Four Valentine’s Days In A Row

This is Nita, my wife, my best friend, the love of my life. And it was four years ago today we had our first date. It was on a lark, actually. I was separated. She had just broken up with her boyfriend. I wanted to get together with her for drinks. She had a boy and didn’t want to ditch him for some guy she’d met at a standup comedy show. I understood this. Going back into the dating pool for the first time in almost two decades, I understood this. In fact, I preferred women with kids. They likely would be more responsible.

But we couldn’t meet for drinks. Not until Valentine’s Day. So I suggested she let me take her out for dinner. At worst, I would get to spoil a beautiful woman on Singles Awareness Day.

It worked out better than expected. We had our third date by the end of the week. I was staying over regularly by the end of the month. I moved in by my birthday in May, when I also proposed to her. To call this a whirlwind romance is an understatement. Our first date was in February of 2008. We married in June.

As I said, she is my best friend. Oh, we clash now and then, but it’s usually hashed out rather quickly. But everything we do is about our future. And our boy’s future. It’s a life neither of us really envisioned for ourselves. I assumed I would be a bachelor forever, drifting from city to city with no ties and no responsibilities. On the downside, that also would have meant no real reason for being.

I have never been happier in my life. Nita made me comfortable enough with myself to go back to school. She made me a parent. Or rather her son, AJ, did by accepting me as something more than “Dude mom married.” Because I went back to school, Nita took a chance and also went. It’s fun. This fall, there will be three college students under our roof. All this because we took a chance on a Valentine’s date 4 years ago today.

Nita tells me I came about at the right time in their lives. They certainly came into mine at the right time.

How I Plan To Spend Humanity’s Last Year Of Existence*

It’s that time of year again, the beginning. This is the time we usually set goals for ourselves and make resolutions that will be broken long before Valentine’s Day.

I don’t really do resolutions anymore. I have goals that usually set the tone for the rest of the year. There are things I intend to accomplish this year, things I want to try, and things that I simply need to focus on.

First off, what do I want to accomplish…

• Finally finish my degree. Of course, I’ll turn right back around and start on my bachelor’s come this fall. In 2011, I came up short on my capstone project. This year, I plan to manage it better.
• Submit one crime novel and one science fiction novel to a real, honest-to-God publisher. Hey, I’m enjoying the ebook indie revolution as much as the next guy, but let’s be honest. The hype doesn’t live up to the reality. I suppose I could quit going to school and spend all my time shilling books. Unfortunately, more often than not, that means the writing suffers. So I’d be trying to sell shit because all my time would be spent on promotion. So while I plan to continue selling Nick Kepler (the first two are edited. I have a deal to barter for editing on the third) and Road Rules, the fact remains that New York is alive and well, just extremely befuddled. Could be worse. I could be a musician trying to deal with the recording industry. Over a decade after Napster with iTunes propping them up, the RIAA still can’t find its own ass even with a proctologist grabbing its hands, pushing them into place, and screaming “Right here, stupid!”
• Get a second, maybe a third draft of Holland Bay done. Yes, this will be the novel I worked years on. Shouldn’t every writer have one?
• Get one short story a month published. Which means I need to take one out of the can and revise it for January.
• Lose weight. Yes, everyone does this every year. But I have been losing weight. So this is simply carrying on what I started.

The stuff I want to try…

• Ballroom dancing. Nita and I have wanted to do this separately at various points. This is the first time both of us have wanted to do it.
• Running. I ran in high school. I think I’ve recovered nicely after a short 27-year break.
• As always, ride the Little Miami Trail all the way to Xenia. Some years I make it, others I don’t.

