This Must Be The Place

Sixteen years ago, a couple in their early thirties pledged to love each other in front of a few dear, amazing friends and family in a modest back yard in Carpinteria, CA. The groom wore a seafoam green suit with a multi-colored tie, the bride wore an ivory silk tea dress that had layers that fluttered in the ocean breezes. The cake was late (and frozen), biplanes flew overhead during the groom's vows, drowning him out and causing the guests to laugh. The bride, a notorious sap, who cried at commercials (and still does on occasion) was uncharacteristically dry eyed, sober as she was, clear as she was that this was the biggest, most important decision she had ever made. To say yes to the complexity of marriage to this man. When the ceremony was over, they danced to this song.



And you're standing here beside me. I love the passage of time.

Happy Anniversary my Love.

If someone asks, this is where I'll be.

Fifteen Years Ago Today

I married the love of my life in the backyard of his parent's home.

And we're still married.

It's not always "happily ever after", but mostly, yeah, it is.

I'm grateful for every day.

I love you, Charley. I'm so lucky to be your wife and to be climbing out of the clown car of parenting with you every day.

It just gets richer and better.

Happy Anniversary, you big stud.

Days Aren't Long Enough

Fourteen years ago this Earth Day, Richard Nixon died.

And I became Mrs. McQ. It was a small wedding, held in Mr. McQ's parents backyard. I wore a crinkly silk dress that fit in a little tiny bag, and he was so handsome in his seafoam blue suit with jewel colored tie. A small but crucial clutch of friends and family gathered to witness as we pledged that we'd do our best to wake up every day together, and still be married by day's end. We wrote our own vows, and hired someone at the courthouse to come and seal the deal. She was very sweet and sort of large and wore a really purple dress and she cried through most of the ceremony. I thought I'd be the one to blubber through the whole thing, but I was amazingly calm, centered and present. For once. I say this, because Mr. McQ himself will tell you I'm a sap. I cry fairly easily, and I ALWAYS cry at weddings. Luckily, it's something he finds endearing. During Mr. McQ's vows, noisy bi-planes flew overhead, causing everyone to miss his sacred promises (which involved the phrase "whole enchilada"), but I heard them.

After the ceremony, we all walked two blocks to the beach, where everyone bravely crossed the rocky train tracks (including all the women in their heels), as we reenacted the Mr.'s proposal on the log on the bluffs. We'd handed out disposable cameras in lieu of a photographer, because our budget wouldn't allow it, and everyone snapped away. Then we came back and we danced to "Naive Melody" by The Talking Heads. There was cake, miraculously, even though the baker forgot about our wedding. After a frantic call that I didn't know about, he delivered it after the ceremony. As a cost-cutting measure, the Mister's lovely Aunt Fran had agreed to decorate our very basic white cake with fresh flowers, but since it was so late, she just plopped in my sister's bouquet as a topper. Honestly, it looked gorgeous and I never would have been the wiser if, when cutting the cake, we hadn't noticed that it was frozen. There was an inadvertently hilarious toast by my sweet daddy, rest his ever-lovin' soul, and delicious catered food, and more dancing and laughing and hugging.

For the next couple days, we took folks to the airport, and the day after that, we got on the road ourselves for our honeymoon up the California Coast, back to Seattle, and the rest of our lives.

In the intervening years, we've had the normal ups and downs: we've seen a therapist, had a baby, changed careers (for the time being), moved (five times), mourned lost friends and family, celebrated milestones, gained weight (both of us), lost weight (him), gained weight (me), and cleaned up a metric ton of cat poop. And there is no one, not one other person on earth, that I would rather have the depth of that history with.

Fourteen years have gone by like we're caught in some crazy movie, forever on fast forward. I want to just hit the pause button for a few minutes and savor it, but since that isn't possible, I'll do my best to celebrate the perfect imperfection of our days: dishes undone, short tempers, exhaustion, longing, laughter and unspoken deeds of affection.
Oh, and the hot old people s-e-x.

To my friends in the ether: I hope the following song gives your day a lift.
And To My Sweetie, thank you for this life we're building. It's a work in progress, isn't it?
Let's keep at it, and see how it all turns out.

"We'll remember how it was, then begin again because
days are never long enough"

My New Bike

My Darling Husband, who is just the best at giving gifts that are perfect and surprising, did something rare this weekend. He told me what he was thinking of getting me for our anniversary. He said it was early, and he didn't want to spoil the surprise, but there was a great sale at The Bike Gallery, perhaps the best bike store in all of the nation, or at least in Portland, OR. He had one he thought I'd like, but he wanted to run it by me first.

When we walked into the store on Friday, I was as excited as a little kid. My first bike was a red Schwinn. It had a white basket, and my mom wove yellow plastic flowers into the weave. Taking the training wheels off of that bike was one of the happiest days of my life. I was in second grade, and suddenly had the freedom to ride all the way to the top of our block, and eventually, all the way to the other end of the block, stopping only to show off my bike to admiring neighbors or put treasures (rocks) in my basket.

