After lunch break with the kids

The shoes were off: slips on, neon sneakers and pink Toms scattered all over the room.
The desks had been pushed aside.
"Grab your pillows" I said. They flutter to the reading nook under the window and pick their fluffy aid.

"Meditation pose" can also be said, "criss cross apple sauce"
Little noses inhaled and with big, short breathes exhaled....
Not quite sure what the point of relaxation is, but willing to try.
They stretch and roll and try to look serious. Some try to slip in a nap.

Then it happens.
The female voice on the instructional yoga video says in a serene, Asian voice.
"If this is uncomfortable for you, position a pillow directly underneath the buttocks."
buttocks  is a funny word in any voice, but particularly in a voice like that.
We lose it. There is iggling and rolling into wiggy variations of baby poses.
One yells, "Stop guys stop, listen to Ms. Katie."

I get out between giggles, "It's ok. I've lost it too."

Sometimes it's good to relax AND be silly.

Reverse Nostalgia

The first meal of the future, two years past

Was sushi from the grocery down the road

Sitting on the floor we 

Moved our hands to pour the sake.

Poised the chopsticks just right to hold 

The tires of sushi in their shiny plastic boats: 

We wanted to go to Japan someday.

The meal made us relish in the dreams of things to come:

Marriage, apartment, life, travel

Visions we shared

Like memories we both recalled,

Only backwards

Now the last meal of that future

Tastes like the remnant of things

We built in those two years. 

Frozen lima beans cooked hot with garlic

A sweet potato with honey

Served upon leftover 

New Years Plates

Nothing is without its meaning

Now the Last Meal

of the First Place

Means other backwards nostalgias to come. 

Cheers to that.

Stuck and settled

Don't get stuck.

This is what the fibers of my being cry out.

 Now there is a difference, a vast one, between stuck and settled.


Some people view marriage as being stuck, but for me that could not be further from the truth. An honest marriage, made in true love for one another and centered around God's love, is one of the most freeing experiences imaginable. I have been so blessed by my love, friend, helpmate and  fellow-adventurer in both hard times and good over the past year and a half...and I can't imagine how helplessly trapped I would have been without him in that time. Not just without him in my life, but without him as my husband specifically.

However, many marriages do indeed result in this stuckness for all kinds of selfish, or shall I say, human reasons.

Stuck also doesn't mean being in one place forever physically.

After much prayer this year, Dane and I have both reached the conclusion that we are not ready to settle down yet. We prayed about a permanent place, and what we recieved was, for the meantime, temporary. It is not our time to find a house to buy, or a place to be for several years, yet. We feel a need to be free for awhile, to wander and to get back on the path we tried to start down three years ago.

However, I have many dear friends that have found the place that they are supposed to be. I know they will thrive there and be happy. They will make good changes in the world where they are. Have families. Live a life that could in no way be classified as stuck or stagnate. They will make a  home somwhere that is alive.


There are all kinds of ways to be stuck and all kinds of ways to be settled: the  difference is not in the what. It's in the how and the why

To be stuck is to be selfish and always reach for the convenient. Low risk. Low change.
Settled is to be centered in ones calling, sure about it, and grow in the love that you plant there. It's to steward what you have been given and help it thrive.

Lyrics

It has always been this way with me that music always seems to go along with life in that moment. Either the melody provides perfect timing for the music video of the life happening around me (sometimes this is extremely funny), or it seems well suited to the mood of my natural surroundings. This has always happened to me. I know there are others out there for whom this happens also. Is there a name for this phenomenon? If there are lyrics then often they seem particularly well-suited to my thoughts at that moment. This happens a lot, and not because I'm picking the songs. It happens when I'm listening to the radio, Pandora, mix CDs, ect. What is that? I love it.

Anyway, that's not really what I am writing about. I'm not actually sure where I'm going exactly because I haven't slept much and I'm dead beat. However, I heard this song on the way back to the apartment tonight and it reminded me so much of my last few years. So I guess, instead of the music matching life around me, my life matches this song in a lot of ways. More specifically it matches the images I match with the last few years. Listening to this unfamliar song was therefore nostalgic in the most surprising way. I'm going to share, just to reflect. The last part doesn't apply (yet at least) but the rest is pretty spot on.

Laura Marling
"Goodbye England (Covered in Snow)"

You were so smart then,
in your jacket and coat.
My softest red scarf was warming your throat.
Winter was on us,
at the end my nose,
and I'll never love England more than when covered in snow.


But a friend of mine says it good to hear,
that you believe in love even if set in fear.
Well I'll hold you there brother and set you straight
I don't really believe true love is frail and willing to break.

I will come back here, bring me back when I'm old.
I want to lay here forever in the cold.
I might be cold but I'm just skin and bones,
and I'll never love England more than when covered in snow.

I wrote my name in your book,
only God knows why,
and I bet you that he cracked a smile.
And I'm clearing all the crap out of my room,
trying desperately to figure out what it is that makes me blue,
and I wrote in a big letter to you,
and it's 22 pages front and back but it's too good to be used.

And I tried to be a girl who likes to be used,
I'm too good for that, there's a mind under this hat.
And I called them all and told them I've got to move



And I'm out on my own,
It's too hard
I'm out on my own
It's too hard

Feel like running,
feel like running,
running off.

And we will keep you,
we will keep you little one,
safe from harm,
like an extra arm you are a part of us.

You were so smart then,
in your jacket and coat.
My softest red scarf was warming your throat.

Winter will leave us,
left the end of my nose.
Well goodbye old England until next years snow.

The room in the picture

Moving: Part 1

So I realized after posting this picture last night on Facebook that a lot of people were either unaware that we were moving or not sure where we were going (and wanted to know). I also realized that I had made a lot of references to packing, ect., and never made any concrete statements about the where, when or why. A lot of people that I care about read this blog, so I need to fill some folks in!

In the above picture, the room we are standing in was is the room where I grew up. I slept there most nights from the age of three to age eighteen, on trips home from college and for the year after college when I started my job and became engaged. See how it's pastel pink in the first messy picture? It's been that color since I was seven.

When my mom got sick and had to have surgery, she made that room her "nest."  My twin bed in there was high, reaching up to the window like a window-bed. When  I wasn't with her last year, she said that being in that room was like me being there, it made her feel cozy and safe.  I was blessed to have a job with an understanding boss and co-workers who let me shorten my daily work schedule last year to spend extra time with my mama. When I came over to the house, a lot of times she would be sleeping in the bed back there; I would climb in there with her and cuddle on her...usually we would both go to sleep. I'm so glad we had that time, and so glad that Dane and I were in Gainesville, in an apartment so close to my childhood home. We originally didn't know why we felt called to stay, but now we do.

