On Friday, September 26, Husband and I celebrated our 21st wedding anniversary.
(September is a celebrate-y month for me! 17th: Maybelline Queen's birthday, 20th: J's birthday; 21st: Anniversary of the day my BFF Lady Darcy and I met; 22nd: My junior high besty's birthday; 24th: Lady Darcy and CPA Boy's anniversary; 26th: my and Husband's anniversary. And J's son has a birthday in there too; I remember giving him a tiny toy workbench before my wedding. Lots of card-sending occasions!)
The 21st, as I'm sure you know, is the nickel and brass anniversary.
We did not observe this hallowed tradition. I did not get a nickel.
Instead, we had a sweet lunch date, just the two of us, at this cute little Russian place we discovered many years ago, semi-hidden within a small shopping area in Newton Center. After making our way down the long path toward the front door (no easy business, as we're both cripples), we pass the "OPEN" sign on the front door and enter a deserted waiting area with a bored-looking maître d-ish type loitering by a doorway. I said, "Are you serving lunch?" (He's standing in front of a stack of lunch menus, and remember that "OPEN" sign? And yet it seemed a legitimate question.) He gazed at us, gazed into the distance, and then said, "Let's say yes."
(Husband later said, "What if he'd said no? Would we have demanded lunch anyway?" I said, "'We won't go until we get some!'" Husband: "'Even if we have to cook it ourselves!'" I said, "I think you severely overestimate my Russian cooking skills. I didn't exactly have Tante dandling me on her knee showing me how to stuff a cabbage." But Husband believes I can cook anything, bless his heart.)
Our lunch was superb, despite the truly bizarre ambiance. We were never joined by another guest; our waiter brought us our food and that was it, despite the echoing emptiness of our water glasses; and over the bar, a TV blared a rerun of House. But the food, oh, the food! I had a root vegetable and pickle salad (divine) and stuffed cabbage; Husband had mushroom soup and some kind of ravioli thingies in a sour cream sauce, and we were sated and happy.
Then we went to New England Mobile Book Fair and bought each other books; he got a stack of nonfiction books from the remaindered section, three books for under $10, and I got The
I am very lucky in my choice of heterolifemate. One of my favorite things about Husband is his unfailing kindness to me. If I'm unhappy or upset, he comforts me; if I need a sounding board, he'll listen and offer wise counsel; if I truly can't see a way out, he'll suggest options — but he never jumps in and tries to fix things or take over, he takes his cue from me and gives me what I need. That is a rare and wonderful thing in a man, and I appreciate it so much.
And he does tai chi with me!
But not this week, since he was giving a talk for our church, and not next week, because he'll be giving a talk at Yale!! He is such a little superstar. Even crippled.
(Turns out, he does not have water on the knee. We are bummed, because that seemed like such a good explanation, and so fixable! But the x-ray showed nada. He's seeing an ortho today, fingers crossed that they'll find and fix something. He's been in a lot of pain for a lot of days now, and it's not good for any of us.)
So, I solo-ed at tai chi last night, and this week was way funner than last week — much less talky, much more action! Though if you're looking for action, I would not recommend a community ed tai chi class. In fact, last night our teacher said, "Tai chi needs to be done slowly. If you want something fast-moving — well, you shouldn't be here." She wasn't looking at me, but this is definitely my challenge; when we do the routine on our own, I am always a step ahead of the rest of the class. I'm doing tai chi zumba, apparently.
But still! Even though my knees were achy-achy-breaky by the end of class, the pivot step that so troubled me last week came much more easily, and I felt centered and balanced and graceful. I love the routine we're doing! ("Routine" is probably not the right word.) It actually looks like what people picture when they picture tai chi, and that is exciting to me.
(Dude, my threshold is low. I take excitement where I find it.)
There is always more to write about, but my work day beckons. I have four new Sunday School lessons for preschoolers to edit, plus I need to buy some snacks for Li'l Martini to take on this weekend's church retreat (Sexy Em will be his mama this weekend. I tried it for three years, but I am not cut out for "communal living" or "roughing it," I fear; by year 3, I was hiding from people, using Mimosa as a shield, and drinking copious amounts of chardonnay, and I don't need to leave home to do any of that), and I'd like to pound out a mile on my treadmill. We shall see.
No weight-loss news, grr, arggh — still holding steady at my gargantuan new weight. I think I've been secretly stress-eating (so secretly that I'm barely aware of it); last week was really hard, and I kept reaching for comfort cheese. And I know I drank more wine than usual (it's this new cheap Chardonnay! so yummy, and I had four bottles of it in my wine rack — its siren song was irresistible). Today I'm going to document my meals and try to make clean and healthy choices.
One last thing: Of the new fall TV show, I like Gotham a lot, I can take or leave Red Band Society, but I am insanely in love with How to Get Away with Murder, starring my awesome girl Viola Davis!!! If you didn't watch it last week, it's not too late to catch up. Tonight at 10. Check it out!
— Lady C, happily married since Bill Clinton was president