Dear Lady,

In the words of Wesley, from The Princess Bride: As you wish.
Of course I never intend to turn what's an act of love from you into something from for our children. I may, however, admittedly, be a little over protective of you, your time, and your feelings. Which is never necessarily a good thing to be, because it requires a lot of inference on my part. Like Mr. Arrow in A Muppet Treasure Island:

Me: "You—you were responsible for swabbing the deck. Fifty lashes and then you walk the plank"
You (as Captain Smollet): "Um, I didn't say that Mr. Arrow."
Me: "Of course. I was anticipating your whim, sir."

So I apologize for sabotaging your act of love. That was not my intention.
You're a great mother. I hope my stumblings don't veil that from our children.

.a Boy

Dear Boy,

I was sad that the boys were sent to bed early last night. My intention in tidying their room is never that they will be punished for it. My intention is to show love. Instead, I think they probably resent my act of service. They probably think they're in trouble because I had better things to do than spend time in their room, like you told them. This probably conjures an image of me huffing around their room, disgruntled by how disgusting and slobby they are. It's true that I am disgruntled at times when I find old food or paperwork that should have been signed and returned or wrecked library books, but that's not as common as you might expect. 

They probably don't know that it brings me so much joy to do something for them, that I choose to clean their messes because I love them. I hope that they appreciate that I give my time to serve them, but I'm fairly certain that punishing them for my unsolicited service invites resentment instead of gratitude. What was a surprise given with love turns into a pretty awful event and that pains me. 

When I was a young girl, I used to come home from school sometimes and find my mom had cleaned up my room.  She knew how to make my bed and organize my clothes in a way that I could never duplicate. Usually I would find a note on my pillow expressing love. And yes, shame on me for having a room in need of cleaning, but I learned something priceless from finding a magically clean room. It's not something that always happened and I remember getting in trouble sometimes for my mess as well, but I remember much more vividly the way I felt and the way my room felt after my mom had spent time in there.  I want to do that for our kids. It's not that I don't want them to be responsible. It's not that I don't expect them to learn to care for their things and contribute to our house management. I don't always clean their room, but when I do, let's leave it at that.  

L

Dear Boy,

Sam really struggled with sleep this morning, so after my shower I went and got him out of bed. Now he's asleep in my arms and I could honestly hold him all day. I waited a long time for him and gave up hope that he was coming.  He is such a gift and a miracle.  As my last baby, I want to relish this. I want to always remember what it's like to have a little one. I feel so protective of him. It was gut-wrenching to have him circumcised, especially when we brought him back to the room and I could see up close how traumatized he was. It's painful to be a parent; more painful than just being a human. But it's also a lot more joyful and fun. I love this life with you and our kids. 

You're so wonderful. You are such a good friend to our kids. You help me all the time. You do so much to make our lives full and our home somewhere that we all love to be. You are so kind to stay by me and be a friend to me even though sometimes I'm a disappointment. I am so grateful for you. I'm so amazed by you. I love you more than my heart ever thought it could love. 

Lady

Dear Lady,

Life has been pretty crazy recently, huh?
Or maybe life is just always crazy and we only stop to acknowledge it every now and again. That's probably more likely the case.
We've definitely been blowing through our money pretty fast with all of these projects, but our house has come an incredibly long way because of it. And all in the span of about a month-and-a-half. It's been worth it though. Like I'm always saying, money is for spending anyway. What good is it if all we do is hold onto it?
On a small financing note, we've spent about $50 on product, but I think we've successfully eliminated the more problem in the coop. I think. It seems like a ghost town in there. The older coop, however, is beginning to develop an infestation of its own. It's not pretty. I guess I'll start using some of this spray in there as well. I was also trying to figure out how I could transition the chickens from one coop to another, eventually, with a night in between to prevent them carrying some over. Like putting them in dog cages one night, outside any coop, and then finally transitioning them. Maybe it would work. Or maybe the annoyance of mites will simply be with us forever.
It's nice to have fresh eggs, but it's also nice to not have to constantly worry about mites. The requirement of using an insecticide, or diatomaceous earth, etc is pretty far removed from my farming ideal. I wonder what families did about mites back in the day. Burned the coop down?
Well, I love you. You're amazing and I think that more and more every day. Please stay forever. The Farmer Mur to my Farmer Mitch :)

