An Anniversary Interview

For our sixth anniversary, I decided to interview my husband. As if you didn't already know, I'm pretty much head over heels for this guy and commonly refer to him as My Best Xander or Best Possible Husband. My life is immeasurably better with him in it. I feel like we both accomplish more together than we ever could apart. Things haven't always been easy in our lives, but we've managed to weather the various storms so far with very little disturbance to our relationship. This makes me feel pretty good about our marriage pre-kids. (I hear they can ruin an otherwise perfectly good marriage, but I remain foolishly optimistic on that front.) Still, I was curious to know how my husband feels about things.

Get ready to gag. There's some pretty sticky sap below.


A: When you were a kid, did you think you'd get married one day? Have kids?

X: I always imagined I would get married, though I didn't have a particular daydream about what my wife or my married life would look like. I've always been a one-on-one kind of person, so married life seemed optimal to me. I also imagined I would have children, but again, it was an abstraction. Perhaps I felt that it's what you're supposed to do when you "grow up." It certainly feels right now that I am grown up.


A: So what you're saying is that you had no idea your wife would be as awesome as I am. Do you remember when you first thought you might like to marry me? What convinced you?

X: There were actually two big realizations that I had very early in our relationship. First, I wasn't planning on dating anyone seriously while in grad school, and I quickly broke that rule when I met you. I just had this feeling that I was going to miss something really great if I held steadfast to my rule. (Yet another anecdotal reason to listen to your gut feeling.) We had a ton of fun dating. Those were really exciting times for me. The second big realization I had was a few months into our relationship when it became clear that you might be moving away for grad school, or potentially staying in the area. I wanted to be part of your decision to stay in the general geographic location of Athens. But grad school is a serious life-changing event, and so it didn't seem fair to have any influence over your decision if our relationship wasn't also of the same life-changing magnitude. I soul searched for a while and surprised myself to realize how strongly I felt about you: like be-with-you-all-my-life strong. Honestly, this scared me. I remember talking to my dad about it and asking blunt questions like, "Dad, am I being a love-struck idiot?" (He said, "No.") I knew I was crazy in love you, but I also realized that our relationship had lots of potential beyond our early romance.

So in short, it was during our first kiss.


A: Did you have cold feet before our wedding?

Also, there's homemade thick-crust pizza and beets with a yogurt-dill-horseradish-type sauce for dinner. I'll leave it all out, so just help yourself.

X: Awesome! I'm all kinds of looking forward to it.

I wouldn't say that I had cold feet. In my mind the phrase "cold feet" suggests that I was having second thoughts, which isn't true. I was definitely set on marrying you. I still think it's the best thing I've ever done. I do remember having some apprehension about the difficulties in trying to plan a life around two people rather than just one (e.g., finding jobs we both want). I would have been crazy not to be thinking about such things. I also was a little nervous about things that could go wrong while getting married overseas, spending money on our wedding / reception, ... In retrospect, all of my little worries are attributable to me being young and having traveled so little. Again, I claim they were natural things to be worried about. I wish I could go back and not frustrate you about some of those things though ... everything worked out perfectly!

So in short, I love you, and I even loved you lots then. But not as much as now.


A: I'm going to operate under the assumption that you like being married, because you're still married to me. So what do you like about being married?

X: Of course I still like being married to you! The main thing I like about being married is that you're my best friend, and I get to do almost everything with you. Now that I'm closing in on thirty and reaching a different place in my life (fatherhood! yes!), I'm thrilled that we are growing together. (I still don't understand how two people could share so much and yet grow apart over the years.) So that's the big thing: life is an adventure and a journey, and I love sharing it with my travel buddy.

There are also loads of little things I like about being married. We have great routines. Sushi nights. Action movies. Lost. Reading before bed. Hookah sports. Bread and cheese dinners. Interesting adventures to other countries. This was the order they popped into my head ... it's not in order of priority or enthusiasm.

I also like the doors it opens. I wouldn't have a degree from Columbia. I wouldn't be exploring fatherhood by myself. I wouldn't be nearly the sensitive guy I am without you. And I enjoy the interactions we have with other couples ... it's a dynamic you can't have as a single guy.


