Monday, November 28, 2005

Scott the Robot

When my husband read my blog his initial reaction was "All you've talked about so far is Brad Pitt and some guy named Dan Butthole." Technically, he is incorrect since I also mentioned Panama, a bridge, my dying mother (not really dying) and my imaginary friendship with Jennifer Aniston. But I can see his point. So on this post-Thanksgiving day I would like to wax eloquent for one moment about my husband, Scott.

1. Scott rhymes with hot, robot and, well, nothing else funny.
2. Scott IS hot, but he is NOT a robot. As far as I know.
3. Scott loves four things: Me, his wife. Diva, our dog. The Broncos, our football team. And fantasy football, his hobby.
4. Oh, make that five things: Scott also loves our new home theater system. It is our last big pre-baby purchase and it is S-W-E-E-T. So I've been told. We got sweet deals on a bunch of stuff connected with it (cables, a receiver, surround sound, projector mount, projector and some other sweet techie stuff.) It is sweet.
5. Scott can fix anything. He is very handy. He builds, installs and fixes a lot of stuff, like sinks, fences/gates, ceiling fans, truck brakes and home theater systems. He once built an entire skyscraper in Manhattan out of duct tape and popsicle sticks. Seriously.
6. Scott is my best friend. Here are some of the best-friendy stuff he does:
a. He took Diva for walks by himself when I was in my first trimester. I was what is commonly known as a "Piece of Crap" after about, well, about 10:30am. He never complained that I was being lazy or neglectful. He just put the leash on her and took her to the park while I watched CSI reruns on the couch.
b. He reads The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe out loud with me nightly because I can hardly contain my excitement that this beloved childhood story is coming to the silver screen as a Major Motion Picture. I am convinced that the rest of the world will love this story as much as I do, because clearly I set the standard (duh), so he bought me the entire set of the Chronicles of Narnia and reads it out loud with me.
c. He thoroughly analyzes and discusses all aspects of every friend and family dynamic that takes place in our relationships while we walk our dog. (Don't worry, we only say nice things about you.)
d. He tells me I don't look fat at all, even at 13 weeks pregnant. I think he really believes it.

So those are some useful facts about Scott, my best friend and the only love of my life.

Tuesday, November 22, 2005

Here I am in Panama seeking the treasure of the angry volcano god whose ruby eye will save my dying mother. Actually I am on my honeymoon seeking a sloth. Posted by Picasa

Life Is . . .

I was an English major. That doesn't say a whole lot about you, unless you are a guy, which I am not. I did, however, have classes with guy English majors, one of whom was named Ban Duck. (switch the first letters on your own so I don't get sued. Is it legal to use people's real names? I didn't, so don't get your panties in a bunch.) He was your typical English major guy, which means he was sensitive and creative and not good at sports. He was a senior when I was a freshman (=naive), so I was very flattered when he took an interest in me. It ended up being a disaster involving a broken engagement and a devastated friendship, but I did get one very good thing out of it (besides underage alcohol drinking). A play.
Dan (I mean, Ban) wrote a beautiful, haunting one act play with me as the central character. In the play my name is Sarah (not my real name) and I have a series of conversations about love with my ex-boyfriend, my sister, my best friend and God. I am cynical and wounded, but on a true quest for the meaning of love and you feel sure as the conversations unfold that I will eventually find it. The play is called The Bridge and it takes place, where else, on a bridge that actually exists on our college campus. In the first conversation Sarah finds a deeply etched carving on the bridge's wooden beams: Love Is . . . Many people carve their theories around the question and in each conversation, Sarah's friends carve their own responses. I think Sarah ends up carving something but I don't remember (hmmm.....). We performed the play and it received a thunderous and overwhelming response, which did wonders for my social life on campus.
Later, after the Ban Duck personal fallout, I went back to the bridge. As I leaned over the bridge at twilight, smoking a cigarette, I looked down at the wooden rail and, honest to God, found the words Love Is. . . etched deeply and permanently into the bridge. There were responses carved all around it. "A bad dream." "A delicate rose." "A poem that never ends." "Hell." Wow....I remember feeling fascinated and thoughtful, realizing that open ended questions tend to somehow tap into something profoundly and universally human. Now, many years later, I still have no idea how to define love, although I have experienced it in many rich and varied forms. And I believe that most of the powerful and mundane experiences we muddle through as humans are impossible to define. But there can be redemption, resolution, wounding - and the inevitable open-ended experience. I never saw Ban Duck again after he graduated, but he and the other small tragedies and comedies of my life continue to become part of my Life Is . . .