I haven't watched soap operas in full episodes since high school. Specifically, Days of Our Lives. Before Tivo and DVRing, we had to - can you believe this - TAPE something on tv if you were going to miss it when it was aired. Thankfully, for those who live in 2009, you can watch whatever you want, whenever you want. Nick and I don't have cable, a flatscreen, or fancy shmancy anything. We just watch basic tv channels and go with the flow of life. We're content and happy (and cheap) like that.
So, it was quite the rare day today that I - in between jobs and have some free time - got to sit my pregnant butt down and just relax. After a hectic weekend of company, hosting, dinners, and sun, I felt the need - physically and emotionally - to just chill. And chill I did.
Within 25 minutes of watching, I got caught up on Days and started wondering how Nick was doing on his mission trip. Since he doesn't have phone reception, we're unable to communicate this week. So you can imagine my surprise when I hear my phone buzz with the receipt of a text message. From Nick, it says he has reception for one hour a day and to text updates. Knowing he meant updates about life and not Days of Our Lives, I tried to tell him in 160 characters that I missed him and all is well with me and Baby.
Out of nowhere, the flood gates break and I'm crying.
My sister, who is kindly staying with me this week to keep me company in the big house while I'm alone, sighs and rolls her eyes at me, "Oh, get a grip!"
I frown at her and blame it on pregnancy hormones.
In addition to missing his overall presence and love...Who's going to beg me to make popcorn at 10 o'clock at night? Who's going to leave granola bar wrappers on the counter? Who's going to mow the grass? Who's going to make me laugh right before I fall asleep? Who's going to listen and actually care about my latest rant on life and social justice?
Sometimes when our beloved temporarily vanishes from our lives, it gives us the clarity to recognize the million and one ways they bring joy in the details of daily co-habitation, everyday love. Nick is just one of those people who is just too easy to love and separation can be difficult. Especially when this baby inside me is making me weepy by just watching Days of Our Lives.
Monday, June 29, 2009
Sunday, June 28, 2009
Missing Nick and Michael
Photo taken 6/21/09, Filipino Festival in ClevelandIt's amazing all that can happen in 10 days when you don't blog.
In addition to Jan and Rog Borchers coming to visit us in Cleveland, Nick and I attending the Cleveland Filipino Festival, my friend Alexis who I worked with in Boston last year moving to Cleveland last week, having 10th row at a New Kids on the Block concert!, seeing the movie "State of Play" (mildly good, entertaining, nothing great), attending our nephew Zach's 4th birthday party, watching fireworks in Massillon, having another ultrasound (Baby Plum is no longer a plum and is growing quickly!) on Wednesday, hosting Kelly Borchers Norris this weekend on her way to Abby Cordonnier's (cousin of Nick and Kelly) bachelorette party, and seeing Nick off for a week long trip to Kentucky -- even with all of that going on, what I just can't believe is that Michael Jackson is dead.
(I'm listening to "We Are the World," as I write this.)
Trumping MJ's cardiac tragedy, the biggest heartache is being separated from Nick for a week. Now, I know how that sounds -- I was gone for 2 months last summer and globe trotted my heart out -- but I'm pregnant now and that means two things: 1) I get to say whatever I want without feeling bad and 2) I'm uber emotional
(My MJ music marathon continues. Now on my ear "You Are Not Alone.")
Nick will be back Friday afternoon and that seems like eons away.
Sometimes when Nick is gone, I feel like this blog becomes the soggy pillow where I consistently weep into with my sadness that he's not around telling me a corny joke or trying to work some miracle with our shower's water pressure.
*sigh* It's going to be a long week.
(last song for tonight's MJ's dedication is Nick's favorite MJ song: "Man in the Mirror")
Thursday, June 18, 2009
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
The Wedding Rules
Wedding bells brought Nick and I back to Russia, home of the infinite cycle of larger than life weddings. This time it was Eric Rosenbeck who was getting married.
Eric, aka Rosie, is Keith's best friend, and not a blood relative, per se, but I've understood that there are a few people who are just a member of the family. Rosie is one of those folks.
On Rosie's big day, I proudly listened to Nick as second reader and of course bawled my eyes out during Eric and Tricia's wedding vows. (It gets me every time when the bride cries...) I was not alone. I saw Kay shedding and throwing Jay, sitting in the pew in front of her, a tissue to control the water damage.
