As I mentioned in an earlier post, Justin and I have spent the better part of our spring fighting off the flu.  It’s not been super-fun, but it did give us some quality time together in our the new digs.  However, after 4 weeks of feeling run-down we were both pretty fed up.  We took the trip to NY and felt both felt midly OK upon our return.  However, as the week following that trip progressed,  I began to take another turn for the worse.  Grrrr…. 

(Un) Fortunately, my downturn in health coincided with a solo trip to Maryland.  After de-planing on Thursday night, I knew the fate of my weekend had been determined.  A complete feeling of fatigue took over my body, accompanied by a sore throat, fever and body-rattling cough.  I contacted the friend I was planning to travel with and cancelled our plans – - I needed a weekend to rest, re-cooperate and hang out with Mom.  :) Folks, I must confess that I was secretly relieved and excited to have an excuse to spend that time in my parent’s house, snuggled up under a blanket,  completely neglecting the world that existed outside.

Damascus, MD is my hometown and though I didn’t spend my childhood there,  I did “grow up” there.  My family moved to Damascus when I was 12 years old, facing the awful realities of middle-school, braces, breasts, and hormones that turned me into somebody I didn’t know.  To say I hated everything and everyone is an understatement — everything was changing for me that year and in hindsight, 1989 was a pretty pivotal year in my life. As time progressed,  I learned more about our new town, the kids, and our family began to grow in a new direction.  I lived in Damascus through my senior year of high school and then returned back for frequent weekend visits throughout college.  And, though I have not physically lived in my parent’s house in nearly 9 years I still feel a very strong connection to the town, the house and of course, to my family. more…

For 24 years of my life I was a fan of the Baltimore Orioles.  I’ve attended a countless number of games with my dad, grandfather, sister (and occasionally, Mom) at Memorial Stadium and Camden Yards.  My grandfather once caught a fly ball hit by the Twin’s center fielder (we were sitting in right field when he snagged it with his ball-cap).  Every time I hear the Star Spangled Banner, I want to yell “OOOOOO say can you see” midway through the song. 

But alas, I met and married a Red Sox fan.  Call me a traitor, tell me I just love the underdog (which they were when I met Justin in 2002)… assume that I am a chameleon and wanted to connect with my guy.  Any of those statements might be true.  However, I have a pretty clear memory of October 27, 2004 because that was the night I felt in love with the Red Sox.  How could you not that night?  Furthermore, irregardless of how you may feel about them now, in 2004 they deserved to win and it was such a thrill to watch them.  Standing in front of the tv  in my Watson Hall RD apartment at Syracuse University that evening, crossing my fingers with all my might, I never could have imagined that we would move to Boston  9 months later.  

Yet, here we are living in Boston nearly 4 years later. Moving to Boston was a huge turning point in our relationship and we’ve taken some pretty major steps (like marriage) in our time here.  Our first apartment – - all whopping 400 square feet of it was less than 1 mile from Fenway park.  On summer nights when we had the windows open, we could hear the game and see the stadium lights through the tree branches.  At that point, we had such a small amount of money that we balked at spending more than $40 a week on groceries (for two people!).  But somehow, we found a way to make it to the Red Sox games that year.  Times have changed, but not that drastically, and we still find ourselves making room in the budget to attend games on a regular basis.  And though we have moved several times in the past 4 years, we are still within walking distance to Fenway Park.   more…

A few posts back I described events that unfolded in our lives between 2/14/2009 and 3/29/2009  - the chaotic move to a new house followed by weeks of the “regular” flu.  At that time, lying on the couch in our new basement, surrounded by unpacked boxes and barely able to breathe without coughing, I drew to mind the words that my Grandfather once bitterly announced to our family “I fail to see the humor in this.”  If memory serves, he was referring to some mishap that occurred on a family vacation.  However, the internal optimist in me (thank you M.J. Fox), did have some small hope that I would be able to look back and note some moments of humor within our ordeal.  I have had a few weeks to recover in a number of ways and have pinpointed 5 such moments. 