A: Do you have any marriage role models? Who are they and what makes them good role models?

X: Joe and Elena are great role models, and I think a lot about my grandparents. But now I feel like we've forged our own path for so long that I don't really compare our marriage to anyone else's. I also think we've been quite successful in our marriage ... I'd like to think we're a solid role model for others.

I still take great joy out of seeing other successfully married couples though and hearing what makes their's work. But it's more like when you reach that age in late teenager-hood when you stop comparing yourself to everyone and start appreciating the diversity in your friendships. We have many friends and relatives with different backgrounds, careers, lifestyles, ... It really is fascinating to see how their marriages enhance their lives.

I realize this doesn't quite answer your question, but I guess it's because I don't really look up to anyone so much anymore for marriage tips. Is that hubris? Or maybe it just tells you how much I like the way we live married life.


A: Am I what you expect a wife to be? Providing satisfactory customer service, so to speak?

X: I'm not really sure I know what I expect a wife to be ... I realize this is one of our sources of marital strife sometimes. But I do know that I love the role you play in my life, and I admire the way you put so much into it. I never quite feel like I'm as good a husband as you are a wife.

(long pause for thought)

Now that I think about it, you really are what I expect a wife to be. The reason I had so much trouble answering at first is that this question seems best answered in the form, "You don't do this thing that I expect ... " I don't feel like there's anything missing though, so I didn't have anything to grab onto. We have a fantastic friendship, a smoothly running life partnership, a budding family, and [edited for content]. What else do I need?


A: I don't make the bed. You've mentioned that one a few times. But I'm working on it.

What do you think we'll be like when we're old?

X: First of all, we'll be driving flying cars and living on the moon.

Also, I hope we're either like this or like this.

Seriously though, I'm not sure. I'm terrified right now about getting (really) old, but it's definitely less scary when I think about growing older with you. On the other hand, I can't really even picture what we're going to be like. I imagine we'll be a lot like we are now for the next 30 years, except maybe we'll be more community oriented as we get involved with things through our kids. I think we'll always be adventurous people who care about their family and friends and cats. I have a hard time imagining that our priorities in life will change drastically, but who knows.

The point is that *we* will be getting old. Neither of us has to do it alone.

I'm really curious to know what you think we'll be like.

A: I don't really know, but like you I hope we retain our sense of adventure. I feel like your grandparents retained that pretty well. I'm looking forward to having kids. And I'm not looking forward to wrinkles and saggy boobs. But the part of aging I really do look forward to is the part when we are (I hope) financially stable, retired, and can explore more of the world together. I want to be that 60-and-70-something couple that surprises all the young folks by climbing Ben More, trekking across the Great Wall, riding camels through the desert. I'm not afraid of aging, but I am afraid of dying mostly because there's so much I'm looking forward to doing with you. I feel like we're only just getting started.

Disgusted!

During all the running around to visit family this month, I made several trips to airport restrooms. I had an amusing experience using a restroom in one of the airports in The South. The restroom was small, with only a few stalls. Because it was in a high-traffic area, there was a line about 5 or 6 deep. I got in line, and immediately began overhearing snippets of conversation around me.

Woman 1: Ugh. You'd think they'd have a bigger restroom in an airport like this.

Woman 2: Yeah, I know. It's ridiculous.

I waited in line and listened to other women complain, halfway hoping there would be no toilet paper just to see how they'd respond. Then I finally made it to the front and had my turn in one of the stalls. I came out, washed my hands, and decided to also wash my face and put in my contact lenses. Another woman went into the stall I had just vacated. She came out grumbling a few minutes later.

Woman 3: (heavy Southern accent, to Woman 4) It's a little wet in there, if you know what I mean.

Woman 4: (laughs nervously, a little put off) Oh, um, thanks.

Me: It's probably those stupid automatic flushers. They spray water everywhere.

Woman 3: (irritated) No, it was colored, if you know what I mean.

