July 1, 2001

    And life just gets crazier. 

     The cabinet has been placed back beside the refrigerator and in fact i like it there a lot.  i'm glad we tried it again - there's something about doing unusual placement things with furniture that just appeals to me.  And Himself advocates getting 'out of the box', so there you have it - one very red toned cabinet in a kitchen with green walls and pine coloured cupboards.  Perfect.

     Now the truly frustrating part is happening though, and that's dragging everything downstairs and finding places for it.  i thoroughly enjoy placing everything once it's down there - i'm just horrified at the mess that's been created upstairs.  

     It turned out that the cabinet made better dish storage than food, which meant that the closet needed to be turned into a pantry.  This meant finding some type of shelving was necessary.  After a search of the house (reluctant to spend any money if i could avoid it) i finally discovered that the heavy wire stacking baskets that held our clothes would fit.  

     One massive dumpage of clothing onto the bed ensued.

     'Course that meant not being able to get into bed later that evening, so the clothes then migrated to the living room floor.  Where they continued to live until yesterday.  Getting dressed for work each morning got interesting. 

     And then i decided to try Himself's idea of using the large Persian carpet He has, in the new living room.  i wasn't at all convinced that i would like it, but He'd been mentioning the idea for days.  i couldn't *not* try it.  Of course He's now quite pleased with Himself for being right yet again.  It does add a nice touch to the room though.  

     The only draw back with the idea was the fact that the old living room got even more pulled apart when He rolled up the carpet to bring it downstairs.  And believe me, He didn't waste any time getting it rolled up when He heard the words; "okay, i'll try it ..." pass by my lips. 

     So the confusion carries on, and will for a while yet, as each room gets sorted and rearranged.  And Himself is handling all the changes a lot better than i expected considering He detests change in the first place.  But i think He's really beginning to enjoy His *new* home. 

     Now if His back just holds out ...

     We went to a wedding on Saturday.  Actually Himself was part of the wedding party, and also did a reading during the ceremony, which was very cool.  However the temperature was something like 32 or 35 Celsius (really hot!) and the groom and male attendants wore kilts, complete with jacket and heavy socks.  And the bride wore a dress made of seemingly millions of miles of gorgeous silk, with a bodice that was actually a proper corset.  It was a stunning dress and she looked quite beautiful - properly blooming like all brides seem to do.  i don't know how she survived the heat though!  i wore a long sundress that was absolutely non-formfitting and sweltered.

     It was nice to go to a wedding again - and especially this one since Himself had actually introduced the bride and groom to each other a few years ago.  And of course i got to see Himself in His kilt again.

     He'd dropped me off at the house where the bride was getting ready, since we had to be on the opposite side of the city and He had to help out with the preparations - so driving back to get me later would not have been convenient.  i got to watch the bride doing her makeup and getting dressed, and then posing for the grandmother, mom and daughter poses.  It was all very cool.

     So i was standing outside watching the photographer pose them around a beautiful arbor, when Himself arrived back, to give me a ride to the church.  i heard Him say my name, and i turned toward His voice - and saw standing before me an absolutely stunning, tall and elegant black man in a Kennedy clan tartan.  And for a moment i understood what it means when they say time stood still.  i've been savouring that image ever since - it floats through my brain like a decadent sweet treat.

     There are moments like this all through our relationship.  It seems so strange sometimes, to think that it took me this long to really figure out how to even have a good relationship.  And i'm even beginning to trust that i have gotten it all right finally and that this one will actually last.  i can't begin to describe how much i want it to last forever.  i really and truly want to grow old and happy with this man and i think i'm even starting to understand that there's a good chance He will love me just as much when i'm old and wrinkly.  That He really does care about the inside me.

     Something that keeps floating through my brain for the past few weeks is an incident that happened when i was not much more than about 7 or 8.  Actually i'm not positive of the exact age anymore, just that i was very young.  And i don't even remember if i've written about this before - but it's in my brain again, so i'm writing about it anyway.

     My mother had come into my bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed.  She hadn't turned lights on, but there was a tiny bit showing through the doorway.  She assumed i was sleeping and reached out with her hand and gently stroked my hair - so lightly i could just barely feel it.  And that is actually the moment that i did wake up.  i'd gotten used to trying to be as quiet as possible though (in attempts to ward off unwelcome attention) and i didn't move.  

     She continued to stroke my hair and then started to speak very lowly.  i don't remember all that she said but i do recall that her words were tender and essentially she was saying things like how much she cared about me.   And then she rose to leave the room.  As she did she said; "I love you ... "  and in my childlike innocence i responded with; "i love you too, mommy."

     And then she got angry.

     i can still hear her voice as she scolded me.  "What are you doing awake?  Get back to sleep now, young lady."  A few other things that again i don't remember, but i still feel. Then she left the room in a huff.  i cried myself back to sleep, not sure what i'd done wrong or understanding why this would make her mad.

     Years later i'm still not sure i understand, other than perhaps she was embarrassed to be 'discovered' being affectionate. And as i reflect back on my childhood in general i realize just how much we were not taught to be affectionate.  There wasn't much hugging going on in that house.  i don't think my mother received a lot of them when she was growing up either.  And in turn i didn't hug my own children enough.  

     i'm learning now though.  Himself's affectionate nature is teaching me.  i intend to try to pass along this new skill to my kids.  Or at least talk to them about it from time to time.  i understand they'll make their own mistakes in life - but maybe this doesn't have to be one of them.     

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