  If you're reading this out there between Army classes, I love you.  Another two weeks?)

Lucky 13 (Babble)

Today is my 13th wedding anniversary.  It’s the third one I’ve had to spend apart from my husband.  I’m trying very hard today not to tally up all the days that the Army has kept my husband away from me.  It’s not fair to blame the Army since military service is my husband’s choice, but it’s easier to be angry with the Army than with Ian.  I can’t think of a moment of my life that I’ve been genuinely mad at Ian.  I may disagree with him at times, and there are certainly moments when I just don’t get what he’s thinking, but I trust him more than any person on earth.  I love him, and days like this one make me miss him more than usual.

So instead of focusing on what I don’t have today, my plan is to pull out my wedding album and gather the kids around for a story.  It’s a story they’ve heard before, but only in bits and pieces, and this is the first time Quinn is old enough to identify people in the pictures himself, even though I’m shocked at how much younger everyone looks in them.  Want to hear a wedding story?

Now, I’m not much of a wedding person, which is funny since I have been involved in more weddings than anyone else in my entire family.  I have been performing music for weddings since I was in high school.  I give advice to brides all the time on how to make their weddings run more smoothly and be more personal.  I’m pretty good at it, if I do say so myself.  But I am not otherwise particularly interested in weddings.  I was never one of those girls who used to imagine her ‘big day’ or even think I needed to be married.  It wasn’t important to me.


Ian and I lived together for several years before we decided to get married.  There were a couple of reasons we decided to take that step when we did.  The first was that we knew we wanted to start planning to have children.  I think the greatest gift my parents ever gave me was their love for one another.  It was unquestioned and the most stable thing I knew.  If I raised my children in an environment that caused them to ponder my relationship with their dad long enough to ask why we weren’t married, then I would not be giving them that same gift I was lucky enough to receive.  Even if the idea of being officially married didn’t stir anything in me at the time, it does matter to many kids.  It bothered some of my violin students that Ian and I weren’t married, so the potential impact on my actual children one day couldn’t be discounted.

The other reason sort of snuck up on me.  We were attending an event with some relatives, and my aunt introduced us to someone as, “My niece and her friend.”  My aunt is one of the sweetest people I know and she certainly wasn’t trying to be disrespectful in any way, but the word ‘friend’ in that context struck me as deeply inadequate.  The word ‘husband’ may not have the same connotations for everyone, but it was certainly closer to reflecting the true nature of our relationship than any other I can think of.  Suddenly a marriage certificate didn’t seem so trivial.  It created a shorthand by which we would be able to present ourselves more accurately to the society we lived in.

I learned a lot planning my wedding.  It’s an invaluable rite of passage that teaches you about yourself, your family, what’s important and what isn’t.  This was not something I believed before I went through it for myself.  Now I have a theory about how much a wedding reflects elements of the marriage as a whole.  You can tell a lot about a couple and their future by the choices they make surrounding a wedding.  It’s the only event I know of that forces you to examine the worth and meaning of every personal connection in your life, if only to decide whom to inform, whom to invite, and who sits with whom at the reception.  I can’t think of another time I made party arrangements that included cousins and old high school classmates, work colleagues and grandparents, college buddies and my parents’ friends.

I didn’t want my wedding to look like a lot of the cookie cutter weddings I’d played for.  I wanted it to be simple and elegant and I wanted to have fun.  It was important to us to keep our wedding small so we could really interact with everyone there.  We kept it down to 50 people, but the only reason that was possible was because my parents threw a slightly larger party at their home the following weekend for everyone else.

One of the biggest lessons I learned while planning my wedding was how being someone’s child connects you to others.  Its something I understand much better now having children of my own, and caring about the lives of my friends’ children.  It took me awhile to understand why my tiny guest list should include my mom’s friends, but as she passionately made her case it struck me how much my wedding was her event too because I was her baby.  I’d spent too much time observing pushy mothers imposing their will on their daughter’s events to appreciate my mom’s side of it at first.  I’m glad her friends were there.