There have been so many weddings and so many receptions that it's sometimes hard to remember certain characteristics about each one. With the exception of my own, of course, they kind of blend together, particularly if they are in the same place. But Rosie's wedding was different. Not just because it was held at St. Henry, but for one very sweet reason that I've never seen at another wedding: their first dance.
Now, most people don't really pay any attention to the first dance. It's so customary that most just turn around and watch for a few seconds and then go back to their dinner plates. Being the sentimental shmuck that I am, I love watching the couple interact. Most couples do the obligatory slow song and occasionally smile at the camera, but mostly they just talk to one another. It's always a lovely moment, but it never really sticks out in my mind.
Eric and Tricia seemed to be in their own world while they were dancing. They danced as close as possible without damaging one another's rib cages, and often sang the lyrics as they looked at each other. It wasn't just their actions either, it was just the feeling of watching a couple very much in love dance for the first time as a married couple. It felt extremely special, rare even, to see the bride and groom make a moment like that shine. I had to dab my eyes with my napkin.
I leaned over to Nick who had a delayed start to his dinner, munching on his buttered noodles, "Did you watch that? That was incredible..." I sniffed.
Nick looked up and needed to wipe his mouth, I frowned slightly at his mess. "What? What'd I miss?"
"That was, by far, the most amazing first dance and I don't think many people were paying attention."
As if to prove my point, Nick reached for his chicken drumstick and raised his eyebrows, "Oh no...I wasn't watching. What made it so great?"
I shook my head at his lack of attentiveness, "I've just never really seen a couple look like that. I can't describe it, but it was really incredible."
I don't even think Nick was listening to me anymore as someone launched into another story at our table.
And so the great party went on.
It's easy to remember things when you're a sober pregnant wedding guest. And I happened to share a few of those musings with Sue Borchers, one of Nick's many terrific cousins, who sat next to me when she was taking a break from dancing. We watched everyone gyrate and shake their bodies to the music. All of a sudden, "Love Shack," lyrics smoothed over the dance floor and, as if on cue, two or three shrieks of delight sounded from some loopy guests. I shook my head at Sue, "You know, Love Shack is not that great of a song, but everyone at weddings LOVES it. And do you want to know why? People love acting this song out."
Sue laughed and looked out on the dance floor, "I think you might be right," as she observed the same crowd of folks starting to act out the "BANG! BANG!...ON THE DOOR, BABY! BANG! BANG!" And watched folks pretend to bang on invisible doors while they mouthed the lyrics.
Sue and I turned philosophical with "Love Shack" in the background, "You know," I said, "I want to write something someday about wedding etiquette."
Sue nodded, "That would be hilarious. Number one would be, 'Don't act out songs. Dance. But don't act them out."
We laughed and a new song exploded, luring Sue once again to shake her stuff on the dance floor.
As I rested with my 10 million cups of water, I wondered what I would call the piece I would write..."My Big Fat Country Wedding," or "Russia Rules," or maybe, "How to Survive a 500 Person Wedding."
The possibilities were endless.
As I shared my thoughts with Nick later that night, I was pretty sure he was snoring when I told him my idea. He raised his head one inch above the pillow and reiterated what he always says when I have an idea, "That's great, babe." And then fell fast asleep. I could have told him I was planning on robbing the closest bank and I think he would have had the same response. I should probably share my ideas at a more reasonable hour. I squinted at the clock. 2:32am. Yikes, no wonder he thought my idea was great. Everything's great at 2:30 in the morning.
Since I couldn't fall asleep right away, I thought of all the weddings I've ever attended. I thought that if someday I was to write about wedding etiquette beyond the snooty and boring rules about RSVPing on time, giving an appropriate gift...blah, blah...everyone knows that. I was thinking more along the practical lines of etiquette. I was thinking about the rules we so often forget once wedding day arrives.
1. TURN OFF YOUR CELL PHONES DURING THE WEDDING MASS/CEREMONY. There is nothing more distracting than hearing Usher's, "Yeah" during the Ave Maria.
