The Ties that Bind

I've been with Big Daddy a long time. We're bonded in good and bad ways. Like most couples, we've balanced the line between love and hate. The best gift of hanging in there is you get the knowledge and realization that you never actually hated the other person -- just some words, choices or actions. I'm a little embarrassed that it took me so long to figure this out.

(Tomorrow, I will lose all reason and write a blog post about how crummy husbands can be. Let me have this moment.)

Like most of us, a ring was slipped on my finger when I wed. Mine is simple and beautiful. Inside, the inscription says, "Forever." The only time I take it off is for routine cleanings or to have the settings checked. I'm tied. I'm blissfully tethered.

Years ago, I wanted a toe ring. We were on vacation in the Caribbean and the husband was patient enough to walk from store to store in search of my perfect ring. I refused to get one that wasn't a perfect circle; I didn't want the pinch-it-together kind. We didn't find one.

Several weeks later, I received a Valentine's Day gift of a simple gold ring that could be sized to my toe. My mother tells me that no one wears a toe ring any more but I do and it has special meaning to me.

For Christmas, I received a necklace with interlocking circles and the story of how it represented us.

Don't get jealous. He can be mean and obnoxious. We've had problems and I'm sure there are more to come. I am annoying. He can be a **##!! But he's my **##!!

Today we were flying back from Hangdog's funeral and the family festivities. The husband was listening to his iPod and I was making some notes. Then he took one ear plug out of his ear and put it in mine. The cord connected both of us and we were listening to the same song.

Tied and tethered and holding hands.

Flukes

Sometimes there's a story on the news that's partially tragic, partially heroic and to my demented humor, hysterically funny. Last week after workout, the girlfriends and I watched an interview with a man who survived a bowling ball crashing through the windshield of his 18-wheeler. His wife was sleeping in the back. Although he was battered and bruised, he's ok. When the camera panned out, one of the girlfriends said, "It looks like he swallowed the bowling ball."

This week, there was a tragic para sailing accident. The wind was crazy and two girls were slammed into rocks or something. Yes, it's horrible that one of the girls died but IT WAS A FLUKE! Thousands of people para sail everyday. I'm the biggest weenie ever and I've done it twice. I've signed the consent form for the baby to do it and he promptly proclaimed it, "Boring." Now the mother is trying to get some legislation passed to regulate para sailing. The oldies commented that this sounds like a good idea. I disagree for three reasons:

1. We are so over-regulated.
2. Most para sailing happens on vacation. Mexico, the Caribbean, the Bahamas, etc. Our legislation has zero impact there.
3. Some personal (or parental) responsibility has to come into play. I don't need Congress to tell me that para sailing is not the wisest idea when the winds are crazy.

Flukes happen. It's awful, but true. I would not wish the pain of losing a child on anyone but we do not need new legislation. Set up a foundation. Donate an organ. Endow a chair in her name. Set up a scholarship. Organize a run/walk in her honor. Do anything except take up time that could be used to solve some of the serious problems in this country. Para sailing doesn't make the top 100.

Next we might draft some legislation about bowling balls.