Date #2 - The Early Bird Special

Yesterday we had our second date....at Boston's annual First Night Senior Celebration at the Seaport World Trade Center.


The city treated more than 2300 elderly residents from the various Senior Centers and apartment complexes to an early New Year's Eve celebration with music, dancing, food, performances, noisemakers and hats. It was a rocking good time.

and No...we weren't guests LOL. (although we could have been because we spotted some imposters in the crowd who were clearly younger than TH and me!)

We were actually part of the army of volunteers that made the event possible. We were joined by a large contingent of young high school and college students who gave up a day of their winter break and really worked hard to make the event a success. There were also many city employees involved (who were released from their desks to take part in the event), but TH and I are both on vacation this week so it was truly a volunteer effort for us.

Neither of us is big on new year resolutions, but we do recognize our blessings and resolve every year to try our best to pay it forward. And since this was a new event for us, we figured we could count it as a date as well.

After all, what constitutes a date? I Googled the question....and discovered there were more than 137 million results. I didn't read past the first three and decided that, YES, it is still a date even if it's daylight and there is no romance or alcohol involved.

Here's the itinerary:
8:15am: check-in and receive our T-Shirts and assignment. We were designated as table runners for the Purple section. Yup, that means we got to wear purple t-shirts, size XL only.
9:00am: continental breakfast followed by volunteer briefing in ampitheatre
10:00am: set up. Every team had a task in preparing the 230 tables that would seat 10 guests each.

The purple team had a very important task: Salt and Pepper. Yesiree....there were a dozen of us dressed like Barney the dinosaur, hunched over a long table in the prep area, counting out those little tiny packets. We were instructed to place 10 salt packets and 10 pepper packets on a plastic plate for each table.

Are you kidding me?! Okay, I can understand the Green group having to count out exactly ten dinner rolls for each basket...but salt and pepper? What if a senior wanted an extra packet, or two? Or what if they wanted to take a few extras home in their purse? But....NO, we diligently counted out EXACTLY ten salt and ten pepper for each table.

When we were finished, every table was beautifully set with 10 paper napkins, 10 plastic knives, 10 plastic forks, 10 party hats, 10 noisemakers, and one plastic plate with exactly ten salt and ten pepper packets.

You can barely see the salt and pepper plate, it's partially obscured by a hat in the photo above. Oh, there was also a placard on every table with instructions in many languages reminding them to remain seated after the event until their bus is called. Excuse me....I thought this was an event for Seniors, not pre-schoolers!

At 10:30, the fun began when the buses started to roll up. The early arrivers were clearly veterans of these events and they knew exactly where the prime tables were located. We didn't witness any fights, but there was a lot of seat-saving and finger-pointing going on. There were also quite a few noisemakers swiped from the not-yet occupied tables.

By 11:45, the hall was abuzz with excitement and sequins. Many of the Seniors were dressed in their most gala attire, men and women alike. However, I did note that the men were out-numbered about 40 to 1 and I quickly pointed out to TH that the longevity odds were not in his favor. OK, so maybe the guys just chose to sit out this dance....which only reinforces the power of girlfriends. Those ole gals were having a grand old time together!

I did notice, however, that the tables with the Asian groups had many more couples celebrating together. So if there are any unmarried girls out there looking to mate for life....you may want to look in that direction. Or at the very least.... marry a much younger man!

At 11:59 the countdown began. With the Mayor recovering from knee surgery, his wife Angela did the honors. There were no fireworks, but plenty of cheering as the clock struck....NOON.

That's when we went to work, and in less than 20 minutes the volunteer worker bees had delivered to every table a basket of 10 buns, 10 bottles of water, and 10 plastic plates piled high with turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes, peas/carrots, cranberry sauce and gravy.

Just as swiftly, we cleared the tables in preparation for dessert. It did break my heart a little when several Seniors requested tea instead of coffee, or asked if they should keep their forks for the final course. We sadly informed them that there would be no hot beverages served, but we'd be happy to refill their empty spring water bottles. And no, they wouldn't be needing a fork, because dessert was ONE individually wrapped Hostess cupcake, fresh out of the box.

