After school Friday, I went to a PD with all the other teachers and staff in the building (for all you non-education people, PD stands for Professional Development), and we talked about the 8 Keys of Excellence.
The 8 Keys of Excellence are a behavior-based program that identifies 8 Keys for conducting oneself in an upright manner. Basically, they are boiled down, repacked, good old fashioned morals and ethics (but you didn't hear it from me). I like the 8 Keys (Integrity, Speak with Good Purpose, This Is It, Commitment, Ownership, Flexibility, Balance, and Failure Leads to Success). They remind the kids of simple things we need to remember when it comes to living life.
Each month we focus on one key, and try as teachers to weave the key into lessons, remind the kids of why each is important, etc. Personally, I think it's an awesome idea, even if not always implemented as well as it could be, and I try to connect the keys to my lessons as much as possible.
Failure Leads to Success is the key for this month. We got together and did Cup Stacking (google it and be appalled at how fast some people can do this), which was meant to illustrate this idea that each time you screw up at it, you are getting closer to being able to do it quickly.
I drove home contemplating this key, mostly because I think it's the key that I have been living most frequently. For those who know me, this might be surprising (or not) since I've been told often that I'm pretty good at keeping myself together, even when I'm coming undone on the inside. Some would consider this a strength. And sometimes, I think it is. Most of the time, however, I think it's a curse. It's pride and stubbornness most of the time that drive me to tuck it all in, prove I can handle it, make sure that no one knows the depth of the struggle going on in my heart and mind.
And often it's the small failures in life that send me churning. As a second year teacher, I am pretty sure I fail almost on a daily basis on some level at teaching. With one full year under my belt, I am certainly learning and fixing things, so I fail less at some things, but then there are whole new categories of things to make mistakes in. And I do. There are a lot of days I go home wondering if I handled that kid's situation right, if I said to much and sounded like an idiot at lunch, if I am being aware enough to be savvy but not paranoid when it comes to building politics.
And then there are times when I outright know I failed. There's no question about it. I jumped down that kid's throat when I should have listened first, I was impatient when I could have slowed down. Generally, when I fail in these concrete, recognizable manners, I apologize and do what I can to make it right. Other times I don't get this chance, so the only consolation this perfectionist has is tucking away the knowledge to NOT repeat that course of action.
But I find that failure DOES lead to success, when you choose to let it guide you. In other words, if you resist the fact that you screw up, if you do not choose to self-reflect over it, then you will not be lead to success. In fact, you will just continue to make the same pattern of mistakes.
But what the types of failure that you really have no control over? This is what vexes me.
Many of you that know me know that I've been working on getting a book published for about 3 1/2 years now *sigh*
And what an arduous, painful, long, and boring process it is!
No one told me when I decided I wanted to be a writer of novels and try to get them published that it would probably be a journey that tested my mettle, my nerve, and my confidence.
I have received a lot of rejections along this journey. LOTS. This past summer, I had a literary agent get interested in my work at a writer's conference in Jackson Hole, Wyoming. This was thrilling, and I have been hungering for time to work on writing ever since, so I could get my work to her, and maybe, just maybe have something happen.
I am sitting here writing today with a profound sense of failure. I'm not sure if this feeling is justified, so I am attempting to not be all melancholy and sad about it, but it's hard to say. It may be the end of the road with this possibility. Or it might not.
But right now, I am having a hard time believing that failure leads to success.
The book The Help was rejected 60 times before someone finally took a chance on the manuscript that would become a New York Times Bestseller and an award-winning movie. I tell myself this when I get down. But let me be honest--it doesn't really help. Today. Maybe four months ago that thought bolstered me, but right now, who cares? I don't. I am still floating in a pile of rejection letters and despair.
Okay, despair is maybe a little strong, but you get my point.
I just sent off an email that enquired about my fate as a writer with this particular possibility I talked about a paragraph ago. And as I tried to be brave and open myself to possibility that this agent might really not want my work anymore, I realized that failure will lead to success in this case.
Why?
Because no matter what her return email says, I have a plan for this manuscript that I am going to follow. And then I will try again. Enough rejections letters have given me a great deal of advice regarding this book, and enough interest to know that I do have an audience. And it's going to happen someday.
Failure is my guide, and it's going to take me all the way to Success if I let it.
