I write this post to surprise my wife, who is toiling away at DAR state conference with little sleep. The thought to do this came to me while Zeppelin and I took an ill-advised walk around the frigid park walking trail. Despite the cold, I could still smell spring in the air, if a little different. Imagine someone you know who always dresses impeccably. Now remember that time you bumped into that person at Kroger on an early Saturday morning dressed in hole-ridden sweats and a hat, and you have the feeling I had---shocked by seeing the person from a different perspective, but also appreciative for the additional texture and authenticity of the person/season that the experience reveals.
Seasons, like celebrities it seems, are just like you and me, as US Weekly would say.
What about this walk inspired me to write this post you ask? Well, I treat walks as contemplative time. More accurately, my mind recognizes that something uncomfortable (exercise) is occurring and reflexively attempts to distract itself from such inhumane conditions. I, knowing my mind fairly well, prepared for just such an eventuality by taking my phone, loaded with a few audiobooks, and my headphones with me. As I'm walking (well, as I'm sheepishly looking away while Zeppelin scrunches up a haunch and does his business at the most public point in the walking trail), the author's voice booms over my headphones, "Love is a verb. Before one can experience love the noun, he must engage in love the verb. That means caring, empathy, listening and sacrifice for the needs of the other."
Now, I think it perfectly clear that I love (verb) JE, and I have love (noun) for JE. That said, the past few days with her focusing on the DAR conference at a hotel downtown and me managing pain until I can get my wisdom teeth out . . . . let's just say that perhaps I could have done a better job of listening, caring, empathizing and sacrificing, and if I'm having a problem with the verb end of things, it's fair to assume that she's having trouble with the noun end.
I continue kicking all this around while I'm settling in for a nap, as my wisdom teeth and the Cats win last night have meant a string of sleep-starved nights for me. After a while of thinking of how I could do a better job on the verb end of things, I checked in on the blog, and saw the last post.
Now, I do not know how many of you know this about JE, but she dramatically loses effectiveness if she does not get enough sleep. Seriously. In the "standing waiting for her to think of a word that she wants to use in conversation and that word turning out to be 'fork'" ballpark of ineffectiveness. (I attribute it to the fact that she is one of those people whose mind actually works things out while she sleeps. She will go to sleep pondering something and wake up with the answer, one of the many reasons I think she's awesome.) Despite this, JE goes to conference and, like many other women there, loses hours of sleep to support a worthwhile organization. JE's sleep-deprived slog results from her commitment to the DAR and its members, with her passion for the DAR trumping even the physical demands of her body.
JE also is committed to this blog. She stays up pretty late some evenings getting the post just right. She's also learned more HTML just to spruce up the website. And I know the concerns she had about balancing the blog and the conference in the week leading up to the conference, hoping that one or the other will not suffer.
So, knowing all that, I quickly determined how I could best listen, care and sacrifice for JE right now--I could write a blog post. Now, it isn't much. But hopefully, she will get to go to sleep a half-hour or an hour earlier after her long day today. Perhaps she will, before she drifts off to sleep, think of the love she has for me. . . . or at least add a proper amount of husband points to my account.
So here's hoping that JE's Saturday, instead of her early Sunday morning, smells like hotel sheets.