But, you know what struck me most, we never heard one complaint from the Seniors. Every one of them enjoyed the afternoon, many danced, every one smiled, they posed for pictures, hugged each other, were polite and respectful.

It so happens that we bumped into our older son, a reporter who, unbeknownst to us, was covering the event for the major metropolitan newspaper. He told us that all the Seniors he questioned, as to what they'd like for the new year, their answers were all similar versions of either world peace or good health.

It was a pleasure and an honor to serve this grateful group of citizens who still recognize the importance of celebrating special occasions with old friends. They fully understand that they have fewer new years ahead of them than those in their rear view mirrors, but they are going to enjoy every last one.

It also got us thinking that we, ourselves, really need to celebrate the new year...because we never know when the year ahead could be our last.

New Year's Eve has rarely been a celebration for us. When the boys were little, we didn't like to leave them with sitters. As they grew a little older, we were usually exhausted from spending the week at hockey tournaments. We enjoyed staying in and sharing Chinese Food while watching the 3 Stooges with our best friends, the C family. By the time our sons were in high school and wanting to celebrate with their own friends, we didn't dare leave the house..lest we missed an important phone call (this was long before cell phones).

From 2000-2005, I joined the L Street Brownies in their annual dip in the ocean on New Year's day....but TH refused to join the festivities.

The past few years we've travelled on New Year's eve day. Last year we arrived home after a 14 hour drive from Virginia and I guarantee we weren't awake at midnite. The two previous years were spent flying home from California (We've discovered that flights are much cheaper on December 31st) and I'm pretty sure jet lag had us snoring soundly by the time that ball dropped in Times Square.

And speaking of Times Square....everyone must celebrate New Year's Eve there at least once. We did in 2006, and I must admit that has probably ruined every future celebration for us because I don't believe ANY New Year's Eve will ever top that magical nite. EVER!

I had a bucket list long before they were popular. On my 40th birthday, I made a list of 50 things I wanted to do before I turned 50. I was fortunate to complete 32 items before that milestone birthday, and a few more after....still working on it!

However, one of those items was to celebrate New Year's Eve in Times Square. As 2007 was fast approaching, I realized this was my last chance to check this off the list before I turned 50. TH was on board, and truthfully he has gone out of his way to help me complete the list. We tried to enlist the members of our Supper Club. At first they sounded enthusiastic and everyone was on board (and it didn't hurt that two of the guys worked for Amtrak and we could enjoy a free ride to/from the Big Apple) but as the day approached, everyone backed out and we cancelled the plans.

But on December 31st I was still itching to go. And TH learned long ago that when I get an itch, he had better scratch it or he'll never stop listening to me whine, so he agreed to drive down to New York City. I believe his decision was also influenced by the unseasonably mild weather we were having. TH is a man who HATES the cold, and will take part in very few outdoor activities in the winter. It was also a Sunday, so he realized the traffic would not be an issue.

It was almost 1pm by the time we decided to go, and we hadn't eaten since breakfast, but there was no time for lunch. We grabbed many layers of clothing and hopped on I-95. We didn't stop to eat along the way either, because we strategized that we needed to get there as soon as possible to stake out a location, and then we'd eat. Ha! We still laugh about that naive decision.

We were in Gotham City by 5pm. We parked on West 109th Street in front of our son's former apartment because we knew our car would be safe and it was inches from the subway. Once underground we learned that all the platforms near Times Sq. were closed, so we exited at Columbus Circle and started walking down Broadway. It was crowded, and all the sidewalks were barricaded, you were only allowed on if you had a ticket to an event at a hotel or restaurant.

We continued walking down the middle of Broadway, past the David Letterman theatre and noticed many people had stopped there in front of a jumbotron with a video feed from Times Square. How odd, I thought, that folks would watch the festivities from 53rd Street, when Times Square was just 11 blocks away. So on we continued noticing that every block was enclosed by a corral of fences, but we continued walking until we couldn't walk anymore. Why had everyone come to a complete standstill?