2. (This is one of my personal convictions:) During ANY speech, whether it's the father or mother of the bride or groom, the best man or maid of honor speeches -- SHUT UP. Stop talking. It's unbelievably rude. And if you're sitting by me, you WILL be SHHHHHSHSHSHSHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHed several times until you're quiet. You will also see Nick burying his head in his arms when I turn around and glare at the talkers.
3. If the bride wears her veil to the reception, guests should be cognizant of the pull an embrace places on her veil. Sometimes I watch the bride's head snap back so fast and hard, I wonder if it'll pop off.
4. Remember that although the lights are dimmed, it's not a total blackout. Seated guests can see where your hands are going when you're dancing with your date. Keep it G-rated. PG-13 at worst.
5. The inevitable dancing circle that forms in big crowds seems to invite a bar-friendly guest to think it's a hilarious idea to push people from behind into the middle. AND IT'S ALWAYS THE MOST AWKWARD PERSON ALIVE to raise their hands up and shake their heads that they don't dance. Tip: If you don't want to get suckered into dancing, clear the floor. The dance circle will always weed out the most timid person and claim its next victim.
6. Never, ever, EVER is it hilarious to make a spectacle of a wardrobe malfunction while you're dancing. A button pop off? Too much cleavage from a rip? A shirt lost two buttons to reveal your manly chest hair? Don't incorporate into your dance moves.
7. Men: it's never a good idea to interrupt a couple while they're dancing to practice your grinding moves on her
8. Women: lift your arms in excitement only if you are 10000% confident your dress is not going anywhere and you have applied deodorant to your pits
9. Ties should not be used in any way as a prop to lure someone as your dance partner
10. Ties should not be used in any theatrical manner, especially to demonstrate what butt floss is and how it is done
11. During square dancing, prep your novice partner
12. During "Farmer's Daughter," only turn the gent upside down if you are confident you will not drop him
13. During that Wheel Barrel song or whatever it's called, if someone is nearly strangling him or herself in efforts to untangle the group, have some mercy and let them drop their arms. Don't yell, "COME ON! YOU CAN DO IT! TWIST! WE'VE ALMOST GOT IT!" while they turn scary shades of blue.
14. If you're over 5'2 and have a front view of the slide show SIT DOWN, CROUCH DOWN, OR GO TO THE BACK. Have some consideration for people straining for one glimpse.
15. Facetiously offering a pregnant woman a drink and then taking a sip of it yourself to reinforce her inability to drink is really NOT that funny. Don't do it.
16. Broken glass on dance floor = ladies, keep your shoes on
17. If you use one of those basket items left for the ladies in the bathrooms to help freshen up - razor, toothbrush, floss, deodorant (recommended if you're sweating on the dance floor) - put it back in the basket or throw it out. It is absolutely grotesque to see wrappers and used items strewn around the lavatory.
18. "Hang on Snoopy" is not the time to get in the face of someone you don't particularly like with a threatening O-H-I-O.
19. Asking the bride and groom if it's ok to take one of the centerpieces home as a gift for someone else - unless they are being given away - is not really appropriate.
20. When the managers of the reception facility have turned out the lights and are yelling at you to leave, oblige their request.
But, what makes weddings so gosh darn fun and hilarious are the ridiculous moments of forgotten propriety and whims of the heart (or debauchery). And my number one life rule trumps any wedding rule I can come up with: All rules are made to be broken.
Eric, aka Rosie, is Keith's best friend, and not a blood relative, per se, but I've understood that there are a few people who are just a member of the family. Rosie is one of those folks.
On Rosie's big day, I proudly listened to Nick as second reader and of course bawled my eyes out during Eric and Tricia's wedding vows. (It gets me every time when the bride cries...) I was not alone. I saw Kay shedding and throwing Jay, sitting in the pew in front of her, a tissue to control the water damage.
There have been so many weddings and so many receptions that it's sometimes hard to remember certain characteristics about each one. With the exception of my own, of course, they kind of blend together, particularly if they are in the same place. But Rosie's wedding was different. Not just because it was held at St. Henry, but for one very sweet reason that I've never seen at another wedding: their first dance.
Now, most people don't really pay any attention to the first dance. It's so customary that most just turn around and watch for a few seconds and then go back to their dinner plates. Being the sentimental shmuck that I am, I love watching the couple interact. Most couples do the obligatory slow song and occasionally smile at the camera, but mostly they just talk to one another. It's always a lovely moment, but it never really sticks out in my mind.