.a Boy

Dear Boy,

Yep. Detroit together sounds good. First though, let's go to Philly. I read about a treat they call water ice. Essentially, it's Italian ice but better. So we should find some while we're there. And maybe we can stop at those National historic buildings and find them open this time. I really would like going anywhere with you and I like to stay home with you, too. 

And I feel lucky to have Sam. I am so excited to finally meet him after feeling him move for many, many months. It'll be fun to have another little baby and to watch him grow and see our other kids interact with him. 

I almost have this changing table put together. It's taken me most of the day. And I don't think I'll finish it before tonight. Auburn's spent her time upstairs with me. And I can see a mess in every direction. Puzzle on our bedroom floor. Wrapping paper on the baby's floor. Makeup in the doorway to the bathroom. Stickers and coloring books on the bathroom floor. More coloring books on the hope chest in our room. And crayons that she left in front of the shower and then Luna started to eat, so there is colorful wax confetti leading out from the bathroom. 

I need to go pick up Gerret now. Damian asked to come back to our house (I just talked on the phone with them). I said we're busy for the rest of the day (which we are). So he asked if he could come over tomorrow. We're busy tomorrow, too. Geez. 

It'll be so nice to see you again. We're all counting down the hours. 

Dear Lady,

Almost done. By midnight tomorrow we'll be together again, and what a relief that will be. Though, I will miss parts of this adventure (but not nearly as much as I've missed you and the kids).
It's an interesting thing to love home so much, but to also love travel so much. At times it's a beautiful coupling, and at other times quite a frustrating one.
I think, though, that i'd like to bring you and the family back to Detroit sometime. Just for a little weekend. Just to walk along the riverfront together, see the high rises, and go to the few local sites. It's not the most amazing place ever, but it's close enough to us that it's worth sharing with you guys.
So what do you say? Come to Detroit with me sometime?
Not soon. We've got Sam on the way, after all.
And about Sam—I can't wait for you to be a mom again. Sam will be the luckiest kid born this September!

.a Boy

Dear Boy,

Thanks for all the surprises this week. It's been fun. I would rather have you here, but you do a nice job of making life enjoyable even when you're not around. We're surviving, but definitely looking forward to Friday. These kids of ours sure do love you. 

I'm tired and not feeling that good. I just remembered that tomorrow is garbage pick up. So hopefully I make it out there in the morning before they come.  

Those twelve years passed quickly. It seems like I just married you. And it also seems like we've been married forever. Another paradox of life. I took a leap of faith back then. It's not like I knew you that well or could have known what life would be like for us, but if I could choose again, knowing what I do now and seeing what I see or have seen, I would marry you again. Even more eagerly than I did the first time. I love you, boy. You mean so much to me. My heart is full when I think of you and when I am with you. This week, I'm mostly thinking of you. Come home safely. 

L

Dear Lady,

I miss you.
An adventure just isn't the same without you.
That said, I want you to know that I haven't squandered my time here wallowing in loneliness. I figured I was going to be lonely regardless, so I might as well be lonely while I was out and about. So I've been out and about. Still, probably not as out and about as we are when we're all together on some grand escapade, but enough that I won't look back and regret a missed opportunity.
Detroit has been alright. Well, actually, Detroit has been pretty cool. Some of the training veterans have said this is one of the prettiest locations they've been sent to. Which isn't to say that a few miles out Detroit isn't pretty awful. It is. There are a couple of Detroit natives in my group who've confirmed that while this small area is quite pretty, Detroit as a whole is in pretty rough shape. I've asked how far out you need to go to get into bad areas and they said not very far—less than a few miles. So I guess it was a wise choice to not wander too far off the beaten path (I just misspelled 'path' and it autocorrected to 'Ptb'!).
Anyway, I'm having a decent time, but I'm quite anxious to be home again. I thought about the Empire Farm Days that're going on right now and I thought: That would have been a preferable memory to me, than this one alone.
I love you.