We tried to walk around the crowd, but there was no passage way. When we questioned a police officer about the holdup, he just laughed and said, "that's as far as you're going tonite!" What?! We were only at 50th street. We couldn't even see the ball because we were beyond the curve to Times Square. Shortly after they sealed off the corral behind us and we were penned in. Now I understood why there was a crowd back at Letterman.

Now I can be a bit claustrophobic, and I don't love crowds. So we made our way to the edge of the pen to assess our situation. At the back NW corner of the pen was an exit, but you could only exit to the north, away from Times Square, and if you left....you could not return. You had to go all the way back to Central Park and start over again. That meant you could not exit for food, or bathrooms. We would be stuck there until midnite, still another 6 hours away. There was an entire contingent of rookie cops on duty at these exits and they took their command very seriously.

After 30 minutes or so, many families with young children, and other folks with growling stomachs or weak bladders, gave up and left when they realized this was not where they wanted to celebrate the new year. Therefore, they opened the corral in front of us and allowed us to surge forward. Hooray, we'd made it to 49th street! And if we stood on our absolute tippey-toes at the back corner (because they would not let you climb on the barrier) we could actually see the teeny-tiny crystal ball way up in the sky.

So there we stood for hours, not relinquishing our spot that happened to be right next to the exit. From there we listened to every excuse possible as folks pleaded to leave temporarily or try to rejoin their families. TH started manning the exit gate and patiently explaining the process to everyone trying to leave and, sometimes if a cop turned his back, letting folks sneak back in.

Now our son is a journalist, and that was my undergrad degree...so I would like to believe some of his great writing skills rubbed off from me. But truthfully, TH is the original reporter in our family. He will interview anyone, no matter where we are, be it the server at a restaurant, the cab driver, or the person bagging our groceries. Sometimes the interview sounds more like an interrogation, however, and we have to reign him in. And this nite was no exception.

While I was taking in the sites and enjoying watching the crazy world pass before my eyes, TH was inteviewing every policeman on duty. He struck up a lengthy conversation with an undercover detective, about our age, wearing dirty jeans and a ratty old sweatshirt underneath the gold shield hanging from his neck. The man appeared bored by his assignment, and quite frankly didn't care whether anyone exited or entered our corral. and he stood and listened as TH told him where we were from, why we were there, etc. etc.

Somewhere around 10:00, I overhear this nice man ask TH, "Do you two want to move up further?" We didn't quite understand his question, but we said, "Sure." I'll admit I was a little afraid he was only moving us up to the front of our corral and I'd have to give up my only chance of seeing the ball drop. But we followed him out the exit and onto the sacred sidewalk.

Suddenly, it was like we were following Moses as the Red Sea parted. At every intersection, the young rookies scrambled to move the barricades and say, "Good evening, Captain." He would point a thumb at us and mumble, "They're with me." As we kept walking he told TH that he'd been watching us all evening and observed that we never complained, and tried to help everyone around us. He declared us to be his good deed for the nite.

We kept walking, right into the bright lights of Times Square. It was like Dorothy when she first sees Oz. My jaw was on the ground, but TH just kept right on walking and talking to the Captain. We walked past Anderson Cooper and the CNN stage and I wanted to take a picture but we were still walking. We passed Vanessa Minillo and Nick Lachey nuzzling underneath the MTV stage, and still we kept walking.

Then a final barricade was moved aside for us and the Captain informed the cop on duty, "These two are my guests." We barely managed to say Thank You, before our angel disappeared. We never even learned his name. But he had deposited us right in the middle of Times Square, in the VIP pit area right next to the stage where Ryan Seacrest and Dick Clark presided, and directly under the crystal ball.

We arrived in time to hear Rascal Flatts, Daughtry, and Christina Aguilera perform. We could literally reach out and touch the staircase they used to exit the stage. We were in dreamland and could not believe our good fortune. There was a red carpet leading from our pit to a hotel where we could warm up or use the rest room. TH made the trip, but I was afraid they might not let us back in so I saved his spot.