Eric and Tricia seemed to be in their own world while they were dancing. They danced as close as possible without damaging one another's rib cages, and often sang the lyrics as they looked at each other. It wasn't just their actions either, it was just the feeling of watching a couple very much in love dance for the first time as a married couple. It felt extremely special, rare even, to see the bride and groom make a moment like that shine. I had to dab my eyes with my napkin.
I leaned over to Nick who had a delayed start to his dinner, munching on his buttered noodles, "Did you watch that? That was incredible..." I sniffed.
Nick looked up and needed to wipe his mouth, I frowned slightly at his mess. "What? What'd I miss?"
"That was, by far, the most amazing first dance and I don't think many people were paying attention."
As if to prove my point, Nick reached for his chicken drumstick and raised his eyebrows, "Oh no...I wasn't watching. What made it so great?"
I shook my head at his lack of attentiveness, "I've just never really seen a couple look like that. I can't describe it, but it was really incredible."
I don't even think Nick was listening to me anymore as someone launched into another story at our table.
And so the great party went on.
It's easy to remember things when you're a sober pregnant wedding guest. And I happened to share a few of those musings with Sue Borchers, one of Nick's many terrific cousins, who sat next to me when she was taking a break from dancing. We watched everyone gyrate and shake their bodies to the music. All of a sudden, "Love Shack," lyrics smoothed over the dance floor and, as if on cue, two or three shrieks of delight sounded from some loopy guests. I shook my head at Sue, "You know, Love Shack is not that great of a song, but everyone at weddings LOVES it. And do you want to know why? People love acting this song out."
Sue laughed and looked out on the dance floor, "I think you might be right," as she observed the same crowd of folks starting to act out the "BANG! BANG!...ON THE DOOR, BABY! BANG! BANG!" And watched folks pretend to bang on invisible doors while they mouthed the lyrics.
Sue and I turned philosophical with "Love Shack" in the background, "You know," I said, "I want to write something someday about wedding etiquette."
Sue nodded, "That would be hilarious. Number one would be, 'Don't act out songs. Dance. But don't act them out."
We laughed and a new song exploded, luring Sue once again to shake her stuff on the dance floor.
As I rested with my 10 million cups of water, I wondered what I would call the piece I would write..."My Big Fat Country Wedding," or "Russia Rules," or maybe, "How to Survive a 500 Person Wedding."
The possibilities were endless.
As I shared my thoughts with Nick later that night, I was pretty sure he was snoring when I told him my idea. He raised his head one inch above the pillow and reiterated what he always says when I have an idea, "That's great, babe." And then fell fast asleep. I could have told him I was planning on robbing the closest bank and I think he would have had the same response. I should probably share my ideas at a more reasonable hour. I squinted at the clock. 2:32am. Yikes, no wonder he thought my idea was great. Everything's great at 2:30 in the morning.
Since I couldn't fall asleep right away, I thought of all the weddings I've ever attended. I thought that if someday I was to write about wedding etiquette beyond the snooty and boring rules about RSVPing on time, giving an appropriate gift...blah, blah...everyone knows that. I was thinking more along the practical lines of etiquette. I was thinking about the rules we so often forget once wedding day arrives.
2009 Wedding Rules: Taken From Real Life Weddings and Reception Debacles
1. TURN OFF YOUR CELL PHONES DURING THE WEDDING MASS/CEREMONY. There is nothing more distracting than hearing Usher's, "Yeah" during the Ave Maria.
2. (This is one of my personal convictions:) During ANY speech, whether it's the father or mother of the bride or groom, the best man or maid of honor speeches -- SHUT UP. Stop talking. It's unbelievably rude. And if you're sitting by me, you WILL be SHHHHHSHSHSHSHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHed several times until you're quiet. You will also see Nick burying his head in his arms when I turn around and glare at the talkers.
3. If the bride wears her veil to the reception, guests should be cognizant of the pull an embrace places on her veil. Sometimes I watch the bride's head snap back so fast and hard, I wonder if it'll pop off.
4. Remember that although the lights are dimmed, it's not a total blackout. Seated guests can see where your hands are going when you're dancing with your date. Keep it G-rated. PG-13 at worst.
