I’m not sure
if toasting each other over a plate of weenies strictly counted as a
celebration, but back in August Dean and I celebrated 40 years of
marriage. I started to type “40 years of
marital bliss” but that would just be lying and I pride myself on always
telling the truth not exaggerating much even if it reflects poorly
on me Dean. I’m not saying
there weren’t stretches of marital bliss during the past 40 years, especially
during the early years when we looked upon each other with starry-eyed
adoration. “We’re soul mates” we said to
each other. “You’re perfect” we each
sighed. Oh sure, there were moments,
weeks, and sometimes even years of our marriage where it felt like we were barely
holding on to a frayed string as we were thrown in and out of a tiny kayak
which was riding up on a swelling wave only to drop into a chasm, in a
hurricane, out in the middle of the ocean, without Dramamine, but that just
made those blissful times that much sweeter.
As the years passed our
vision became less clouded by those stars and we each began to notice small flaws in each other. You might
think we managed to stay married to each other for 40 years because we ignored those slight imperfections and just learned to live with them – or – even learned to
love them. You would be wrong. If there’s one thing I’ve learned over 40
years of marital-sometimes-bliss it’s that when something makes you feel like
fingernails on a blackboard, it's imperative that you 1. point out the offense, and 2. see that it's taken care of. So early on we learned it was
important not to stew about the things that annoyed us but to deal with them,
even if that meant not waiting longer than three days for Dean to read my mind.
Our marriage experience
has served us well during our adjustment period with the home because our
relationship with this Little Bit O’ Country has been very similar to our 40 years together. During the honeymoon stage we, okay I, gazed on the
home with stars in my eyes. We weren’t
blind to the flaws but they seemed small and insignificant. However, as with any marriage, soon those
small defects became more difficult to ignore.
As I mentioned in my last post, we became less enamored of the
home. We wondered if we’d made a
mistake. We regretted our hasty decision
and wished for a way out. We were
exhausted from all the work we’d put into it and needed a trial separation. We needed time to remember why
we’d begun the relationship to begin with and we needed to decide if we wanted
to continue. I, for one, went through a
period of mourning for the retirement future I thought we’d lost.
Finally
after six weekends in a row of painting, carpet removing, foam scraping, wall
washing, ceiling washing, leak fixing and wallpaper scraping, on the seventh weekend we stayed away and
rested. And last weekend when we went
back, the painter had come and gone and what looked like this before
now looked like this.
And this
now looks
like this
We are cautiously letting our hearts open up to
the home again even though
our anniversary dinner was mashed meat in a skin because we were so exhausted
from working on it we could barely lift a fork let alone sit upright in
a restaurant.
(Although a leaking kitchen sink – again! this
weekend didn’t make it easy.)
I wish the
list of things we
need to do was completed but it isn’t.
Unfortunately, we’ve added to that list with
even more things we
want to do. I've come to the conclusion there’s always going to be something we’ll
need or want to fix, improve or change.
I’
m just hopeful that the major issues have been dealt with, the
exhausting part of this relationship is over, and once the wood floors are put
in we’ll only be left with small things that annoy us ... kind of like our marriage.
Oh, and in
the interest of complete honesty … that whole part about telling each other we
were soul mates, etc., … we didn’t need to say them … we just knew. Deep sigh….
Kidding. If Dean ever said that
to me I’d snort whatever weenie-paired wine I was drinking at the time right
out my nose. Which is one of the perks
of being married for 40 years. You can do
that without even being embarrassed. Not
that I have. I’m just saying you could.
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We Are Living The Cartoon
