Saturday, August 14, 2010
Well, here it is. The first anniversary of Grumbles and Grins! For those of you who have been following my blog since its inception, you’ll know that it is also my wedding anniversary. Mr. Grumbles and I have had seventeen years of wedded bliss.
And my first posting to GAG, “A Deer in the Headlights”, documented just how easy we each are to live with.
I teased Mr. Grumbles unmercifully in that first article. See… he’d forgotten our anniversary. And he tried like the dickens to wiggle his way out of it, too! He even pronounced that last August 14th was not, in fact, August 14th! The days were all screwed up—that was all there was to it!
Awww. My poor husband! He really has a lot to contend with. He works hard at his job. Very hard. He’s also raising children and working a small homestead. He’s involved in the Water District in New Portland, and the New Portland Historical Society, and the Lexington History House, here at home. He creates beautiful crafts from things found in our great outdoors and is working on finding a market for them, so that he can have an income-producing hobby which he truly enjoys when he retires. (Keep watch for “The Forest Floor”!) Add to all that: He has to live with ME!
I know, I know… you all are positive that I must be an absolute joy to live with! And… you wouldn’t be far from wrong.
But you’d be wrong.
As hard as it is to imagine, I am a woman with faults. I am absent-minded. I am single-minded. Once I get the bit between my teeth on certain things, I run. I tend to ignore all else (and everyone else) until I’ve crossed the finish line-- leading by a neck, at least.
That means that sometimes, the house is messy. The laundry, while clean and dry, might not get folded for a day or two. Supper might sometimes be cold pizza… or frozen pizza. And Mr. Grumbles might speak to me for twenty minutes, saying deep and meaningful things, and while I hear the words, I might not have listened to them. He drones on and I nod and smile, but my fingers are typing and my mind is a thousand miles away.
And he knows it is. But he loves me, anyway.
I suppose I can’t accuse him of forgetting our anniversary this year. This time, I tried to make it a little easier for him. I tucked a card under his glasses last night when I went to bed, so that he’d see it upon waking. So that he’d have a moment or two of grace in which to compose a plan to show that he’d remembered.
He was up and out-the-door at the crack of dawn and I didn’t roll out of bed until 6:30. When I went downstairs to make myself a cup of hot chocolate, I found a card from Mr. Grumbles on the sideboard.
As I write this, I am laughing. He knows me so well, and honestly? This beats the heck out of a Wal-Mart card, any day! And just to enhance his gift with a bit of the mundane, he left a list with his particular needs at the grocery store; toilet paper and coffee filters. Ah... I love that man. :o)
I’ll share just a couple of the many photos taken on the day we married in 1993. In regards to the gentleman with the goat and the sack of turnips… well, you see; Mr. Grumbles formally asked my father for my hand in marriage. It was an old-fashioned courtesy, but done somewhat in jest, too. I was a single mother, previously married, and I was completely self-supporting. I hadn’t lived at home with Mum and Dad for almost twelve years. But my fiancé did the ‘right thing’ and he and my father had a merry old time trying to negotiate my ‘bride price’ or dowry. Dad thought he ought to get something out of the arrangement. At one point, a camel was mentioned… I remember that. (Dad has ALWAYS wanted a camel. And a bulldozer, too. But I digress…)
Finally, the two men, pleased with their haggling ability and one-upsmanship, came to an agreement. Mr. Grumbles could ‘have’ me for the bargain price of… one goat, and a sack of turnips.
And the Peases always keep their side of a bargain!
Yes, Mr. Grumbles has put up with a lot from me over the years. And, he’s put up with my family and the somewhat eccentric group of friends I brought into the fold, as well. For the most part, he’s a prince among men.
But when it comes to remembering significant dates, he’s hopeless.
Still… I think I’ll keep him.
Photo with goat: Dad checking out the turnips ("A little wormy, ain't they?") and back-to is a good friend, the 'keeper of the goat', Richard Jordan, whose job it was to hide in the corn patch with Popcorn (the goat) and the burlap sack until Mr. Grumbles' presentation was made...