I've had lots of bikes since, and the one I've had for the last 15 years has served me very well. But I haven't served it well at all. I've ridden it to work a few times, and have trudged along on family rides, bitching all the way about the gears slipping. Have I ever had it serviced? Mmmmmm? Maybe once in fifteen years. But I honestly wasn't looking to replace it. I loved my bike. I loved bitching about it. But my darling husband, who rides his bike almost every day to the train station has been walking in the door looking jubilant and refreshed and fabulous. It's helped his stress, and he's healthier with every mile he puts on it.

So, he convinced me. Plus, did I mention it was a sale? Even a lapsed Lutheran can't resist the irresistible lure of frugality. And this bike.... he'd already sort of picked it out. He'd looked over a few, and showed them to me, but this is what he showed me first, and I didn't even need to look at the others. This was it. It was creamy perfection, with just the right amount of fru-fru embellishment. It had a super comfy wide leather seat and those beautiful matching handlebars. But it wasn't until I took a test drive that I fell, hard and fast. So smooth, with enough gears to get me up the hills I'll encounter every day on my way to work. Add to that the fact that the bell, kickstand and bottle holder (plus bottle) were all included, and the fenders I'll surely need for rainy NW weather, plus the rack on the back to add my panniers for trips to the grocery store were added there in the store for a pittance, and I'm just swooning.

I can't say enough about the service at the Bike Gallery, too. Most of the staff have been with them off and on for years. As our lovely sales guy Nicko said with a big grin "You can't ever leave for good. They just keep pulling you back." He himself had worked there for years, now working full time at another fabulous Portland institution, but coming back to work sales on weekends, because, well, I think he just really loved it. You can tell they treat their employees well - everyone there just seemed really content and happy. Even the uber-hip Portland types broke into a grin when you spoke to them.

So now, it's time to ride. The road beckons....

Ding Ding!

up, up and away

Can I just say, that too much fun leaves me pooped? Smiling like an idiot, but pooped.

I'm not talking about the kind of fun you might be thinking of. No, this was the kind of fun that you have with lots of people around (and I know, some people DO have THAT kind of fun with lots of people around, but I'm just far too Lutheran for that).

For not only was our weekend with friends stupendous, we did stuff we don't normally do. We were "outdoor adventurers"! Well, almost. Joe-Henry got to join his friend Hazel at an event sponsored by the Washington Department of Fish and Wildlife called Fishing Kids. Not only did he get to catch a fish, he got a t-shirt AND he got to keep his pole! All for $5! Do you know what this means? It means I have to learn how to clean fish without throwing up. And then, to top it off, yesterday I exhausted myself watching Joe-Henry rock climb at REI. And I did it all without a harness or special shoes.

It was unbelievable. He and I had gone there last Thursday to get Charley some special panniers for his bike as an anniversary present. I knew that I wasn't getting him exactly what he wanted, but I needed something to put in the gift bag. We signed up to become members, and when we did, the clerk handed Joe-Henry a ticket for a free climb. So yesterday, we went back to make the gift exchange, and while Charley shopped (and shopped - he's a Libra, after all), I wheeled Joe-Henry around in the shopping cart. He was all listless energy, until he saw an eight year old boy, scaling the rock climbing wall.

"MOM! We have that ticket! I want to try!" I looked over at Charley, entranced as he was by moisture wicking socks, and said, "okay". We'd be there a while, why not. But I had my doubts about whether or not he'd actually do it.

The first hurdle was finding shoes that fit. I honestly didn't think it could happen, but after meeting William the Conquerer of All Obstacles, Coach Extraordinaire, I knew that they'd find something. And they did. A pair of size 6 climbing shoes. That's an adult size 6. Then strap him into the harness, and away they go. William was all positive energy, and Joe-Henry was undaunted, but after fifteen minutes of trying he got no further than two feet off the ground. William asked him if he wanted to take a break, because there were some other kids there waiting their turn, and he said "if it's okay with your parents, and you have the time, you take a long break, and we'll try it again. Or come back on another day, and we'll give it another go." I honestly thought we were headed home right then, until Joe-Henry turned around and I saw his eyes.

He'd had a tiny taste, and he was determined. And he is my son, after all. I can be a terrier when I have to, and as they say, "the apple doesn't fall far from the tree." Charley was done shopping, and wanted to go, but I said, "I think he needs to try this again". Then Charley saw the look in Joe-Henry's eyes, and he knew it too. He went to grab a cup of coffee, and came back, and we waited. We watched as probably eight kids scaled the wall, Joe-Henry cheering each of them on, gripping his ticket, watching as they found the next foothold, the next place to put a hand. We waited probably an hour and a half. It was the end of William's shift, he was off in ten minutes. But he enlisted the help of another guide, and the two of them got Joe-Henry suited up. The other guide said, "Hey, dude! I heard about you! You're the six year old with size 6 feet! Awesome!" Then into the harness and away they went. Before he got suited up, I gave him two pieces of advice. Don't giggle because it takes away your strength. And don't listen to or look for mom and dad. William is the go-to guy, listen to him, keep your eyes up on the next step and you'll be reaching the top. Joe-Henry listened intently, and repeated my advice to William. William said, "Oh, it's okay to giggle! Climbing is fun! And Mom and Dad can help, if they want to". So I took that as my permission slip to yell out a piece of advice now and again, but I truly trusted William to get him there.