5. The inevitable dancing circle that forms in big crowds seems to invite a bar-friendly guest to think it's a hilarious idea to push people from behind into the middle. AND IT'S ALWAYS THE MOST AWKWARD PERSON ALIVE to raise their hands up and shake their heads that they don't dance. Tip: If you don't want to get suckered into dancing, clear the floor. The dance circle will always weed out the most timid person and claim its next victim.
6. Never, ever, EVER is it hilarious to make a spectacle of a wardrobe malfunction while you're dancing. A button pop off? Too much cleavage from a rip? A shirt lost two buttons to reveal your manly chest hair? Don't incorporate into your dance moves.
7. Men: it's never a good idea to interrupt a couple while they're dancing to practice your grinding moves on her
8. Women: lift your arms in excitement only if you are 10000% confident your dress is not going anywhere and you have applied deodorant to your pits
9. Ties should not be used in any way as a prop to lure someone as your dance partner
10. Ties should not be used in any theatrical manner, especially to demonstrate what butt floss is and how it is done
11. During square dancing, prep your novice partner
12. During "Farmer's Daughter," only turn the gent upside down if you are confident you will not drop him
13. During that Wheel Barrel song or whatever it's called, if someone is nearly strangling him or herself in efforts to untangle the group, have some mercy and let them drop their arms. Don't yell, "COME ON! YOU CAN DO IT! TWIST! WE'VE ALMOST GOT IT!" while they turn scary shades of blue.
14. If you're over 5'2 and have a front view of the slide show SIT DOWN, CROUCH DOWN, OR GO TO THE BACK. Have some consideration for people straining for one glimpse.
15. Facetiously offering a pregnant woman a drink and then taking a sip of it yourself to reinforce her inability to drink is really NOT that funny. Don't do it.
16. Broken glass on dance floor = ladies, keep your shoes on
17. If you use one of those basket items left for the ladies in the bathrooms to help freshen up - razor, toothbrush, floss, deodorant (recommended if you're sweating on the dance floor) - put it back in the basket or throw it out. It is absolutely grotesque to see wrappers and used items strewn around the lavatory.
18. "Hang on Snoopy" is not the time to get in the face of someone you don't particularly like with a threatening O-H-I-O.
19. Asking the bride and groom if it's ok to take one of the centerpieces home as a gift for someone else - unless they are being given away - is not really appropriate.
20. When the managers of the reception facility have turned out the lights and are yelling at you to leave, oblige their request.
But, what makes weddings so gosh darn fun and hilarious are the ridiculous moments of forgotten propriety and whims of the heart (or debauchery). And my number one life rule trumps any wedding rule I can come up with: All rules are made to be broken.
Friday, June 12, 2009
A Trip Back to 1994 With Tom Brokaw
It's 1994. My first year of highschool and something is gaining momentum...
Huh? What's the internet?
Already, It's Getting Old
I'm right at 11 weeks today and it's going to be a long haul to January if I don't keep my annoyance in check. I'll chalk it up to hormones, but lately, I'm so flipping irritated with answering the same questions over and over and over and over and over again.
From family and friends, I don't mind, but at the mechanic's body shop, at the grocery store, library, WHEREVER where people see you are buying something that indicates your preggers, people undoubtedly will ask the following:
1) How far along are you?
2) What's your due date?
3) How are you feeling?
4) Is this your first?
5) I bet you're excited, aren't you?
Now, I sound like a total jerk, but I just want to remind people that answering the same questions, multiple times a day, everyday can add to the overall fatigue and moodiness of a pregnant woman.
The only thing that I REALLY don't like is when complete strangers' hands make a dive for your belly. HEY -- belly is off limits to unknown persons.
Family and friends, that's a totally different story.
As Nick does a 1/2 day at work, I am getting ready to leave for Russia. Of course, I have procrastinated to where we are now leaving in about 3 hours and I have not packed a thing, eaten, exercised, or showered yet. I better get a move on.
This weekend will be another hectic one. Eric Rosenbeck will be getting married while Keith is in the wedding and Nick is a reader. Big involvement for team Borchers this weekend. As always, I'm excited for another June wedding.
Russia-bound in t-minus 3 hours.
Ok, enough procrastinating.