Sunday, January 27, 2013
Wednesday, January 16, 2013
Baby Fever
Husband and I set our best friends up together this past spring. They are getting married this coming May (YEEHAW!!!!), and we couldn't be happier for them. My bestie, who I will call Kindred (because we are Kindred Spirits), was a little nervous about being introduced to Husband's best friend, who we'll call Sprint (he races Sprint cars). And since we introduced them over the phone, long distance, Kindred was a little freaked out about meeting him in person for the first time.
To reassure her, I promised that there was no way that she wouldn't at least like Sprint as a person. He's just too likable. "And besides," I promised with a wink. "He's just your type. I bet your ovaries do a few backflips when you see him for the first time."
Kindred made a shrieking noise when I said this, somewhere between a laugh and a cry of horror. I love when I can make her make this sound. It makes me laugh. But I digress. She assured me that she would inform IF her ovaries leapt when they met, something she was pretty dang sure wouldn't happen. Her ovaries, apparently, are immune to doing backflips when faced with a gorgeous specimen of a man who attracts you and is attracted to you.
But mine weren't.
The whole point of this story is to say that there was a feeling that was very visceral the day I realized that I was A. attracted like crazy to Husband (even though he was simply boyfriend at the time); plus B. was in love with him and he with me; plus C. we wanted to spend our lives together; equals D. I would be having his babies someday.
You do the math!! If that doesn't equal ovary backflips, I don't know what does!!!!!!
So since we got married, I have discovered that the idea of being pregnant and having a baby invades my thoughts WAY MORE than it ever has before. I've always wanted to have children, but they've never really been on my mind so much. And Husband and I are not trying to get knocked up, nor are failing to actively prevent such a thing from happening. On the contrary, we're committed to our birth control until we decide that we're ready to start trying to have a baby. For us, this means we'd like to have a year of married under our belts before we try adding a whole other little person to the mix. For now, the puppy and cats are plenty.
But last night, we visited some dear friends for dinner. Some dear friends who just had a baby at the end of November.
Oh, BABY.
I snuggled their little boy in my arms last night for an hour, ogling over his precious, tiny fingers and stroking his soft cheeks while he slept, marveling at how noisy newborns are. I haven't spent that much time around newborns, and I always forget how much noise they make. He grunted and sucked on his binky and clasped his little fingers around one of mine and I felt my whole being light up with this glow that can only be described as baby fever.
It''s true. I'll own it. For those moments I cradled that sweet little boy, I wanted one.
I sat and talked to his mama while she fed him, listening to how things are going, how much they love being parents and how indescribable it is. I could see her maternal glow and the depth of love between she and her husband and the intimacy in their little home. And I felt that baby fever roar within me. Sure, they were tired and dealing with all the changes and discomforts of the fact that they had a new baby under their roof. But they were absolutely glowing.
We left the house in a happy haze, Husband teasing me about wanting one. I denied it, of course. Well, I laid claim to wanting one, but not right now. But it's not true. I fell asleep thinking about how incredible of a feeling it will be when we find out we're pregnant for the first time.
Then, I woke up. We were out later than normal for us, and we both awoke a little groggy and disgruntled about going to work. I stepped in front of the mirror to decide what to do with my long red hair and thought, I'm so tired! I looked over at the bed from my bathroom and saw my husband still sprawled there under the covers.
And suddenly I felt a pain. I remembered the look on that baby's mama last night--not the glow part, but the tired part--and thought, Oh, my.
Here I was, feeling groggy and tired because I wasn't under the covers by 9 the night before, when our friends are on a three hour schedule of diaper duty and feedings.
All the heat of baby fever was suddenly gone, and I thought, Maybe I'm not ready to have a baby.
Then Winchester peeked his head around the edge of the doorjamb, one ear up, one ear flipped backward, looking very happy and ready to play.
And, voila!!! Just like that, my baby fever was cured.
For now.
To reassure her, I promised that there was no way that she wouldn't at least like Sprint as a person. He's just too likable. "And besides," I promised with a wink. "He's just your type. I bet your ovaries do a few backflips when you see him for the first time."
Kindred made a shrieking noise when I said this, somewhere between a laugh and a cry of horror. I love when I can make her make this sound. It makes me laugh. But I digress. She assured me that she would inform IF her ovaries leapt when they met, something she was pretty dang sure wouldn't happen. Her ovaries, apparently, are immune to doing backflips when faced with a gorgeous specimen of a man who attracts you and is attracted to you.