My dad suggested I send a few invitations to famous people.  The White House sends you a nice little congratulatory card if you send them an invite, so I did that.  I also sent invitations to Oliver Sacks, Sting, Peter Schickele, Jimmy Carter, and Miss Manners.  I added a note explaining that sometimes people who have made important contributions to your life are people you have never even met, and in that spirit I would hope they would consider my invitation to an important day.  The Carters were very prompt returning their card with the ‘cannot attend’ box checked.  Miss Manners once wrote a column about how she didn’t approve of RSVP cards, since anyone kind enough to invite you to his or her wedding deserved to hear back from you on your own stationery.  But people aren’t even good about sending back those convenient cards, so I just didn’t include one for her.  She did indeed have someone on her staff decline the invitation in a handwritten note on official Miss Manners stationery.  I’m still waiting to hear back from Sting, Dr Sacks and Mr. Schickele.  (Technically I’m still waiting to hear back from my brother, Arno, but I’m more likely to get that little card returned from Sting so I should just let that go.)

I loved my wedding.  As it took shape, certain things about it surprised me.  For instance, I never pictured myself in a traditional wedding dress.  The idea of dressing up in something I couldn’t wear again goes against my sensibilities.  But when I tried on one or two for fun, it hit me that this was the only time in my life I could wear such an outfit and not look insane.  Having a special dress for one day suddenly looked kind of marvelous instead of wasteful.  I had also assumed I would be the kind of person to write her own vows, but when I really thought about it, I realized I wanted my chance to just say, “I do.”
But my favorite part of my wedding (besides the whole marrying Ian part) was how it was something so many people contributed their talents to.  For wedding gifts we asked people who were able to add something to the day. 

Not only did that make the wedding more meaningful, but much more affordable.  I think the only things we paid actual money for were the tuxes, the officiator, Ian’s ring, my shoes, and the food.  I bartered for the space in the Renaissance style garden by carving some of the column tops that were slated to be installed there in the future.  My mom made the invitations and traded one of her drawings for my dress.  The cake was a made by a friend, the flowers were a gift from a gardener in attendance, and the music was played by friends from college.  I wrote my own march.  My dad wrote the poem for the reading.

The place where we were married had a portico that framed a garden, and we ate facing the center which provided a perfect stage for performances during the reception.  The best man did a juggling act, a cousin danced, friends and family played music.  One brother acted as MC between acts by providing clever poetic introductions, and the other gave an entomological lecture followed by the release of butterflies.  We danced into the night to a truly wacky mix tape.  One of the best lines of all time was from my friend, Sarah.  She was asked by one of the waitresses who was confused by how eccentric this wedding appeared if it was some ethnic thing, and she told me later, “I hope you don’t mind–I told her you were Estonian royalty.”

The only part of this wedding tale that gets my children’s attention (aside from the juggling) is that our pet rabbit at the time, Cujo, was there.  She didn’t participate in any way (although I suppose she could have if we’d thought of some appropriate way to include the chewing of electrical cords into the ceremony), but we left for my grandmother’s cottage for our honeymoon straight from the reception, and the bunny had to come along.  She sat in her cage in the corner until it was time to go, but my kids ask to hear again and again about how there was a bunny at the wedding.

I still have my dress.  My grandmother had it specially boxed for me.  I wonder if one of my girls will have any interest in using it someday, or if it will be something that gets shuffled from one attic to another over time until people forget which distant relative it belonged to.  I have never revisited the site where our wedding took place, although I’ve often wondered if the grapes I carved from mahogany ever found their way onto the garden columns as planned.  I’d like to go back there with Ian one day and walk around.  Maybe if he’s not called up again around the time of our 15th wedding anniversary we could have another party there.  I still have the mix tape my brother made, and it would be fun to dance to the theme from Sanford and Son again.  (I seem to remember William Shatner doing Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds, and something by Aretha Franklin….  I should pop that tape in tonight after dinner and see what the kids think.)

I love being married.  I didn’t think there would be a difference between living together and being married, but there is, at least for me.  I never expected to have the life I do.  I’m not sure what I pictured, but the husband and children I have are more lovable and interesting than any people I could have imagined. 