At the end, the hospital bed was in that room, and that is where we said goodbye.

After that, there was a flurry of forced cleaning which pushed me, Dane, Corinne and my dad into doing the undoable: the nightmare of throwing stuff in there to make room for the people who would be coming by after the furneral. It really was like a nightmare, actually. It haunts me. Layers of piling stuff over the circles in the carpet where the hospital bed had been, with my mom in it, only the day before. Her layer of medical supplies. A layer of her fun, feminine stuff. Under that, a layer of my stuff from post-college, college, highschool, and beyond. It was like all the good had been tainted.

Aside from when we were throwing stuff in there before the funeral, I couldn't go in that room for months. Then, everytime I would go in, I would start screaming or crying. The worst thing to me was the little "Get Well Soon" balloon that refused to deflate for about six months. My dad and a sweet friend went in there about a month ago and threw that balloon away and took out the hospice supplies. That helped.

But I've been going through her clothes to make more space over the last couple of weeks, and that's been hard. Hard, but it's gotten easier.

Dane and I went in there and finished knocking that room out last night.  It is fresh. Everything in it has been sorted/removed (true, made a big mess in the other room we are using as storage but that is a project for another day). The baseboards and walls have been cleaned and spackled. Carpets vacummed and steamed. New window treatments. Most of all, it has been painted (by my skilled husband) a bright, robin's egg blue that Dane and I both loved. For the first time since I was seven, it is a new room. Best of all, the bad taint is mostly gone, the good memories remaining.

So if you've been paying attention, you've figured out that Dane and I are moving into my dad's house in Gainesville. You would be right, you skilled inferencers. It has actually been our plan to do this for awhile, but we've had trouble with our lease. The rent has gone up since we signed it, and it is more expensive than an apartment should be at this point. We thought we'd be out in December, but then it turned out that we were supposed to stay through February. So February is almost over and here we are.

 It just makes sense to move in at the house. I love my dad and so does Dane, I mean we don't just love him, we love spending time for him. He's a wizard (see previous post).
 Also, he has a lot of wonderful friends, but I know it's also been tough on him being alone in an empty house sometimes. It'll be nice to have some more movement and voices in the house. We also want to help out with some stuff around the house, which is easier if we are actually there. We know we'll all have our space, too. Dad is going to be in Mississippi sometimes, and Dane and I are looking forward to being a little free-r financially so we can visit some friends in Birmingham and Chattanooga.

  We are making space at dad's this weekend and moving the big stuff, and staying in our apartment one final week to pack up our stuff that will go into storage. It's really exiciting! We've prayed and thought long about this decision. It is not really super-permanent, but for now it definitely seems like the best thing. I'm really looking forward to being closer to my dad and sprucing up my childhood home. :-)

The Glass Menagerie

“Yes, I have tricks in my pocket, I have things up my sleeve. But I am the opposite of a stage magician. He gives you illusion that has the appearance of truth. I give you truth in the pleasant disguise of illusion.”
 -Tennessee Williams, The Glass Menagerie



 Today, Tennessee William's "The Glass Menagerie" has been on my mind as well as the mastery of his truth-giving illusions.

Performed in 1944 in Chicago, "The Glass Menagerie," tells the (biographically inspired) story  of a memory of three people who exist in an apartment: a dramatic Southern belle  mother, her close-to-combustion son and her shut-in daughter. There is a fourth person, the "gentleman caller" so anticipated by all, but he is more of an idea than a character: he is the climax,  the "shining piece of glass" for which the audience and the characters reach.

Not much happens in this play if you are just looking at the physical events. However, it is fully engaging and does a better job of weaving powerful themes than many books I have read. I have to admit that I didn't appreciate it much in high school, but now I do.

The theme that sticks with me most is that most people are content to sit and watch their lives pass them. They don't risk discomfort or change for the unknown or adventure. Most people are quite happy to admire the reels of their past, gaze at loveliness from a safe distance, or spend their days with hard labor and their night's with mindless entertainment.

“People go to the movies instead of moving. Hollywood characters are supposed to have all the adventures for everybody in America, while everybody in America sits in a dark room and watches them have them.”

It's easy to get hurt and stop pushing, to land in a safe cocoon where nothing will disappoint again.

“Being disappointed is one thing and being discouraged is something else. I am disappointed but I am not discouraged.”says the character who represents real living.

Depending on whether you stop where you are or keep moving forward despite disappointment, it get's harder to get out or easier to keep moving. Eventually, the time will come to make a choice, or move on or to decide to be stuck.

“For nowadays the world is lit by lightning! Blow out your candles, Laura -- and so goodbye. . . .” 


These thoughts and words have been the white noise of my mind today. Sorry I can't take longer to tie my thoughts together or explain better, but I think you should read the book or see the play. You won't be sorry.

Her Voice in My Head

I grew up in this small town, and it is ingrained with my memories, and my mom is in most of those. The memories are  in the town the way my mom's voice in is my head. I hear her all the time, almost. She was my best friend from the time I was born. I knew her. Know her.

Tender things, advice, warnings. I remember things she said that take on a new meaning now and they play in new contexts like freshly spoken words. She's just everywhere. I've been going through her stuff at my parents' house, and missing her more than ever. With her voice in my head, how can it be that I can't pick up the phone and call her? I can listen to her voicemails, read her text-messages and e-mails, write on her Facebook wall, but I can't feel her warm hugs or see her face light up or hear her chipper voice. How is that? Still can't register, eight months later.

I leave work late today. It's a beautiful day, a relief after the snow. I don't want to go home yet and settle in. So much packing to do.

Let's go to the park and walk down to the lake, just for a minute

is what she says in my head. 

I'm driving to Starbucks past the park where we made up the song about leaves when I was four, past the bridge where we used to stomp, and the trees which look golden in the fall where we went to take photos one day.

I'm at Starbucks but don't care to go in-I realize she was with me the last time I drove through in the Starbucks and still remember what she ordered. Grande Skinny Cinnamon Dulce Latte. 
I order something else, thinking of aspartame and how it can increase risks of cancer.

I am at the store and see some dry shampoo. It triggers a memory.  That's what you need to get for those mornings when you just need a spruce up.