The 90 minutes we spent in that pit were magical. We were given noisemakers, pins, and pom poms. But the folks who arrived earlier in the day had all kinds of loot such as fleece hats and scarves, thunder sticks, snacks, beverages and box lunches. But we weren't complaining. We just didn't want to wake up from what was surely a dream.

Just before midnite, they played John Lennon's, "Imagine." Everyone sang along, it was quite magical. And then we counted down and saw that crystal ball make it's very short journey into 2007. They released a blizzard of confetti that was actually little cards from Target with messages of inspiration. I still keep two in my jewelry box that say, "Cheer" and "Peace."

Immediately after midnite, the speakers blared Frank Sinatra singing, "New York" and every barricade came down. Within minutes, everyone was ushered off of Broadway and the street cleaners appeared out of nowhere. But on the side streets the partying continued. I don't think we ever had as much fun after dark without a drop of alcohol.

We slowly made our way back uptown and stopped for pizza in a bodega. We were finally eating after about 15 hours, but we were so giddy as we sat in the store window and cheered the revelers that we barely ate. From there it was a very crowded adventure on the subway back to Harlem, and a long, long car ride home. We were still on a high when we arrived home at dawn.

And that, my friends, is why every other New Year celebration will pale in comparison. But, before we turn into those jaded Seniors who only reminisce about the 'good old days' we will try to celebrate this New Year's Eve, and every one to come, in a special way.

Wishing everyone the same thing those Seniors know are the ONLY things that matters for the new year: Peace, Good Health, and Love.

Our 35th Annual Christmas Decoration Fight

So...NO...we haven't gone on date #2 yet. That probably won't happen until after Christmas because there is just so much to do and so little time.

No, instead of a date, we attempted to decorate. After 35 years you would think this would be a smooth process...but for TH and me it turns into an annual fight of epic proportions that the neighbors pull up lawn chairs to witness.

I lie...we don't even live in a neighborhood with lawns (we have the only front yard on the entire block), but I guarantee that the residents in the high rise apartment bulding across the street enjoy the view from their ringside seats.

It all started on Saturday at the Christmas Tree lot. Now we have only been home for Christmas maybe three of the last eight years, so it's been a while since we've had a Christmas tree. In that time, we've had some renovations and installed built-ins, leaving no place in our home for a tree. At best, we can accommodate a small tree on a table....that much we agreed on.

Now we're at lot #1, a local lot with ridiculous high prices and no wreaths, when the first fight begins. TH has already declared that we are not hanging any lights on the house because he does not want any nails in the new siding. Therefore, I tell TH that I want a large tree in the front yard, in addition to the little tree that will sit in our sun room. TH counters that the inside tree belongs in the living room....not the sun room. And he attempts to nix any idea of an outside tree because our street is too windy. We leave the lot with zero trees.

In the car, on our way to the orange big box store, we each make our case for the tree location inside the house. Neither of us will concede our position, and TH is not relenting on the outdoor tree either. At lot #2 we continue our argument and, seeing that they don't have any wreaths either, I storm off to the car. When TH asks where I'm going, I tell him there's a new big box store (the blue one) across the street.....but when we drive there, they are not open for business yet.

So now we're tired, cranky, and still have zero trees on the car. Luckily, it is an unseasonably warm 50ish degrees in December, so there's not the usual urgency to pick out a tree before our fingers freeze. Our next stop: Switzerland. We need to retreat to neutral corners, so we stop at Emma's in Quincy where they are still serving breakfast and we can make a decision without raising our voices.

Now we're on to lot #3 at yet another orange big box store. They didn't have any wreaths either....apparently there is a shortage in the northeast? In record time, however, with no drama or discussion, we select one large tree and one small tree, some pine roping, a new tree stand, and we're on our way home....almost.

