Paper, not plastic

Have you ever lived a ‘weird’ patch of life? Like, when things just don’t seem to be progressing correctly, or things don’t go how you expect them to, or stuff occurs that you wish you could change because even though they might be little things, they pile up and suddenly you’re all irritated and twitchy?

That was last night at our house. For ALL of us. The cats were hissing constantly at the kittens, the kids were picking at each other and gyrating in the path of things that needed to happen, the spousal unit and I were both slightly testy, and for no really good reason. Everything felt like it was made of wool, and nothing could be done to cure the itch.

Things could have taken an ugly turn after the accidental wine glass smashing, but thankfully did not, perhaps because by that point we were too full of The Most Excellent Shepard’s Pie Ever to even care that needle-sharp glass could become embedded in our feet at any moment. I’m pretty sure by that point the wine I’d had and the promise of homemade chocolate chip cake for dessert were also gently clouding my perception and reaction.

Sometimes life just goes like that.

And then, sometimes life is a grade-A coont and just keeps throwing curve balls at you, so that even AFTER announcing the prior evening that there would be fresh waffles from breakfast (waffleversary!), one teen boy gets up at 6 a.m. and has a bowl of cereal for breakfast which is kind of irritating because you know he knew about the damn waffles already and that sets teeth on edge. Full-on grinding occurs when said teen puts the empty bowl and spoon into the sink that you’ve just emptied to prepare to wash dishes, which is a sure sign of flippant effrontery at worst and of completely clueless teendom at best. At those moments (it being only 10 past 6 in the morning, keep in mind), the very best thing one can do is crawl back into bed for a half an hour with your already-retreated spouse and pray for peace and understanding.

After 30 minutes of trying to get a fresh start, you look at the love of your life, sigh, say ‘happy start to our second year,’ and announce that it sure is getting off to a weird start.

To which she will reply ‘yeah, it sure is’ and squeeze you tightly, because she knows just how hard this all can be and how very proud she is to be married to someone like you who addresses rough patches with as much aplomb and humor as can be gusto’ed up on short notice.

And as a small tribute to her spousal unit's grand good nature and how much he means to her, she reads the words she said to him in the company of God and a few friends and family a year and a day ago and decides to include them in a blog post because they’re more true now then 366 days ago, yet not as true as she suspects they’ll be 3000 days hence:

I promise you these things, in no strictly particular order:

To love you, fiercely and tenderly, all the days of my life
To hold to you and no one else
To comfort you with patience and goodwill,
To find joy in everyday things, as is our wont
To laugh until breathless, as is our bent
To keep focus on the good, through everyday actions
To appreciate you deeply.

For now and always, I promise.

Happy Anniversary, Biff. You totally hang the moon.

(Image from here. This dude rocks, but does not hang the moon, for that is Biff's job.)