Me: (processing in silence)

Woman 3: (practically shaking with disgust) I don't know why they put those paper thingies in there if you're not going to use them! (stomps out of the restroom)

Me: (still processing, realization slowly dawns)

It took me awhile to catch on to the fact that I was probably being accused of peeing on the toilet seat. But what struck me the most about my public restroom experience in the airport was how indignant and disgusted many of the women seemed to be. The complaints seemed totally unnecessary. We have indoor plumbing. It's a modern miracle. Sure it's imperfect, and sometimes you have to stand in a line, but who cares! We get to pee inside! Isn't it wonderful?

There was an interesting article in the New York Times this morning that may shed some light on why that woman felt so strongly about restroom cleanliness. I'll wait here while you go read it.

I remember hearing a bit recently on NPR about how people may, to some degree, be pre-programmed to be either politically "liberal" or "conservative." (I hate these words, just so you know.) I wonder if this might help explain why the American South, particularly the rural parts where families often live for generations, remains largely conservative. And does this mean, given that my family is largely pretty liberal, that I was predisposed to become a tree-hugging, bleeding-heart type?

The disgust factor was the most interesting piece of this article to me. The article made me realize that I have made assumptions about people's political views based on how they behave, without ever having had a conversation about politics. Is this because I noticed their low threshold for ickiness? I've thought before that the most conservative people I know seem to be rather easily grossed out, whether the cause is social (gay rights, religion, poverty) or physical (swine flu, dirty public restrooms, unfamiliar foods) than I do.

And then there are other questions. Who goes backcountry camping more often, conservatives or liberals? Which group eats the most raw fish? Would a conservative or liberal be more likely to eat a piece of food that has been dropped on the floor? Which group is more grossed out by the monkey brains scene in Temple of Doom? Who is more likely to own a can of Lysol, conservatives or liberals? If forced to choose, would a conservative rather lick a subway pole or a pigeon? (I'd go with the pigeon.) I think more tests need to be conducted.

Want to find out how your tastes rank on the disgust scale? Go here. My score was slightly lower than average, meaning I'm only slightly less likely to be grossed out than most. Yep, I'm in the middle. Maybe I'm not as liberal as I think I am...

MD, PA, NYC

At the BMA



Our nephew, Emerson, is obsessed with waterfalls and fountains. He makes pretend waterfalls using blue blankets in the living room and creates tiny ones using the hose in the backyard. Here "Uncle Xu Xu" tells Em that the fountain makes parabolas. You think I'm kidding? I'm not.


Painted pictures with Em


Preschool graduation


On the road to State College


The Main at Penn State


Creepy lion's paws at the Palmer Museum of Art


Shoes


History (What do you expect in the land of cows and Ben and Jerry?)


Trenton makes me sad.


NYC. I was only there for a few hours. We had lunch at Josie's, then went to Central Park and just sat on a hill for awhile watching the city go by. It was glorious.

Neither Here Nor There

The biggest thing we noticed about traveling back to Georgia, South Carolina, Maryland, Pennsylvania, and New York was that we don't fit in any of these places. Nor do we fit here in Montreal. We're sort of rootless at the moment. I got lost in Athens twice, which is saying something given that I used to live there. South Carolina felt alien. MD and PA were never mine to begin with. And New York. Well, upon arrival I had that familiar pang in my stomach. We had lunch at Josie's then sat on a hill in Central Park for awhile. It was beautiful, beautiful, beautiful. We love that place and will likely move back at the first opportunity. It's the only thing in life I feel certain about. We have to get back to the island. We never should have left.

When I first landed in Georgia, I couldn't understand anyone. This just reinforced my sense of alienation. I grew up around those accents, and yet I couldn't make out what a cashier in the airport was saying when she asked me three times, "Yoo needa baaag?" Funny. This is the same sentence that trips me up in Quebec sometimes. Anyway, GA and SC were (mostly) lovely. I ate local strawberries and drank local beer and listened to local music and fried some green tomatoes. I saw lots of friends and family. I had a great time there, even if it doesn't feel so much like home anymore. And it was nice to be away from home on Mother's Day. I felt a little sad, a little quiet, but I didn't have much time to wallow in it with all the running around.

The purpose of my trip to Georgia was to see my mom graduate from the same college I attended back in the day. (We tell her she was a legacy admittee.) Georgia has finally come out of a near decade-long drought, and everything was green green green and blooming. That is if you could see past the SUVs and housing developments and shopping malls and billboards and fast food restaurants.

