Allies

First, a little back story.  Last night, my husband and I were watching The Ed Show.  Ed was interviewing a couple of women about the response to Richard Mourdock’s tone-deaf comment about the sanctity of life created by rape (I’m certain you’ve all been beaten to death with the quote, so I’m not going to repeat it here) and about how outraged women are about the ways in which their bodies and lives and choices are so callously talked about (and decided) by prominent (yet utterly clueless) members of the GOP.

It was right about there that my beloved nearly scared me out of my seat by YELLING at the t.v. (and this is pretty much a direct quote), “WHAT ABOUT THE MEN!?  What about the men who are fucking outraged by this bullshit, HUH?!”

God, I love that guy.

Ever since the GOP stopped bothering to hide its misogynist agenda – in fact, they’ve gotten downright giddy about it -  I’ve been wondering about the relative silence from (some) men about the things that women have been complaining about for a while now.

I’m fortunate in that I associate with some pretty wonderful men who understand, without anyone having to point it out to them, that there are a lot of really important women in their lives that they would like to keep safe and healthy and free from government interference.  Mothers and sisters, wives, girlfriends, lovers, office mates, neighbors, aunts, cousins, in-laws, best friends; I don’t think it’s a stretch to say that literally every man can think of at least one woman he cares deeply about in one way or another.

Accepting this as true, it stands to reason that there should be more men speaking up about this (as my husband so eloquently put it) bullshit.  I mean, really; ask any straight guy how he feels about the ease with which the woman/women in his life should have access to contraception, for example, and I bet you’ll find more than a few of them who are all for universal coverage.  Talk to any man whose (insert relation here) has had a cancer scare (or, worse yet, an actual diagnosis) and ask them how they feel about mammograms and PAP smears and Planned Parenthood, and I’ll bet you’ll find more than a few of them who are all for them.  I’m betting you’ll even find a few men who, even if they’re not crazy about the idea of abortion, understand that to force a woman to carry an unwanted pregnancy to term is tantamount to denying her personhood; Frederick Douglass is quoted as saying “I did not know what a slave was until I found out I couldn’t do the things I wanted.“  To deny women choice is to enslave them to the State, plain and simple, and there are a lot of men (at least, in my circle) who actually understand that.

WAY back in March, a friend of mine wrote a short but powerfully persuasive piece about why he stands up, and about why more men should (it made me well up when I first read it, and it hasn’t lost any of its punch; “You want to go after our sluts and prostitutes?  The women I love? You’re going to have to go through me first” gets me every time).  I was excited to see Kevin Bacon in one protest ad against the GOP agenda and Jason Alexander in another.  I’ve heard Jon Stewart and Stephen Colbert speak – in some pretty explicit and uncompromising (and bitterly funny) ways – about why the GOP’s policies toward women are dead wrong.  I’m pretty sure I remember Jay Smooth doing a video about it, too, but of course I can’t find it to link to that particular edition.

My point, though, is that these are the best examples I can come up with of men speaking out about the draconian, dehumanizing, and just wrong things that the GOP is doing and saying (out loud, in public, and with no shame).  I want more men to get angry.  I want more men to understand that these are NOT just women’s issues; if he loves a woman – ANY woman – these issues should matter to him, too.  While I’m heartened that my husband is infuriated by all of this nonsense (though I do hope he’ll give me a little warning before his next enthusiastic expression of that outrage), I’m saddened that I’m not hearing it from more men.

It’s That Time of Year

The girls, inexplicably, have a four day weekend that started today.  As a consequence, Mr. Chili ditched work at noon and came home to be with us.

We decided to head out to lunch at Five Guys (we owed Punk a trip; when we went the last time, she was at band).  While we were enjoying our (yummy) burgers, someone – it may have been Mr. Chili, even – suggested we go apple picking.

After I checked the website (our farm is high tech!) t0 make sure there were apples left to be picked, we piled into the car and headed for the orchard.  In the store, we bought two peck bags, a sleeve of cider donuts, and a chocolate covered marshmallow rolled in toasted coconut (those are my favorites; they have nothing to do with apples or autumn, but I love them just the same).