.a Boy

Dear Boy,

You offer some amazing pain relief.  Thank you for gifting me that. I'm looking forward to a much better day than yesterday. You do that to me. Even though the bathroom flooded and our pantry is in the dining room. These things happen.  I suppose they make life interesting; they are the ingredients for a good story. Otherwise, our morning wouldn't have had much of a story and probably not any sex either. 

It's neat how we slowly figure out how to do stuff. Like consistent family nights and how to keep the house clean. Hopefully someday we'll figure out gardening. And food preservation. 

I love to have this life with you. We share something wonderful. It makes our home a good place to be. And even though we're not perfect parents and we're not completely satisfied with our current circumstance, I think our kids have a good life and a good place to call home. I don't think it would be so good if you and I didn't love each other the way we do. I look forward to you every day. I think of you when you're away. 

So, I'm not looking forward to this weekend much. We have to divide in order to meet every demand. I wish you didn't have to miss Nolan's marching band. I'm proud of him for the effort he's put into learning and playing music. He will do well with his guitar playing. I, however, am not excited about playing in the recital.  I'll be among a very few adults and I just don't like performing or speaking, which brings me to the last reason I'm not looking forward to this weekend. I have to speak in sacrament meeting.  So sad. I'll be relieved when Sunday night arrives. 

Also, I looked for the other wheelbarrow that hopefully is not broken, but I couldn't find it. Maybe it's outside the basement kitchen door?  We have a lot of wood to move. Did you get those pallets to put a stack on?

I'm sitting in the living room at my parents' and I'm listening to Mindy do strength exercises with my dad and it sounds good. She's so kind and encouraging to my dad it makes me feel like crying. I'm pregnant though, so that's a common feeling. But in all seriousness, this girl has been sent from Heaven. What a blessing for my dad and for me... It's why I'm sitting with my feet up in the living room. 

That's all for my wandering thoughts today. 

I love you. 