The stuff I need to focus on…

• Me. Or rather my health. My weight dropped nicely in 2011. It needs to go down more in 2012. I take Janumet, an expensive wonder drug that keeps me from shooting insulin. I would like to make my method of managing blood sugar simply not eating a lot of crap. That takes weight loss and exercise.
• On the same note, mental health. I had a weird bout of depression going into the holidays. I don’t know what caused it, though I suspect it was chemical in origin – That is, eating the usual crap we stuff ourselves with sometimes wreaks havoc with your mood and concentration.
• Marriage. Nita is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. And our marriage is better than either of us could have expected. But we both realize it’s work. It’s work I’ve always been willing to do, but New Year’s Day is as good a day as any to renew my commitment to her. Followed by Valentine’s Day (the anniversary of our first date) and our wedding anniversary.
• AJ. My stepson turns 18 this year. He graduates high school. AJ has a pretty good head on his shoulders, better than I had at his age. He had a plan going into his senior year. When logistics and finances got in the way, he didn’t give up. He simply changed his timeline and looked for alternatives. When I was dating Nita, I decided that this 13-year-old kid would be closer and closer to adulthood every day that I knew him. So for the most part, I’ve treated him like an adult. Now I need to be there as he becomes finally becomes one. It’s work I’m happy to do. Every parent should be.
• Faith. If you’ve read this, you know I have an unconventional view of God. It has a refreshing lack of dogma, since humans, by definition, are too stupid for dogma. At the same time, I have questions I need answered and need to rethink my views. I don’t serve my beliefs. They serve me. That’s why you don’t see me picketing soldiers’ funerals or slamming airplanes into buildings. And you never will.

And of course, I resolve to gorge myself on schadenfreude pie on December 22, 2012, at the expense of all these pinheads who haven’t figured out that the Mayans simply couldn’t be bothered rebooting the calendar after December 21. There’s something sick about people obsessing about the end of the world. I keep wanting to tell them, “Well, you go first. We’ll all have to follow you eventually.” They usually act all offended, like the apocalypse that makes them all giddy doesn’t apply to them. It’s enough to make emo kids say, “Dude, chill out.”

And beyond that, I’ll make another list of stuff I won’t get to in 2013. It’s our way.

*Under the old Mayan calendar. Really. On December 22, a new Mayan calendar begins. It’s the Y2K of the 21st century.

1984 Vs. 2011

AJ went to his first prom this past weekend. I went stag to my senior prom in 1984. Was it culture shock? Well, I wasn’t at this prom, but I heard enough. For starters…

1984 – Camera meant you had a cheap Kodak Instamatic with those tiny film rolls or a Polaroid instant camera. Which meant not everyone had a camera to record the event.
2011 – Cell phones have cameras. AJ took my point-and-shoot because it had better light adjustment than his phone and takes twelve megapixel photos.

1984 – You had to wait days for your prom photos to be developed.
2011 – AJ’s were on Facebook by 2 AM.

1984 – Some of the more religious parents whispered concerns about allowing the band to play Led Zeppelin or Judas Priest songs during the dance.
2011 – Half the rap songs, which made up most of the DJ’s playlist, were bleeped.

1984 – I thought the powder-blue tux made me look hip and trendy. Five years later, I started burning any pictures of me in that tux.
2011 – AJ picked a black tux with red vest and tie that looked old school and dressy at the same time. And likely will not embarrass him five years from now.

1984 – I slow danced with Julie Melendez to Journey’s “Open Arms.”
2011 – Whoever sang the last dance at AJ’s prom wasn’t even born in 1984 and likely only knows Journey from Glee or as “that band Randy Jackson used to be in, dog.”

1984 – Prom was in a gymnasium.
2011 – Prom is at the Cincinnati Art Museum. Last year’s was at the Newport Aquarium.

1984 – Girls look better in their prom dresses than they will in their wedding dresses.
2011 – Still do.

1984 – I wasn’t the only one who thought the powder-blue tux looked cool and was wrong.
2011 – The two dozen boys we saw wearing snow-white tuxes will learn the same lesson soon enough.

1984 – Prom rocked.
2011 – Still does.

The Obligatory Valentine’s Day Post

If you are one of those who hate Valentine’s Day with a passion, feel free to skip this post. In fact, I’d have to question your sanity if you continued.

Tell you what. The rest of us will wait while you go somewhere a little less depressing for the broken hearted, the lonely, and those just sick of Hallmark holidays. (No, we don’t do Sweetest Day around here, so I feel your pain. Just not today.)