My wedding day was wonderful, but it was not the best day of my life only because I’ve had many, many wonderful days.  Each day of my life adds to the collection of experiences that are uniquely my own, and I have many to enjoy reflecting on, not just the one where I got to declare my love for my husband in front of the other people in my life.  I may miss him today, but I am lucky to know him at all, let alone get to be his wife.

Happy Halloweeniversary (Babble)

Ian and I met on Halloween in 1989.  I can’t believe that was twenty years ago.  I have now known him half my life.  Halloween is one of the harder days to be without Ian.  The only other time we’ve been apart on Halloween was his last deployment in 2006.

We met at a party where everyone was asked to wear black and bring something grotesque sounding to eat.  String musicians own a lot of black clothes, so that part was easy for me, and I brought a box of vanilla pudding I figured we could call phlegm.

The party was loud, and I ended up wedged between my stand partner from orchestra and what looked like a young republican in a suit.  My stand partner was annoying and I really didn’t want to have to chat with her outside of orchestra, so I was stuck turning to suit guy.  On closer inspection I realized the suit was an ROTC uniform.  I come from a family of artists.  I thought ‘Hair’ was a very patriotic movie when I saw it at age nine.  I didn’t think I’d have anything in common with an Army guy.  I remember having the very conscious thought, “Well, not fair to judge a book by its cover….” and I said hello.

I find it impossible to picture my life today if I hadn’t gone to that party.

No Ian in his ROTC uniform means no Aden, no Mona, no Quinn.  I might not even be in violin making because Ian supported me and gave me encouragement all through my apprenticeship.  I don’t know who I would be right now.  I don’t know where I would be living or what I would be doing.  I’m sure I would have picked a different path that would appeal to me and I would be happy and fine, but the mere idea of a world where my kids never existed is unsettling.  They are supposed to be here somehow, I just know it.  Which brings me back to Ian in his ROTC uniform.


He told me later he specifically wore it just to be counter-counter-cultural.  He wanted to see if anyone in the all black wearing dancer/musician crowd would talk to him.  We had one of the best conversations of my life.  I had just finished reading “Surely You’re Joking, Mr. Feynman” and really wanted to discuss it with someone, but no one else had even heard of it–except Ian.  We laughed together over the safe cracking chapter, and talked on and on as if we’d known each other a long time.  As if he weren’t in a uniform.  As if I didn’t come from a family that would be baffled about what to do with an engineering major when I brought him home.

Eventually, I had to go.  I had a paper to write and it was getting late.  I said goodbye and walked home alone, rerunning parts of the enjoyable conversation over and over in my head.  I’d sworn off dating for a bit because I was having a rough time at that point in college, but after a few days I realized I wanted to talk to the guy in the Army suit again.  I told the person who had invited him to the Halloween party to give him my number.  I thought that was very clever because he could call me, but he knew ahead of time I wanted him to.  A fabulous plan, except that at the time Ian was not good at calling people.  I ended up calling him myself, and left messages twice.  I should have figured it was a sign he wasn’t interested, but that conversation on Halloween had been so nice….  It just couldn’t have been my imagination.  The person I talked to would want me to try again, I just knew it, despite whatever signals I seemed to be getting.

When I tried the third (and in my mind, final) time, I actually caught Ian on the phone.  I asked him to a movie that night, and he said, “No, I can’t.  But don’t hang up!”  I hadn’t imagined it.  We had another great conversation.  We met the next night for a movie.  We’ve now had twenty years of great conversations, and mundane conversations, laughter and comfortable silence, and the occasional movie.  I still have the box of unopened phlegm pudding in the cupboard.  One day it will be a fun anniversary treat to make.  (Or at least an interesting experiment about the shelf life of instant pudding.)

I never imagined I’d fall in love with an Army guy.  It’s not always easy, but the proof that it’s right is in the form of three remarkable people who I get to tuck into bed each night.  I miss my husband.  There is no one else I’d rather talk to right now.

(Happy Anniversary, Ian, if you can read this.  I hope next Halloween we’re together.)