Yesterday evening, my husband and I had a dinner appointment with friends from work and the boys needed to be at my sister's house by 5:15 to put us at the restaurant on time. Craig had been out getting his hair properly disheveled, when he called me from the car to make sure that I had my cell phone--which I never carry--charged and ready to take with us to dinner. I was puzzled, but guessed that his must be running out of juice and told him I was tossing it in my bag as we spoke.
When he blew in the door at five to the hour--not ten minutes after his call--his first duty was to ask where my phone was and I pointed to my purse by the door. "It's in here?" I nodded as he started rummaging for it. "And it's charged?" I rolled my eyes and headed back to the bedroom where I was getting dressed--not normally the last thing on the to-do list to get out the door, but with the addition of Spitty von Spitterson to the family, I hold off until the very last possible moment so as to preserve the non-sour-milky texture that I've come to appreciate in freshly laundered clothing.
Right then, my cell rang. And as I was certain that it was Craig, trying to make his point, I marched back to the living room to retrieve it for him, prove that it was in my bag and that it was, indeed, charged and at the ready. But as I went to hand him the phone he was surely calling, I noted that the number was not his and the area code was very wrong. So I answered it.
Me: Hello.
Them: Is this Kari?
Me: It is.
Them: Kari, this is Emily Falconbridge. And this is Tara Whitney. Do you know why we are calling you?
Me: (pause. digest.) Yeah. I think I do.
And that was when he snapped this picture and I knew exactly what he had done.
This past Tuesday, my sweet man and I hit the eleven-year mark. But after the hefty business/family road-trip to San Fran that brought us home on Monday night, we decided that best thing to do for the Big One-One was chill at home and get the kiddies back on a sleeping schedule. (So that momma and dad could get back on their sleeping schedule.)
At least, that's I what I thought we were going to do. But Craig had other plans.
First, he sprang some new clothing on me. That's not terribly strange for him--he has much better taste in clothing than I do. Then he alluded to "Part Two" of his plan (where I would be wearing the new clothes,) which wasn't all that unusual either--his surprises, both big and small, are generally in parts that unfold over time. He's very good at getting it all to come together--devising plans, making it happen and keeping secrets. And he loves to see it come off just as he has planned--it's like Christmas for him.
Even more special, more touching, more vital to me, is that he is really good at "getting" me. He just gets me. He listens when I talk and is somehow able to compile everything that I say--my joys, my frustrations, my worries, my dreams, my insecurities--and boil it down to what is true. He knows me better than I know myself. And he knows what I need, often long before I know I need it. And when he knows what I need, and that he can do something about it, it's done.
So when I mentioned a few weeks ago that photographic genius Tara Whitney and creative guru Emily Falconbridge had decided to take a small group of admirers on a Thailand retreat--well, he knew what to do. I'd only mentioned it because of Thailand, but he was way ahead of me. He didn't waste anytime before deciding that he needed to make fast friends with Emily and Tara and see what could be done to get my name added to the trip's roster. And after chatting back and forth in a string of emails--email threads that alternate between making me cry at the nice things he says about me and making me jealous that he is completely BFF with these two heroes of mine--nearly a month of such emails, they finally pinned down a time that the two of them could call me and let me in on the secret.
I would like to say that I was all cool and smooth and "dude" and chatty and such. But for most of the phone call I just wandered around the room, laughing instead of giving answers and looking like this:
Actually, I'm lying. I looked really horrible, because before long they started to talk about my great husband and what he had said and what he had done and I started to cry. Really cry. And I make crying look really bad. The ugly cry? Yeah--I invented that.
But he said such nice stuff. And worked so hard. And really thought that something like this is exactly what I needed. So I cried. Alot. I'll spare you the truly hideous shots--we'll just stick with these semi-out-of-focus that are a fair representation of the bulk, because while he did know to switch to the 50 mm fixed lens for being indoors, he didn't open the aperture up, which is what the fixed is all about. And all I can say is "thank goodness"--you do not want to see the ugly cry in focus.
Oh, yeah--and I was only half-dressed, hence the exclusive headshots. Let's hear it for blur!
Most of the experience was me sounding very much like a dork, with random bits of nervous and near inaudible laughter.
I know I said something about their voices--at one point, Emily's accent was more than I could handle. It is so effortlessly creamy and intellectual all at the same time. If she'd been talking about quantum physics, I would have taken notes. And Tara's voice is deeper than I would have expected--comforting, warm and deep, with a nice woodsy finish. Like I imagine my voice when I hear myself speak, except that I've heard myself on playback and it's not that way at all. Especially when I get nervous and laugh, then it gets really high. Like a chipmunk. On helium. Just ask Tara--she's heard it.
And then there was Honey's line from Notting Hill (when she first met Anna Scott) that kept running through my head, and it has never been more fitting for my exact situation:
"This is one of those key moments in life, when it's possible you can be really, genuinely cool--and I'm going to fail a hundred percent. I absolutely and totally and utterly adore you and I think you're the most beautiful wom(e)n in the world and more importantly I genuinely believe and have believed for some time now that we could be best friends. What do you think?"
In fact, now that I think about it, I believe that I said something to the effect of failing at being really cool--maybe even a couple of times. Dork. But the sentiment there is right. And one would guess that with my husband already making it into their inner circle, I should get in by marriage alone. At least right up until the moment that they discover that he's the really cool one and I'm the goober he allows to galump along in his shadow. I figure I've got three months to become as cool as Mister Super Hero over here, so that I don't let anyone down, even if those are mighty big shoes to fill.
Either way, dork or no, I've got a spot on the trip of the decade, where I get to follow around two of my idols and learn at their feet and force myself to focus on the talents that I know are in there somewhere. I get to take a break from being a mommy and housewife to focus on refilling my wells--physically, creatively, socially, culturally. And I get to do it in Thailand. Sigh.
Thank you, Tara and Emily for such an incredible opportunity.
And thank you, Craig, for taking such good care of this heart of mine, yet again. Love you, babe.
eck! i am SO SO SO SO jealous and SO SO SO SO SO (notice more so's here) excited for you.
talk to you soon.
Posted by: nichole | July 05, 2008 at 11:25 AM
oh my goodness this was SO FUN to read! i am totally linking it up on my blog. you are gorgeous-even crying! :)
Posted by: tara | July 06, 2008 at 11:34 AM
How fun for you!
Posted by: Angie | July 07, 2008 at 02:04 PM
Wow, Thailand. That's even cooler than Coldplay. Those pictures are great!
Posted by: Kelly | July 08, 2008 at 12:21 PM
i can't wait to hug you :)
Posted by: em | July 08, 2008 at 11:47 PM
such a great story.
your words could have been MY words...how i feel like my intellectual and social capabilities stop when i start dealing with em and tara. what the hell is up with that. so no worries. you will be far, be the coolest of the two of us on the trip.
kimberly
Posted by: Kimberly | July 12, 2008 at 04:27 PM