Dream a Little Dream

It's so important to dream dreams together.  When Bruce and I were first married, we had some trouble visioning together (as I'm sure is true with any newly married couple).  I, being the proactive type, tried to force it.  I'd get pencil and paper and suggest we make lists together.  Lists such as:  the top five places in the world you want to see, the top ten places in the United States you'd like to go, states you've already been in, states you've never been in, an event you would like to catch someday.

As I was newly employed as a teacher and fairly buried in student loan debt and as Bruce and Luke had been a single-income family for years, we had very little money to play around with.  Still, my philosophy is that if you don't plan now then you shouldn't expect to accomplish something later on.  Even if it's ten dollars a month stuck away in the sock drawer in an envelope labeled "Paris", it's something toward that dream and you're ten dollars closer every month to seeing it realized.

In our case, "Paris" was Minnesota.  It was do-able.  If we saved back so much each month, we could actually realize a summer vacation the next year.   It was a sacrifice (and still is sometimes even though student loans are all paid off), but putting money back from every paycheck keeps it always in front of us (as do the photos on the screen savers).  We talk about Minnesota all year long.  It's inspiring.  We wonder what Lake Superior looks like in the dead of winter.  We keep our eyes on the webcams in Duluth.  We talk about how good a peanut butter sandwich tastes when eaten at a rest stop in Iowa on the way toward the Minnesota state line or on the way back home.  We mentally stroll the streets, visit the sights, relive and renew the dream together.  The word Minnesota has not only become a common term in our house, it has become a family member.  It's our good friend, our counselor, our financial consultant.  We weigh our desire to take that trip together against any other opportunities that come up and, so far, Minnesota always wins.

If we had taken the same money we've invested in these trips the last five years, we probably would have been able to schedule one dandy tour of Europe by now.  But, I wouldn't trade June in Minnesota  for that.  There are too many memories, too many plans, too many pleasures, and too many dreams still to be dreamed together there.

What are you dreaming up with the one you love?

Bring Back the Silliness!

The hottest part of summer has arrived.  This is the time of year I usually feel the most lethargic and uninspired.  The haze and the humidity just make everything seem heavy and tiresome.  Hours spent in climate control make me soft to the great outdoors.  I wilt the moment I step outside.  The glass door is fogged over by 7:30 a.m. and we hurry the dog through her visits to the yard.  What better time to settle in for an afternoon movie?  Something timeless and romantic.  Like, The Marx Brothers!

Groucho has to be one of the greatest romantic heroes.  Who can resist that greasepaint moustache and those waggling eyebrows?  Not to mention the cigar.  Silliness aside (well, that's impossible as long as we're talking about the Marx Brothers), I do love the films.  And, formulaic though they may be, there are certain aspects I always look forward to and others I always laugh at - and heartily, just like the first time.  I love to watch Chico play the piano.  Harpo's harp playing is enchanting.  I can't help myself when Harpo tries to explain through whistling and gestures to Chico that Groucho is being duped by a woman (though, Natalie could do without that - we've discovered she runs from the television whenever there's a screaming monkey and whenever Harpo does his thing).  But, then, there's the inevitable wooing of Margaret Dumont.  Whatever characters they play, the wooing is always the same.  

Where has all the wooing gone?  Swallowed up in sophistication and sobriety.  Where's the silliness?  I mean, after all, what in life can't benefit from a little silliness?  It's terribly romantic.  Think how great you feel when you laugh.  

So, there's my prescription for the summer blahs:  see Dr. Hackenbush for a healthy dose of absurdity and kiss me in the morning!

Take Me Out to the Ballgame - If You Must

Lord Stanley's Cup has been won.  Summer has officially begun.  Now, take me out to the ballgame.

Though sports were never high up my list - in fact, I used to become quite irritated with people who were sports fans - I have come to appreciate them since I got married.  I knew Bruce enjoyed sports and so one of the first things I did when I thought we might be getting serious was to check out a book on the basics of football so I could have at least an understanding of what was going on when we watched.  Translating what was in print to what was on the field, though, was just not happening for me.  It was several years later when I decided it would be nice if I would watch the Superbowl with him that I sat down for parts of some of the Sunday games and asked him to explain some of the plays.  Unlike Bruce's attempt at humor at the first football game we attended together when he told me the players in the odd-numbered jerseys were running backs and they had to run backward in the game (how dumb did he think I was?), he explained as I asked and over the course of the season I learned enough to be able to watch the Superbowl that year and "get it".

One of the first presents I got Bruce after we were married was tickets to a St. Louis Blues game and a Blues jersey.  Extravagant for a first-year teacher with student loans to pay, but I really wanted to please him.  Though it pains me to admit it now, I was not struck with the game.  Our seats were high up and I really couldn't understand what just looked like a bunch of scrambling on the ice.  (If you want to know my real first impressions of the game, read Patricia's impressions in No Penalty for Love - yeah, that's me, sitting there wondering what is going on and why everyone is so enthralled.)  Because I was so unimpressed, I went a little begrudgingly to my first Missouri State University Ice Bears game.  The rest is history on that one - I love hockey now!

But, since the Blackhawks beat the Flyers last night, we've settled into baseball season which is my least favorite sport.  Try as I might, I just can't relax for fear that I'm going to get hit with a foul ball!  But, I realize the odds are against that happening and Bruce enjoys the leisurely pace of summer's greatest pastime (or so it's called - my own greatest summer pastime is reading a Grisham novel on the deck with a glass of iced tea), so I go.  Tonight we're going to watch the Springfield Cardinals play the Tulsa Drillers.  In July we're off to St. Louis to see the Big Birds play.  The new stadium has been open for something like five years now and Bruce has wanted to see it since it opened.  I bought the tickets for his birthday, but couldn't wait that long to give them to him.  If you go on the Cardinals' website and look at a view from the seats, you can see what we'll be seeing:  a gorgeous skyline with the Arch just past the scoreboard.  Pray for no rain!

My point is that romance can be found anywhere.  Even at a sporting event.  Sometimes learning something new because you know it would please your loved one is a nice thing to do.  Sometimes you even discover a new interest yourself (or, in my case a new interest and inspiration to write).  What is your loved one interested in that makes you roll your eyes and wish you were dead?  Learn something about it just to please him.  Comfort in a relationship is great - being at ease with one another is much to be desired!  But, a little stretch now and then can put a spring in your step and a song in your heart:  Take me out to the ballgame!