Where Do I Begin?

It’s been a while since I posted an Mr. Rism.  This morning, he asked me a troubling question.

“Babe, what’s the difference between coup d’etat and crudite?”

I stared at him for a moment.  “Remind me not to send you to the grocery store next time we have a party,” I answered.

Mr. R. and the Zombie Apocalypse

wpid-screenshot_2014-09-13-17-33-13-1.pngMy love took himself to the dollar store one day a few months ago.  These are the things he came brought home.

Me: Why did you buy face masks and a manual can opener?

Mr. R.: For the zombie apocalypse, of course.

Me: Well of course!

Just last night, we laughed about the whole thing all over again.

Me: Where are those things anyway?

Mr. R.: The can opener broke.  I think there’s a mask left.

Me: You used them?

Mr. R.: Well, I still have one left for me.

Date Day Saturday

In a previous post, Redefining Date Night, I mentioned that because Mr. R. and I are economizing these days, Date Night is a bit harder to come by.  We’ve become somewhat more creative but I’ve gotta be honest with you–I’m not really a ‘Pull-A-Slip-Out-Of-A-Hat-Date-Night’ kind of girl.  And so it is that Mr. R. and I took advantage of an opportunity to visit our local art museum for free over the weekend.

Last Saturday, Smithsonian magazine sponsored a nation-wide event whereby you could go online to sign up for a free ticket for two that would be honored by participating museums, zoos, and other places.

From several options, we chose the Norton Museum of Art in West Palm Beach.  I had actually been there previously, but only on field trips with my first graders where I had to be responsible for preventing the little cretins from putting their grubby paws on the thousand-year-old Chinese screen.  So I was excited to be able to go and just enjoy the place.  And we did enjoy ourselves.

My art museum experience is somewhat limited and so I can only compare it with the National Gallery of Art in Washington, D.C. or the Musee D’Orsee in Paris, but for a fairly small museum , I think they have a nice collection.  We saw paintings by Matisse, Monet, Pissarro, Renoir, Georgia O’Keefe, Pablo Picasso, and Jackson Pollack.  They also had a special show called Wheels and Heels, featuring vintage Matchbox cars and Barbies.

One of the highlights of a visit to the Norton is the oval room housing the colorful glass ‘undersea’ ceiling by Dale Chihuly.  The outer portion of the curved wall is all windows surrounded by the fountains fronting the museum so the place is a riot of light and color.  When school groups visit, the children are encouraged to lie on the floor and look up at the ceiling.  We contented ourselves with sitting on a pair of mid-century leather chairs, leaning back to view the display.

We made our way to the second floor housing their Chinese collection and marveled at items such as bowls, decorative accessories, and statuary, some of which were up to 3,000 years old.  Mr. R., ever the entertainer, saw this Ming dynasty miniature of a table set with food and quipped, “Look!  The first ever Chinese buffet.”

Funny thing about the Norton Museum of Art.  It’s really just around the corner from one of our favorite places to hang out, Bar Louie on Clematis Street.  So after our artsy fartsy afternoon, we found ourselves a table on the sidewalk at Bar Louie.  Again, we’re economizing, so we stuck with drinks (Diet Coke for Mr. R. and Louie’s Cosmo for me) and a snack.

I love Bar Louie.  They have a great Happy Hour.  And we’ve always had superb service.  But…it was not Happy Hour.  And…we did not have the best service on the planet.

I’m thinking it’s probably because our server realized that we weren’t ordering a huge meal and figured she didn’t stand to get much of a tip.  Don’t misunderstand, she was pleasant enough, but to call her inattentive is an understatement.  It wasn’t busy, being around 3:30 in the afternoon, so it isn’t as if she was swamped with tables.  The thing is, we’re pretty good tippers, Mr. R. and I, and we love to reward good service, regardless of the amount of our ticket.  Once upon a time, he was a server, so we’re very appreciative of how hard they work.

We ended up only having our drinks and we shared the Smoked Turkey Sliders, which were amazingly delicious, by the way.  But I’m a little sad.  We won’t be going out like we used to, so I’m looking for a stellar experience when we do.  I can’t wait for the next time.