I buy the shampoo, something I wouldn't have done a year ago. It's fantastic stuff. Good advice.

The view on the way down the hill back home is familar and it sickens me. We had a really nice room at the hospital with that view. It's pretty, but I don't care to see it again.

I am in the tub tonight, trying to unwind. There's been a lot of stress lately, and I've fallen off the wagon I got on about trying to de-stress as much as possible. Baths help. I smell the lavender and pick up the face scrub. Burt's Bees Walnut. I remember buying it with my mom. In my head, she warns me about it, You have to be careful with Walnut shell and sensitve skin. It can irritate your skin and make you break out. I'd go easy if I were you. 

There is no transition. I am on the verge of screaming.
How did the Burt's Bees Walnut Scrub outlive my mother? She wasn't even sick, that we knew of, when I bought that stuff. How is that possible?

 A million little things like that. A creative writing book she loaned me in April and told me she "wanted back" still sits on my desk at school, waiting to be returned. We just used up the vanilla extract she loaned me a year ago. How did these cheap, meaningless things last longer than her body, which was so valuable? It makes me so angry.

Her voice will last much longer than any of them, and there is some comfort in that, but not enough to make pacify me. I miss her so much.

As I have these thoughts, an unfamilar song starts playing on my radio, lyrics echoing my thoughts which are then dissolved, for now, into calmer versions of themselves in the ripples of the scented water.

"To a Poet" lyrics by First Aid Kit
.............
The streets here at home had rapidly filled up
With the whitest of snow
And they don't make no excuse for themselves
And there's no need, I know
Now I miss you more than I can take
And I will surely break
And every morning that I wake
God, it's the same
There's nothing more to it,
I just get through it
Oh, there's nothing more to it
I just get through it
It always takes me by surprise
How dark it gets this time of the year
And how apparent it all becomes
That you're not close, not even near
No matter how many times I tell myself
I have to be sincere
I have a hard time standing up
And facing those fears
But Frank put it best when he said
"You can't plan on the heart"
Those words keep me on my feet
When I think I might just fall apart
Now I miss you more than I can take
And I will surely break
And every morning that I wake
God, it's the same
There's nothing more to it,
I just get through it
Oh, there's nothing more to it
I just get through it
Oh, there's nothing more to it
I just get through it
And so I ask where are you now
Just when I needed you
I won't ask again
Because I know there's nothing we can do
Not now, darling, you know it's true

Frasier Crane

Highly intelligent, sophisticated, well-meaning radio psychologist  Frasier Crane can always figure out what his patients need, but his personal life is a stream of constant chaos due to his meddling, arrogence, and pretensiousness! Throw in his similarly brilliant and phobia-prone younger brother, a goofy British physical therapist, a street-wise, retired-cop father and a string of other colorful side-characters and you have one of my favorite cozy-shows of all time.
It used to come on at 9:00 p.m., which was right before my bedtime. All I knew about it for a long time was that my parents liked to watch it. I remember the first time I watched it with them. By highschool, it was one of my favorite shows, too.
When I got to college, my mom loaned me Season 1 after they got it on boxed set, and it helped quell my home-sickness. This is when I discovered that some Frasier goes awfully well with a cup of coffee.
I've probably watched all of the episodes in the shows 10 seasons several times over. I very rarely sit down just to watch "Frasier," however.  It's a comforting thing to have going on in the background, and often lately when Dane and I have written our posts, cooked dinner, or worked on packing up the living room, this show has provided our white noise.
"Frasier" is heavy on catharsis for those who embarass themselves often, so in my case this applies.
In that sense, it has always been a comforting show.
However, right now I am doing a lot of shuffling around in my brain about my life. Time has passed slowly and quickly over the past few years...so many things have happened that I find myself feeling a bit in search of an emotional security blanket through certain things. "Frasier" is one of those things for me.

Hey baby, I hear the blues a-callin',
Tossed salad and scrambled eggs

Oh My
Mercy (alt: Quite stylish.)

And maybe I seem a bit confused,
Yeah maybe, but I got you pegged!
Ha, Ha, Ha, Ha!

But I don't know what to do with those tossed salads and scrambled eggs.
They're callin' again.

(The following are alternate endings)

They're callin' again.
Good night, Seattle, we love you.
What is a boy to do. Good night.
Frasier has left the building.
Thank You!
Scambled eggs all over my face. What is a boy to do. Goodnight, everybody.
See you next year, we love ya.


source: http://www.lyricsondemand.com/tvthemes/frasierlyrics.html

Reading list

FYI, I did write 100 words (actually a lot more than that) yesterday, but I chose not to post it because it was for a story. :-) Promise.
Today Dane and I worked on packing up our stuff and a lot of my mom's stuff at my parents' house, which was really difficult. It was my second time endeavoring to work on sorting through all of my mom's clothes. However, the first time was by myself...it was definitely so much easier having Dane there to keep me focused on the task at hand. Since we worked hard all day and have to go to our respective jobs tomorrow for the first time in a while, I will be keeping today's post short and simple.

When I was a pre-teen and adolescent, my nose was always glued to a book. I used to read approximately  a book a day when I was homeschooled, and at least a novel a week when I started private school. As I read more and more required texts in college, I continued to read for pleasure but less consistently. The exception to this is perhaps my time at Oxford, when I got to study the kinds of things that I like to read about anyway...it was all research....;-)  (When you study the Inklings , creative writing and mythology you get to read all kinds of fun stuff for research)

However, I seemed to slow down on my reading after college. Suddenly life was full of so many other things, all in a rush: new job, Dane moved to Georgia, friends' weddings, I got engaged, married, moved in with Dane, newlyweds, nesting, new position at work, mom got sick, ect.

I still read several books during that year and a half, but I missed (maybe without knowing how much) that homeschooled girl would lose herself in a book for hours at a time. One of my new year's resolutions was to rediscover that girl, and doing so has given me a much needed means of escape as well as inspired me creatively.

Last night,  I found myself trying to list the books I read in the past month to myself, and I couldn't remember what some of them were! I decided to list them periodically on here to keep myself accountable and keep track of how many books I am reading. I also wanted to give a one-sentence
(sometimes a creatively punctuated "one sentence"...hmm) thought and a star-rating (from 1-5) based on how highly I reccomend the book. So, without further ado, here are my books read for 2014 so far.