The day was warm and clear, and there were, in fact, apples to be picked.  Most of them were up really high, though, so extraordinary measures were taken to obtain them.  Observe:

That’s Bean, poking out of the top of a tree.  Oh, and just for the record?  The orchard does NOT forbid people climbing the trees (and we’re VERY respectful of them; we don’t even so much as bend a twig).

The Chili household is currently redolent with the smell of cinnamon, nutmeg, and baking apples.   The girls baked a couple of pies and, after I come home this evening, I’ll be putting together an apple crisp to bring to my mini-high school reunion at Sooza’s tomorrow.

This is one of my favorite things about autumn.

Quick Hit: Awesome

My husband is the fucking BOMB, You Guys!

I had a technical problem that I could not figure out how to solve.  My husband listened to what I wanted to do and why I wanted to do it, and when he couldn’t find an add-on that would work the way I needed the process to work, he fucking WROTE CODE to get me what I needed.  He INVENTED a solution to my problem.

SWEET!

Sixteen

My beloved and I commemorate 16 years of marriage today.

My relationship with my husband has always felt like the strangest combination of well-worn and brand-new.  We’ve been together for over 20 years now (TWENTY YEARS!), but I still get butterflies sometimes when he pulls up the driveway.  There is a matter-of-factness about our being together that feels infinitely safe and comfortable, but I’m still left with a feeling of disbelief that this can actually be my life.  We know each other’s vocabulary and sense of humor and tics and habits, but I know that we’re both often surprised by how easily we fit together; how we’ll wordlessly pick up where the other leaves off, or how we’ll step in to fill a gap or lend support without the other having to ask for it, as if we’re energetically connected and can know, without consciously knowing, what the other needs.

We have managed, thus far, to move though some really difficult phases – the loss of jobs (both his and mine), family deaths, fears and uncertainties – but never have those difficult parts been about us.  I know a lot of couples who find themselves looking out and away from each other when they’re feeling challenged or threatened, but we’ve never done that.  There’s a sort of intrinsic knowing that, regardless of what happens to us, nothing can intrude on the promises we’ve made to each other.  In the end, our marriage is what’s most important to both of us, and everything else – even the hard stuff – is secondary to the knowledge that we’ve got each other.

For all of that, I never take a moment of my life with this man for granted.  Though I know that he’s there, unquestioning and unconditionally, I never take that knowledge lightly.  I’m grateful, every day, that he chose me and I work, every day, to honor him with my own devotion, commitment, and love.

 

Quick Hit: Good Parenting

I’ve got a post brewing about parenting, and about why my generation seems to suck at it (honest to God; who the fuck is RAISING these KIDS?!), but I thought I’d share this ahead of time.

This evening, my family and I settled in to watch The Assassination of Dr. Tiller.  When it was all over, we talked to the girls about what we saw, and about the culture of the abortion issue.

My children have always known that their parents are both strongly pro-choice.  We’ve never shied away from the complexities of the issue; the girls understand that it’s a wrenching choice that no one but the woman involved can truly understand, and that we refuse to pass judgment on the issue because we know we don’t have the right to make decisions for anyone but ourselves.  Further, we’ve made the distinction between being pro-choice and pro-abortion; no thinking, feeling human being is pro-abortion, but we also recognize that situations drive women to have to make these choices, and having safe, legal, accessible abortion services is crucial to women’s health and autonomy.