The road to Athens is paved with tacky billboards.

In the garden





These (over)developments are sucking the life and resources out of the state. They're everywhere, taking over Georgia's beautiful countryside. It's nauseating.


Some things about Georgia haven't changed. They still have pneumatic tubes at some of the banks.


My mom graduated with more honors than any of her kids did. (So did my dad, for that matter.)



Clara shows off her hoop dancing skills in the backyard


Listening to Mad Tea Party and reading graffiti at The Crimson Moon in Dahlonega




Moon rise


Traffic in Atlanta. (Rich white) Folks in Atlanta have been fighting expanded public transportation for ages, convinced it wastes taxpayer money and will bring crime to their fancy neighborhoods. But the ATL is nearing a breaking point. Traffic is bad all day, every day. I hear they're still planning to expand public transportation, but considering they've been "planning" for years, I'm skeptical...


Beer and dinner in Little Five Points


Hiking Raven Cliff Falls in South Carolina




MD, PA, & NY coming up next!

Accidents Happen

My trip to the GA began with a bus accident. I was taking the night bus to get the shuttle to the airport. Xander had walked me to the stop just a few minutes before, and the bus miraculously arrived right on time. I was riding along and going through my mental checklist and feeling pretty good about everything when I heard a very loud grinding noise. I thought something was wrong with the bus. Then suddenly the noise got louder, the bus veered right, and I saw something large and dark smash into the side of the bus in front of me. The bus veered right again, tipped ever so slightly off its axis, and ground to a halt just before hitting the row of parked cars on the side of the road.

I sat there in shock for several long moments.

So did the bus driver.

"Ça va?" the driver asked eventually. It was kind of a casual question given the situation. We all nodded and muttered "oui," then he rushed off to check on the other driver. I wasn't sure what to do. Should I call 911? In the 3am fog of my brain, my first concern was that I was too shaken up to explain in French what had just happened. (I completely forgot about the fact that emergency workers are bilingual here.) I looked out the window and saw a couple of people walk by on cell phones. They must have called 911. I couldn't decide if I should get off the bus or stay. Would the police come? Would they need witnesses? I was pretty sure the bus driver didn't do anything wrong, but was I certain about that? I couldn't even tell what kind of vehicle hit the bus. So I did the only thing I could think to do. I called Xander. Not that he could do anything to help, but I needed someone to know I'd just been in a bus accident. His advice was to get off the bus. I did. The other vehicle, a grey sedan it turns out, was behind the bus on the wrong side of the road. There was no one in the car, and several people were standing around talking. But the front end was completely smashed. As best I can tell, a driver coming in the opposite direction had swerved onto our side of the road and collided with the bus. I stood there staring for a few more minutes, marveling at how a split-second event can suddenly affect so many lives. Then I slowly walked back to the nearest intersection, called Xander again, and decided to get a taxi.

As I walked around looking for an ATM, I kept thinking this is the point in the movie when the audience realizes I'm not supposed to get on the plane. And when I do get on the plane, and the plane crashes, my husband tearfully explains that I almost didn't go. That I was in a bus accident that morning and nearly missed my flight. The camera zooms in close as he looks down at his wedding ring and says, "If only I'd told her to stay on that bus."

Then I started to notice how dark and quiet it was, and how even though the bad thing for the day had already happened, this would totally be the time I would finally be mugged. I would pleadingly say to the mugger, "But I was just in a bus accident!" And instead of feeling sorry for me, he would give me an extra kick in the gut for speaking English before strutting away with my favorite orange purse.

None of those things happened. Xander brought me money and put me in a taxi. The driver was nice. I made it to the airport and began my 2 1/2 week trek across the eastern United States to visit family. All of them. Pictures coming soon.

Venting

I'm sorry to do this to you, Internets, but ...

