17

Last night marked the seventeenth anniversary of the day I kissed Ginger for the first time. We were sitting on the steps outside her dorm at the U of O and I said "I'm going to kiss you now" and I did.

As anniversaries are wont to do, it got me thinking about where my life would be today if not for Ginger. I offer up that I couldn't begin to imagine. How the hell can I actually put my self back in the shoes of my younger self and trace out some sort of plausible trajectory? I can't. But I also can't imagine that my life would be any better than it is today. As I was walking and thinking of any way that life could be better, several notions occurred to me - I could have won the lottery for instance - but each notion was rejected as insufficient to improve on having Ginger's love. I wouldn't trade it for money, the idea seems bizarre to me. There could be no other woman. Not one that so fucking accepts the mess I can be. Hell, most of you have trouble taking me in two hour doses, can you freakin' imagine putting up with me for seventeen years? And I am nothing. This is old hat for you all, because you have heard me tell the tale so many times, but, as you know, the most amazing thing in the world to me is that when my mom was dying and Amber needed a home, this woman, this amazing twenty-three-year-old woman who was having so much trouble trying to put up with me, working a crappy job in a city she hated, automatically reached out and said yes to a lifetime of raising my half-sister. And then set about dedicating her life to making sure that that girl knew every single moment of her life that her new mom loved her dearly and always would.

Seventeen years and I have not done anything to deserve a day of it. How could I possibly contemplate my life any other way? Ginger is so much of who I am, me without her is impossible. To contemplate, to exist. Not what, but how? How could I be without her in my life?

So, not that you didn't all know this already, I thought I'd let everyone know that I am the luckiest guy on the planet and I love Ginger H. I hope that she will always do me the honor of loving as well.

Why I Love Her

So, Ging and I went to Amber's dance recital this afternoon. Now, dance recitals are in no way my thing. As I was saying the other day, I thought the three hour middle school version of Beauty and the Beast was bad, but I was dreading one-and-a-half hours of dance recital even more. Plus, I was going unorganized.

When we got to the lovely Madison Middle School cafeteria, my expectations were exceeded in that we'd be sitting at cafeteria tables that were laid out with teas sets, cucumber sandwiches sans crusts, and cookies. Joy. The experience was kicked up a notch through our position in the back of the room right behind the main walkway through the cafeteria. I'm not sure why everyone had to periodically decide they needed to be on the other side of the room, but they did, so I spent a good portion of the afternoon turning my knees sideways so that overfeed women could get more hot water for the tea.

I had to assume the Ginger was having a fairly decent time. I've learned over the years that just because I can't conceive of knowing anyone on this Earth who would enjoy watching largely under-developed girls shake what they don't have as if they were trying out for the Laker Girls, doesn't mean that the very woman I've been living with for the last sixteen years doesn't love it. So I was staying quiet, smiling, trying not to over-analyze the whole thing, when a troupe of dancers (it's a troupe, right? A troupe of dancers. I think that's right) comes on to the stage and the opening notes of Nirvana's Come As You Are come over the cafeteria loudspeakers. The dancers start doing their thing and let me tell you, I once had the pleasure of dancing to a live version of Come As You Are and these dancers were not dancing anything like I did back in the proverbial day.

I'm sitting there trying to figure out what the hell I am supposed to think about all of this and Ginger leans over to me and whispers, "This is why Curt Kobain killed himself."

And that's why I am going to spend every day of the rest of my life making sure that this woman never leaves me, because I love her and I never want to spend a day without her.

Never Gonna Get It, Never Gonna Get It

Dennis Prager has spent the Christmas season thinking of reasons women should have sex with men even though -- maybe especially because -- they don't want to.

In Part 1 he lays out the case for why a woman giving a man her body is really the only way she can show a man she loves him. This in turn makes the man love her more and keeps the marriage happy.

Part II destroys the notion that a woman shouldn't not have sex with her man just because she isn't "in the mood."

A sample:

Telling your husband to control it is a fine idea. But he already does. Every man who is sexually faithful to his wife already engages in daily heroic self-control. He has married knowing he will have to deny his sexual nature's desire for variety for the rest of his life. To ask that he also regularly deny himself sex with the one woman in the world with whom he is permitted sex is asking far too much.

I shit you not. Please read them with someone you love today.

h/t: SN!

Bard Fest...

kicks ass!

Amber has a lead role in Comedy of Errors - by William Shakespeare (that's right, Shakespeare) - and she was amazingly good. Like, one of three people in the entire play that was not speed-saying her lines, but actually acting with facial expressions and gestures and everything.

Even though most of the kids bit, I'm still processing that a seventh grade class was able to work up a full Shakespeare play and put it on so that a decent portion of the plot was intelligible. I don't really remember seventh grade (good times, good times), but I dare say that we weren't putting on Shakespeare.

Post-play I suggested that she thinking about acting, she was so good. She replied that she didn't think so, as acting seemed like a lot of work.

Always my daughter, that Amber.

16 Years, Down the Tubes

My wife just suggested that Raiders of the Lost Ark is not necessarily better than Charlie's Angels: Full Throttle. And while I type this, she further asserts that "this movie is just a little more badass than Indiana Jones."

The Most You Can Love Someone

Twelve years ago today, Ginger Hayward and I stood in line at the Reno, Nevada licensing bureau and realized that they don't take credit cards. Given that our wedding plans were less than 12 hours old and we hadn't slept as we drove overnight to Reno, it's understandable that we had failed to fill our pockets with the cash we would need to complete our mission. Fortunately, the fine folks at Candlelight Wedding Chapel had us covered with 40 bucks cash money. A limo ride back to the Chapel later, we were standing in front of Reverend Seltzer (or so I heard her name) who expeditiously pronounced us husband and wife. We've long speculated that the good Reverend had a cigarette burning in the back room and wanted to get back to it.

A quick nap at the Circus Circus then we were back on the road so Ginger could pour coffee drinks at a hut in the Gateway Mall parking lot and I could do whatever the hell it was that I did to kill the days back then.

Not that most auspicious of beginnings, but we have certainly made the most of it and I, for one, have never for one second regretted it.

Bambina Blogging

Amber: Dad, did you know that you could be sent back from Ellis Island, back to your home country, for lameness?

Me: Do you know what "lameness" means?

Amber: I guess not.

Me: It means one of your limbs doesn't work.

Amber: Oh, I thought it was, you know, for not being cool enough.

I Know You Do

If you've got a spare 45 minutes, jam it on over to Fox's K-ville site, download the viewer and watch what might be the worst 45 minutes in television history.

Some of you already know of my love for K-ville, others have yet to hear of it. Here's your chance to get on board. I will post some time soon as to why I think this show may be the greatest on television since Love Boat.

For the Catholics in the crowd...you have to watch this episode. It concerns the murder of a Deacon in a Catholic Church. The (ex-cop) "preacher" and our hero/cop hate each other for reasons unknown/revealed throughout the episode. If you're already scratching your head, be sure to note the lack of genuflecting and sign of the cross making and enjoy the gospel choir portion of the episode.

If you're already a fan of the K-ville, please do not hesitate to drop me a line, as there were many hysterical things throughout the episode.