Are they gone yet? Good.

I’m not unsympathetic. Three years ago, last week, as I sat in a Chicago hotel room watching the Superbowl, I was pondering my post-marital life. By the time I returned to Cincinnati, I had decided I would pitch the idea of becoming BigHugeCo’s on-site technician in Chicago. (Here’s irony for you. I now work for the guy who started up one of the stand-alone IT groups for BigHugeCo in Chicagoland.) Valentine’s Day? I’d probably spend it going over my NCAA bracket.

And then I met her. Actually, we’d met during my short career as a standup comedian. During one of those online conversations that often sprout up between people on the old MySpace (Is that even still around?), we started trading humorous barbs. Her name was Juanita, and she was a single mom. I said we ought to meet up for drinks. Nothing serious, just being social. I was so timid about dating that I half-expected to blurt out “Hey, do you know any nice girls?” (To the newly divorced/widowed/back into circulation: Only ask your married friends of the opposite sex that.) The only day we could get together was Valentine’s Day. My reasoning was that I was separated, she was alone, so why not at least have a good Valentine’s Day we’d remember.

How memorable was it?

This is Nita on our wedding day four months later. We fell that hard for each other. So Valentine’s Day will always be special to me because that’s when this woman became my lover, my best friend, and eventually my wife. It’s been an eventful three years, one in which we moved twice, suffered a couple of rough illnesses, sent our boy AJ off to Germany before promptly bringing him back when the school trip went sour, and endured both salary cuts and unemployment together. Much of what has happened to this family is usually enough to fill five or ten years. I don’t mind a bit.

Because, since three years ago today, I’ve never been happier.

I love you, Sweet Rose, with all my heart.

Step Parent: A Title Earned, Not Taken

One of the things I’ve learned since getting married is one doesn’t automatically become a step parent.  Marriage does not entitle you to the role.  The child or children have to accept you.  Otherwise, you’re just the person mommy or daddy married.

I see it too often.  Someone marries a person with children, and immediately, they want to demand that they be treated as an equal by their children to their new spouse.  Or the parent tries to force the new spouse on their children, sometimes out of spite to the previous spouse.  Divorces are usually contentious, and sadly, kids often end up as pawns.

But the fact is you have to earn the kids’ trust.  It’s best done during the courtship, and no matter how bad the other parent might be, you must avoid being the antagonist.  I know when my brother and his ex-wife have a dispute, I naturally side with my brother.  But I have to hold my tongue because his ex is my niece and nephew’s mother.

Likewise, regardless of whatever I think of AJ’s father, I have to remember that, no matter how well or how poorly they’re getting along, I need to hold my tongue.  I’m the new ingredient, and there’s a 13-year history, some of it quite positive, that I can’t stomp all over.  How Nita’s ex treated Nita before she was my wife is irrelevant to how I relate to AJ.

So what did I do?  When I finally met AJ for the first time, he was 13.  I decided that, since he was less than five years from being an adult, I would simply treat him as an adult.  My main goal was simply for him to accept me as mom’s new man.  If he and I tolerated each other enough to live together comfortably, I would have been happy.

But AJ respects a man who takes care of his mom.  And I take care of AJ as best as I can, too, once to the point of giving up the first home I ever owned.  Treating him as an adult or not, there’s a certain level of decency I would expect any parent to have toward a child, whether their own or their spouse’s.  It just doesn’t occur to me not to treat AJ as my own or to back off when he needs a little space from this strange guy his mom met not too long ago.

Of course, a lot of things play into this.  Some kids are absolute monsters.  Some are pretty traumatized by divorce and don’t ever really get over it.  But you have to make the effort.  And you have to respect the kid.  A divorce is messy enough as it is.  Handle it right, and you can be the one who gets them through it instead of making it worse.

Getting Healthy

Nita had a scare last week.  While having lunch, she felt a pain in her chest, followed by labored breathing, then nausea.  Chest pain + breathing trouble + nausea = Trip to ER.  So to the ER we went.

