Weather and Marriage

 This morning I jauntily set off on my run. The weather app showed cloudy skies and nothing to worry about until high winds around 1 p.m. The temperature was 7 C, that's about 44 Fahrenheit. As I ran my 5K, I stopped and shot a picture of a rainbow. What luck!

When I turned back toward home, the rainbow wasn't visible and the wind began to pick up. Soon the rain joined it. A light misting at first, then it began to pour in earnest. I usually finish my runs with a walk to stretch, but the dire weather convinced me to keep running until the end as hail began to pelt the bill of my Nike cap. 

I made it inside the kitchen, soaked and shivering. 

"Well that was unexpected," I called to Earl as I walked in the house. 

He came to the kitchen and held up my bath towel. "Need this?"

I pulled off my hat and my jacket, handing them to him. I untied my soaked shoes and peeled off my socks so I wouldn't leave wet footprints on the tile floor. 

"Is that it?" Earl asked, gesturing to my shirt and my pants.

"Yeah, I'll hang my pants on the radiator upstairs," I told him. 

He turned to strategically place my wet clothes on the radiator in the kitchen. 

"No show today, folks!" he said to himself.

"You've seen this show plenty of times," I reminded him. 

"Yeah, but it never gets old. That's why I bought season tickets."

Guess I'm pretty lucky after 32 years of marriage. 

What Story Would You Tell?

Have you ever listened to the Moth Radio Hour? I hear it on my NPR station and have an app on my phone so I can listen if I missed the radio broadcast. People usually tell stories that are funny or tragic. They either make me laugh or cry.
I asked Grace what story she would tell on the Moth Radio Hour. She thought maybe she'd tell about the parties her French friend threw while she visited Paris. I suggested she could tell the story about her sorority sister who sabotaged her romance then slept with the guy herself. No, she decided, she would tell the story about flying home from France in tears when American Airlines bumped her up to first class. I posted briefly about this story in December 2011.
I'm not really sure what story I would tell. I wonder if I've written a blog post that would make a good Moth Radio Hour story.
I'll try occasionally to tell a brief story on my blog that could expand into a Moth Radio Hour story.
I'm not sure why, but I've been thinking about the incident that made Earl get serious about dating me.
Earl and I both worked as reporters for the Tampa Tribune in Pinellas County, that's the little peninsula that stands between Tampa, Florida and the Gulf of Mexico. St. Petersburg and Clearwater are in Pinellas County.
Earl covered the courts and I covered city government in Clearwater. Earl started working there about a year before I did. He was married at the time I met him, but it was a rocky marriage. (That's a story I'll let him tell.)
He and his wife, Elaine, decided to separate in January, and I had a two-bedroom apartment so I offered to let Elaine have the extra bedroom. I'd met her a few times when we all went out together. I was 26 and figured they'd be back together in a few weeks.
I saw Earl most days at work, but never told him that his wife didn't spend nights at my apartment. Some days I'd find evidence that she had been in the apartment while I was at work, but I rarely saw her.
One day I had an assignment to cover Gasparilla, that's a pirate day celebration around Mardi Gras, and I was going to ride a boat across Tampa Bay. I could take a friend, and I asked Elaine if she wanted to go with me.
"You should take a date," she said. I wasn't dating anyone.
"Take Earl," she suggested.
And I did.
Earl was picking me up early, at 8 or 9 a.m. The night before Earl's early arrival was the only night that Elaine spent in my apartment. She was there when Earl came to pick me up.
Eventually, Elaine moved in with the man she was spending time with, and Earl and I started dating. We went back and forth a hundred times. Earl would break up with me and go to marriage counseling with Elaine. Then he would come back and say he couldn't stop thinking about me. He'd show up on my doorstep with a 6-pack of Dos Equis, which was a new beer at the time. Finally, Earl decided to get a divorce.
We continued dating, but as someone just coming off a divorce, Earl wasn't too serious. We still went back and forth until I met Sergeant Randy.
I met Sergeant Randy through work. He was a cop, and I was working on a story about prostitutes -- a new program that punished the "johns" more than the women. I rode along with him one night as he staked out prostitutes, and they arrested the men who propositioned them.
I remember sitting in the front seat of the cruiser with Randy and we had an instant flirty rapport. He made me laugh. Now when I think of him, he reminds me of Ray Romano from Everybody Loves Raymond.
He asked me out, and I said, "yes."
The next day, I told Earl that I was going to start dating someone else.
I loved Earl, but the anguish of the back and forth was too gut wrenching for me. I figured it might take him years to get over his divorce, and I was ready to move on. His marriage counselor told him that I was only "a flash in the pan."
That day, after a goodbye lunch and lingering kisses, Earl decided he was ready to get serious. He wanted to be exclusive.
I'm not one of those conniving women who planned to force Earl to get serious. I truly found Sergeant Randy attractive and I'd had enough of waiting for Earl.
To this day, Earl remains a little jealous of Randy and refers to him as Katzenjammer, because he has a German sounding last name.  We haven't stayed in touch, but he did come to our wedding party and give us a gift of margarita glasses.
And whether Earl admits it or not, now nearly 24 years after we married, Randy had a role in bringing us together.

