Love. To The Point.

Last year, I used up this year's mushy post quota.  So, in honor of my anti-small-talk husband, I will attempt to avoid emotionally based banter and "get to the point".  I will fail.  Unfortunately, it is not my style.  But, I will try.

A long time ago, he avoided small talk and emotionally based banter, sold his Gibson SG electric guitar, bought me a ring, and handed it to me.  He loved that guitar.  One can logically deduce that he must have loved me even more.  Enough to spend his entire life with.  After officially meeting me only 8 months earlier.

I already knew he was the one for me... and I already knew that, one day long down the road, I would find that guitar and buy it back for him.

Last Christmas, Jeff bounced home one day exclaiming that he had stumbled upon almost his exact guitar, only better.  I knew nothing about the one he had... except that it was now on my hand.  I would not be able to pick out the one, but his reaction told me that I needed to make this happen.

And so, I called upon a fabulous family member and friend, the most reliable and responsible person I know, who has the best wife that I could have ever ever hoped for him to have... and they helped me pull this guitar right off the wall of the store.  Over the next 6 months, I sold everything that wasn't tied down.  Between Ebay, Craigslist, selling my shirt designs on Cafepress, and doing crazy things like holding pysanky workshops... I paid them back, completely bank account free, by our anniversary.

And then, I got nervous.

Why?  Who knows.  But, I did.

After a great dinner at Pascals, I weaseled our way up to the bar to sit a while... and I just happened to have to head out to the car to get a little gift.

He loved it.

And, I love that he loved it.

In the last two years, Jeff has lived with my parents, patiently and calmly.  He called upon some sort of inner-zen that I had no idea he possessed.  Maybe he didn't.

We are on a weird, out of the box life plan, with no script.  Our marriage has been well steeped in lessons of letting go of control.  Since we bit off the new 10 year plan, I have seen my husband use the lessons we have been forced to learn, and apply them.  More patience.... More flexibility.... Less internal brooding over things that cannot be changed.

Stressful things happen, always.  The unexpected is thrust upon us.  The unthinkable.  The curveballs and the chaos and the crisis.  They happen.

As it turns out, the crummy economy is putting a tiny damper on our plan... and yet, I hope we can continue to live what we have realized to be true... That children ultimately do not care if you own your home or rent it, whether there is a savings plan, or about problems at work, or whether you work stocking shelves or as a astrophysicist, or whether they have to share a room or not.  Kids, wives, husbands, friends... They care about being important enough to have a connection with you.  Eye contact.  Speech.  Listening.  Real listening.  Thoughtful contemplation and response.  Human social interaction.  That is what is important, and it is what makes families, marriages, and relationships survive anything that comes at them. 

His gift was his new Gibson SG.  The first NEW guitar that he has ever owned.  He said it was "too much".  It wasn't.  Not by far.

My gift is having a husband who loves me enough that... I know he would trade this one for me, too.

Maybe one year he can give me a song.

An illogical one, with more words than necessary to get the point across.... with gratuitous repeats even though the meaning is already clearly known. 

What girl doesn't love a song?

Love you, babe.