But mine weren't.
The whole point of this story is to say that there was a feeling that was very visceral the day I realized that I was A. attracted like crazy to Husband (even though he was simply boyfriend at the time); plus B. was in love with him and he with me; plus C. we wanted to spend our lives together; equals D. I would be having his babies someday.
You do the math!! If that doesn't equal ovary backflips, I don't know what does!!!!!!
So since we got married, I have discovered that the idea of being pregnant and having a baby invades my thoughts WAY MORE than it ever has before. I've always wanted to have children, but they've never really been on my mind so much. And Husband and I are not trying to get knocked up, nor are failing to actively prevent such a thing from happening. On the contrary, we're committed to our birth control until we decide that we're ready to start trying to have a baby. For us, this means we'd like to have a year of married under our belts before we try adding a whole other little person to the mix. For now, the puppy and cats are plenty.
But last night, we visited some dear friends for dinner. Some dear friends who just had a baby at the end of November.
Oh, BABY.
I snuggled their little boy in my arms last night for an hour, ogling over his precious, tiny fingers and stroking his soft cheeks while he slept, marveling at how noisy newborns are. I haven't spent that much time around newborns, and I always forget how much noise they make. He grunted and sucked on his binky and clasped his little fingers around one of mine and I felt my whole being light up with this glow that can only be described as baby fever.
It''s true. I'll own it. For those moments I cradled that sweet little boy, I wanted one.
I sat and talked to his mama while she fed him, listening to how things are going, how much they love being parents and how indescribable it is. I could see her maternal glow and the depth of love between she and her husband and the intimacy in their little home. And I felt that baby fever roar within me. Sure, they were tired and dealing with all the changes and discomforts of the fact that they had a new baby under their roof. But they were absolutely glowing.
We left the house in a happy haze, Husband teasing me about wanting one. I denied it, of course. Well, I laid claim to wanting one, but not right now. But it's not true. I fell asleep thinking about how incredible of a feeling it will be when we find out we're pregnant for the first time.
Then, I woke up. We were out later than normal for us, and we both awoke a little groggy and disgruntled about going to work. I stepped in front of the mirror to decide what to do with my long red hair and thought, I'm so tired! I looked over at the bed from my bathroom and saw my husband still sprawled there under the covers.
And suddenly I felt a pain. I remembered the look on that baby's mama last night--not the glow part, but the tired part--and thought, Oh, my.
Here I was, feeling groggy and tired because I wasn't under the covers by 9 the night before, when our friends are on a three hour schedule of diaper duty and feedings.
All the heat of baby fever was suddenly gone, and I thought, Maybe I'm not ready to have a baby.
Then Winchester peeked his head around the edge of the doorjamb, one ear up, one ear flipped backward, looking very happy and ready to play.
And, voila!!! Just like that, my baby fever was cured.
For now.
Monday, December 17, 2012
A Year of Changes
I'm a terrible blogger.
There, I've said it. I get distracted, forget to write, and then come crawling back. But nevertheless, I am going to continue, because I figure the only way to get better is to press on.
This is me, pressing on.
Anyway...
The last year has been quite a year of changes. I found myself pondering this last night, as Husband and I drove home from my employer's Christmas party. The Christmas party got me thinking about last year's Christmas party, and then that started me off thinking about how different my life is this year compared to last.
I made a list of where I was at when I attended the School District Christmas Party of 2011:
There, I've said it. I get distracted, forget to write, and then come crawling back. But nevertheless, I am going to continue, because I figure the only way to get better is to press on.
This is me, pressing on.
Anyway...
The last year has been quite a year of changes. I found myself pondering this last night, as Husband and I drove home from my employer's Christmas party. The Christmas party got me thinking about last year's Christmas party, and then that started me off thinking about how different my life is this year compared to last.
I made a list of where I was at when I attended the School District Christmas Party of 2011:
- I was the unmarried Miss K,
- I was with my lousy then-boyfriend, long-distance,
- I lived in a little hovel in Population 635, where I teach,
- I was teaching middle and high school English,
- My horse was two hours away from me,
- And no one (no one with any power) was interested in my writing.
- I am now Mrs. M, due to the marriage in October to Husband,
- I dropped the lousy, long-distance boyfriend (obviously),
- I moved to a gorgeous little house on the historic QS Ranch in the Owl Mountains, then moved to our little 20 acre Roost when I married Husband,
- I only teach High School English now,
- My horse is out my back door,
- And there is someone (with some power), interested in my writing.
