A couple weeks ago, Brian and I really did workout to the audio of a Supreme Court case.
Continuing our string of car troubles, Brian recently replaced the starter and resealed the oil pan in my car.
In a moment of serendipity, we acquired a 7-foot Christmas tree that was on the verge of being thrown away.
I still cannot stomach gizzards of any variety and Brian still harbors an irrational disdain for cooked carrots.
Returning to our regularly scheduled program:
We enjoyed a delightful and unusual Thanksgiving. On Thursday (the actual holiday), we deliberately shut out the rest of the world, put all our responsibilities on hold, and savored a quiet day together. Brian fixed a scrumptious breakfast feast, I cleaned out my overflowing basket of miscellaneous papers on my kitchen counter, we spent one hour organizing the closet in the scary room, and read aloud a section of Les Miserables. We also made a mountain of cranberry relish for our traditional Thanksgiving dinner which we had on Friday.
Speaking of which . . . Brian and I hosted the official day-after-Thanksgiving dinner for a number of my students and their families and some friends. About 40 people attended with representatives from Cuba, Mexico, Eritrea, Burma, Vietnam, Nepal, and Armenia. To feed the crowd, we cooked 38 pounds of turkey, 15 pounds of potatoes, 6 dozen rolls, 3 quarts of cranberry relish, a pile of stuffing, and a gallon of green beans. (Sorry, sweet potatoes. Something had to go.) To our relief, friends generously provided the pies! For after-dinner entertainment, Brian and Valerie provided guitar/violin/vocal music that enthralled everyone. Also, one of my students told about his experience as a political prisoner in Burma, which made us all extra grateful for our present circumstances. It was truly a Thanksgiving to remember.
Brian spent last Saturday taking apart his car. As evidence, I present the following artifact:
In case it's not readily apparent, this is the front of Brian's car - the innards of the steering wheel and dashboard.
Some of the removed parts were stashed in the back seat, the others in a box.
This saga began a couple months ago when Brian's radiator exploded while on the way to Detroit to attend the temple. Unfortunately, said explosion occurred during rush hour and by the time he could pull over, the entire heating system was fried. (An unexpected blessing of temple attendance?)
And thus Brian embarked on a 12-step, multi-week process of restoring life to his car. My two favorites scenes in this drama include a) winning a free football at Napa Auto Parts and b) Brian's ingenious use of a mop handle to reroute something or other in the heating system. I mean, seriously, who else do you know who thinks to patch together a car with janitorial supplies? Even more, who else do you know who would be visionary enough to place a football in my hands?
Yes. This man of mine is truly remarkable.
And yes. He did eventually put the car back together again and it runs swimmingly. According to his report, out of the 125 screws he unscrewed initially, only 2 remained unaccounted for in the end.
Contrary to popular belief, the benefits of finishing a Ph.D. are quite over-rated. One benefit, however, rises to the top every time. It is this: Waking up each day knowing that no matter how grim life may be, I am under no real or imagined obligation to work on my dissertation. And that, my friends, is a priceless bit of perspective.
Given that I now have the ho-hum luxury of casually plopping down in front of my computer to write something decidedly non-scholarly, it seems high time to acknowledge the man who made it all possible: Mr. Brian R. C. Besides, in exchange for his magnanimous support during the final grueling months of dissertating, I eventually agreed to marry the man. (As my dowry, I offered him an autographed, hard-bound copy of my dissertation, which he politely declined.)
Brian and I met at a New Year's Eve party at a friend's house. The details on how this came to be remain a bit sketchy. Apparently, my friend invited Brian to come under the guise that I, an eligible, bachelorette, would be there. But she made no mention of this to me. I just remember that I was tired and cranky, and looked like death warmed over. That night Brian asked if he could call me and I, figuring he wouldn't actually call me, gave him my phone number.
The rest is history -- a history bespeckled with false starts, gallons of ice-cream, walks in the park, hours of schoolwork, and remarkable persistence (especially on Brian's part). This post, though, is dedicated to introducing Brian. More stories from our unconventional courtship may or may not be divulged in the future.
To spice up the introductions, let's play "three truths and a lie." Whoever, gets at least 90% may enter a drawing to win that hardbound, autographed copy of my dissertation -- a true collector's item. The game is simple: just choose the falsehood in each set of statements.
1.
a. Brian was born and raised in California.
b. He received his first work-related injury at age seven.
c. Growing up, milk was rationed, so Brian and his brothers bought their own milk.
d. He played wide-receiver on his high-school football team.
2.
a. Brian was a member of a prestigious children's choir in Argentina.
b. He once had a regular gig as the guitar-strummin', folk-singin,' heart-throb entertainer at the Friday night fish-fry at a private marina in Texas.
c. His music collection includes Def Leppard, John Denver, and the Mormon Tabernacle Choir.
d. As a boy, his piano teacher informed his mother that lessons were a complete waste of time and she should get him a guitar to replace the piano - the sooner, the better.
3.
a. Brian has worked as a contractor, a commercial construction supervisor, a custom carpenter, and as a worker on the "gut table" of a slaughterhouse.
b. He can fixanythingexcept for leaky faucets.
c. In his 40's, he went back to school to earn a B.A. in Psychology at Texas Tech, which naturally propelled him to law school in Michigan.
d. He works harder than anyone I know, regularly starting his day at 4:45 a.m.