We spent days and days calling and emailing and looking online to figure out which USCIS office to send our file to. After searching long and hard and giving up, the embassy finally gave us the number to an office in Vermont. It's the closest office to us. We called them. They were nice. They told us to send everything to them, after which they would contact us to come in and be fingerprinted. We didn't hear from them. Then they wrote to ask us when we planned to return to the US and where we would live. We told them Georgia. (We probably should have just said Vermont.) Anyway, I come home from 2 1/2 weeks of running around the US visiting family to a message from some guy at USCIS in Atlanta saying he needs to speak to us about our file. Only I can't call him back because it's Saturday night of a long, long holiday weekend. Great.

I know, I know. This is so NOT a big deal. I'm sure we'll call him on Tuesday to find out that everything is just peachy and can we please go get fingerprinted at the embassy or Vermont or wherever. But I'm a pessimist. So I can't help but wonder if he's going to tell us there's a problem or that we need to do something else or that there's some new regulation that says we can't adopt because we live in Montreal or look funny or whatever.

We've been doing paperwork for more than a year now. I need this part of the process to end. I'm okay with waiting. I can do waiting. No really, I can wait. But I need the paperwork nonsense to be over for now. This constant "one more thing" business is making me feel like this is never going to happen. Like we're hamsters in a wheel. We're never going to get anywhere. It's starting to feel like some kind of neverending practical joke. We're waiting for the punch line.

On the very bright side, a woman whose story I have been following for ages now just got her referral. And my dear friend Meichell and her husband just brought home their son. We also just returned from a long visit with friends and family in the states, so more on that soon. And I have two cute kitties curled up on the sofa beside me:


Note: CinnamonOpus just inadvertently reminded me that there's at least one good reason to be thankful for this paperwork delay: projectile vomiting.

Reflections

Our wedding anniversary is coming up, and this naturally leads to sentimental habits like perusing old wedding photographs. I never get tired of them. For those of you who don't know, we ran away to Scotland and were married in Dunfermline Abbey, which was built in the 12th century. It sounds much more royal than it actually was. (We paid less for our wedding and honeymoon than most of my friends spent on their dresses.) It was a good beginning to a great life together. Our very good friend Trey came along and took some amazing photographs for us:

Backlog

Here are a few early-spring photos that never got posted:



The first time we heard snow break away and slide off a roof was while we were in church. The whole building rumbled like we were being struck by an earth quake. A second later, a large pile of snow crashed outside and partially covered up the stained-glass windows. A person standing underneath would easily have been buried. Anyway, there are signs on buildings to warn you about these things.


The melt reveals all sorts of things, and for weeks afterward the sidewalks are littered with garbage discarded sometime in October.


Xander stands on snow observing the melt, foot resting comfortably on the top of a fence


Melted skating rink

J'aime la bière!

You may or may not know that Xander and I drink beer like some people drink wine or single-malt scotch. (Incidentally, we also drink single-malt scotch like some people drink single-malt scotch.) We wouldn't go so far as to call ourselves experts, but we're experienced and fairly picky. Quebec is essentially Beer Mecca. The extreme cold has lead many a Quebecois to invest in indoor pursuits, particularly brewing. These dudes brew a mean beer. We were already pretty big fans of Unibroue before moving here, but there's so much more to be had. Our new favorite place is called Dieu du Ciel. Take a gander at their beer list.

Wow, right? They're every bit as good as they sound. No? Oh, right. That list makes no sense. Try this one.

Poulet à l'orange

Jules and Luna get chicken in water every night in an effort to trick them into consuming more water. This is especially important for male cats. Anyway, Julius refuses to stick his face in the bowl and prefers to eat his with his paws.



In case you're new here and didn't already know, Julius also loves to eat collard greens.

Gratuitous Cute Cat Pics

Every now and then, it must be done.



Luna loves to sleep in my sweaters, but she knows she isn't supposed to so she usually only does it when we're gone or when she thinks we aren't paying attention. Several days in a row, I came home to find my sweaters strewn about the floor. I eventually had the idea to move my sweaters up a drawer so she could not reach them. So now Luna opens the bottom drawer, stands inside it, and then opens the next drawer up so that she can climb inside and sleep in my sweaters. If there are too many sweaters in the drawer, she simply pulls a few out to make room for herself.


When Julius wants our attention, he often gets it by tapping us politely on the back.


Both Jules and Luna live for shower water. Mmmmm...shower water.


In the photo booth with the J-Man