I think what bothered my kids the most weren’t the graphic pictures of the murder scene, or of the images that the anti-choice protesters distributed, but rather the callousness of the anti-choice “leaders” who were interviewed for the piece.  Bean was pretty astute in pointing out that no one who promotes the kind of disrespect and hatred that these people foment should be allowed to walk away without consequence when someone else takes that rhetoric to its horrifying conclusion.  Punk was a little harder to read; she kept going back to a conversation we had where she was certain I made a proclamation about abortion as birth control, and she hasn’t yet been able to get past that (for the record, and regardless of what she remembers, my stance is and always has been that “abortion as birth control” is a trope formulated by the anti-choice movement.  I can’t even begin to imagine a woman who would subject herself to such a thing, particularly not when birth control is (for the moment) so inexpensive and readily available.  Introduce me to someone who uses abortion as birth control, and then I’ll express an option on the matter).

I love that my daughters are mature enough to have these conversations.  I love that my husband is unashamedly in support of women’s rights in all forms.  Finally, I love that my girls are thinking now about these really tough issues.  I have precious little time left with them before they venture out into the world and have to make decisions for themselves; that they have the opportunity to do this kind of critical thinking right now bolsters my confidence in their ability to navigate the world on their own later.

Fifty

My beloved celebrates his 50th trip around the sun today.

We, as humans, tend to put special emphasis on certain numbers over others.  The first birthday is a big one, and so are 5 and 10, and we in our culture like 16 and 18 and 21, but no one makes much of a fuss over 13, or 22, or 46.  The half-century mark seems like it should be a big deal – and I suppose it is just as a matter of principle because, let’s face it, not everyone makes it that far – but why should 50 be any more important than 49?  Or 51?

Regardless, I make a point of celebrating ALL my loved ones’ birthdays, and this one is certainly no exception.

My husband is, without question, my best and truest friend.  He is a constant source of encouragement, support, critique, and challenge for me and our two daughters.  He loves with a kind of matter-of-factness that continually surprises me; I still recall, with stunning clarity, the day I told him that I never expected to have this life that we share.  “Funny,” he said, “I always did.”

One of the things I treasure about my relationship with Mr. Chili is how much we can communicate without explanation – or, sometimes, even words.  We’ve been together so long – and so well – that we have an entire shared culture and our own private vocabulary.  We catch each other’s references, we understand each other’s jokes, we’re watchful for each other’s triggers, and we effortlessly pick up where we know the other will leave off.  The kind of trust that requires, and the kind of experiences that lead to it, are priceless.

My husband is the definition of a good man.  He gets what it means to be decent and strong and compassionate, and I think that he serves as an example to other men of what a good husband and father looks like.  I’ve said before that I worry that he’s setting the bar too high for my daughters – that they’ll never be able to find a guy as good as their dad – and every day he does something, just as a matter of course, that makes me stand by that assertion.

It is no surprise to anyone who reads here that I am desperately, deeply, and deliriously in love with my husband.  We fit, we work, and I am grateful, every day, for this man who makes me laugh, makes me think, and makes me feel loved.  My wish is that I do the same for him, and that he understands just how much the women in his life love him.

Happy birthday, Mr. Chili.  I love you.

 

*edited to include: Mr. Chili is currently on his way to Fenway with Auntie Chili.  He scored Monster seats for the game (his second in a week; he took his brother to the Green Monster on Monday).  Seeing a Sox game from the Monstah was on both of their bucket lists, and I can only imagine how silly-stupid happy they both are right now!**

Ten Things Tusday

Ten Things about our vacation (so far!):

1.  We had a good and uneventful ride from our house to Dudley’s on Friday.  I yanked the girls out of school at noon (nothing gets done after lunch on the Friday before a vacation; trust me) and we were out the door at 12:30.  There were one or two tight-ish spots in New York and New Jersey, but we were expecting them, so it was no big deal.  We wanted to go as far as possible before we stopped, so when the Tiguan was good and thirsty, we stopped to fill her up, then went a couple more exits to feed ourselves.  We had about half an hour at an Applebee’s just shy of the NJ/PA border, then shot straight through to Dudley’s in northern Maryland.