1. The Ocean at the End of the Lane by Neil Gaiman
As always, whimsical genius Neil Gaiman sucks the reader effortlessly into a world of his own imagining, simultaneously creating a dark and beautiful universe and capturing the reader's  empathy for his intimately-everyman protagonist. *****

2. The Giver by Lois Lowry
Lowry's original take on the utopian society was so fun and interesting I had to read it in one sitting (and make my students read it, too!) ****

3. The Mermaid's Pendant (2 books)  by LeAnn Neil Reilly
A unique, descriptive writing style and the beautiful setting of the first book make this fairy-tale retelling stand out among others I have read, but an unlikeable hero and icky-feeling plot twists made me give up on its sequel.  ***

4.  Mockingjay by Suzanne Collins
 Being a major Hunger Games fan, this was a re-read for me: compelling, blood-pumping...made me justice-hungry and mad...but I loved it.  *****

5. Love Story by Erich Segal
This is a story about love in an iconically 1960s American young-people setting, and I was slightly underwhelmed because of high expectations...."Love means never having to say you're sorry." ***

6. A Shade of Vampire by Bella Forrest
 Sounds like a bad rip off of Twilight/50 Shades of Gray, but it wasn't (and just to be clear, it wasn't sexually graphic)....I'm actually not really sure what it was.
*
Currently Reading: I'm bad about reading lots of things at once.

7. A Midsummer Night's Dream  by William Shakespeare
Will's rhythmic tale of comedic mischeif in the woods: fairies, young love, silly actors.
***** 

8. An American Heiress  by Daisy Goodwin
Lushly-written, compelling tale of a young American heiress who weds a broke duke in the 1890s...definitely a must-read for "Downton Abbey" fans.
*****

9. Les Miserables by Victor Hugo
Started then stopped....was enjoying the setting and characters so far, but feel like I'm going to need to spend some time with it before it hooks me. I have to give it ***** based on what I know about it from others.


Always looking for good things to read next!

What Valentine's Day Means to Me: A Brief History of My Valentine's Days

Happy Valentine's Day! I know a lot of people are not fans of this holiday for various reasons: too commercialized, sappy, only for people in a relationship, ect.

However, I have always loved Valentine's day. I love the hearts and flowers and doing extra special little things to let other people know they are loved. I know that you should do these things everyday, and I think we all try to..but there is just something special in the air on Valentine's Day...it's a little like Christimas in that goodwill is in the air. I'm also a hopeless romantic...what can I say?

Another reason I love Valentine's Day is that it's my parents' anniversary. Growing up as an only child, my parents never tried to hide their affection for one another from me. I never got grossed out when they kissed, hugged, or held hands. In fact, I always thought it was really sweet, and a good example of what I wanted one day. Again: only child, hopeless romantic. I get a lot of that from my mom. She and I could always watch slightly silly movies but love them anyway because they were romantic (*cough* twilight *cough*Somewhere in Time*) . My dad is also very romantic, much more than he lets on. So I guess I'm double-dosed.

My parents have always been a wonderful example of what true love is: from the fun, sweetheart stuff to the hard, commitment stuff. Today would have been 26 years for them. Last year was their 25th, which they celebrated with a getaway trip to Glen Ella. My mom had been diagnosed with cancer for about a month, and was recovering from a major surgery, but she was still really adamant about doing that. Now I know we are all so glad that she was. Some people see Valentine's Day as unnessecary, but sometimes it is those unnessecary things which become so meaningful later. Mom also asked Dane and I to come out and join them for a fancy dinner one night of that weekend, and for Dane to take some photos of them, which turned out so beautifully. That was the last thing like that we all did together. It was luxurious, frivolous even, considering the financial burden of the time, but so important.

 My parent's wedding picture from February 14, 1987 at The Grand Hotel in Point Clear, Alabama

25th Wedding Anniversary: February 14, 2013, 25 years later, Glen Ella Springs Resort


An amazing love story that deserves its own novel.
..............................................................................................................................

So you see, I loved Valentine's Day way before dating was on the radar at all. I used to get such  glee from doing special things for my parents on Valentine's day: one time (after asking for a ride to Party City with mysterious intentions) I decorated my tree house in hearts and candles, put some chocolates out there, and sent my parents up there to surprise them with it. A lot of times I would make a "romantic" dinner or something (usually one of those "just bake" lasagnas because this was before I cooked) , which was kind of unnessecary considering it would be waiting for them after they got back from a V-Day date, but they never complained about it.

My parents always made me feel special on Valentine's Day, too. They would always do something really sweet to make me feel loved. As I grew up with this love of the day instilled in my heart, I  also loved getting my friends Valentines at school for February 14...it wasn't mandatory, it was awesome! Last year I got flowers for my co-workers. In fact, I only let the whole "not having a boyfriend on Valentine's Day" thing get me down one year, out of all of them can remember.  (It was in highschool and my boyfriend and I had just split up, and he had suggested that we could "wait until after Valentine's Day to break up" if that would be better for me...which of course made me so mad! No way!) It's stupid now, I wish I had just got over it and enjoyed the day with some friends instead of being a mopey. Don't be a mopey today. You'll just regret it. Invite some friends over or if you are going to be alone, at least treat yourself to something special that you like.

Since Dane and I have been dating (four years) we've had: one long distance Valentine's (Dane sent me a song he wrote/sang when I was in England), one big band concert Valentine's Day, one "we're totally broke" Valentine's Day (which was actually really fun, my parents decided to celebrate their anniversary at home and grilled awesome steak and invited us to join them. Then we watched "Once Upon a Time"...this was before that show got too weird), and last year we had a traditional nice dinner out. We're doing that again today. Although, the real Valentine's Day treat this year was the unexpected time together the snowpolcaypse gave us. I was so glad to spend some extra time with my love this week: topping it off with Valentine's Day is just the cherry on top. I'll actually be having two Valentine's Day dates today with the two most important men in my life today.


My point in all this I guess, other than to reminisce about Valentine's Days past, is to say that this day is very special to me, and I think it can be special to you too. It's a day for all kinds of love, when love is lifted high up and celebrated. Sure, sometimes it's painful. If you don't have someone romantic in your life there is always that temptation to let yourself get down on February 14. If you have lost someone, it's even harder. There are going to be some sad moments for me today, and especially for my dad. However, as I keep trying to drill into this blog of mine, choosing to love IS painful..but worth it.  Love deserves to b celebrated with those we love, while they are here with us. They won't always be. So, even if you don't like hearts, chocolate, or flowers (but why wouldn't you???)...even if you don't have someone romantic to celebrate with... I hope you find something or someone in your life today that makes you feel just a little bit extra blessed, a little bit extra appreciative of the love in your life, whatever kind of love that might be.