Humorous Moment #1:  As we are moving our belongings into the new house, we broke a mirror in the common area that is shared with our next door neighbor.  We humbly knocked on her door, introduced ourselves, profusely apologized and offered to replace it ASAP.  The very next day as we are unpacking she knocks on our door to a: ask if we’d had a chance to get a new mirror yet because the entryway looks “weird without it” and b: to review a list of things that we should be aware of so that we don’t “irritate her.”   And no,  I am not paraphrasing.  She then followed that sentence by “Oh honey, you look like you’re going to cry… I’m not mad at you.” 

The New Mirror

Humorous Moment #2:  Roughly 6 days before our move,  I called our utility and insurance companies to switch our respective home services over to the new place.  It was a pretty simple process with most companies, except for Comcast.  Admittedly our absolute least favorite utility company to encounter, Comcast managed to activate our new account at our old address. Not a big shock – -nor was it a huge shock that the installation technician (who arrived 2 hours late) was not authorized to install our internet connection, leaving Justin on the phone with Comcast “customer service” for 4 hours.  Three days later when we received a bill for close to $400, having just sent in a payment of nearly $200, Justin took a deep breath and dared to have a coherent conversation with a customer service representative.   45 minutes later I was typing away to the Better Business Bureau and hear Justin say “I don’t think that we’re really getting anywhere and I’d like to speak with a supervisor.”  The representative (from what I could assume) asked why he felt a supervisor was required.  ”You want to know why?  Here’s why (raises voice significantly) ” AT THIS POINT I’M READY TO ACCEPT SERVICE FROM A COMPANY THAT WOULD PROVIDE ME WITH TWO TIN CANS AND A FUCKING BALL OF STRING SO THAT I DON’T HAVE TO DEAL WITH COMCAST ANYMORE.  GET ME A GOD -DAMN SUPERVISOR ON THE PHONE, PLEASE.  We have now been credited for our troubles… twice. more…

Some people say the key to a successful marriage is never going to bed angry.  Other people will tell you that the key is something akin to the golden rule (a.k.a. you get what you give.)  On a recent trip I took, I read an article about the Obama’s and their claim to success in marriage;  spending time together (going on dates, etc.).  One reporter also apparently felt that the key to the Obama’s marriage was “fisting,” though somehow I feel her comments were taken a little out of context.

Thus far, the key to success in our marriage has been our commitment to maintaining our own identities, not being afraid to have a 3 person relationship: me, him and “us.”  Our relationship began when we were living 2 hours apart so in the beginning the struggle was not to create a life outside of the other person, but rather, to include each other in our current lives.  Today, after living together for almost 6(!!) years,  we find ourselves striving for the opposite approach.  

On Easter weekend we traveled together to New York City; after a rather lengthy decision making process we caught the 5:30 Megabus from Boston’s South Station to Madison Square Garden.  One of the great things about taking the bus to NYC (aside from the low cost) is that wi-fi is included, which means you can be pretty productive during that 4.5 – 5 hour bus ride… at least until the battery on your laptop runs out (Megabus doesn’t have the power feature).   Taking the bus also means that neither person has to focus on driving and if you arrive at the bus terminal promptly enough, you have a pretty good chance of getting seats together (which, we did).  We both had noble intentions of getting a few pesky work related emails out of the way and then settling back to enjoy the trip.  Unfortunately, we were flatly unsuccessful in this task.  Justin, tried in vain for about an hour to get connected to his work server with no luck and finally gave up.  I, on the other hand jumped right into my work email and ended up banging out 2.5 hours of work on my laptop and then another hour on his laptop after my battery died.  So much for “wrapping a few things up.”   As we pulled into NYC, however, we both had our iPOD’s cranked, hands linked and were in full weekend mode.  

After retrieving our bags, we literally hit the ground running to meet Gary at the Shake Shack, recently re-opened for late night dining, but still closing at 11AM. We arrived, out of breath at 10:50, ordered our burgers, fries and shake and were promptly handed our meal in-a-box and asked to leave the premises at 11:03.  Meh… that part kind of sucked.  Nonetheless, the three of us found a bench where we enjoyed our late night fast food and then made our way to Astoria/Gary’s abode. Once back at Gary’s place, the boys enjoyed a few beers while I got ready for bed and moved in and out of consciousness on the futon. If you are a fan of How I Met Your Mother, you are probably familiar with the recent episode where Ted creates the “Murtaw List”  - sleeping on a futon is on that list.  However, as our average age as a couple is 29, we decided to disregard the list for at least a few more months. Sorry, Ted! more…