2.  Saturday dawned bright and clear and gorgeous, so we all – us, Dudley, Squeaky, and Dudley’s younger son, Wrestler – headed south to the Capitol.  We parked at Shady Grove…

Here’s Mr. Chili doing the “you are HERE!” thing with Bean

…got ourselves some fare cards, and rode the Metro to Smithsonian and emerged right in front of the castle.  (and I managed to de-magnetize Mr. Chili’s card by putting it in my (magnetically fastened) phone case.  Whoopsie!  But, unlike Charlie, Mr. Chili was able to get out.)

From there, we split up; Mr. Chili took Bean and headed with the Dudley family to the Air and Space Museum while Punkin and I made for the U. S. Holocaust Memorial Museum.  I had forgotten that one needed a ticket to get to the main exhibit (they try to regulate the number of people going through at once, hence the ticketing scheme) and by the time we got there, the tickets were being set for 2:30.  Since we’d agreed to meet back up with our party at 2, we had to satisfy ourselves with the un-regulated parts of the museum.  We took these in and then spent some time in the gift shop, where I bought more postcards for my classroom walls.  On our way out, we walked by the understated memorial for Stephen Johns, the guard who was gunned down in 2009 in an attack by an 88 year-old antisemite.  I found myself weeping.

Image credit

3.  Lunch was had in the East Wing of the National Gallery.  We enjoyed the LED exhibit in the walkway and spent some quiet moments in front of the waterfall.

We cruised through this gift shop, too (I know, I know; one doesn’t experience museums through gift shops, but we didn’t have time to take in more than one or two museums as it was, so I’m giving us a pass on this)…

4. …and then we made our way through the Sculpture Gardens….

5. …To the Natural History Museum.  I’ve been to this museum a number of times, and I never seem to tire of it. 

While everyone gushes about the Hope Diamond, my favorite exhibit in the gems and minerals collection is this flawless crystal ball.

6.  We were all pretty whipped by the time we all reconnected, so we tumbled back on the Metro, got back to our cars, and headed for dinner at a Red Robin (YUM!).  Punk and I split a burger; it was tasty.

7.  The next morning, the Chili family bade goodbye to the Dudleys and made our way to the Annex of the Air and Space Museum at Dulles airport.  Mr. Chili was iffy about it; he was afraid we wouldn’t have enough time before we had to leave for the train, but I’m glad we went; we saw lots of cool things, including the Concorde, the Enola Gay, and the Space Shuttle Discovery!

8.  We had an uneventful trip to the train station, dropped off the car, got our boarding passes, and hopped right on the train.  Mr. Chili had scored us sleeper cars – the girls’ on one side, ours on the other – and off we went!

9.  We got to Sanford ahead of schedule, but made up for it by having to wait for the yard crew to come on duty.  Ours was the 15th or so car to be unloaded, so we didn’t have to wait long for that, which helped.  We got to Gerry’s, showered, then went to the airport to pick up a mini van that would hold us all so we didn’t have to drive two cars to St. Augustine, which was our Monday afternoon destination.  We stopped for subs (I had a very yummy steak, mushroom, onion, and cheese), then made for this beautiful, historic city.  We spent some time in the lobby of the Flagler College,

which is gorgeous, then did some shopping (and had some ice cream), then headed to the Castillo de San Marcos by the water

10.  The rest of Monday was rounded out by dinner at a Sweet Tomatoes, then an unceremonious falling into bed.  It has been a wonderful – but busy – couple of days.  I am so incredibly lucky to be able to have experiences like this, and to have all of the wonderful, loving people in my life to share it with.

Quick Hit: Little Things

A little more than a week ago, Rick wrote this:

Love does not have to be extraordinary. Moreover, love shouldn’t be extraordinary, at least not most of the time.  Love should consist of neutral tones in both color and sound. Nearly boring, and definitely commonplace.

There is such resonant truth in this for me.  I have a wonderful, quiet, commonplace, and ridiculously happy marriage punctuated by shared experience, unspoken understanding, and complete and unquestioned trust.

