The good: its our anniversary, which we cleverly managed to make St. Patrick's Day, so whenever images of green beer and drunken Irishpeople start to run through my head I know it's time to start making romantic preparations. Which, this year (our 13th, which isn't bad because we're not superstitious, knock on wood) didn't require a lot of time. I guess a man knows he's been married a dozen plus years when the big present you decide to give your wife is finally fixing two mouse problems--in our well pump enclosure and (more disgustingly) our medicine drawer--and she is happy to get the present. Not only that, your most intimate physical encounter of the day, so far..., is pulling her out of the empty medicine drawer enclosure by her feet, after she crawled in there to staple some wire mouse-barrier material that you were too large to put in yourself.
Ah, love comes in many guises as a marriage matures. We wouldn't have it any other way. Let those hot young couples on TV toast each other with fine wine while they dine al fresco at a romantic hillside restaurant. We'll brush mouse poop from our dirty jeans before eating leftover veggie lasagna.
Laurel's other anniversary present, which came a few days early, was a second cortisone injection for her spine (degenerative disk) problem. This happened Friday, and it went fine, easier than the first injection. She would rather heal naturally, but when physical therapy, yoga, acupuncture, and such left her in pain, she decided to kneel once again at the altar of Western Medicine and see if the gods would give her relief. So far, as before, she feels somewhat worse than before the shot. Relief will come in a few days, we hope, like it did last time.
The bad, of course, is having a war declared on our anniversary. At least, that is what all the signs are pointing to at this moment, a few minutes before the Inglorious One addresses the nation at 5 pm. I feel for George, though, even as I disagree with him. I can't imagine what it must be like to know that you are sending hundreds, thousands, or maybe even tens of thousands of people off to die. Pretty big karmic burden to be president, that's for sure. And who knows? It may be the right decision. The stock market seems to think so, from how it's been acting today. I'll be man enough to say, "I was wrong," if the war goes smashingly, or if Hussein decides to leave Iraq peacefully tomorrow. And if the Iraq army does use chemical or biological weapons, as many are predicting, that will vindicate the U.S. position--though no one, even George, wants to be vindicated in that fashion.
It's a new day in world history. But so is every day, really. This won't be the end of the world, or the beginning of heaven on earth, whichever way the war turns out. I saved our medicine cabinet from tiny pellets of mice mini-destruction. And I love Laurel. Somehow these truths seem a lot more real than Iraq at the moment.