Fifteen years ago today, I met the man of my dreams. And though the expression is a cliché, the experience has been anything but.
I sensed right away that he was different, and by the time we were halfway through our first date, I was thoroughly hooked. Not only was he nice to look at, he was smart, funny, thoughtful, sensitive, engaging, and playful—practically a custom order from the Man Store. The appeal of those qualities is even stronger today. There’s no one I’d rather be with.
Let’s be honest: it takes a special person to put up with me day in and day out. Throw in a progressively debilitating disease—in the first year!—and the odds get even slimmer. I marvel regularly at the good fortune of having someone who’s a partner in every sense of the term, at my side on sunny days and dark ones, through epic highs and lows and the rolling terrain of ordinary life, making the bad moments bearable, the dull ones fun, and the great ones even sweeter. I can’t imagine the experience without him, and I’m grateful every day.
Happy anniversary, Dan. I love you.
Photo by Marty.
Thursday, July 28, 2011
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
A friend reports:
At 5 p.m. tonight, I found myself in Kramerbooks in D.C. with a woman claiming to be my 2nd cousin. She and her husband and their four children were visiting D.C. from Michigan, and they were very aggressive about seeking a meeting, despite the fact that we'd never communicated.... I fended off their requests to meet at my home, suspecting they'd be more difficult to extract than six wisdom teeth, and suggested the Kramerbooks meeting. I'm pretty sure they wanted to stay with us, as they mentioned a number of times that they were having difficulty finding a hotel.
As I was driving to Kramerbooks, I received a text: "We're here! We're all wearing bright green t-shirts"
Displaying inner strength even I didn't know I had, I kept driving.
I arrived at Kramerbooks and told the tattooed, pierced waiter that I was meeting a group in the cafe. He sneered and waved me in the direction of their table. They were all blonde, hearty, and indeed wearing bright green t-shirts, including their 2-year-old daughter. What they'd neglected to mention was that these were custom t-shirts. The front said, in huge black letters: OBAMA. ONE TERM. The back read: HOPE... FOR A CHANGE!
I choked down a glass of wine rapidly while they drank six identical milkshakes. Then [my husband] arrived. He couldn't contain his laughter when he saw the shirts. He promptly began urging the family to spend a lot of time walking around Dupont Circle that evening, if they wanted a "real D.C. experience," saying that it was a much more lively, interesting place than the typical tourist attractions. The sadist.
My cousin then asked me if we had met the president "or the former president, as I like to call him," she giggled.
"Yes," I responded. "My brother-in-law worked on the transition and we went to one of the balls."
She then asked about my older brother.
"Oh, [he's] doing great," I said, happy to change the subject. "He's married to a wonderful woman. She's from Pakistan, and they're living in Japan now."
"Is she.... Japanese?" my cousin asked hopefully.
"No," I said. "She's Pakistani."
"I see," she said, taking a restorative sip of milkshake. "It all sounds so.... exotic!"
As we left Kramerbooks, [my husband] swept me up in a joyous hug. He had previously complained about having to go. "It was so worth it!" he gushed, as we watched our relatives head out to experience a "real D.C." night.
Friday, July 22, 2011
I'm used to standard butchering: here's the leg, the breast, etc. At the Farming Family Happiness, rather than being carved, the rooster was senselessly hacked, as if by a blind person, a really angry one with a thing against birds. Portions were reduced to shards, mostly bone, with maybe a scrap of meat attached. These were then combined with cabbage and some kind of hot sauce.From Derek.
Monday, July 11, 2011
noun. Mental dullness or sluggishness.
Had she been elected, Sarah Palin’s hebetude would have made Bush look like a fucking Rhodes scholar.
How could this delicious site be around for nearly two years without my knowledge? There's even a book: The Elements of F*cking Style.
A friend recently shared a revelation by her 12-year-old son:
[He] just realized today that the back somersault performed off the diving board at the pool by the older boys is called a "gainer," not a "gay nerd." "I wondered why they called it that," he said.
(I have been prohibited from posting this on Facebook, but I had to tell someone.)
Friday, July 01, 2011
From a friend:
Later she added:
Today, my parents were over when my wonderful nanny, who is from the Philippines, came to watch my son. My nanny began exclaiming over how cute my son D is, saying, "If I had a baby, he'd look just like D!"
My mother then said, "Well, why not? If Arnold Schwarzenegger's nanny can have one, then you should be able to, too."
My nanny and I froze as we realized my mother was encouraging my nanny to have sex with my husband. My mother emitted a loud shriek-cackle. I quickly changed the subject.
Later she added:
The funny thing is, my nanny uses the term "sexy" a lot, in an innocuous way. Like, when D is running around naked, she'll yell, "Oh, sexy butt!" Recently she told [my husband] he looked so "slim and sexy!" She kept talking about it, repeating that [he] looked sexy. He finally ran upstairs and whispered, "I'm being sexually harassed by our babysitter."
I don't think I'll tell him about this.
Recent favorites from Sleep Talkin' Man:
"I'm no doctor, but I swear it's bacterial vaginosis. Your crotch smells like onion soup. Next, please!"
"This is a totally sparkly tiara moment!"
"I'm not waving at you. I'm just building up for the big fucking slap you're gonna get."
"History is exciting! There's sex and explosions."
"So, you want a super massivo decaf low-fat stupido motherfuck cappu-fucking-ccino? Okay. Coming right up, cunt."
"I would gargle contents of the arseholes of the recently dead than go out with you. It's not a hard choice really."
"No, life isn't unfair. You were just born stupid."
"Who do you think you are, coming in here with your pink blancmange. You and your classy ways."
"I speak the truth. I am the superhero of words. Sentences are my weapons. I'll fuck you up with my oral armor."
"I'm bored. Let's go and trip some old people."