We're in the parking lot, trying to figure out the best way to load two trees on my little Saab and our first attempts were pretty comical. Just then, a woman approaches us and offers to drive the trees home for us, and she points to her pick-up truck parked at the far end of our row with her own tree. Wow! A real live Christmas Angel. We thank her profusely but turn down her generous offer because we don't live locally....but her genuine act of kindness warmed our hearts. Thank you kind lady....we will try to pay it forward!

We manage to get the trees home safely. Since it's still seasonably mild outside, we get to work placing the large tree in the front yard. TH puts the tree in the stand and anchors it down with large cobblestones. We tie the tree to our fence and it appears quite secure. Everything is moving along smoothly.....until I bring the lights out of the attic.

You see, TH is a multi-colored light person, and I subscribe to the school of white lights only. In the past, we've always compromised with white lights for decorating, and multi-colors on the tree. However, this is the first tree we've put outside and TH insists that the tree cannot have white lights. But since we're not hanging lights on the house, this round goes to me and my outdoor tree gets white lights.

That was easy...but we weren't done yet. We still needed five wreaths for our front windows and door. So it's off to lot #4 where we finally found wreaths. Yay...it just wouldn't be Christmas without pine wreaths. But the wreaths would have to wait for another day to hang because it was getting late, we were tired, and we had plans for the evening. And we hadn't decided yet where the inside tree would sit.

On Sunday, it was still warm outside, but we had a driving rainstorm. The wreaths never got hung, but TH put up his tree, exactly where he wanted in the living room, with multi-colored lights. He won that round, so Yes, I'll admit he was right. The tree looks beautiful, even without any ornaments.

Now it appears I've been accused of husband bashing on this blog...No, not by TH...he hasn't read this yet nor does he quite know it exists. (I did mention it, but very briefly and then I probably changed the subject). But please read on so you'll understand why I'm still married to this man.

As I mentioned, it was a torrential downpour all day. And thanks to that aforementioned high-rise and the ocean just a block away, our street is always like a wind-tunnel. So of course you know what happened....by mid-afternoon my outside tree had toppled over. TH wasted no time in saying, "I told you so!"

Before I even had a chance to respond, do you know what this sweet man did?... this same man who absolutely hates being cold and will wear his winter parka for six months?...he put on his coat and went outside in the wind and rain to fix the tree. He spent close to an hour out there securing that tree so that a hurricane wouldn't blow it down. I wouldn't even dream of complaining that there are now six thick coax cables extending 8-12 feet from my tree in every direction. So much for my elegant white lights (lol)!

But wait, can I tell you what else TH did this week? On Tuesday after work, I ask him to drive me to Newbury Street to purchase a gift card for our daughter-in-law. The year before we gave her a gift card to a hair salon there, but I can't remember the name, and I don't want to ask her because I want it to be a surprise. I also can't quite remember where exactly on Newbury Street it's located, and since I don't remember the name I can't google the address, but I tell TH I will remember when I see it.

So here we are, in the rush hour crawl downtown, cruising Newbury Street starting from Berkley Street, checking out every basement store on the left side because I'm convinced that's where it was. We reach Mass. Ave. and still haven't found it. So TH rounds the block onto Boylston and drives all the way back to Berkeley, and we start again. In the meantime I've texted my son, but he can't remember the name either.

Now we drive Newbury again, this time checking both the left and right sides of the street, because my memory cannot always be relied on anymore lol. I offer to have him park the car and I'll attempt to find it on foot, but TH refuses because it is about 17 degrees outside. We reach Mass. Ave. once again with no luck. However, this time I am convinced that I know where it is....I just didn't recognize the name. So TH circles the block again, this time using Comm. Ave. in hopes there is less congestion there (there isn't). But of course you know I can't resist pointing out how elegant the WHITE lights are on Comm Ave. and Newbury. Not a multi-color bulb to be seen!

Back on Newbury, I enter the salon where I believed it to be....and sure enough they confirm my suspicion when they tell me the salon has changed names/owners. I leave without purchasing the gift card because I don't know if my daughter-in-law's stylist still works there. When I tell TH, he simply puts the car in drive and asks, "Where to next?" What a guy.