From family and friends, I don't mind, but at the mechanic's body shop, at the grocery store, library, WHEREVER where people see you are buying something that indicates your preggers, people undoubtedly will ask the following:
1) How far along are you?
2) What's your due date?
3) How are you feeling?
4) Is this your first?
5) I bet you're excited, aren't you?
Now, I sound like a total jerk, but I just want to remind people that answering the same questions, multiple times a day, everyday can add to the overall fatigue and moodiness of a pregnant woman.
The only thing that I REALLY don't like is when complete strangers' hands make a dive for your belly. HEY -- belly is off limits to unknown persons.
Family and friends, that's a totally different story.
As Nick does a 1/2 day at work, I am getting ready to leave for Russia. Of course, I have procrastinated to where we are now leaving in about 3 hours and I have not packed a thing, eaten, exercised, or showered yet. I better get a move on.
This weekend will be another hectic one. Eric Rosenbeck will be getting married while Keith is in the wedding and Nick is a reader. Big involvement for team Borchers this weekend. As always, I'm excited for another June wedding.
Russia-bound in t-minus 3 hours.
Ok, enough procrastinating.
Thursday, June 11, 2009
Doctor's Visit, Week 10.5
Yesterday was our 10.5 week visit and it was another eventful afternoon. Nick brought his Time magazine for what he knew would be a long wait before we actually get to see the growing Plum.
But it wasn't long before we were in there with the wonderful Dr. David and she says, "Ok, let's hit the lights and take a look at the little critter."
Excited to have another look at the Plum, I was expecting to see the small little dot bobbling along in the round sac I've understood to be my uterus.
I was shocked to see that the little dot looked more like a baby. "Oh yeah, your baby's growing like a weed!" Dr. Davis was impressed.
She poked around to see if the fetus would move and, Nick swears, I must have blinked, he said he thought he saw it shimmy at one point. Shimmy? This is definitely our child.
We couldn't get over how amazingly large the baby had grown. Of course, we were grinning ear to ear and agreed with Dr. David when she said, "It looks like a teddy bear. Whose genes are playing into this kid's growth spurt?"
Without looking at Nick and knowing he'd agree, I explained, "It is for certain the German/Irish/French side of the family." I watched her measure the baby from head to rump and was impressed with the healthy growth of our little one.
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
Happy Summer is Here
June 4th unfolded much like every morning of our previous anniversaries. We wake up, greet HAPPY ANNIVERSARY and then look at the clock, wondering what part we were at in our big day 4 years earlier.
After a few minutes of reminiscing, I'll say, "OK, let's watch the slideshow."
And Nick always says, "Yes, good idea."
So we hobble to the TV, put in our slide show from our reception and watch the pictures go by. From the opening chords of the background music, it's just floodgates from my end of the couch. OH PATHETIC. I am bawling before my childhood pictures are even over. When I see pictures of my parents, I think, "OH those poor people! What they sacrificed to raise four children! I was so ungrateful and now our children are going to think the same of us! How naive we all are until we ourselves become parents!" The bawling continues.
Nick remains relatively calm until the music switches and the pictures turn to an adorable pretty blond baby (clearly that is not me) and it's Nick's turn to lose control. Nick doesn't say anything, but he gets all choked up and his eyes fill as pictures of Russia, his siblings, his parents, his sporting events, his life parades on by...
It's a good thing we only do this tradition once a year, because we wouldn't get anything done in the mornings otherwise.
We head off to work for a 1/2 day and then celebrate later that afternoon with small, thoughtful gifts, dinner at J. Alexander's, and then Dairy King for soft serve ice cream. We cap off the evening watching the Lakers demolish the Magic.
The weekend takes us to Cincinnati. Nick and I haven't been to Cincinnati together in nearly a year or so and it was terrific to see everyone. Nick had Eric Rosenbeck's bachelor party and I was to house-hop, seeing friends and catching up and then going to a Patty Griffin concert with my friend, Claire Mugavin at Riverbend.
Cincinnati hasn't changed, but Xavier continues to respond to a "rapidly changing global society," (that's in their mission statement and I heard it 294874729 times over the four years I was there) and it's looking entirely different since Nick and I were there. Good ol' XU. It felt great to revisit our old home.
