Nick gave me this song a few weeks ago. He heard it on television and found me immediately to share the lyrics (via YouTube).

Every now and then he finds a song that makes him think of me. I have been with Nick nearly seven years now. After all that time, he still works to win my heart. I think that’s pretty special.

Nick and I express ourselves differently. He says the first unrefined thing that comes to his mind. I am more reserved; I speak only after I’ve found the right words. This can cause some conflict.

I sometimes (unfairly and often during moments of frustration) label Nick a poor communicator. I couldn’t be more wrong. At times, he responds too impulsively for my comfort, but he knows how I value words. He gives them to me in his way by sharing messages that articulate his feelings.

I could not have found better words to give him than those he gave me just then:

And I am, over-whelmed, by you
Am, over-come with joy
You’ve, taken me higher, and shown me what love can do
Where would I go, or be, without you?

I am grateful for Nick this Thanksgiving (and every day)…my husband who continually makes me fall in love with him. He keeps our love fresh.

Nick, you communicate just fine.

Sophie Sunday


It’s snuggling season. I should be happy about that, and in some small place in the back of my mind, I probably am.

It’s just that I’m a restless sleeper these days. I flip between my back and stomach several times during the night, and I barely wake up during the transition. Lately, I’m waking completely, my sleep for the night terminated. Wanna know why? It’s because some fuzzy gray thing is weighing down my legs, preventing semi-conscious movement.

I glare at her. She glares back. I’m wide awake. She rolls over and falls back asleep. She leaves me pinned. Cute cats sleeping are impossible to move, you know. Humans must avoid disturbing them at all costs, even personal comfort. It’s like some unspoken rule.

Don’t believe me? You just go and take a poll of cat owners and learn how they contort themselves to allow kitty to continue sleeping peacefully when it’s time to get up in the morning. It’s a crazy-mad power they hold over the weak-willed humans.

Sophie, I love your affection, but could you go cuddle with the floor for awhile?

Cottoning on to Dry Weave

It’s been well over a decade now, but when I first became a regular exerciser, I didn’t have exercise-specific clothing. I had jogging pants and tee shirts, so what else did I need? Exercise was HARD in the beginning, and everything felt miserable. I exercised in cotton for years not realizing things could be a whole lot more comfortable.

Nick was on me for years to start investing in moisture-wicking exercise clothing. Nick can be a snob about some things, and I was compelled to resist him on principle. Then I was given a couple of Nike Dri-FIT shirts for my birthday one year. The shirts were from Nick’s parents, and I’m pretty sure that Nick gave them the idea (and most likely even picked out the shirts for them to wrap and give to me).

Ever the manipulator, he knew that I would come around as soon as I exercised just once in dry weave. I was played masterfully, and now I cannot stand the idea of sweating in cotton ever again.

[Shivers in repulsion.] Gross.


So my cousin started exercising regularly in 2010. She came over a couple days a week during the Spring and Summer of 2011 to go on power walks with me. Nick was on her almost immediately for her cotton attire. I should have jumped to her side to ward off his snobbishness, but by that time I had been shown the light. I fully agreed (silently) with everything he was saying.

This year, she started running. This was difficult for me at first because I was so darn jealous, but I swallowed that back to be supportive. Particularly with running though, the right clothing can completely change the experience. Still, she’s like me in how she responds to Nick…RESIST!

A couple of weeks ago, I bought her a cold weather running shirt from Nike for a just-because gift. After thanking me, her first reaction was defensive. “I have plenty of sweatshirts to run in when it’s cold, you know.”

Yes, I knew…and I couldn’t stop imagining sweat-drenched, cold, heavy, chaffing material rubbing against my skin on a two-hour run. I shrugged and told her that now she has one more option. “Just try it,” I requested.

A day later, she sent me a text message:

Just ran wearing the Nike shirt…OMG you and Nick are awesome and I love you!!! I need more of these. Go shopping with me?

Did I just pull a Nick? Crap.

Roxbury Rural Run


Halloween at Work

I’m not a big fan of Halloween, and I never really have been (even as a child). I really wish I could figure out precisely what my hangup is, but I have no clue. I feel like crying dramatically—maybe on my knees, in the rain, like Stanley Kowalski a la A Streetcar Named Desire—”STOP PRETENDING TO BE SOMETHING YOU’RE NOT!”

Also, I’m quite passionate (read: nerdy) about some subjects, one of them being theology. I think Halloween is a pretty crappy way to celebrate the Protestant Reformation. Much like my “I want to be a philosopher when I grow up” musings, I did not see my future as a theologian as a means to sustain my physical needs…you know, like food and shelter. Good news is that a person can be a philosopher/theologian in an unofficial capacity too.

Anyway, I’m veering. In the interest of being a good sport, I went to work as one of three blind mice. I liked the costume because I’m in at least three meetings a day, and the parts were easy to remove if I wanted to be able to look like a person instead of a mouse.

My first meeting of the morning was one of those meetings wherein I wanted to look like I person. I stripped myself of the headband, bow tie, and nose to attend. Later in the day, I had another meeting with some of the same people, but by that time I had removed the stick from my [ahem] and decided to embrace my inner rodent.

“Very cute!” someone said as I took my seat. “You weren’t a mouse this morning, were you?” she asked. I explained my my intent, the stick, everything. She nodded, taking it all in, before continuing her thought.

“You know, when you walked off the elevator [that we rode on together after the meeting that I went to as a person] ahead of me this morning, I thought it was kind of quirky that you had a tail. Makes more sense now.”

The devil is in the details.