I didn't dare ask him to pull over again, but can you believe we drove past Pinkberry's THREE TIMES and I didn't get a yogurt? I am a Pinkberry junkie, and I overdose on it when I'm in California. I can't believe we've had one in Boston for several months now and I've yet to treat myself. (However, I will admit I've been to the Hingham store twice)!!

If you haven't fallen asleep yet, I have to tell you one more wonderful story about my husband. Do you remember those wreaths that I had to have on Saturday? Well, by midweek, they were still sitting in our front entranceway. I just hadn't the time to make the bows and get them hung. Of course you know I found the time on Wednesday evening.... With TH's help, we managed to hang the two upstairs from inside the house. But the downstairs windows need to be accessed from outside, where it was 11 degrees with a windchill below zero. Without my asking, TH put on his coat, pulled out the ladder, put aside his fear of heights, and hung the wreaths.

I really do love this guy....I think I'll keep him around!

Merry Christmas.

Date #1, Week #1820

Well date number one is done, and I'm sad to report it wasn't anywhere near as exciting as I promised. I mean, after surviving 35 years together, I think we deserved a freakin parade down Main Street. But since we don't live anywhere near Main Street...we settled for a party of two.

There we were, at 4:30, home after a long day of work, on a Tuesday evening, staring at each other and saying "What shall we do?" Oh...we're off to a great start indeed. 35 Dates ahead and we can't even come up with one novel idea?! TH's response was the same as ever, "I don't care, what do you want to do?"

So we jump in the car, drive over to the Bostix booth at Copley Square to see the slim pickins for a Tuesday nite. Our choices: Radio City Rockettes, Shear Madness, or Vengeance is the Lord's. We decide on Shear Madness....after all, their 30 year run in Boston is almost as long as ours and we needed some laughs. With our half-price tickets in hand, it's off to the Theatre District, where we splurge and park in a full-price garage.

Hmm...three hours until showtime; now what?
Food of course. We literally stood in the middle of Park Square and pondered our choices. Not an easy feat considering it was about 25 degrees outside, and we had to select a restaurant we'd never tried before. It was amazing to realize that there were now about 40 different upscale restaurants in this area once known as the Combat Zone.

We chose the Melting Pot, in the Park Plaza Hotel. A fondue restaurant, very appropriate because when we were getting married, that was probably the most popular shower gift and every household had one or two fondue sets collecting dust in the pantry. That was long before the days of bridal gift registries for anything other than china or crystal....so every bride was in danger of receiving many duplicate toasters, can openers, electric knives, and fondue sets!!! I wonder how many still rest in our nation's landfills.

As we toasted our anniversary (red wine for him and bubbly for me) TH remarked, "And they said it wouldn't last a week!" Which got us thinking: exactly how many weeks has it lasted? The waitress joined us as we attempted to multiply...but she wasn't much help. This recent BU grad actually thought there were 55 weeks in a year...scary!! Maybe that's why she's still waiting tables. :) We finally figured out we'd been married Eighteen Hundred and Twenty weeks. Yikes! I don't even want to know how many days, or hours that equals.

Now on to the food. Full disclosure, we received no discount or renumeration for this review. Ha Ha.
We chose the Big Nite Out 4-Course Menu. The first course was the cheese fondue. The seasonal selection was a variety of French cheeses and it was... just okay. Now I'm a huge cheese lover, TH not so much. On to the salads which were very good, those were served in individual bowls so we could handle that.

The third course was our entrees, which we actually had to prepare ourselves. WTF? It's our anniversary, I didn't plan to cook on this evening!!! They place a steaming pot of seasoned broth on the cooktop in the middle of the table, and deliver to our table ONE not-so-huge plate of lobster, shrimp, filet, strip steak, chicken, ravioli, potatoes, broccoli, cauliflower, and mushrooms....all cut into bite size portions.....all raw. We were instructed to use our skewers and place the items in the boiling broth until they are done. Their suggestion: 2 if by land and 2 1/2 by sea. (two minutes for meat, a bit more for seafood) and 4 minutes for the potatoes and veggies.