4.
a. Every morning since February 15, 2010 (with the exception of four or five days when we were "broken up"), I have woken up to an email from Brian.
b. During the final semester of my dissertation, Brian cooked dinner, did the dishes, cleaned my house, kindly listened to untold hours of whining, and otherwise responded to my every need, over and over and over again.
c. After we had been "dating" for a few months, he had the audacity to ask me if it was "o.k. to say we were dating." Naturally, I informed him that we weren't actually "dating." (We were just seeing each other almost every day.)
d. As much as I've begged him to grow one, Brian refuses to sport a mustache.
5.
a. Brian is a good cook, especially when it comes to meat.
b. He speaks beautiful Spanish.
c. If you can't find him at a church activity, it's because he's in the kitchen doing dishes or somewhere else folding chairs.
d. He has valiantly upheld his determination to kiss his bride for the first time on the wedding day.
You may now correct your work.
The falsehoods: 1. d 2. c. 3. b (There isn't anything the man can't fix.) 4. d 5. d (Thank goodness!)
If all goes well, I'll submit my dissertation to my committee in ten days. It's been a long haul, a blistering, exhausting, questionable marathon, a mountain of prayers, and a basket overflowing with kindness from friends and family.
Yesterday, a dear friend brought over a small vial of lemon oil as her offering of support in these final, grueling days. It's a happy scent, surprisingly refreshing and energizing.
Some of my dear readers (all three of you at this point) might understandably wonder if Valentine's Day is a painful holiday for me. Seriously, how could it not be for a nearly-40-year-old-spinster whose main source of entertainment is writing a dissertation? Before you start sending me fruit baskets, yellow roses, and dark chocolate, however, allow me put your mind at rest. Rest assured -- I have had my share of romance, just not my share of weddings. Thus on this auspicious holiday, my mind and heart naturally incline to romantic days of yore and I am, as you will see, well satiated. Lest I bore you, I'll limit this account to my top 5 romantic moments. (And yes, these are all true stories.)
Note: Although this could be interpreted as a sarcastic rant, that is not my intention. I was laughing when I relived these moments and am hoping you will laugh, too (at me or with me, either one is fine).
5. I'm standing at the doorstep of a quaint yellow house where my beau is saying good-night after a lovely evening of dinner and dancing. He gets an awkward look on his face. My heart starts pounding as I sense the inevitable. "May I kiss you?" he asks. Thoroughly discombobulated by the situation, I grant permission. There is one small hitch. In the heat of the moment, I forget my native tongue and respond in Russian. The poor boy gets an even more awkward look on his face and plants an equally awkward smackeroo. The next day to reassure him of my undying affection, I help carry a recently hunted deer carcass into his grandma's house.
4. At BYU, my roommate happens to be one of the most desired co-eds on campus. One Friday night, a guy who is madly in love with her calls to ask her out on a date. Naturally, she already has a date and suggests that I might be available. When she hands the phone to me, he says, "Since (name of roommate) is busy, would you like to go out with me tonight?" I agree and we spend a wonderful evening making a cemetery out of snow (a row of "marble" headstones) in our yard. When we finish the graveyard, we carve a giant pumpkin to look like my roommate - the object of his true affection.
3. At a fancy-schmancy jewelry store, I'm picking out an engagement ring with a tall, debonair gentleman as the salespeople shower us with all kinds of attention and congratulations. After carefully considering a hundred options, I'm beaming as we find the perfect ring . . . for my sister.
2. I'm watching my first ever start-to-finish BYU football game with an attractive, but mysterious blind date. As I chatter away about my ignorance (and general disdain) for football, I ask him if he could possibly explain the rules of this silly sport to me. "As a matter a fact, I can," he says, "I used to be on the team." I spend the rest of the game trying to extract my big foot from my big mouth just before he takes me home on the back his motorcycle. 1. My "friend" and I had been dating seriously for a while and I was getting anxious for him to pop the big question. One night after attending an event of some sort, he suggests that we go to his office because he has a surprise for me. With a giddy smile the size of Texas, he fumbles around in his car for a brown paper sack. "You'll never guess what I have for you," he says. My imagination runs wild as I sit in his office waiting for him to "get a few things ready." "Could this truly be the moment?" I wonder. "When did he manage to buy the ring?" He unplugs the lamp from his office and carries it mysteriously to another room, signaling for me to follow him. This time, I flash him a smile the size of Texas. (I figured he needed the lamp since candles were probably against the fire code.)
We walk into the board room of his office where he invites me to sit down. The suspicious bag is on the table. "Anny," he says, "wait till you see what's in this bag. It's going to change your life." At this point, I'm nearly hyperventilating. "Will I say yes?" I frantically ask myself. Of course I'll say yes. I've been waiting for this moment my entire life.
At this point, he reaches into the bag, gazes into my eyes, and retrieves . . . a joystick. "I bet you haven't played PacMan since grade-school!" he announces triumphantly. We spend the rest of the evening watching our Pac-man guys eat pac-dots and power-pellets. "You're right," I say, "I never in a million years would have guessed."
- - - -
So you see, as the aforementioned evidence reveals, my life has not been lacking in the romance department. Besides, check out this valentine I received in the mail from the cub scouts the other day. Hallmark should definitely get their hands on this design.
I'm a professor at Gonzaga University in the School of Education. I love talking and teaching about language, literacy, and culture. For the past two decades, I've been lucky enough to work in immigrant and refugee education.