Meeting My Happily Every After

In honor of our upcoming anniversary, I wanted to write about how Mr. R. and I met.  While it’s true that we met online, we did not meet on FarmersOnly.com.  I just like to tell people that for the priceless reaction before they pull themselves back together.  We actually met on Match.com, a site I would recommend for obvious reasons.  I know what you’re thinking: Why would two such obviously attractive people resort to subscribing to an online dating website to meet someone?  That’s not what you were thinking?  Then stow it.  This is our story.

farmersonlyMr. R. and I had both been to this particular rodeo before, having three failed marriages between us.  I endured a really bad marriage that lasted nearly eighteen years, at least ten years longer than it should have.  But then, divorce is always something that other people do, isn’t it, until you find yourself there.

In one night I went from being Suzy Homemaker to being Suddenly Single (and unemployed) Parent.  Stunned and shell-shocked, I began to try to put together a life, finding a part-time job while I got my teaching credentials updated, depending on the generosity of my folks, finally landing a teaching position, and attempting to guide my kids through the surreal world we shared.

It was a couple of years before I even considered that it might be nice to meet someone.  But I hadn’t dated in twenty years.  It’s a very scary proposition.  Not to mention the fact that I’d been convinced by someone not very nice that I had nothing to offer anyone.

Being a teacher, I was not very likely to meet anyone at work.  So it was very tentatively that I dipped my big toe into the shallow end of online dating.  Initially, I only interacted with guys who lived very far away.  I couldn’t quite work up the nerve to actually meet someone.  When I finally did find someone I was interested in meeting, we agreed to get together at a coffee shop (I don’t drink coffee, whatever).  He was nice and we dated for a little while, but it turned out he was a client of my ex.  Seriously?!

Scrolling through my list of matches one day, I saw a handsome man and read his profile.  It said that he worked for a local television news station, listed various other vitals, and then there was something that caught my eye.  He promised not to hump my leg in public.  And I laughed.  Completely out of character, I sent him a ‘wink’ which is what Match lets you do to let someone know you might be interested in them.  In the next day or so, he replied and we began messaging back and forth.

A week or so later, I was brave enough to agree to a phone call.  In my mind, I had allotted about half an hour to chat.  I’d agreed to a phone call with a far-away guy once and, having figured on about thirty minutes, found I couldn’t stand it for more than about ten.  Seems he was better at the written word.  But I digress.

Mr. R. called and before I knew it, we’d been talking for over two hours.  It’s like that with us.  The call was so successful we made a date to meet in person.  I met him at the local Cheesecake Factory one evening in January, 2006.  I recognized him immediately from his profile picture and he knew me at once as well.  Dinner was fantastic; we talked and laughed the entire time.  Being a man of his word, he did not, in fact, hump my leg in public.

The rest, as they say, is history.  We began dating exclusively not long after that.  Mr. R. made it clear from the beginning that he wasn’t interested in being married ever again.  I had just escaped a bad situation and was in no hurry to do it again, and besides, I was very much enjoying us.  I knew that one day, I did want to be married again, but for the time being I was content to appreciate our limited time together.  For years, we really only saw each other once a week.  He was working weekdays 1:00 am to 9:00 am, sleeping during the days, and I had regular school hours.  Saturdays were ours.

One day a few years ago, we were strolling through a mall and he led me into a jewelry store.  “What do you think about these rings?” he asked.  I was freaked out.  He’d been clear for years.  I had no expectation.  I saw one I liked and tried it on but was so nervous it got stuck and the clerk had to break out the Windex.

Some months later, early one Saturday morning, we went to the beach to take a walk.  Strolling along the water’s edge, he dropped to his knee, proposed, presenting me with that ring.  Of course I said yes.  I heard applause but I never looked around to see who was there.  We’d planned a March wedding, but one day in late September, we both had a day off and he suggested that we go to the courthouse to get our marriage license.  We would have gotten married right then and there (before he changed his mind, right?) but in the state of Florida, there’s a three-day waiting period.  Like it’s a gun or something.

weddingSo three days later, October 2, 2011, we were married in our back yard by a sweet friend of ours, a dotty little Wiccan, in a very strange, completely fabulous little ceremony involving earth, water, a feather, sage smoke, and a tiny bell.  We had another, more traditional ceremony and party the following March 10 with all our closest friends in attendance.

Now we celebrate several anniversaries.  Our actual wedding on Oct. 2, our wedding celebration March 10, and the day I winked at Mr. R., January 7.  Best thing I ever did.