In reflecting on all this, I don't have anything really profound to say, other than I am profoundly grateful for all the changes in my life. The Lord has blessed me so richly, in ways I never imaged, and completely amazed me. It seems all it took was trusting him enough to let go of the things I was so desperately clinging to for security, so that he could fill my empty hands with gifts of much greater price.
It hardly seems real, at times, this life of mine. Of course, there are still struggles, and I still feel anxiety and worry about finances and my job and being a good wife, and if I'll be a good mother when the time comes. But regardless of these silly worries, I know and rest in the contentment that I am living the life I am supposed to, with whom I am meant to be with.
What a year of changes.
Thank God for all He's done, and for Husband, who just arrived home with the groceries I needed for dinner ;-)
Wednesday, November 7, 2012
Girls' Night
I am so thankful to have some great girlfriends.
When I was younger, I wasn't sure that I saw a lot of value in having girlfriends. I thought, "girls can be a lot of work; catty, mean, sensitive--boys are more straightforward." And for a lot of years, I hung out with guys. My mother always told me that women were important, and that I should never neglect to make girlfriends.
"They will be the ones who hold your hand when you cry, support you when you need someone, stand up with you at your wedding, and be with you when you have babies. You need girlfriends."
I always said, "okay, Ma," rolled my eyes and thought no way, no how!
But at this point in my life, I am thankful for the advice my mother gave me. And thankful for the girlfriends that God has so wonderfully put into my life.
I went to dinner with a few tonight, and we had a great time (of course). We always do. We met for pedicures at the little place we love, then headed to a restaurant where we exclaimed over the food and wine in gusty breaths of awe and excitement. We have all decided that one of the best parts of our friendship is the fact that we all LOVE FOOD. A LOT. A LOT, A LOT. But that's not really the point. The point is that we took a little time to be together; to chat, to hang out, to laugh and tell stories and sometimes commiserate over work.
It gave three of them a night to themselves away from husbands and children; it gave me a night to spend with three of the most put-together, lovely women I know. And now that I am home, it got me thinking about the beauty of girlfriends.
I love Husband more than anyone in the world. He is my best friend and the first person I want to talk to, laugh with, cry with, or lean on. He understands what I need and how I think (most of the time) and loves me for just exactly who and what I am.
Yet there is something about girlfriends that is priceless. Our wedding taught me that as well. As I was getting ready for the ceremony, I remember thinking that I had chosen my bridesmaids well, because these 4 women were the women that I really, truly wanted with me.
And after the ceremony, as the four of them (plus my aunt, mother, and mother-in-law) helped me remove the skin tight shape wear I wore for the ceremony without me having to get out of my dress, I had this revelation: Girlfriends who love you this much are worth their weight in gold.
When you have women around you who are willing to love you, laugh with you, buy a bridesmaids dress at the drop of a hat, travel to your wedding, risk freezing to death in chiffon in October outside in Wyoming, get teary when you say your vows, exclaim over every silly detail of your wedding day, AND help you shimmy out of the Spanx sucking you in without your having to take your dress off: You are a lucky woman.
Truly. Never did I ever think I would find myself in that situation (ps-as my father says, spanx are something NO man should ever see), but since I did, I couldn't be more thankful that I had someone there to help me.
Girlfriends can be a lot of work sometimes. Because we can be sensitive and catty and hurtful and petty. But we can also be loving and tender and joyous and gleeful and profound. And we are so needed. It's so easy to get busy and wrapped up with jobs, boyfriends, husbands, children, or just the never-ending pile of laundry. But making time for that much needed interaction is so good and delightful.
So here's to girls' night, and all my wonderful girls: thank you for being a part of my life, and for allowing me to be a part of yours.
When I was younger, I wasn't sure that I saw a lot of value in having girlfriends. I thought, "girls can be a lot of work; catty, mean, sensitive--boys are more straightforward." And for a lot of years, I hung out with guys. My mother always told me that women were important, and that I should never neglect to make girlfriends.
"They will be the ones who hold your hand when you cry, support you when you need someone, stand up with you at your wedding, and be with you when you have babies. You need girlfriends."
I always said, "okay, Ma," rolled my eyes and thought no way, no how!
But at this point in my life, I am thankful for the advice my mother gave me. And thankful for the girlfriends that God has so wonderfully put into my life.