We concluded the busy weekend in southern Ohio with lunch at Arthur's in Hyde Park with all the Borchers siblings. Over a ridiculous 2-serving order of fried cheese, we caught up on the latest job updates, friend updates, spouse/significant other updates, and anything else we thought critical to say. It was so nice to just relax and spend time with family.
Albeit wonderful, there's nothing like heading home and unwinding in your own house. Nick replaced all the storm windows with screens so there is a lovely breeze moving through our house and my allergies have subsided.
As summer slowly approaches, Nick, Plum, and I continue to be extremely grateful for all the friends and family in our lives.
Hope your summer is unfolding as great as ours!
After a few minutes of reminiscing, I'll say, "OK, let's watch the slideshow."
And Nick always says, "Yes, good idea."
So we hobble to the TV, put in our slide show from our reception and watch the pictures go by. From the opening chords of the background music, it's just floodgates from my end of the couch. OH PATHETIC. I am bawling before my childhood pictures are even over. When I see pictures of my parents, I think, "OH those poor people! What they sacrificed to raise four children! I was so ungrateful and now our children are going to think the same of us! How naive we all are until we ourselves become parents!" The bawling continues.
Nick remains relatively calm until the music switches and the pictures turn to an adorable pretty blond baby (clearly that is not me) and it's Nick's turn to lose control. Nick doesn't say anything, but he gets all choked up and his eyes fill as pictures of Russia, his siblings, his parents, his sporting events, his life parades on by...
It's a good thing we only do this tradition once a year, because we wouldn't get anything done in the mornings otherwise.
We head off to work for a 1/2 day and then celebrate later that afternoon with small, thoughtful gifts, dinner at J. Alexander's, and then Dairy King for soft serve ice cream. We cap off the evening watching the Lakers demolish the Magic.
The weekend takes us to Cincinnati. Nick and I haven't been to Cincinnati together in nearly a year or so and it was terrific to see everyone. Nick had Eric Rosenbeck's bachelor party and I was to house-hop, seeing friends and catching up and then going to a Patty Griffin concert with my friend, Claire Mugavin at Riverbend.
Cincinnati hasn't changed, but Xavier continues to respond to a "rapidly changing global society," (that's in their mission statement and I heard it 294874729 times over the four years I was there) and it's looking entirely different since Nick and I were there. Good ol' XU. It felt great to revisit our old home.
We concluded the busy weekend in southern Ohio with lunch at Arthur's in Hyde Park with all the Borchers siblings. Over a ridiculous 2-serving order of fried cheese, we caught up on the latest job updates, friend updates, spouse/significant other updates, and anything else we thought critical to say. It was so nice to just relax and spend time with family.
Albeit wonderful, there's nothing like heading home and unwinding in your own house. Nick replaced all the storm windows with screens so there is a lovely breeze moving through our house and my allergies have subsided.
As summer slowly approaches, Nick, Plum, and I continue to be extremely grateful for all the friends and family in our lives.
Hope your summer is unfolding as great as ours!
Monday, June 8, 2009
Update from the Three of Us
Nick - too tired to move.
Lisa - too fatigued to move.
Baby - size of a Plum this week and very happy.
Lisa - too fatigued to move.
Baby - size of a Plum this week and very happy.
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
The Year is 2100
Last night I came home from work at roughly 9:30pm. Driving in a rental, I pulled up and saw Nick sprawled on the couch, watching our old but new to us TV (huge applause to Nick's cousin, Abby Cordonnier and fiancee for selling us a monstrously large and much improved telly) with an intent look on his face. I was chatting on the phone with Kelly, Nick's sister, about the joys and woes of the growing Pinto Bean in my belly.
As I babble, I observe Nick is flipping the channel between some NBC news special on the White House and an ABC special program about what the earth will look like in the year 2100. After I got off the phone, Nick scooted closer to me and says, "It's good your home. I was about to kill myself after watching this," he referenced the Earth 2100 show.
I sat down to watch.
In the next 20 minutes, I watched the most depressing and strange story which told a part cartoon, part computerized tale that predicted what the world will become should we continue in our fossil fuel consuming ways. The southern states of the USA were desert, the coasts were in perpetual threat of flooding, and everyone was hoodlums with shopping carts on the side of the road, hitch hiking their way to Canada. I felt like I wanted to just bury my head in a sand dune and hope for a quick death. That or drink myself into an oblivion.