Really? and No, we asked, they don't provide timers. They did promise that the broth was very forgiving and we probably wouldn't overcook anything! So we're spending $150 on a boiled dinner that we have to prepare ourselves, two pieces at a time (that's all the skewers we get). They also brought out a selection of 8-10 different sauces that they described briefly and then we were on our own to figure out which ones to use.

Sitting in a window booth that looked out on Arlington Street, I couldn't help gazing longingly...no, not at TH...but at the lucky diners across the street at Davio's. I knew THEY weren't sitting around a campfire holding their lobster tail over a pot of boiling water!

Okay, so the meal was different (and bland), but the final course made up for it all. Cookies n' Cream Marshmallow Dream Chocolate Fondue....topped off with real crushed Oreo's. TH was in heaven! So our rating: The wines, salads, and dessert get four thumbs up. The fondue and entree - not so much.

What was also confusing was the number of servers. An entire team took turns waiting on us. But at the end of the nite, they presented us with a sweet Anniversary card that said, "Thanks for stirring things up with us tonight!"

Next stop: Shear Madness

For those who've never been, it's a mystery whodunit with audience participation (and a full bar that's open before the show and at intermission). It can be a fun experience, depending on the crowd and the amount of alcohol consumed. Like the nuns would tell us about mass, "You only get out of it what you put in."

On this particular Tuesday evening, the crowd was subdued and sober. There were the usual references to local landmarks, politicians and sports heroes (but no mention of Shaq!). However, many of the jokes (like our  marriage) were old, familiar and tired. By the second  half, our dinner and wine were taking effect and it was a challenge to stifle the yawns.

The cast did a great job, especially the old woman who played Mrs. Shuman. However, her hair was pretty thinning and I couldn't help but wonder if that was a result of having her hair washed, set, dried, and combed out for every performance! I now wish I'd saved my Playbill to give appropriate credit, but I read it during intermission and then tossed it after I ripped out the Filene's Basement coupon.

(Side note: if you're in the theatres this holiday season, or if you have any old Playbills hanging around....Filene's Basement always has a full page ad with a 20% off coupon...AND THEY NEVER EXPIRE!!!)

After a brisk race back to the parking garage, we were in the car and on the way home when we heard the news that Elizabeth Edwards had died...surrounded by her loved ones and her estranged husband. I couldn't help but reflect on the bum deal she got at the end of her life.

I saw Elizabeth Edwards in person once, on July 29,2004. The DNC was holding their national convention in Boston and, on the final evening, the Boston Pops and James Taylor performed a free concert on the waterfront at UMass Boston, as a gift from the Kerry campaign. It was a magical evening, not only with great music and fabulous fireworks,but during the festivities, my older son B phoned from Virginia to inform me he had just proposed to L and she said YES!

I was at the concert with my BFF (MC) and we had managed to sneak our way off the lawn and into the VIP seating area so we were up close and personal when, just as the concert was winding down, the secret service caravan delivered John/Teresa Kerry and John/Elizabeth Edwards to the stage....fresh off the floor of the convention where we had just watched their nomination celebration on the jumbotrons at the concert. Both couples looked euphoric and you couldn't help but wonder what life had in store for them.

Well, we now know how election nite turned out. And the very next morning, in Boston, Elizabeth learned she had breast cancer. We now know how that turned out as well. RIP, Elizabeth.

What really makes me angry is that John Edwards was once my candidate of choice, and it just shows how good looks and charm can turn heads. So what if his wife had cancer, and maybe her thighs were plumper than when he married her. Did that give him the right to cheat on her, and father another child? Elin Nordigren is blonde, healthy, and beautiful, with very thin thighs...and that didn't keep the Tiger from straying.

Marriage is damn hard work. It's harder than scaling Mt. Everest or earning a doctoral degree, because they both have endpoints. Marriage has to be worked at every day, like a 12-step program, and it's not always fun or easy. 