Thankfully, her heart is fine.  What caused this sudden trip to Christ Hospital was esophagitis.

“Wow, Jim.  Is that contagious?”

Nope.  It’s just a fancy name for the extended damage from acid reflux.  We all know heartburn and heart attacks can feel similar.  Left to its own devices, esophagitis, which means inflammation of the esophagus, leaves ulcers on GI tract and causes spasms that feel…  Well, if it’s in your chest, it feels like a heart attack.

After the diagnosis and while we waited for Nita to be discharged, we went back and forth on the health problems we’ve been putting off fixing for a while now.  We both have high blood pressure.  We both are carrying a few more pounds than we like.  She’s battling anxiety.  I’ve got blood sugar issues, or as I like to call it, fat ass diabetes, which is not helped by my willingness to scarf any donut in a twenty-foot radius.  We don’t sleep well.

So it was decided.  I’m drinking off all the Coke Zero and coffee over the next week or two.  We poured out all the booze except a bottle of Jameson for myself.  (I don’t drink it as often as I once did.)  She now drinks Sprite Zero.  We snack on fruit and steam veggies with our grilled meat.  I bought a second-hand bike.  She ordered a workout program that promises to leave her sweaty and panting.

I prefer a couple of sore knees or a bad tummy ache to get us in gear once again.  It beats a heart attack.  And we’ve both lost enough relatives to heart attacks to want to avoid one.

It Was Two Years Ago Today…

January, 2008 – I and the former spousal unit reveal to the world that we’re separated.  Later that month, I start a casual conversation with a woman I met through my dying standup career and ask if we might meet at a bar somewhere for a drink.

February, 2008 – The only available day for us to meet is Valentine’s Day.  I opt to spoil Juanita with a Valentine’s Day date.  We have three more dates by the end of the week.  I practically live at her house by the end of the month and am getting along well with her son.

March, 2008 – The paperwork is filed for Juanita to claim me off waivers.

April, 2008 – While discussing whether I should go on an already-planned trip to Gatlinburg, TN, Juanita half-jokingly mentions there are plenty of wedding chapels in the area.  I promptly drop to my knees and propose.  AJ approves.

May, 2008 – The date is set.  We now live together as a family already.  We buy each other rings.

June 18, 2008 – Happiest day of my life.  When I should have been well into my single life, I am instead happily married again.  Nita makes my jaw drop as she comes downstairs in her wedding dress.  We are married in a mountain-top chapel.  AJ gives his mom away.

Thank you, Sweet Rose for taking a chance on me.  You’ve given me a family when I expected never to have one and made me a very happy man.

Happy Mother’s Day

Today is Mother’s Day.  So say hi to mom, and tell her you love her.  I don’t have a mom anymore, but my wife is a mother.  And she’s a wonderful mom.

One of the reasons I fell in love with Nita was watching her as a single mom.  Happy Mother’s Day, Sweet Rose.

Valentine’s Day, 2010

Here’s why I love Valentine’s Day.  Two years ago this Sunday, I took a chance and went out with a woman I met through my aborted standup career.  Originally, it was to be purely social, meet up for drinks and, oh, did she know any nice girls?  My marriage was coming to an end, and I didn’t want to sit around the house moping.

The only day we could schedule was Valentine’s Day that year.  I said, “Look.  We’re both alone.  Let me take you out and spoil you for Valentine’s Day.  Even if it doesn’t work, we’ll both have a good time, and we won’t be sitting at home bummed out over a stupid Hallmark holiday.”

We had a wonderful dinner at Parker’s Blue Ash grill.  We had our second date the next night, where she introduced me to her son, AJ.  The next night, we had our third date.  I’ll leave the meaning of that to your imagination.

By April, I’d proposed.  By July, we were married.  By September, we’d packed up, moved to my condo, realized we hated it there, and moved back to her place.