I went to dinner with a few tonight, and we had a great time (of course). We always do. We met for pedicures at the little place we love, then headed to a restaurant where we exclaimed over the food and wine in gusty breaths of awe and excitement. We have all decided that one of the best parts of our friendship is the fact that we all LOVE FOOD. A LOT. A LOT, A LOT. But that's not really the point. The point is that we took a little time to be together; to chat, to hang out, to laugh and tell stories and sometimes commiserate over work.
It gave three of them a night to themselves away from husbands and children; it gave me a night to spend with three of the most put-together, lovely women I know. And now that I am home, it got me thinking about the beauty of girlfriends.
I love Husband more than anyone in the world. He is my best friend and the first person I want to talk to, laugh with, cry with, or lean on. He understands what I need and how I think (most of the time) and loves me for just exactly who and what I am.
Yet there is something about girlfriends that is priceless. Our wedding taught me that as well. As I was getting ready for the ceremony, I remember thinking that I had chosen my bridesmaids well, because these 4 women were the women that I really, truly wanted with me.
And after the ceremony, as the four of them (plus my aunt, mother, and mother-in-law) helped me remove the skin tight shape wear I wore for the ceremony without me having to get out of my dress, I had this revelation: Girlfriends who love you this much are worth their weight in gold.
When you have women around you who are willing to love you, laugh with you, buy a bridesmaids dress at the drop of a hat, travel to your wedding, risk freezing to death in chiffon in October outside in Wyoming, get teary when you say your vows, exclaim over every silly detail of your wedding day, AND help you shimmy out of the Spanx sucking you in without your having to take your dress off: You are a lucky woman.
Truly. Never did I ever think I would find myself in that situation (ps-as my father says, spanx are something NO man should ever see), but since I did, I couldn't be more thankful that I had someone there to help me.
Girlfriends can be a lot of work sometimes. Because we can be sensitive and catty and hurtful and petty. But we can also be loving and tender and joyous and gleeful and profound. And we are so needed. It's so easy to get busy and wrapped up with jobs, boyfriends, husbands, children, or just the never-ending pile of laundry. But making time for that much needed interaction is so good and delightful.
So here's to girls' night, and all my wonderful girls: thank you for being a part of my life, and for allowing me to be a part of yours.
Monday, November 5, 2012
Laundry
I don't know why I ever thought I maybe even liked laundry. Because now that I live in a house where there are two people contributing to the laundry pile, I hate it. And I am truly horrified by the notion that our household is, in all likelihood, going to get bigger eventually, which will mean that the laundry pile will get bigger.
GAAAAHHHH!!!!
But while Husband and I have been doggedly laundering our massive mountains of fabrics like crazy-laundry-doing-fools, something happened today that made me hate laundry just a little more.
SERIOUSLY?!?!?!
Isn't laundry bad enough without clothes coming out looking like they were washed in a tumbler with Wolverine's claws?!??!?!
This is my favorite dress shirt, almost de-limbed by the washer that we have been saying we should probably replace. After this, Husband decided that he would move up finding a new washer machine to the top of the to-do list.
For this, I am glad.
I don't think shredded is a look I can pull off.
Just saying'.
GAAAAHHHH!!!!
But while Husband and I have been doggedly laundering our massive mountains of fabrics like crazy-laundry-doing-fools, something happened today that made me hate laundry just a little more.
SERIOUSLY?!?!?!
Isn't laundry bad enough without clothes coming out looking like they were washed in a tumbler with Wolverine's claws?!??!?!
This is my favorite dress shirt, almost de-limbed by the washer that we have been saying we should probably replace. After this, Husband decided that he would move up finding a new washer machine to the top of the to-do list.
For this, I am glad.
I don't think shredded is a look I can pull off.
Just saying'.
Friday, October 26, 2012
Wedding Rings
I don't know if any other women feel this way, but I feel a need to admit this tonight:
My husband is irresistable with his wedding ring on.
Am I the only wife who finds her husband's ring to be some kind of strange aphrodesiac?