Out of hibernation

The dim warm smells of stew and candles filled our hollowed out place, our camp for the past three days.
Donned in slippers, jeans and a t-shirt, a mug of steaming savory goodness in my hands, I open the thick door which has been our barrier against a world of ice.

The door opens, and it is so beautiful that I find myself full of a wordless joy. The sky is no longer grey, but blue. The sun is smiling, reflecting it's light upon a hundred white, crystaline surfaces.  The world sparkles.

I step out onto the front step, looking around now that I am accustomed to the brightness. I hear the revving of an engine, sounding more like a blender than any engine should.
 A small, grey car is attempting to surmount the hill, something which has hencefar been attempted but not accomplished since the snowpocalypse began. The car is sliding backwards now, and I hold my breath, not sure if it is going to be okay. The car slowly retreats backwardly into it's parking spot, safe but humiliated.

I am about to go back inside, but then I notice. There are others! Other people! They are starting to wipe the ice off of their cars and like, me, they are watching something. I turn my head back to the center of the parking lot, where a large SUV has pulled out. Those tires are huge, and they have traction. This is the true test.

The vehicle backs up slowly, as far back as the driver can take it before crashing into the sidewalk. I can almost hear the driver shift to Drive. We all watch as the tires spin fast. The car climbs quickly, speeding up the hill, not giving the ice time to make it slip. It is a panther streaking up a near-vertical mountainside. In its wake, the snow and sludge squirts out from beneath its tires.

At the crest of the hill, the SUV slows, the blender sound vibrates from it's chambers and it almost wiggles, back and forth, trying to gain its grasp on the ground.

Finally, it retreats in the same patterns on the ground as the smaller car had before it.
However, the people are outside watching, the cars are moving, the sun is shining, and the water is dripping in a steady stream from the roof above.
The world is waking up from hiberation.

My father, the wizard.

 This is my dad:

 Today, my dad celebrates 5 years of recovering since experiencing a very serious stroke on February 12, 2009. I can't hang out with him today because of a serious ice storm. However, I want to dedicate my words to him today.

There are many sides to my father, but if I had to sum him up in a word, it would be "wizard".

I know, it's funny, but I'm not even really joking.  
Here are some reasons I would choose that word to describe this wonderful man.

1. He's probably the wisest person I've ever met. Ask him anything, especially about the way people work, and he can tell you. He's been a doctor of both the mind and body. He has a PhD in psychology and long had a private practice. Even though he has been retired from practice for awhile, people still come to him all the time with their problems. I come to him with my problems. And we count on him to listen, but also to care, and even more, to have ideas about what to do. He's a sage, which would have been Merlin's role to King Arthur, by the way.

2. Those who know him also know that they can count on my dad for absolutely zero BS tolerance. He will tell you exactly what he thinks, which might even get him in trouble sometimes, but that's just what wizards do. Like Gandalf, he doesn't have time for that nonsense. "Yes, Bilbo, you might get burned by a dragon, but it's a quest. You need a quest in your life!"

3.He's also a physical healer.  My dad is a very skilled neuromuscular therapist, which means that if something in your body is causing you to hurt and it is nerve/muscle related at all, he can help that. I get awful headaches, and he always can help them. I don't know anyone else who can do what he does. It's almost...magic.

4. He has had a beard for my whole life. He also used to smoke a pipe. He also is fond of/looks fantastic in hats. I think enough has been said here.

5. He always has a plan. Like Dumbledore, when he sends Harry off to look for horcruxes alone or has Snape take the fall for his muder...or like Gandalf, who's always taking off on "errands" in The Lord of the Rings....dad has usually got irons in the fire that you just don't know about. A lot of times this involves helping people or restoring justice anonymously through his numerous people networks. I guess this is also a little like the Godfather, but more benevolent.

6. He loves sci-fi and fantasy. Both my parents taught me to be nerdy from a young age, but I think dad was slightly more responsible. I used to watch Star Trek with him. He took me to see Men in Black and the 5th Element, which got him in big trouble. We went to see the X-men movies together.  He introduced me to a love of Celtic things. He got me into Arthurian legend and we are probably the only people who will watch the Sci-Fi's channels "Merlin" miniseries with each other.  Dad's love of magic and science fiction is, of course, a wizard necessity.

7. He's in touch with nature. My dad loves the outdoors, camping and hiking. I grew up doing a lot of that, with a big group of people I knew as "the tribe." As years have passed and health problems have arisen among "the tribe", there has been less camping than any of us would have liked. However, it still happens once in a blue moon.  This love of nature is another thing that was passed to me at a young age: the sights and sounds of the wild mountains and forest live in my bloodstream. I know they do for dad, too. We both have hammocks in our cars at this very moment. Dad still loves to get out in the woods be in nature.

8. Foresight. Perhaps because of his great knowledge of people, or maybe because of a touch of "The Sight," dad has a knack for predicting what might happen. Also, like a boyscout, he's always prepared.

9.  This one is more serious, and I'm sorry, but it has to be mentioned to give any kind of understanding about my dad.You know how Frodo feels that Gandalf can fix anything? Or Harry thinks that Dumbledore always has something else up his sleeve? And then something happens, and they can't fix it. They acknowledge they can't beat it, like when Gandalf lets go in the Mines of Moria, allowing the others to run to safety, and you are kind of left with a stunned "What?" but also a new kind of awe...because they had you believing nothing was impossible, and then they show you something new and powerful in the very vunerability they've just exposed.
 I've often felt that my dad could do anything, solve any problem. Obviously, no one can do that-we live in an imperfect world. However, when problems have arisen that cannot be fixed, I've always been so awed by and respectful of my dad's reaction.  When he had his stroke, when mom got sick, he was as unable to change those things as anyone else. However, he tried as hard as he could to make the best choices in those times, and he was unbelievably strong.  The way my dad loved my mom in the face of death was unlike anything I've ever seen. It was a beautiful picture of what love should be, and it's haunted my thoughts. You can't hang on, you can't fix everything. For the man who can fix most things to accept that, and yet be vulnerable enough to love as hard as he could anyway? Mind-blowing.