L

Dear Lady,

Happy Birthday! A most happy of birthdays to you!
I hope your day has been well. I am glad to hear that, as a gift, the heavens granted you a seminary test that worked. Perhaps it just wasn't available to take yesterday? In any case I'm glad it was a relief to you rather than a burden on this special day.
I hope Auburn gave you your gift. She was pretty proud about it. She even thought to do it on her own—no prodding from me. I sure am glad when these kids of ours remember to treat you as special as you are.
Don't you find that we offer each other gratitude a lot in these letters? We sure are grateful for one another.
I'm sitting at work right now and it's finally raining well and I find myself hoping that it's finally raining well at home too. Our plants need it. Especially the beans which I didn't get a chance to water. And it reminds me that I need to make another chicken feeder for the side of the pens with the chicks. They can't keep eating out of the little box out there forever. Actually, I'll add it to my to-do list right now so that I don't forget.
It's nice to be productive. I've been feeling very productive for the past week or so. It's a wonderful feeling to work and accomplish and then sit back and enjoy the fruits of your accomplishments—which reminds me! I turned on the dehumidifier downstairs. If you think of it it could probably use emptying already; it smelled pretty damp down there. Be careful on the stairs though, because the door doesn't open real well due to the dog food and it could try flopping down on you as you're going up or down the stairs.
I'm super bummed out about the broody hens. It seemed like such a perfect solution only to turn into not the perfect solution. I don't really know what the solution is. Right now I just hope we hatch something out. I really hope we hatch something out. Somethings out. It would be a real disappointment to start all over again with another three week wait. I suppose then they'd still be chicks when my parents came, but then they'd be chicks when we left on vacation.
Bytheway, have you talked to Olivia about house sitting yet? That would be ideal. I also just found out that parking costs money at the Marriott we'll be at—to the tune of about $250 for the week. Crazy, right!? The only thing I can think is that they're primarily for conferences so they expect most clients are flying in so they have limited parking and charge dearly for it. That's my only guess, because that cost is crazy!
Did you'd see the new chicken fence in the light of day? The pen looks great because it's so green in there, but I don't know how long that's going to last. It'll all be brown before too long . . .
I sure love this farming sort of work. Though I'm not sure it's farming I like so much as just the feeling of working for oneself and providing for oneself in a way that surpasses money. Not that we'd get rich in so doing, but that there's a deeper satisfaction in not leaving such tasks to others. . . . I'm not even sure that's it. I'm not sure what I'm grasping at, or thinking of. I just find a peace and an assurance in homesteading work that I don't find in other things. Travel and adventure are more thrilling, to be sure. They're tantalizing in a way that farm work isn't, but they're also flashes in the pan (there's a phrase for you—and, yes, the phrase you used in your letter is an actual phrase too) and leave me unsatisfied in the end. Or, not unsatisfied, but needing more quickly. They're like a sugar rush. They're great for a moment, but you couldn't ever love on it. Likewise I think that farm work is harder, and less exhilarating, but it is satisfying on a deeper, longer lasting, level. I can wrap my head around a life of farming and community but, as you know, it's always been hard for me to do the same for travel and adventure. I think that's okay though. I think that's as it should be. I think travel and adventure really ought to be sparing parts of our life because you can't really build much around them. They're fun, and they'll always be fun things, but in the end what I have are just my own stories. When I work a farm, and build a community I have my own stories, but I also have the lives of those I've touched and helped build to look upon with joy and satisfaction.
Does that make sense?
Anyway, happy birthday. I know you like to know what's on my mind so I thought I'd just ramble on here, rather ineloquently. These are the things I'm thinking.
Oh, and I'm thinking we should have birthday sex too.
Just sayin'.

.a Boy

Dear Boy,

I'm administering the seminary test and the online version seems to be miraculously working. Phew. That was a headache. 

Anyway, I thought I'd write you on my birthday, because I want you to know that I love my life.  I love this earth. I love people. I love my family. I appreciate all of the experiences I've had and the great teachers they have each been to me. I think of life as my good friend and I honor it. And I'm so blessed to have you as a central part of my life. You make every day special and the special days a step above. You even help me to tolerate the difficult days, like earlier this week when I was rolling around in pain and successfully vomited and peed at the same time. 

I know life isn't what you thought it would be and we aren't where we hoped we would be by now, but I think it's been pretty great anyway, even with setbacks and disappointments and frustration. We live in an amazing place.  I love our little house surrounded by green fields. We have wonderful kids. They are so patient with us and so unique. They have helped us laugh for many years now. I love all the funny projects that we've attempted together. We burned wood all winter. And we dug a big hole in the side yard. We worked really hard to make the back room livable. Remember how my dad cut down the old pantry walls with a chainsaw?  We cut down that half-dead Maple tree and it sat fallen in the front yard for almost a year. And now we have a driveway there. You marry people now. It's like a side job. We've had surreal experiences in hospitals. We go out to the woods or into the mountains when we're in Utah and there find a new lease on life (isn't that a phrase?). We go on other adventures in cities and towns. Like standing in a snowstorm on the Empire State Building. And finding fishing signs in Corning. We've been together in so many places and I've loved all of them and I've loved you in all of them. 

Thank you for helping my life to be great. I love you. 

L

Dear Lady,

Thanks for last night.

Our date, I mean.

The one where we went to dinner and then went for a walk.

Thanks for later last night too.

And thanks for this morning.

And really just thank you for every moment of my life since I met you. 

Or since you met me.

I think I'd say that I met you first--I did initiate that first epic-fail of a conversation.  

Everything turned out okay in the end though.

Better than okay.

I have never had a relationship anything like what I have with you.  

I think that every morning when I wake.  

And every morning when I climb back into bed with you at 6:10am (though I was a couple minutes late this morning).  

