Ode to Friendship

This morning as I was cycling into school with Andrew on the seat behind me, we stopped at the light next to another parent from school (his kids were loaded into the large wooden box in front of his bike--we call it a bakfiets around here and the design originally was for deliveries from the bakeries etc. Nowadays, it delivers kids). He mentioned that he wanted to swing by the office to talk to me sometime because he had been surfing the internet and had stumbled across this blog. He said some very nice made-me-feel-all-warm-and-fuzzy things about it and then mentioned that he was very interested in blogging himself. So, of course that's all the lead in I needed to wax poetic about how much I love blogging and what an incredible avenue it is for meeting people all over the world and for forming deep connections and building great friendships and making communities happen and supporting causes and, and, and....

And I ran on at the mouth, effusively bubbling over with the great things that blogging brings.

For instance?

A bestest friend I met through this avenue and bonded with by word, and then by hobby, long before I met her in person.

And that person?

She's having a birthday today. (It's kind of a big one... but I won't give away which number--she might though, just check out her post!)
So, in celebration of blogging, of community, of friendship and bonding, join me please in wishing Allison of Soccer Mom in Denial the happiest of Happy Birthdays!

(If you sing it out loud at your computer, it totally counts for Music Monday celebration too!)

Happy Birthday, my friend. Ik hou van jou.

Lang Zal Ze Leven

It wasn't so long ago, but really it feels like forever since we met. And I don't mean forever in that this-administration-meeting-where-we-talk-about-everything-and-accomplish-nothing-is-going-on-FOREVER kind of way. I mean the forever in that I've always had this freckle on my arm kind of way. She might as well be part of me, that's how forever it feels like.

It's actually been about a year since I found her. I linked to her blog via this site (another woman I adore) and once there didn't leave for hours. That could have spooked her really, to have an instantaneous stalker arrive on the scene. But it must not have, because she was willing to establish communication and build a friendship.

Pretty damn cool if you ask me.

She is damn cool.

And so kind.

And witty.

And talented.

And funny.

And quick.

And beautiful.

And smart.

And brave.

And so, so real.

Of course, I am talking about the lovely and wonderful Jami of Not That Different. If you haven't met her yet, I highly recommend you go round her way and introduce yourself. And then spend some time with her wit and her candor. You'll be so glad you did.

Naturally, while you're there you can wish her a Happy Birthday. Because, yes, that's right, my dear friend, Jami is celebrating her birthday today!

Were it possible I would most like to be at her party tonight to watch her blow out 60 candles. Also, I would be very willing to propose 60 toasts in her honor. And I would most definitely be up for planting 60 kisses upon her lovely cheeks.

But, alas, I can't be there, so all I've got is this quiet venue from which to shout:

GEFELICITEERD MET JE VERJAARDAG JAMI!
IK HOU VAN JOU!

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While we are on the subject of birthdays, I would like to mention this little project. Alex Elliot of Formula Fed and Flexible Parenting is hosting a carnival at her place. The theme is birth-days and it's the opportunity of a lifetime to share the birth stories you've always wanted to tell. Whether they are first hand, second generation or made-up tales of glory, the venue is open for all who have a story to share. Even if you're not a blogger but you have something to say, please write it up and I will post it here for you. Me, I am a little torn about what I might share: Will it be the birth of my favorite cat? The stories of my children's births? The adventure of my own birth wherein I had my first haircut even before I was born?

As always, I'll have something to say. I hope you'll come by to hear it.

Da Do Run Run

We met just before his 19th birthday. For those of you who are using your fingers to count up the intervening years, please remove the socks from your feet as you'll be needing all ten toes as well. And then you'll have to use a finger from someone else's hand. That's how you'll arrive at the number....

Are you there yet?

Did you guess?

Have you got it?

21 years ago.

I met him 21 years ago in college. We were both on the Speech and Debate squad. He, a debater and me a dramatic interpreter. (Did you have to reach hard to guess that?)

I remember distinctly the first time I saw him.

He. Was. Beautiful.

Long blond locks, clear blue eyes, winning smile which includes a dimple. I fell immediately in love...

with his debate partner.

While that's not totally true (I was not in love) the first time I spent much time at all with him was when his friend Steve wanted to come by my apartment. The two of them came over and spent some time with me. I don't really remember specifics about that night but I do remember thinking that this other guy with Steve was proving to be much more interesting than Steve. He made an impression. Although I ended that first meeting by kissing Steve goodnight (He likes to tell people this story of how we met) it would be the last kiss for Steve from me.

Because I was smitten.

He and I started hanging out together. Seeing movies, writing speeches, studying (ha! ha!), talking for hours. Oh, and kissing. It wasn't long at all before I was in love. Madly, deeply, wildly.

With him.

So I took him home.

I knew it was gonna stick when I introduced him to my family. My sisters adored him, my parents approved of him, and my brothers LIKED him. I shall say that last again and add the emphasis so you won't miss the subtlety. My brothers LIKED him. That's really when I knew he was a keeper.

So I married him.

And I have kept him all these years. I don't plan on releasing him anytime soon either, so you can forget about asking.

Four states, twelve houses, seven cars, four educational institutions, two continents, THREE children, and a wealth of shared experiences later, I am still madly, deeply, wildly, HELPLESSLY in love with him.

The word husband, in Dutch, is man. Spoken with the softer 'a' like in lawn, and not as round as the sound in the Jamaican mon, it is a great english-dutch transition word. I love it's sound. And I love to say it.

Mijn man.

Tomorrow is his birthday (you can do the math and arrive at the number) and in spite of his reticence about reaching this milestone, I want to use this venue to shout out from my bloggy rooftop a hearty gefeliciteerd to mijn man.

Happy Birthday, babe.

You still make my heart stand still.

Ik ben Jarig

Today is my birthday.

I am 41 years old.

On the train this morning I stepped into the WC (restroom) for just a moment and that's when I spotted it. My first gray hair. Right there, in the middle of my head, shooting straight out from the crown. My. First. Gray. Hair.
I have to admit, I gasped loudly and then spent several anxious minutes trying to isolate the errant lock so I could pluck it from it's perch atop my head. And then I carefully wrapped it inside my address book so I could show my husband later on. It's still there lying in wait for admission into evidence. In the case of Jenn v. Her Own Youth it will be a crucial item substantiating the case that there are aging invaders moving in to lay claim on my body, my mind and now, my head.

As we stepped back to our seats, I showed Andrew the proof-of-being-in-my-forties that I held in my hand. He looked at me kindly and blithely said "You're funny, Mama".
I told him that when he sprouts his first gray hair at age 41, I will definitely have something to say about it. That is of course if I can remember who I am sitting in the rocking chair at the nursing home.