Complications of a Long Marriage

People never consider the drawbacks of a long marriage -- I mean aside from the obvious problems that come with spending decades with the same person.

I'm talking about the logistics, specifically the fact that I was a thinner person 22 years ago and my wedding ring was a whirling, gold circlet on my left hand. Now my ring is a bit of a tourniquet and for the second time this summer, the skin under my ring has become itchy and flaky.

I twisted and pulled and tugged before the ring finally popped off. I put it on the rarely-used ring holder, giving my finger time to heal.

"Do you think you're allergic?" Earl asked when I showed him the agitated look of my skin, and also to alert him to the fact that I'd removed my wedding ring.

"It took an awful long time to get a reaction if I'm allergic," I replied. "I think it's just too tight."

He tugged on his ring and admitted that his would have a hard time coming off too.

The obvious solutions are to get the ring resized or maybe we should spring for a new ring!

So for now, I'm going ringless and it feels a little daring.

No worries though. No one is about to mistake me for a single lady. It would probably take another 22 years for that mark around my finger to fade.

Some Secrets to a Long, Happy Marriage

I don't want to pretend to have all the answers. Earl and I have definitely had our challenges in 21 years of marriage, but this week we did two things that, I think, have helped us maintain a relationship where we still enjoy each other.
The other night, on one of Earl's rare nights off, once the boys were safely home, I suggested that Earl and I walk the mile up to Caribou Coffee. Of course, it was dark already, but the temperature hovered in the 50s and a misty rain fell occasionally. We both carried umbrellas and I had my reusable cup so I could get 50 cents off and so I could be ecologically conscious. We held hands as we walked the quiet streets until we got to the brightly lit Caribou. I found a seat and Earl fetched my coffee, which was supposed to be decaf, but considering how wired I was afterward, I'm thinking it might have been regular.
As we sat in the cozy Caribou Coffee, we talked about Earl's plans, which constitute the second step to a happy marriage. He was leaving for a backpacking trip in West Virginia. He would only be gone two days, but sometimes a marriage is stronger with a little distance.
He takes offense at this idea, but sometimes I do need time to myself. So I told him I had arranged to have the day off on Thursday. That way, I could rejuvenate alone.
It's not that Earl bugs me when I'm home. Sometimes he's a little oversolicitous.
"Can I get you anything?"
"What are you working on?"
"Do you want some tea?"
"Want to go for a walk later?"
And these are all perfectly kind questions for my husband to ask me while we're home together and the boys are at school.
Sometimes though, I like to have the place to myself.
This morning, Earl left around 7 and the boys screeched out of the house a little before 8 hoping to make it to school on time.
I had a 45 minute conversation with my friend Ruth in Michigan (who, with 4 kids at home, is very jealous I'm home alone). Then Grace called me on Skype and we talked for a few minutes.
Next, I did 45 minutes of yoga. Usually with yoga, I'm itching to finish, ticking off all the things that I need to do yet. But today, I was calm and the time passed quickly.
Now I'm in front of the computer, ready to do some writing, and I'll probably reward myself with a walk down to Caribou later.
I'm a free woman until the boys get done with school. Then I'll have to do some driving and make some dinner -- maybe chili since the temperature is still in the 30s.
This time alone is rejuvenating for me, And hopefully Earl's hike in the West Virginia mountains will be refreshing for him. Then I'll see him in two days and we'll be ready to move onto 21 more years.

21 Years

I can't remember how I felt 21 years ago when I married Earl. I was nervous, excited, happy. I think I jabbered nervously and forgot to apply lipstick when my Dad came to that upstairs room to escort me down to the wooden porch, down a few steps to stand in front of a tinkling waterfall, tiger lilies blooming thick along the bank.
I can't remember how I felt, but this expression on my face explains it.

We drove my convertible from my parents' log cabin in Kentucky to the reception. That's a barn in the background, not the house! My best friend from high school, Tracey, was my matron of honor and Earl's brother Art was the best man. They rode in the front seat. It didn't matter because Earl and I had eyes for no one else.
Today, we went to Trattoria Roma and sat on the patio. We drank wine. We laughed. Earl said I looked beautiful, and I'm kind of amazed that 21 years passed so quickly. I don't mean to make it sound easy. We've had our share of days slogging through deep sand in the desert (I mean that metaphorically) and sometimes it feels like we're on opposite sides instead of the same side. Every time though, we return to each other with that loving look in our eyes.
As we left the restaurant, Earl took my hand in his and said, "Do you think we can have 21 more?"
I try to imagine us 21 years from now. My mind reels. But 21 years ago, I couldn't have imagined the life we created, the people we've become.
Happy Anniversary, Earl.