There's not a day that I don't recognize and feel grateful for the fact that you could have ended up with someone else, but are here with me.

You are my great muse. 

My great solace.

My grandest smiles.

So thank you for all of that.

For every moment.

And thank you for last night.

.a boy

Hi Boy,

It's exciting to have a pond forming in the back yard. Maybe we should catch some turtles and frogs from my parents' to put in it once it's filled. I'm so thankful to Brother Murray for spending his time and resources to dig it for us. I think the pond would almost never have gotten done without him. I say almost because I assume it would eventually somehow happen, but not for a very, very long time. 

Thank you for the uke. It's been such a boost to my health during a time that's been very trying. It brings me joy and gives me motivation when I'm feeling down and motionless. 

You're sleeping on the couch next to me and I'm listening to the boys play Star Wars Legos together and they've been laughing and giggling lots. They don't do this too often, so I'm really enjoying their camaraderie. My dream for them since they were babies together is that they would be friends through their lives and that they would grow up to depend on each other for support and fun and love. And I've often felt disappointed that it hasn't seemed to work out, but on afternoons like today when I see a glimpse of their friendship, I think there may still be hope. They're really great kids. I'm lucky to be their mom. 

I am pretty sensitive to the way women are portrayed in media, not necessarily because I, myself am so offended by the stereotypes and objectification that happen, but because I don't want Auburn to identify with a lot (or any) of it. So, the way women are illustrated is especially noticeable because illustration  depends so much (solely?) on stereotypes and objectification, otherwise they do risk becoming androgynous. I'm not opposed to androgyny, but when you're trying to tell a story with pictures I recognize the need for identifying traits. The reason I think older art (your examples were Renaissance and Egyptian) didn't include stereotypes so much is those artists were focused on realism. In reality, men and women don't look that different on the surface... Especially in a culture like the Egyptians' where men and women dressed similarly and even both wore makeup and jewelry.  Illustrators aren't trying to be real, I don't think. They aren't drawing from life. They're drawing from ideas. Whelp. I rambled about that a bit; now I'm done. Ha ha.  

I love you. I'm grateful to you. I don't know how I'd live without you. 

L

Dear Lady,

So I've been trying to improve my drawing skill set lately. Not sure why—just have been.
Anyway, I have specifically been trying to learn to draw women. Over the course of my drawing and doodling life I have never really been able to effectively illustrate a female character. Males, easy. Aliens, sure. Animals, no problem. I can draw anything, really, other than a woman. I mean a stick figure woman, okay, but that's not really a female character—that's just a stick figure win some curly lines on top and maybe a triangle skirt. It's not truly effeminate.
Or, at least I didn't think it was.
So I've been looking at illustrations online. I've been looking up illustrating instructions specific to women. I've been paying closer attention to female figures in cartoons and in comics. And you know what I found out? It turns out that the difference between female and male illustrations are a series of brain encoded stereotypes that aren't necessarily true to real life. The illustrator isn't necessarily trying to mimic reality as much as they're trying to trip the right amount of encoded ideals to make your brain think that's it's female:

•long lashes
•rounded facial features
•small chins
•thick lips
•long, thin necks
•long hair
•bigger eyes
•thin hips
•breasts