10. Which leads me to the tenth reason my dad is a wizard. Wizards are fighters. My dad has had more things happen to him in his life than 55 years typically dishes out, both good and bad.  Like all wizards, he has worn many hats, been so many different "people," in his life. As he says of himself "post-stroke"..."I used to be somebody...now I'm somebody else."  I don't know who he is going to be next, (but sometimes I am afraid it is going to be a "Duck Dynasty" kind of deal). He's been beaten down, again and again, but he keeps getting back up, slightly different, slightly wiser each time, always surprising me with his amazing strength. That's what wizards do.

Downton Abbey: The Drama of Everyday Life

What does one do when one is affected by the plague? Or my case, some strep and an infected spider bite?
My weekend largely consisted of sweaty naps, medicine, bath-taking and garlicky socks. I am definitely on the mend but not better yet. I went to work this morning only to find that the leap from sleeping all day  to teaching kids was too much, too soon. I came home around 11.
  The one thing I "did" this weekend. I made a point of finishing off season 4 of Downton Abbey.
Yes, I am one of THOSE people. I love this show, and could definitely come up with several reasons to give you regarding why. However,as  it is my intention to write a shortish post today, I will only give you one.

It's been called a bit soap-operay, and I'm not saying that it doesn't have it's moments.
(Though if it is a soap opera, the drama is decidedly different than that of most others, with problems like...."Carson, we have no first footman tonight, however shall we muddle through!?!?"....)

However, despite those silly white-wine crises, I really like the realness of this show, portrayed by beautifully human characters in a gorgeous time and place in which I would love to live.

The characters MAKE IT: the characters, the dynamics between them, and the way the relationships shift and develop throughout some of the most significants events in recent Western history.

Here's how you know you have good characters.
The writer's killed two of my favorite ones and I was so mad. I cried. I almost stopped watching altogether.
 I did stop for about eight months.

However, in my recent revival of watching, I've stopped being mad because I realized something.
 I am impressed by writers and actors who can create characters that I am so invested in, and even more by the way the makers of Downton Abbey address tragedy and grief on the show.

Because death is a real-life problem. Always has been, always will be. And the problem of HOW.
 How do you carry on in the face of more certain loss, once loss has already broken your heart once?

 It's something that most shows don't really address in a believable way. As someone who has been doing some serious grieving in the past year, I can watch this show and see and understand the care that has been given to doing a good job of conveying that process.

You can see the heartbreak, the rearranging (strengthening or breakdown) of  relationships between  friends and family, the impact on choices.
You also see healing happen. It's not a fast thing. It's an, at first, impossible thing that becomes possible only via baby steps. It's impossible until you look around in a room of smiling people one day and can notice the abscence in the room without it breaking your heart.  It's never the same, nothing fills the void, but new things come. 

 I think about the great houses like Highcliffe Castle (the estate where Downton is filmed) and I think that, for those who live there today, the house is a monument to great grief as well as great recovery. It is a legacy of all humanity, in fact, which is represented well by these so many great houses and by "Downton Abbey" which tells part of that story.

This is what I think is so well-captured in this British television series: our ability to undergo great tragedy, and yet, as the British are so good proclaiming, "Carry on."

Cabin FEVER

It started yesterday with a really bad headache, and by the time yesterday evening rolled around, it had become...
Severe Headache. Chills. Fever. Body Aches. Sore Throat.Tossed and turned for hours last night trying to ignore the pain and get some sleep. Around 2 a.m. I finally dragged myself out of bed and down the stairs where I gathered a bottle of Tylenol P.M., a cup of tea, an ice pack, and a microwavable bear. I was running the bath water when I realized that I probably shouldn't take all those items in there with me. The water was as hot as it could go, but it didn't feel hot to me. I'm not really sure what happened next, but I could hear my heart pounding in my brain.
I realized that it sounded like a clock, and it seemed so profound to me in that moment that our hearts are like clocks which are constantly breaking just a little bit, keeping time for the moments of our lives.
I must have had a really high fever because as soon as I had that thought I became convinced that I was going to die in the bathtub and I was very afraid.

By 4 a.m. I was watching Dr. Who with Dane, who got us both pairs of socks stuffed with garlic ( a natural remedy) for our feet. Mine for my fever, his for prevention. Within a couple of minutes we could taste the garlic in our mouths. It definitely helped me get to sleep.

I've spent 98% of the day in bed, with one or two trips down the stairs for tea. My husband is a very good caregiver. He went to Kroger and got medicine and made the best roasted garlic chicken soup ever. My dad brought over some Shaklee.
I'm afraid I haven't been the best patient though. I didn't WANT to be sick this weekend. It's been a really stressful week, for both of us, and I really wanted some quality time R & R together.

 Furthermore, I really don't want Dane getting sick, with his work life being really busy and Valentine's Day weekend so soon. We have a history of planned romantic outings not panning out.

Mostly, I hate being confined to bed, especially on the weekends. I always have a little cabin fever on the weekends, but when I physically can't go out it's even worse. I wanted to work out (there was a Zumba marathon at the YMCA today), cuddle, go out on a date, get some packing done. I wanted some romance with my sweetie instead of the chills and a wastebasket full of tissues. I don't want to be alone in my bedroom with my medicines.

I get super emotionally needy when I'm not feeling well, too, and all I want to do is cuddle and have my back rubbed. Dane's trying to bring me what I need and let me rest, while also not getting sick himself.

Poor Dane. He's really put up with my moodiness over being sick today. I've been a real Oozy Ogre, to quote a phrase my bestie invented:
 (http://owanderingfolk.wordpress.com/2014/02/06/thoughts-from-an-ogre/)


I'm hoping and praying that I get well soon and that Dane doesn't get this nasty so that we can both be well enough to enjoy next weekend together.

Love Story

"Love means never having to say you're sorry."

Having read Erich Segal's Love Story this week, I now know where the expression comes from.

Spoliers: The story is about a young man and woman who fall in love. Obviously. It's set in the late sixties, starting out in Harvard and ending in NYC. This guy and girl meet in college. He's a IV, Olliver Barrett IV to be exact, who comes from a long line of wealthy, brilliant athletes. She (Jennifer Cavilleri) is a very intelligent, Italian muscian whose dad is a baker from the wrong side of town. Their relationship develops quickly and slightly confusingly, except that it is clear from the book that it is not confusing to them, which makes it more believable to the reader. They get married, he gets disowned. They scrape by being poor for awhile until he gets a job with a law firm. She gets sick and dies before they are even 25. That's basically it.