The week before I went out with Juanita for the first time, I was sitting in a hotel room in Chicago watching the Superbowl.  I’d gone to Love Is Murder the day before and had a few drinks with friends, telling them about my suddenly new single status.  If anyone had told me the previous night or even as I watched the Superbowl that I’d be remarried by the end of summer, I’d have said they were insane.

But Nita, as I’ve come to call her, and I fell in love immediately.  The reason we were able to marry as quickly as we did without the benefit of a shotgun is complete honesty.  I explained to Nita what was going on in my life and was even up front about a couple of things many people wouldn’t admit to a new lover.  My reasoning?  It’s better to admit it and be done than to make excuses later.  She was completely honest with me, with her situation, and things she had done.

Well, if there are no secrets and you spend all your time together, a short courtship and engagement is doable.  Of course, there was a third factor, AJ.  When Nita introduced us, he was 13.  I decided right there and then that, since he would be more and more of an adult everyday I saw him, I would simply treat him like one.  I didn’t expect him to throw his arms around me and say, “You’re my new dad!”  But as long as he knew I considered him and his mother a package deal, things would work.  They’ve worked better than any of us expected.

Two years ago, I had every reason to hate Valentine’s Day.  And if you check out the blogs, Facebook, Twitter, you’ll find there are plenty of people who absolutely hate February 14, of if they like it, it’s because the Daytona 500 runs on the 14th this year.

But for me, it was the start of a new chapter for me.  And that chapter was a completely blank slate.

To The Dogs…

For most of my adult life, I was a cat person.  I lived with one or two cats right up until I moved in with Nita.  In fact, this little guy was my best buddy for about 16 years.  I bawled my eyes out for three days after Toonces had to be put to sleep.  Here he is in happier times, blissfully unaware daddy’s got his camera out.

I’d had dogs before.  My first was a black shepherd named Duchess that my grandfather kept for me when my parents moved into town from the farmhouse they lived in when they first married.  I loved Duchess and missed her when she died.  After high school, my family took on a rather slow-witted puppy named Seamus, so named because he always came running if you sang the Pink Floyd song of the same name.  Seamus was not the brightest dog ever.  He would chase Amish buggies and come home with a big horse shoe print in his butt.  He’d hobble along for a week while he healed and go right back out to do it again.  By the time he died, it had become a monthly event.

When I married Nita, though, I became a dog person again.  Chateau Nita has a fenced-in backyard, and Rancho Winter had a deck and walking trails.  Which reminded me of the one thing I did not miss after Toonces died:

The litterbox.

What I did enjoy was how affectionate and loyal this sweetie is.

This is Gurl.  Gurl, like every other dog I’ve lived with, except for the first couple, is a mutt.  She’s got some St. Bernard in her, but she behaves and is built like a collie.  Gurl is an excellent watch dog, extremely well-tempered, and smart.  After a few misadventures, she took to walking on a leash well.  Most of the time, she will bark at strangers.  Ironically, I was one of the few she readily accepted.  (Ziggins was another.)  But let the gas man come to the house, or the plumber or furnace man, and she’ll go berzerk.  We put her out back whenever someone has to come over to read the meter, deliver pizza, or fix something.  When they’re gone, she comes inside growling and sniffing the floor like a blood hound.

So which do I prefer?  Cats or dogs?

I have to say dogs.  I used to say cats, partly because Toonces was alive, but also because cats are low maintenance while dogs tend to be needy.  Just feed them, water them, and dump the litterbox every so often.  But with Gurl, I’ve warmed up.  I missed that unconditional love dogs give their owners.  And I was the rare boyfriend Nita had that Gurl tolerated right off the bat.  When we were dating, I’d left my cell phone at Nita’s.  I got sick that day anyway, and went back to her place to get the phone.  We were afraid Gurl would tear my throat out without Nita or AJ present.  Instead, she cantered like a horse and wagged her tail when I came through the door.  When I left, she whined.  I told Nita, “I think we’re going to have to get married.  The dog will be depressed if we don’t.”

So maybe I am a dog person.  Cats tell you when they want attention and whether or not you’re accepted.  Dogs love you unconditionally.  There’s something sweet about that.