It's three in the afternoon on the last Sunday of winter break, and the snow continues to rush to the ground like it's late for a bus. I shoveled the walk this morning before we left for church, clearing the two or three inches that fell last night, and then had to do it again when we got back from church three hours later. Now, three hours later still, there's another inch or two back on the sidewalk. I'll probably get out the snow blower this evening sometime so the driveway isn't utterly impassable by morning. Maryn and Avery are hoping for a snow day tomorrow. We are hoping they get the freak out of the house and go to school. We'll see who gets what they want.
It's been a pretty quiet break - or at least as quiet as any winter break is for the Brown family. Maryn's birthday on December 14th, our wedding anniversary on the 19th, Christmas, New Year's, and then back to school. Like I imagine most people's holidays are, it's been a combination of frenetic activity and utter stasis. We've shopped, visited family in the Detroit area, gone to movies, gone to parties, and been busy while simultaneously having days where we just sat around and did so little, outside observers may not have been able to tell if we were actually alive.
The weather has surprised us. I'm from Idaho, Suzy's from Michigan, we lived on the open plains of Illinois for five years -- you would think we'd be totally jaded about winter weather. We should be strolling out into five foot snowbanks in Hawaiian-print Bermuda shorts and flip flops with a virgin mojito in hand saying, "Huh, we could still golf in this."
But no.
Instead, we cower before the subzero temperatures and gawk at the seemingly endless supply of snow dumping on us. We wrap up in fleece pajamas, fleece bathrobes, and fleece blankets and sit in front of the tv like it's a fireplace, pining for summer. My brother Dave has already started giving me crap about it. (We're brothers - it is in our nature to give each other crap. It's how we roll.) Today when I told him about how people were posting Facebook photos of empty shelves at grocery stores ahead of the imminent storm, he laconically texted back, "I have found that all you easterners typically freak out over nothing." (Dave's an educated guy. He knows so much about bankruptcy law that he probably didn't have room to retain small things like the difference between the Midwest and the east. Alas.) Anyway, I know I should be tougher than this, but there really is a difference in the weather between here and anywhere else I've been. It's colder here. Snowier here. It's like this is Winter's gym. It's where he comes to work out and get stronger. It's where he stares at his icy white biceps in the mirror and says, "Oh yeah, baby. Look at those guns!" And then he punches Midland County in the face. It sucks.
Anyway.
We've watched three or four movies over the break. Let me give you some brief reviews:
Frozen: Great music and voice work. Slightly generic story and underdeveloped side characters. I like that the central relationship and the act of love that saves the day in the end are not romantic. It's about sisterhood, and, as a dad of daughters, I appreciate that.
Robot and Frank: Set just barely into the future, it's about a former thief who is suffering from the beginnings of Alzheimer's. His kid gets him a robot companion/assistant and the old guy teaches it to be his partner in crime. Saw it on Netflix. Suzy and I have determined that most everything available on Netflix streaming is kind of lame and sad. It's slow and not terribly entertaining. It's like a joke that doesn't make you laugh but instead you just smirk and say, "That's funny."
The Hobbit: Desolation of Smaug: More of the same. I fear Peter Jackson lost his soul somewhere between Return of the King and King Kong and hasn't been able to get it back since. It has energetic action set pieces and giant CGI spiders so real, you can practically smell them, but who cares? Bilbo is played as an burgeoning heroin addict, and none of the other characters are emotionally engaging at all. The only blip of interest other than the best onscreen dragon I've ever seen is the weird, inexplicable cross-species romance between Turiel, the elf, and Kili the dwarf. And that wasn't even close to actually being in the book.
Sleepwalk With Me: Comedian Mike Birbiglia's barely veiled autobiography film about his beginnings as a comic and the ultimate demise of his long term relationship. It's also about how he suffers from a sleep disorder that makes him act out his nightmares. At one point, he dives out a hotel window because he's dreaming that he is running away from missiles pointed right at him. As far as this film goes, remember this: comedians are funny, movies about them usually are really not. It's surprisingly dark and flat for a movie about a guy learning to be funny.
Thankfully, now that winter break is over, our tv shows are coming back on and I'll have a reason to live again. (Sad that making fun of Revolution is a reason to live - but there it is.)