"Ugh," I grunted at Nick, "it IS a good thing I came home when I did. You might have put a bullet to your noggin if you were alone watching the world go to shit."
We tried to focus on something else to cheer ourselves up from the morbidity of 2100 and impending doom of human life.
Nick asked, "Did you see our new car?"
Yesterday, we had our insurance agent shop and find us a car. When they find one that fits your general description, s/he will arrange a test drive and get the car to us for inspection. If we like it, we buy it on the spot. It's a nice FREE service from Nationwide. (Nick asked the agent 3 times to make sure it was FREE.)
Our used but new to us (do you see a theme emerging yet?) car is 2006 Honda Accord, blue, with a non-descript gray interior. According to Nick, back in his seminary days, one of the older priests drove an Accord and Nick told himself, "If ever someday I have a lot of money, I'm going to buy an Accord."
I don't know anyone whose car fantasies began in the parking lot of a Cincinnati seminary.
As Nick retold me his vow to buy an Accord someday, I jested, "Well, we are just rolling in the millions these days, so let's pull the trigger. It's now or never."
The test drive was scheduled at 2pm yesterday and I was not able to get off work. Nick was hesitant to be the only one driving/inspecting the car, but I told him, "Look, this will be the second biggest purchase you have to make without me. Remember, we bought our house without my ever seeing it. Now it'll also be our car."
The Accord runs beautifully.
We returned our rental last night and then drove around Cleveland, frequently getting lost because we are the two most geographically challenged people in the midwest.
"I like it," I told Nick. "Good job."
Nick muses, "This thing is going to last forever. I mean, it's an ACCORD. It's supposed to run forever. For real, the world is going to collapse on itself in 2100, but this car is still going to be running."
As I babble, I observe Nick is flipping the channel between some NBC news special on the White House and an ABC special program about what the earth will look like in the year 2100. After I got off the phone, Nick scooted closer to me and says, "It's good your home. I was about to kill myself after watching this," he referenced the Earth 2100 show.
I sat down to watch.
In the next 20 minutes, I watched the most depressing and strange story which told a part cartoon, part computerized tale that predicted what the world will become should we continue in our fossil fuel consuming ways. The southern states of the USA were desert, the coasts were in perpetual threat of flooding, and everyone was hoodlums with shopping carts on the side of the road, hitch hiking their way to Canada. I felt like I wanted to just bury my head in a sand dune and hope for a quick death. That or drink myself into an oblivion.
"Ugh," I grunted at Nick, "it IS a good thing I came home when I did. You might have put a bullet to your noggin if you were alone watching the world go to shit."
We tried to focus on something else to cheer ourselves up from the morbidity of 2100 and impending doom of human life.
Nick asked, "Did you see our new car?"
Yesterday, we had our insurance agent shop and find us a car. When they find one that fits your general description, s/he will arrange a test drive and get the car to us for inspection. If we like it, we buy it on the spot. It's a nice FREE service from Nationwide. (Nick asked the agent 3 times to make sure it was FREE.)
Our used but new to us (do you see a theme emerging yet?) car is 2006 Honda Accord, blue, with a non-descript gray interior. According to Nick, back in his seminary days, one of the older priests drove an Accord and Nick told himself, "If ever someday I have a lot of money, I'm going to buy an Accord."
I don't know anyone whose car fantasies began in the parking lot of a Cincinnati seminary.
As Nick retold me his vow to buy an Accord someday, I jested, "Well, we are just rolling in the millions these days, so let's pull the trigger. It's now or never."
The test drive was scheduled at 2pm yesterday and I was not able to get off work. Nick was hesitant to be the only one driving/inspecting the car, but I told him, "Look, this will be the second biggest purchase you have to make without me. Remember, we bought our house without my ever seeing it. Now it'll also be our car."
The Accord runs beautifully.
We returned our rental last night and then drove around Cleveland, frequently getting lost because we are the two most geographically challenged people in the midwest.
"I like it," I told Nick. "Good job."
Nick muses, "This thing is going to last forever. I mean, it's an ACCORD. It's supposed to run forever. For real, the world is going to collapse on itself in 2100, but this car is still going to be running."
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