These are just some of the ideas you find espoused in discussions on how to draw the female character. You'll notice that most of these features could be attributed to some men, or are not possessed at all by some women. Yet when they are placed down on paper our brain tells us this is a woman. It makes me wonder how long our brains have been trained this way.
In earlier Renaissance or even older Egyptian illustrations these stereotypes are not present. In Egypt the women looked very much like the men in pictures, with perhaps only their breasts to distinguish them. In Renaissance work there was quite a bit more true-to-form illustration with many women being quite round all over—none of the small chins, or hips, or necks present (but we still see them as women). So when did it start?
What's even more interesting is that in simpler, smaller comic illustrations you find the artist doesn't have room for all of these items. Usually it gets limited to breasts, hips, (maybe) long hair, and a long, thin neck. We still see them as clearly female characters, but there's really not a lot there to distinguish them from the illustrated males. One thing I've been doing is using my fingers to cover up hair, or their bodies just to see how my brain reacts.
Wouldn't you know it, when certain encoded ideals are covered the illustration becomes quite quickly androgynous. It's really fascinating to me.
In the comic book about comic book that I got for Nolan, Scott McCloud has this interesting passage where he discusses this idea. He doesn't make mention specifically of men and women, but he discusses the encoding of our brain and our brains desire to make sense of things. He begins with a photo of a man, then moves to a realistic drawing, then a comic style illustration, then a really simplistic illustration, then a stick figure face, and then an electrical outlet. He points out that, all along the way, we never stop seeing a face. Even though the outlet isn't a face, our brain makes it a face. It meets the right amount of encoded points and it's a face.
Aren't our brains crazy?
Anyway, I'm still a long way off from being able to illustration women in a manner satisfactory to myself, but I've found the exercise quite challenging and interesting.
Now I'm going to be coming upstairs to crawl into bed with you for a few minutes.
I love you.

.a boy

Dear Lady,

A very happy Mother's Day to my best friend who doesn't recognize Mother's Day as a holiday!
You have been an incredible parent to these three small children and you'll only be more of the same (and even better) when we welcome our fourth. I'm so grateful that our children have you as a loving example. I'm so grateful that they seem to trust your love and kindness.
I hope that I, as your partner in parenthood, do more to support than to burden. I often feel so inadequate as a father (last night was no exception) and I often look to you and the example you set to right my wrongs. When I feel I'm veering off course I use you as a waypoint to re-plot myself and try again for love and patience. You've really no idea the righteous influence you are in my life. 
So happy Mother's Day to you! This is only a brief note to reassure you of my love and admiration for you as my friend, as my wife, as a mother, and as a person. You are incredible. 

.Patrick

Dear Lady,

I am always sorry to hear of you unwell: whether emotionally, physically, or spiritually. You are a powerhouse of goodness in my life and in the lives of all those you meet. You constantly drain yourself on behalf of others and the world is significantly better because of it.
I never mean to burden you with my own thoughts or concerns, but I am always grateful for any opportunity to just sit and talk with you. I value your thoughts and opinions above all others. You are, forever, my better half. You make me constantly strive to be better just by being in my life.
I included the picture at top to remind you of the beautiful moments in our lives; to remind you of those times when we can breathe deeply of beauty around us. I love to take these moments with you: to walk, to explore, to sit, and to wonder. What a beautiful family we have built up around just the idea that you and I love each other and how grateful I am for the miracle baby on it's way.
I was surprised to hear you say you wanted an ultrasound, but I understand why you want it. Will you also, then, want to know the gender?
I was glad to hear about your positive conversation with Deb about becoming a midwife. I love to see you in love with an idea. I am looking forward to helping you pursue your goal however I can. You'll make a great nurse midwife. You'll make a great anything (and you make a great scrambled egg . . . )
I hope you find reason to laugh and smile today. I hope I'm one of those reasons. I hope you are upstairs resting well and I hope to see you soon.

.a boy

Dear Boy,

You know, when I got in your car that first time, I didn't have a real expectation. I was a little bit curious, but I wasn't expecting anything beyond the usual awkward night with free food. That's what dates were to me. Now dates are usually a walk with you through a town or city where we see new things and probably say new things and sometimes see old things and say old things too. 

Actually that first date wasn't the expected awkward (though I did get free food, but now that we share our resources, was that really free to me??). We've had many more dates because of that first one, because we're good together, because I always hoped for more time with you, because I felt something unidentifiable but also undeniable that night. Since then I've identified it as love and it's become its own thing.