One thing I didn't make mention of here or on Facebook was our anniversary. This was #15 which is kind of big. We kept our celebrations pretty low key because funds were low in the days leading up to Christmas and because we are locked here on the ice planet of Hoth. So we'll probably go out of town for a couple of days over spring break once we make our way out of the wampa cave. (Try that obscure reference on for size.)
Anyway, even though the actual day was a couple of weeks ago, I feel like I still need to say a couple of things to/about Suzy on the occasion of us being married for 15 years.
Marriage is a really complicated undertaking. Maybe it's a blissful skip through the daisies for some people (though I doubt it), but for most people, it's largely made up of a lot of hard work. I was raised in a home of all boys by parents who were pretty relaxed when it came to things like cleanliness or organization. (This is an understatement.) I grew up to be something of a know-it-all who remembers a lot of useless trivia but sometimes forgets what time his kids are supposed to be at school in the mornings. I have an almost maddening sense of "Oh, it will probably work out"-itis that sometimes verges over from a healthy sense of optimism to a lazy sense of "I'm too tired to think to hard about it so I'm just going to hope for the best." I have problems is what I'm saying.
So, despite the fact that, in my mind, I'm quite a catch, the reality of it is that I can be really hard to be married to. Despite this fact, Suzy has been married to me for fifteen years. I'm not being glib when I say I really admire and appreciate her patience and diligence. I appreciate her sticking with me for all this time.
We are still married and still enjoy spending time together. The intense romance of the early years changes and evolves into something steadier and more durable. Life becomes less about dates and more about getting homework finished and new shoes for basketball season. But amid all that dailiness, all that quotidian stuff that has to get done, there is this partnership that is constantly being forged and shaped. I am still in the process of learning how to be the husband Suzy needs me to be. I am still learning things about what makes her happy and what does not. I am still hearing stories (perhaps less often than before) that I've never heard from her.
Suzy has a lot of gifts, a combination of abilities and insights that I've never seen in any one other person. She has this way of seeing through to who a person is. She just manages to see past the smoke screens and bs people put out into the world and usually manages to see the heart of who a person really is. Often when she makes an observation about a person (or me), it has the effect of a really good metaphor in a poem. I think to myself, "I have never thought of it like that, but that is exactly right."
I really admire Suzy's work ethic. When she takes on a task, she really, really does it. She has this tenacity that I have had to learn to keep up with. As I mentioned earlier, I'm more of a "Isn't it time for second-breakfast" kind of guy and I am always happy to take a break. Suzy gets. it. done. Whether it is co-oping at Parker's preschool, overhauling our entire storage system in the basement, or just decorating our house for the change of the seasons, she starts a job and stays on it until the corners are swept and the windows are clean.
Suzy's aesthetic sense and her organizational skills somehow dovetail together. Whatever center of the brain it is that coincides order and beauty, Suzy got a double helping there. Some people have the ability to put things away, to file and label, to organize and straighten. Some people have natural skill at beautifying and making whatever thing they have influence over more lovely, more pleasing. Suzy somehow fuses these two things. If you think it's easy, try organizing 15 years of storage or even handing pictures in the bathroom all on your own and see how you do. Then invite Suzy over for some insight and watch how it changes. I honestly don't know what the secret is. I just know that when Suzy touches things (books on a shelf, the file cabinet, drawers in the kitchen, pictures in my office) they are more organized and more lovely than they were before. I think that's a Godly trait, frankly. God is an artist who works with grace and order. I think a person who is able to evoke those same characteristics is like Him.
One other thing I admire about Suzy is her devotion to us having an eternal family. She has been committed to that ideal since before we got married and has stayed committed to it through times when it was easy and times when it was excruciating and seemingly impossible. She likes me, she loves me, and there are times when she might think I'm pretty good looking. But she is married to me still for reasons that go beyond those things. She keeps her covenants. She has this steely place within her that is locked on to what is right and it has kept her (and us) anchored through many a stormy sea. I appreciate that about her - that steadiness and firmness that exists within her in the midst of all the small, daily annoyances and distractions. She's a good woman, and I love her. I am glad I married someone with so many gifts and with such strong character. She is a good example to me in so many ways.
So assuming I don't die an early death by freezing solid here in Meatlockerville, USA and assuming she doesn't kill me for again drying a shirt that she has distinctly told me four hundred times does. not. go. in. the. dryer, here's to the next fifteen years, and the next fifteen after that, and (depending on my heart health) another ten after that. I love you, Suze. Thanks for being my wife.