 I read the book in the first place because it's been popping up in various films I've seen lately, and I gathered it had some kind of significant role in 1970s culture.
I usually get lost attempting a book review because I have too much to say and it's hard to organize my thoughts into a blog post that I have limited time to write. I can do this one though, because I only  have to say a couple of things about it.

One, it was a fast read. Compelling in a way, because of a unique yet strangely choppy writing style and  dialouge. It read kind of like a journal, with certain descriptive language that is used in an inappropriate-but-I-kind-of-get-it-way.
I definitely found it easy to pick up and hard to put down. I read it on kindle, so I don't know how many pages it is, but I couldn't have spent more than a couple of hours of my life on reading the whole thing.

That being said, I was dissappointed that the only culturally significant find which jumped out to me was "Love means never having to say you're sorry."  I mean, I guess I was just hoping for something more. Maybe I just missed the mark. Is Erich saying that when you love someone you'll forgive anything, because they're part of you, and you will accept whatever? Because if what is meant is that "Love means never expecting someone else to say they're sorry" I get that.
 However, I think love requires that people have the guts and the humility to admit their own humaness and ask for forgiveness when they do something wrong. Otherwise, if people never admit what they do wrong, you get into all kinds of issues from minor to major.
 Just an opinion. I think love means volunteering heartfelt  "sorries" when you have hurt someone, out of respect and willingness to meet in the middle. I just don't really agree with the one attempted really deep thought in this book.Also, it is made even worse by the fact that the main chcaracters aren't even very nice or respectful to one another. They cuss each out all the time. I guess that's supposed to be "modern" or something.

Also, you'd think that the ending would be really depressing, but it didn't really make me that sad. I didn't really care for the characters or their relationship. They mostly just yelled at each other a lot. I mean, I was sad for the guy, because he obviously loved her. However, normally, I-the reader-would be sad for the loss of a character if that character seemed admirable to me or made me think about something new. However, that just wasn't really the case with this book.

I feel really guilty about this because I know this book is supposed to be really famous and profound. I was expecting to come away from reading this it a bettered individual. However, this one just left me without making much of an impression. I don't know guys, what do you think?

In other news, I just saw this movie trailer (starring Downton Abbey's Sybil- my favorite character!) and I am going to read the book before I see the film with high hopes of greater romance. I guess I'm on a love story kick. But watch this trailer....
Winter's Tale Trailer

When it rains it pours...

 Did you know that that expression was actually coined by the Morton salt people in the early 1900s? Yeah, you read that right. Hence the picture with the cute little girl holding the umbrella on the label. Didn't anyone think that was weird when they were little? I mean...What the heck does that picture have to do with salt??? But it's kind of a standard issue feature of the American home, so, strangely, you might not have noticed it. I'm not sure I did.
 Salt used to be really bad about sticking together and not coming out until the Morton folks added an anti-caking agent. The first salt that you could pour out like lovely white sand was kind of a big deal. HENCE...
WHEN IT RAINS IT POURS

Cue Mad Men theme music (except for that was like forty years later)

Funny that the phrase was initially meant to be about salt is now used commonly as an expression about life.
When you are sick, your lowered immune system puts you at risk for catching more illnesses.
When you are stressed, it seems like you are less able to deal with other stresses that come along, making all the stress just seem worse. Your affected personality sets you up for further relationship stresses.
When you are found attractive by one person, others often notice and follow suit.
Many of life's successes lend themselves to further exciting events. Relationship, engagement, marriage, baby, family, career, house, ect.

Then sometimes life seems to throw you a bunch of crazy all at once for no apparent reason. That has what has been happening in our house this week.
So, next time you pour yourself some salt, take a moment to consider life.
Thanks, Mad Men people, for a very appropriate expression.

10 Reasons You Should Watch "Buffy the Vampire Slayer"

I heard about Buffy the Vampire Slayer a lot, growing up. I don't think I was allowed to watch it when it premiered, and then I was just never interested.
Until the summer of 2011, when I was staying with my grandparents in Mississippi. It was one of those days when it's too hot to do much, so everyone was napping in ye olde Southern fashion. I got out my laptop and pulled up Netflix.
My mom and I had been watching "Dark Shadows," and I didn't want to continue it without her. However, with vampires on the brain, I found Buffy. At first I thought, "This is silly," but then I watched another episode, and another one after that. It is now one of my go-to "background shows." I have to admit that I haven't gotten too far in, though I also watch the show's spin-off, "Angel."

So, today I would like to bring you.....

 10 Reasons you Should Watch "Buffy the Vampire Slayer" 

1. Nostalgia

Fellow 90s kids, it's all there...
Tiny hairclips, glitter, scrunchies, overalls, mini skirts, baggy jeans, mauve lipstick, Blink 182 and Sarah McLachlan. Whatever the 90s looked like to you, you will find it on this show. If you are currently a 20 something facing the onset of adult pressures in life, Buffy the Vampire Slayer will transport you to an easier time. (I remember seeing bits of the show when I was 8 or 9 and thinking the actors were adults).

2.This Girl 

Buffy defies most TV stereotypes. She is witty and intelligent, but she isn't depicted as a geek. She likes cheerleading, but doesn't conform to standard "cheerleader" steriotypes, either. She's pretty, fashionable and cool, but not consistently popular. She is compassionate. She is very extraverted but is also something of a loner.  She kicks butt. However, she also has her downfalls, which are realistic considering her strengths. Buffy is at times a bit arrogant, superficial and impulsive. However, I think this only aids her characterization which makes her one of the better rounded "supergirl" characters out there.

3. Realistic Character Devlopment 
The many amazing side-characters are also well-rounded and develop in interesting ways throughout the seasons, and even the show's spin-off. I especially like how Cordelia, the "popular girl" starts off as someone you love to hate, but ends up growing up into someone you actually kind of like by the time "Angel" gets going good . Also, it is kind of acknowledged in the show that Buffy used to be more of a Cordelia, and you can still see it in there at times. There are few "all good" or "all bad" characters.

4. Totally Unrealistic Other Stuff

Like how a 90 Ib. girl can kick a vampire seven feet up in the air, or a witch, werewolf and vampire-slayer ending up in the same friend-group (Coincidence? I think not.) There are numerous campy moments featuring Angel's wig and Scottish accent in the flashbacks. Also, the students of Sunnydale High, who would all be in for some serious therapy, bounce back from massacres like little rubber band people. It's all in good fun, though, and it will make you laugh.