And might I add that the only experience I ever had with a 12 step program was when MC and I attended Overeaters Anonymous, about 20 years ago when we were maybe only 10 pounds overweight. But of course we were obsessing over our thighs!

When we arrived home after date #1, I quickly listened to my voicemail, read my emails, and was delighted at the wonderful anniversary wishes left on FB. My old hockey friend LC left a funny comment about staring at the same handsome face for 35 years. It is a scary thought.

And by the time I turned the computer off, TH was already snoring soundly beside me, in our bed, right where he's been for 35 years. Cue the violins!

35 Years of Infamy

Today is December 7th. Pearl Harbor Day.

"A day which will live in infamy" not just for our nation, but also for The Husband and me.

We were married on this day in 1975...35 years ago.

So where are the fireworks and the bombs bursting in air?!

Here's where I recite my worn-out lament: "Even murderers get released after 20 years...I'm serving consecutive life sentences!"

Sure, we have what folks would consider a good solid marriage with two wonderful sons, now launched with families of their own. They've given us two beautiful daughters-in-law and two precious grandsons. We have a great family, loyal friends, and a comfortable castle we call home.

And we've faced none of the usual impediments to happiness: no infidelity, no drug/alcohol abuse, no gambling, no unemployment, no verbal/physical abuse, no major debt, no legal issues or court involvement, no conflict. ...basically NO Nothing, which unfortunately after 35 years has now evolved into: not much fun, not much laughter, not much intimacy, not much communication, not much in common, and certainly not much desire to keep dancing this same dance until death do us part.

Thus my url: till ennui do us part

Ennui
pronunciation: "on-wee"
definition: oppressive boredom, general lack of interest
synonym: tedium, languor, dissatisfaction, weariness
antonym: excitement

However, to prevent our marriage from appearing under the dictionary definition above, it's time to explore how to travel from ennui to excitement.

Much of our boredom comes from the highly over-rated 'empty nest' and the deafening silence that accompanies it. Therefore, we've welcomed numerous guests and relatives to our spare bedroom through the years, and we hope they'll continue to grace our presence. Meals just taste better when we set out more than two place settings!

Now how shall we celebrate 35 years of marriage? (Elsewhere on this blog page you'll find a box that describes past celebrations.)
A trip?... we just returned six days ago from a two week stay in L.A. and now that we have a grandson there, that's where most of our travels will take us.
A party?... although our family is relatively small, it's crazy difficult to coordinate schedules and get all our loved ones together for any holiday, let alone a party in December.
Gifts?...the traditional gift for a 35th wedding anniversary is coral or jade. I love both colors, but not a fan of either stone.

The best idea I heard came from a co-worker who last year celebrated her 30th wedding anniversary with 30 dates, culminating on their 31st anniversary. What a great idea...We're stealing it!

Think about it: All relationship experts, therapists, and advice columnists always remind parents to set aside a regular date nite while they are raising kids; to make time for themselves as a couple, to keep their relationship vibrant. But what happens when the children are grown and gone and every night can be date nite? Guess what....it doesn't happen.

So we are borrowing the idea, and we are celebrating our 35 years of marriage with 35 dates.... and not just any dates; these will be new, exciting, and different dates. And if we can check items off our bucket list in the process, all the better. We've set the ground rules (they can be found in another box somewhere on this blog page), now we just need to make them happen. Our first date will be tonite. Then we'll begin thrice-monthly dates after the holidays.

We'd appreciate any suggestions, recommendations, along the way. We will avail ourselves of that world wide web (that wasn't even a wet dream when we married) to find great deals and ideas using Groupon, Bostix, Restaurant.com, BostonBargains, Eversave, Facebook, Yelp, BuyWithMe, Boston.com, etc.

I plan to blog after each of our dates. And just in case our kids/families are reading this...you will only get the PG version. Check back often and see if we succeed in bringing the joy and excitement back to our marriage. Gotta go....it's DATE NITE!

Oops...actually gotta go to work first. And then, believe it or not, we still don't have any plans for our celebration this evening. But I promise it will be fun. Stay tuned!