And he did. It was amazing, thrilling to watch. Joe-Henry was so into it. Not too serious, but really, he worked so hard. I honestly didn't expect him to make it to the top, but if he got up 5 feet, I would have been ecstatic. But you know what? After about 20 minutes of really hard work, concentration, and cheers from the crowd that gathered below, my boy, my silly, giggly wiggly boy, rang that bell! I told him he had to yell out "Top o' the world, MA!", and he obliged. Then he got to rapel down, and I told him to thank William for all his help, and William, all good grace and humanity, said "tell your parents that you did all the work!" We all had a good laugh, and for the next few hours, Joe-Henry just kept repeating, " I DID it! I rang the bell! I didn't give up!" I told him he was so busted if he ever wanted me to believe that he couldn't get himself dressed in the morning, because I saw how hard he'd tried, and if he could climb that wall, he could surely get his own socks on. And he laughed.

I don't think it will be a problem ever again. Because he knows. He didn't give up. He rang the bell.

happy anniversary

One year ago today, Charley was in Portland in a rental house, having just started a new job (not new, new - he transferred, but it was in a new city, and a new state), Joe-Henry was at Grandma and Grandpas, and I was watching as every last thing we owned was being packed into a truck, getting ready to move us to a new house in a new state.

I was exhausted, frantic, and just trying so hard not to have a stroke. I had amazing help - my sister-in-law was there and my friend Amy and her two boys, not to mention the mover we hired - so it was all being taken care of. But my mental state was fragile, my synapses firing on all cylinders, but fueled on nervous energy alone. They're not kidding when they say that the stress of moving is right up there with death and divorce. And both of those events seemed to be a possibility that day.

So a year ago, I didn't get to celebrate another anniversary. Our wedding anniversary. Twelve years before, we said "I do" in front of about 30 good friends and family in the backyard of my husband's parents house. It was a beautiful wedding, if I do say so myself. But it wasn't nearly as beautiful as the years that followed.

There have been hills and valleys, some truly dark times, but more and more, it seems that around every corner there are unimagined riches. A love that weathered last year. A beautiful son, a house that seems to be at the end of every rainbow (I'm not even being poetic there - it's true), a love that seems to grow stronger with every passing day. The simple joys of an ordinary life.

We celebrated this year. We went to our favorite restaurant in Seattle, the city where we met and fell in love. At this restaurant, long ago, we planned our wedding; we went there, starving after having sex all afternoon, our brains too addled to boil water; we had a farewell dinner there when we decided to move from Seattle to Los Angeles.

Last night, we got there to hold our reservation for six. Our son sat coloring his placemat (he ordered the "Quit Naggin' Me Noodles"), our friends Annie and Anita, dear friends who tied the knot a couple months before us, arrived with their beautiful daughter (and Joe-Henry's future wife - no pressure or anything, kid) Hazel, and their newborn son Gabe.

Charley and I didn't cuddle in a booth, we sat and held hands at the table for a few minutes, then I got to walk Gabe around and show him the old neighborhood a little while he fussed, and gave his moms a little time to chat. Joe-Henry and Hazel went off to another room right off our table, where they could be alone and share the secrets of being six years old, and occasionally, I'd catch my husband's eye. We'd smile at each other, like the old married people we are.

Happy Thirteenth Anniversary, love. We made it through the first year in a new place, and we get to carve another notch in our wedding rings. I love you madly.

Thanks for the riches of this extraordinary ordinary life.

on marriage

Today, I raise a toast to my in-laws. 51 years together and counting. Last year there was lots of hoopla, and they deserved it all, but this year it's just them. I know they enjoyed last year, but I think of them, going out to a nice dinner tonight, and know how lucky they are to be sharing each other's company. To be 51 years with the one you love and to still share the kind of love that they do.

They were young when they married, he was barely out of his teens, and she was still in them. They had three kids out of highschool by the time they were my age, and have seen so much change in the world since they've been married, not just historically (though it's significant), but just in the way we live. There's more of everything now, more stuff, more convenience, but less time, it seems. But they've kept up - they have more energy than most 30 year olds, and more than I will ever dream of having. They are thoroughly modern and hip and are two of the most intriguing people I know.

I could paint them as a perfect couple, but I think that would be a disservice to them. Do you know all those couples that people write about - the one's who finish one another's sentences? Those sweet older folk who pat each other on the knee and hold hands all the time? Yeah, well, those couples are pikers compared to my in-laws. These guys bicker, they get into it with each other, and they have their own opinions, often in opposition of each other, and they have their own interests. But here's the trick - they are still, to this day, truly sweet on each other. You can't be intimate with someone without disagreeing with them. That's the test and the honor of their commitment. They are two strong individuals who make each other stronger, not because they believe the same things or feel the same way, but because they don't. They're interested in the world, and interesting to each other, and they know how to make each other laugh. Plus, they have a sparkle in their eyes when they're around each other, and I feel lucky to witness it.

So Happy Anniversary, Chuck and Dolores. Enjoy this anniversary, make each other smile, and know that we love you.