5. Young David Boreanaz

                                                  

 And you thought he was hot on "Bones"


6. Giles

Because everyone needs an Oxford-professor style librarian at their Californian high-school..... Who is an expert on dark supernatural forces. He just wants to drink his tea and read his book. 










7. The Theme Song



Duuunn-dun-dun-DUNNNNNNNN. 
To listen, click below: 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5-xnvdtuRRo 



8. Witty Banter

If you dig Gilmore Girls, this one's for you. 

9. Romantic Angst 

Beautiful people, forbidden love, and 90s love ballads. And, did I mention, young David Boreanaz???
Oh yeah, I did. Well, it deserves two mentions. 


10. Joss Whedon

Come on, fellow nerds. Would he of Firefly and Superheros really lead you so wrong? Checking out this show is a great way to enjoy some of this screenwriter/producer's earlier work. Though a bit lighter than some of his other stuff, "Buffy" excels in the same areas as much of his other work:  humor, action,  great ensemble cast. 

 I hope you will consider checking out this campy , yet classic show, and I hope that you will enjoy it as much as I do!  P.S. It's still on Netflix!

My Rookie Wine Review: Rue de Perle Bordeaux

I enjoy a glass of red wine in the evening, so I thought I would flex my tasting muscles and write down some of my impressions. I am a relatively inexperienced wine person, so it was fun giving this a shot. It was my first time trying this particular wine, and only my second time ever trying a Bordeaux. I really, really liked it. 

A Wine Novice’s Review of:

Rue de Pearle

Grand Vin

De

Bordeaux

Appearance extremely dark, a midnight plum. When held up to the light, the color proves its depth by only lightening very slightly to a deep burgundy.  Taking a whiff, I find an extremely inviting bouquet …almost floral with a hint of smoke.

The initial impression of the wine is warm. The primary flavor is that of dark cherries, yet very well-mingled with the floral impression.  This is finished off with traces of smokiness towards the middle/back of the palate.  The texture has a rich, heavy, velvet quality.

The aftertaste is lasting in a delightful way. It lingers at the back of the palate, making you want to taste more, but not too soon; the memory is still being enjoyed.

The elegant flavors and textures of this Bordeaux evoke romantic images of days-gone-by. It was not too hard to picture oneself in candle-lit, Victorian rooms savoring an exquisite meal. There are dark roses on the table.  Dessert would be a steaming hot cherry pie with just a hint of spices to be enjoyed by all before the men retire to the smoking room. Not your everyday wine, but a perfect wine for a sophisticated evening with candles .

Just a few words uttered due to comittment

I said I'd write every day. After several days of writing things I'd actually spent a little time thinking about, here's just some stuff before I go get a shower.

I am sweaty. But it is a better smelly than it was 3 hours ago when I came home, and yanked my work clothes off to change for the gym. That smelly smelled like stress, and a day of kids who were whiny because it is Monday.

This smelly smells like relief. It's such a good feeling to work out, to see that it is not totally dark outside at 6 o'clock, to see an old friend, and drive across the street to pump some gas into my car (without the cold making me shiver) before getting delicious coffee at the Racetrac.

Sometimes, the little things are just enough to remind you that everything's okay sometimes.

Love Stories with Unloveable Lovers: Part 2

We're all horrible sometimes, aren't we? We can all be boring Bellas or crazy Catherines, controlling Edwards and immature Romeos. Sometimes we don't make sense, and sometimes we don't have a clue.
When we get to be the audience, the critics, it's so easy to read or watch love stories and think, "Oh my gosh, what does he/she see in him/her???"

But isn't that part of love? Anyone whose been in love has to know the wonder of realizing that somebody knows you-for all your good and bad- and they still choose you, they want to chase you and care for you and adore you.

In some love stories it seems like the characters are almost blinded by love, so that they can't see the
others faults (admittedly, this is more true in Romeo and Juliet's case for me than the other two stories  I have chosen to discuss. However, since Romeo and Juliet is a play, it would be impossible for the audience not to notice the characters imperfections.)

However, I like to think that it is not blindness to faults which allows the lover to pass over imperfection,  but  rather the nature of true love, and it's amazing ability to instill the ultimate trust....because it takes that trust to put your vunerable, flawed self in someone's hands and believe that they will embrace you. Likewise that same trust is required to risk everything you have for the love of a person who will, inevitably, let you down at some point. It's saying, "I risk it all for you, knowing that there will be good and bad, but not knowing what the bad will be. Whatever the bad is, it is worth it for the good. Even more, I trust you to do the same."
All true love requires such faith, on both ends.

Love demands that one sacrifices his or her own selfishness. Love requires that you let the ugly out. Love requires that you take everything of another person.

So in these stories, isn't it good that the main characters aren't perfect? What would we learn if they were?
But it seems, many of the most impactful stories require an even greater test of this trust.

Take the three stories I mentioned in yesterday's post, for example: Romeo and Juliet, Wuthering Heights, Twilight. All of different time periods and calibers yet all three highly successful stories centered around forbidden love.
What is it about forbidden love? Something beyond the "forbidden fruit" aspect, I think.
Forbidden love is so strange because it takes something which is universally accepted to be good and puts it in a setting in which it becomes BAD.
 Love becomes, for once, dispicable,  to all except the lovers themselves.
"Do not love that person, it's unnatural. You will be cast out for it. You will be disowned. It will literally kill you."

Yet, all the characters in forbidden love stories fight that message, again and again, even though it comes from what we would assume to be highly influential sources to them. Despite everything their worlds try to tell them, they choose love anyway. Having never faced that situation myself, it's a little hard to imagine. From the standpoint of the reader/audience, we realize this on a cognitive level, but I think
most of us don't really put ourselves in those shoes: It would take some strength to fight everything else in your world for love's sake.

And the forbidden love thing really only emphasizes the internal battle of the love that most of us experience day-to-day. Sure, many of us are not "forbidden" to love our paramours. However, our internal worlds make it hard enough. "What if they realize that we are not perfect? Do we dare risk our reputations? The image that we have maintained so far? Do we dare risk losing the persom whom we declare to love  by being vulnerable? Exposed?"

And indeed, to love truly, we must risk these things, or not know true love at all. For love demands a great revealing, and in the revelation, we all inevitably show ourselves to be but  flawed characters.
But, if we can manage this, we open ourselves up to the greatest of love stories.