Blended Romance with a Perfect Edge
The Film Babe — her name, by the by, is Joanie Lerman — and I celebrated our first wedding anniversary yesterday.
According to whoever sets such rules, number one is designated the Paper Anniversary.
My idea for a gift was to take some of the never used invitations to the humongous wedding and reception we didn’t have last June and have an origami expert morph them into a bouquet of flowers.
(A little back story. Our original wedding plans included a major party in the big room at the Seelbach. We intended to invite friends in every direction from all our walks of life. Lots of shrimp. Chopped liver swan. Major finger food. Libations. And dance music, maybe even Ronnie Spector. Yes, that Ronnie Spector. At the time we started planning it all, Joanie’s dad’s final illness took hold. So we ratcheted back the plans. Very close personal friends and family only — including Joanie’s dad — in the back yard. Watch Big Brown lose the Belmont right after the service. Walk to Jarfi’s for dinner in the back room. Chopped liver swan. Some things are sacred.)
Anyway, we had all these invitations we never used. Sad to say, I couldn’t track down any origami experts in town who could work with the thick kind of paper they’re printed on. Sigh.
So I gave Joanie a blender. And a bouquet of birds of paradise. Orange is her favorite color.
She gave me an edge trimmer for the yard. And an empty notebook to use to write the novel I’ve been contemplating for way too long.
Romance becomes very practical for newlyweds who are each well into middle age.
So too, the reality of love.
It must accommodate aches, pains, sniffles, differing daily rhythms, idiosyncrasies and the inevitable conflict of structures developed by two strong willed people whose attraction and affection evolved after a long, full life apart.
Joanie, nay, we now have a Krups blender to join the Cuisinart and Kitchen Aide mixer on the counter where Joanie makes magical meals.
We needed the blender. Joanie was recently in New York and brought back some chocolate concoction mix — Serendipity® 3 Frrrozen Hot Chocolate — that’s all the rage in the city. She said she might be able to make it in the Cuisinart, but a blender would be better.
We now have our new B & D Edge Hog to join the electric mower, electric leaf mulcher/ blower and electric trimmer in the garage. Where it now resides along with grass seed, Joanie’s gardening tools, a snow shovel, hardened de-icer in a plastic garbage can, a used tire for my Mini Cooper, several rakes, some carpet, bicycles and accoutrements for riding them safely, lawn chair cushions, stools we use at JazzFest and summer concerts, garbage cans, recycling bins, several cardboard boxes of paperbacks, a couple of old plastic sleeping bags, two bookcases, an old hose plus some tools Joanie brought from her dad’s house that look useful if only their purposes would reveal themselves.
We needed the edge trimmer. So sayeth the Film Babe. Who am I — the guy who cuts the lawn and previously trimmed the lawn’s edges along the sidewalk with a weed wacker — to disagree?
Compromise, thy other moniker is love.
The trick has been discovering the hows of romance given our tender age and set ways. Holding hands on a walk. Reading together in the same room. Watching together the DVD of “The Wire.” Knowing when not to complain when one of us leaves the lights on or turns the lights out to the other’s chagrin.
It’s a task faced daily. The joys are manifest and abundant.
There is a great soothing power in simply understanding how much we care for each other. In working through the inevitable disagreements. And sharing the expression and the love whenever possible at obvious and offbeat moments.
And sharing that blended chocolate delight while we gaze arm in arm upon our perfectly edged lawn.
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