I LOVE Husband's wedding ring. And I LOVE Husband's wedding ring on his finger even more. I'm not sure what it is about it:
Yes, it's fairly unique. Yes, I put a lot of time and energy into picking it. And yes, I kept it a total surprise until the day of our wedding (My ring was a surprise too):
But there is just something so...wonderfully attractive about that ring nestled on his left hand. Maybe because it means that he's all mine, maybe because I'm a warm and fuzzy newlywed...I don't know. But I love that ring :-)
You see, my ring was something of a saga. I am going to tell a brief (very brief) version of the story:
Husband and I decided that we wanted to get married in April, and he took me ring shopping. We looked at LOTS and LOTS, picking out things we liked and didn't like. In the process, I discovered that I really loved chocolate and champagne diamonds. So Jon took everything we liked in a ring to heart, and set out on a mission to find one.
A month later (Memorial Day weekend), he did. And he purchased it.
5 days, the store assured him. It will take 5 days to get the ring put together with the special ordered chocolate diamonds. We'll call you.
5 days turned into 25 days, and it was the beginning of July before he ended up with the ring in hand. Of course, I knew none of this at the time, but have since learned of it.
Anyway, he proposed on July 4th, giving me the most gorgeous ring I have ever seen (that one above!!!). The center and halo diamonds are all chocolate diamonds, giving the ring the most beautiful, warm look.
So, when I started looking for a ring for Jon, I first began to research my metals. Being a welder/machinist, he likes metals, so I looked at tungsten and titanium and cobalt. But fearing for my husband's fingers, I wanted to make sure and find a metal that would be as safe as possible.
Then I saw a wood inlay ring.
And I flashed on a conversation between husband and I from when we were first dating. Husband is a gun collector, smith, and lover. And I remember asking him about this when we were first together, and his response was about rifles. He told me that he loved rifles because of their symmetry and lines, the clean way that wood and metal work together--he found that gorgeous.
When I saw that wood inlay ring, I knew it was the ring for him.
So I began looking for one for him. And that's its own story. But I was always a little sad when looking for a ring for him, because he can't wear it at work, and I thought that he would never remember to put it on when he wasn't at work.
But when Jon saw his ring for the first time, his face glowed with pleasure.
He wears that ring all the time, other than when he is at work and is not allowed to.
And I find that ring to be irresistible on his left hand.
Good thing I married that man :-)
Who knew a man's wedding ring could be that exciting?!
My husband is irresistable with his wedding ring on.
Am I the only wife who finds her husband's ring to be some kind of strange aphrodesiac?
I LOVE Husband's wedding ring. And I LOVE Husband's wedding ring on his finger even more. I'm not sure what it is about it:
Yes, it's fairly unique. Yes, I put a lot of time and energy into picking it. And yes, I kept it a total surprise until the day of our wedding (My ring was a surprise too):
But there is just something so...wonderfully attractive about that ring nestled on his left hand. Maybe because it means that he's all mine, maybe because I'm a warm and fuzzy newlywed...I don't know. But I love that ring :-)
You see, my ring was something of a saga. I am going to tell a brief (very brief) version of the story:
Husband and I decided that we wanted to get married in April, and he took me ring shopping. We looked at LOTS and LOTS, picking out things we liked and didn't like. In the process, I discovered that I really loved chocolate and champagne diamonds. So Jon took everything we liked in a ring to heart, and set out on a mission to find one.
A month later (Memorial Day weekend), he did. And he purchased it.
5 days, the store assured him. It will take 5 days to get the ring put together with the special ordered chocolate diamonds. We'll call you.
5 days turned into 25 days, and it was the beginning of July before he ended up with the ring in hand. Of course, I knew none of this at the time, but have since learned of it.
Anyway, he proposed on July 4th, giving me the most gorgeous ring I have ever seen (that one above!!!). The center and halo diamonds are all chocolate diamonds, giving the ring the most beautiful, warm look.
So, when I started looking for a ring for Jon, I first began to research my metals. Being a welder/machinist, he likes metals, so I looked at tungsten and titanium and cobalt. But fearing for my husband's fingers, I wanted to make sure and find a metal that would be as safe as possible.
Then I saw a wood inlay ring.
And I flashed on a conversation between husband and I from when we were first dating. Husband is a gun collector, smith, and lover. And I remember asking him about this when we were first together, and his response was about rifles. He told me that he loved rifles because of their symmetry and lines, the clean way that wood and metal work together--he found that gorgeous.
When I saw that wood inlay ring, I knew it was the ring for him.
So I began looking for one for him. And that's its own story. But I was always a little sad when looking for a ring for him, because he can't wear it at work, and I thought that he would never remember to put it on when he wasn't at work.