There are a million little things that make my relationship special, and almost none of those things would seem extraordinary to anyone looking in.  Example?  It was raining this morning.  On my way to work, I noticed (because one only notices such things when it’s raining) that my windshield wipers were doing a crappy job.  I needed to drive (with my mother-in-law, Goddess help me) across the state for a baby shower this afternoon, and I didn’t have time, between when I was finished with yoga and when I needed to pick up Mumsie, to go to the auto parts place to pick up new wipers, so I sent my husband a text message before I started yoga class.

Can you see where this is going?  Yep; when I came home, there were new wiper blades on the kitchen counter.  He put them on while I was in the shower, and the whole way back and forth across the state, I was marinating in delighted, commonplace, boring, contented adoration of my husband (and more than a little stunned wonder that this is actually my real life).

I don’t need chick-flick romance.  I don’t want flowers or diamonds.  Real love is in the everyday, and I’ve got it big.

Quick Hit: Highlights

Here’s one of the fun things that I got to do with the TwoBlueDay clan while I was in their loving presence:

Here’s what my family was doing that very same day!

Ten Things Tuesday

Last Wednesday, Kwizgiver asked what songs we’d put on a Valentine’s Day mix CD.  That question inspired this week’s TTT:

1.  The Power of Two by the Indigo Girls.  This was (one of) Mr. Chili’s and my wedding song(s).  I loved it the moment I heard it, and it can still bring me to tears.  The closer I’m bound in love to you / the closer I am to free…

2.  Native Melody (This Must Be the Place), as imagined by Shawn Colvin.  Here’s the other song, and this one makes me cry, too.  I can’t tell one from the other / Did I find you, or you find me? / There was a time / Before we were born / If someone asks, this where I’ll be . . .

3.  The Best of What’s Around by the Dave Matthews Band.  I didn’t realize this was a love song until I really took time to listen to the lyrics.  The more I hear it, the more convinced I am that it’s about loyalty and commitment which, in my mind, are the foundations of a strong and healthy relationship.  See you and me / have a better time than most can dream / have it better than the best / so we can pull on through / whatever tears at us / whatever holds us down / and if nothing can be done / we’ll make the best of what’s around.

4.  Trust Me (This is Love) by Amanda Marshall.  This came off of her breakthrough album, and it’s another song about sticking it out.  You and I can walk on water / the river rises, we rise above / it may not look that way right now / but trust me, Baby, this is love.

5. Marry Me by Train.  It’s about head-over-heels, I’m-in-this-forever love, and I get that.  Together can never be close enough for me / to feel like I am close enough to you / You wear white and I’ll wear out the words I love you…

6.  You’re the First, the Last, My Everything by Barry White.  I mean, come on; it’s Barry frickin’ White!  The first, the last, my everything / And the answer to / all my dreams…

7.  Farther to Fall by David Wilcox.  Well, what a surprise!  Another song about sticking it out!  We’ve come so many miles / we can make it if we don’t look down

8.  Sunday Morning by Maroon 5.  One of the (many) things I love about Adam Levine is that he’s not afraid to talk about the intersection of love and sex, and if ever there were a song about the intersection of love and sex, People, it’s this one.  Fingers trace your every outline / paint a picture with my hands / back and forth we sway like branches in a storm / change the weather, still together when it ends / that may be all I need…

9.  Lucky One by Vertical Horizon.  Once, when I saw Matt in concert at a teeny-tiny little venue (please, please, please come back!), he mentioned that most of his love songs were angsty and unhappy, but that this one was a stark departure (I take it things were going well for him at the time in that department; I hope they still are).  He wasn’t sure how he felt about that, but it seemed to be working for him.  I’ll volunteer to watch you / through the dreams that haunt you / I promise to wake you / before the fear overtakes you.

10.  Do You Remember by Jack Johnson.  I love this guy; he can sing about the most heart-rending stuff in a way that feels light and accessible but never campy or disrespected, and this song is one of my most favorites.  I was crazy about you then and now /  The craziest thing of all / Over ten years have gone by / And you’re still mine.

Happy Valentine’s Day.  What are YOUR favorite love songs?