and then they birth themselves, fully formed

So I clicked on the sitemeter link just out of curiosity and it turns out that people are still dropping by about once a day. Some of them are looking for my guacamole recipe, lots of them are apparently searching for morbid things that are also a fascination and a few are disappointed friends. I would like to tell those people that I'm sorry, but I don't think I am anymore, and I'm sorry about that.

It's a circular argument, but I don't have any burning need to write on this blog because I'm not interested in handing weapons to the enemy. I don't have anything to say that can't be used against me. It turns out that I'm a closet introvert with deeply rooted self-loathing, fear of rejection and a pathological need for approval. Who knew? Well, I knew, of course, and I wrongly assumed that my angsty pathos would merely serve as a springboard to better blogging. But the more I think about it the more I realize that I'm not interested in opening myself up to criticism or being guilt-tripped about what I choose to write or not write about. I'm also tired of setting myself up for failure. It seems to me that I have spent a lifetime trying to live up to other people's expectations of me only to find that they were impossible to satisfy. Meanwhile, my dreams were always the ones that got deferred. It turns out that I've had enough of that in my life and my own internal critic is loud enough.

I hear you thinking: "So turn off the comments already if you're so afraid of what other people think." But that's not it, I'm not afraid of what other people think, on an intellectual level, I don't really care what other people think. It's on a more visceral, emotional level that I internalize these things and then I worry about them far longer then their apparent triviality would seem to warrant. Why do I do this? Hmm, let's save that for the ocd discussion, shall we?

So anyway, if you are here wondering where the post is on the dog dying or my 10th anniversary or our spectacular camping trip to Lake Superior, or the new computer or the garage sale that never was or how my husband is planning a giant 8-foot costume regardless of the fact that my mother is planning on coming back right before Halloween well, maybe I just didn't feel like sharing. What's up with you?

Stop me if you've heard this one...

This past summer John and I celebrated our 10th wedding anniversary. We didn't throw a big party or go out on a hot date or any of those things they tell you to do in those magazines. No, it was a fairly subdued evening even though it was a Friday and we both had friends who stopped over to hang out. We ended up hanging out more with our friends who stopped over then we did with each other. But that was okay, because the next day? We took the kids and the new dog and drove to Lake Superior! So that was our big anniversary celebration, camping on Lake Superior. The fact that we were doing this instead of sitting in a hot tub at a hotel somewhere has everything to do with the fact that my husband loves me very much. Yes he does! Because you see, he really doesn't like camping. He tolerates it because he knows I like it and he's getting better at it every year. But I know it's a labor of love for him. So, thanks, sweetie! Let's do it again next year!

But that's not the story I came here to tell you today. Today I came here to tell you this story:

Not long after we began dating, John and I were sitting on a couch together watching Frasier when I admitted a special fondness for Roz because she reminded me of myself back in my sluttish days. Although, I coquetishly amended, I might not have been as much of a slut as she was. My then boyfriend and soon-to-be fiance gently put his arm around me and in the most comforting voice imaginable said, "Oh honey, don't put yourself down! I'm sure you were a huge slut!"

That was the moment when I knew he was the one. Now, I'm probably not telling this very well, it probably doesn't sound very romantic and I'm sure it's lost something in translation. But I want to be clear, the thing that struck me the most about this wasn't his quick witted response or his obvious security with his sexuality and mine, it was his ability to completely dismiss our relative pasts for the opportunity to be here now, in this moment, with me. So really, when you think about it that way, it's about the most romantic thing anyone has ever said to me.