But when Jon saw his ring for the first time, his face glowed with pleasure.
He wears that ring all the time, other than when he is at work and is not allowed to.
And I find that ring to be irresistible on his left hand.
Good thing I married that man :-)
Who knew a man's wedding ring could be that exciting?!
Thursday, October 25, 2012
Winchester
Meet Winchester:
This was the first day that I met Winchester. He is a red/blue heeler boy puppy, brought to me in my classroom by two well-meaning students. With unabashed glee, they presented him to me with a little blue ribbon bow around his neck, exclaiming gleefully that he was an early wedding present (this was about two weeks before the wedding).
For anyone who has ever raised a puppy (or not), I would guess you can imagine all the flood of thoughts that assaulted my brain in the few seconds of my initial reaction. And of course, I had an audience to my reaction, waiting on baited breath to see if I was joyful as well, hoping and crossing their fingers that they had pleased me.
I think the first words out of my mouth were "Jon's going to kill you!"
He wouldn't, of course--Husband is much too sweet for that--and he wasn't difficult at all to convince about the puppy. I'm not sure that I would even claim that there was any convincing required.
But I had to do some mental convincing. Now, anyone who knows me knows that I am without question a dog person. I love dogs. I love having dog. We had one when I was a kid, and when I was a young college student, I got my first dog. One that followed me everyone and became my little shadow and loved me the most. I love having a dog. When I got a wild hair and moved a 1000 miles from home in the dead of winter all by myself (that's a whole other post), it was my dog that rode shotgun with me. When I would ride out into the Wyoming wilds on my horse alone, it was my dog that went with me. As I slept under the pines in the Big Horn Mountains, it was my dog that slept curled up next to me.
I was devastated when I lost Bandit to a brain tumor when he was only 3 1/2 years old, and cried for weeks until Sage found me (that's a whole other post.) My dog, I discovered, was a deep part of my sense of security, since I lived alone and far from my parents and family.
My dog, it turned out, was an integral part of who I am and what I do, right down to my daily routines.
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| Bandit |
Yet I found myself holding this adorable little guy and thinking, "I'm not sure I want a puppy..."
Most would assume the reason for this had to do with the fact that my dog, Sage, had been killed just a few days before in an accident.
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| The Sage Brush Pup |
But it wasn't.
You see, I have always been a little skeptical of married couples who go and get a puppy right after they get married. I always thought to myself when I heard about or read about this on Facebook, If they want a baby that bad, why don't they just have a baby? This was not the most gracious thing I have ever thought, but it's true.
So a few months ago, I read another post on Facebook about a couple getting a puppy immediately following their nuptials, and thought to myself:
Ha! I so am not going to be part of a couple like that. Jon and I already have dogs, so there's no need to get another one for a few more years, when I'm ready to train a new cow dog.
I am sure the rest of that thought followed in smug tones of aren't I clever, la-di-da, and then I didn't give it much more thought. Sage and Brown (my dog and Jon's dog) were famous friends and playmates, and we were a happy little merging family of owner-canine pairs.
Then Sage had a run-in with the neighbor's pickup about two weeks before the wedding. In defense of said neighbor, he felt awful and certainly wasn't being careless or doing anything intentionally, but Sage's head and the truck's bumper collided. Thankfully, it was not a messy or painful death. Sage just slipped away, laying down by the creek and never waking up.
I was very sad, as was Husband.
It's always tough to lose a dog, but when you grow up around farming and ranching, you do learn that death is a part of life, and dogs don't always have the longest lifespans. This is not much of a comfort in the moment, but it is part of what I know and believe. Ultimately, it's what let me be open to getting another dog so soon.
Even if it meant being "that couple."
So we took the puppy. We got married on a Friday and picked up the puppy that next week. We decided on Winchester as a name because Browning the our older dog's name, and we like guns. Husband and I also like word games and themes, so we entertained gun names. And Winchester (Win for short) just fit him.
So here we are, married for 3 weeks now, with a puppy in the house. And he is totally our baby. It's ridiculous how much we love, adore, fawn, and giggle over Winchester. I can only image that when we have a baby sometime in the future, it will be a similar experience of loving, adoring, fawning, and giggling, just on a larger scale and with less sleep involved.
In fact, we laid on the couch watching a movie last night--I leaning against Husband's chest and Winchester sleeping on mine.
A happy little family.
Oy.
We are so that couple.
;-)
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