You know, I think life is a happiness project. We try to figure out how to be happy, how to make other people happy, how God is happy. And I think happiness has a lot to do with balance. It's about finding joy in small moments and everyday tasks and loving life as it is currently constituted, but also making plans for and working toward improvement and change. It's a paradox about being happy with life right now and wanting to change it at the same time. It's about giving of myself as a sacrifice for others and being selfless with my time and resources, but also respecting myself enough to listen to my own heart and paying attention to my own needs. It's about finding quiet and being at peace. It's about introspection and soft sounds.  Often it's also about raucousness and a heavy beat and laughing so hard the tears come. It's about being authentic and making ourselves vulnerable, but it's also about being temperate and knowing when to restrain ourselves. It's about enjoying sex, but not to the point of perversion. It's about delighting in the taste and texture of food, but not to the point of gluttony. It's about being creative, but also practical. It's about appreciating aesthetics, but also paying attention to function. It's about needing money, but also not needing money. It's about opening my arms wide to life and whatever it presently offers, no matter how exultingly joyous or how much my heart is breaking (can you be happy while your heart is breaking?  I think the answer is yes).  Happiness has a lot to do with gratitude and maybe some to do with humor. I guess happiness is kind of confusing, or just difficult. I guess that's why I started by saying life is a happiness project. 

In that case, thanks for being a part of my happiness project. You make some things easy. And you make me laugh about your dumb webinar. You are everything to me. 

L

Dear Lady,

I'm deep in the midst of an awesome webinar. Now, I recommend that you read this again in as sarcastic a tone as you can imagine: I'm deep in the midst of an awesome webinar.
. . .
Sorry, it's so awesome that it won't just play all the way through. I have to keep clicking continue after each slide. That's what that inserted pause was. I've done everything I can to find a
. . .
"continuous play" button but I haven't
. . .
found anything.
I always fee like they make these webinars for elementary school students. Even then though they're a little pandering. I know that, in reality, they've made these for adults who've been in this career field for a while
. . .
which is a frightening prospect when you think about it really. If you have so great faith in your workers, why speak to them this way? And, if you NEED to speak to them this way, then you NEED new employees.
. . .
It's about Green building.
. . .
. . .
. . .
. . .
Sorry—had to take a quick quiz.
This is stupid information. Turn off and unplug everything when you're not using it. Always put plug in bathtub before filling and only fill halfway. Line dry clothes. Fix leaks.
I mean, really. We needed a webinar for this? And it's a $200 webinar.
What!?
Here's how we can save time and money:
. . .
Don't make us sit in front of a computer for three hours listening to someone recite common sense back to us.
Anyway, these kinds of things are always unbelievable.

I hope the van drove alright for you. I really couldn't believe how bad the rotors looked. I really can't believe that Goodyear didn't say anything. They noticed the alignment and suggested a repair, but they didn't notice that the brakes and rotors are rusty beyond all belief?
. . .
I feel like this webinar is putting me in a bit of a bitter mood. Not my intention.
So let me change tack this way: I love you. I have been growing in love with you from the moment you first got in my car.
. . .
I'm looking forward to hanging out with you and Caitlin and Josh tonight. They may not always provide the conversation we're looking for, but they've been good friends. I really do look forward to their company. I really enjoy how much you laugh when they're with us.
I'll see you tonight!

.a boy

Dear Boy,

I read your latest note while I waited in my car for my ticket this morning. Add boundary pushing to my list of quirks, I guess. But seriously, thank you for always loving me so well. Thank you for rubbing my neck when I have a headache. Thank you for notes and flowers. Thank you for making me laugh. Thank you for forgiving me. 

Oh, I love you so much. There is nothing so comfortable as getting in bed with you at night and waking up next to you in the morning. There is no adventure that I want to go on without you. You just make my life. In a lot of ways, you are my life. 

Lady 

Dear Lady,

The thrill of meeting and dating and falling in love is amazing. I have such very energetic memories of that time in our lives— a whirlwind few months in the spring and summer of 2004.
But you know what struck me yesterday? As we were getting ready for bed last night?

I was finishing up downstairs, brushing teeth, etc. and I noticed those dangerously loose sweatpants on the floor. I picked them up to bring upstairs and noticed that red shirt of mine—the one you'd worn the previous night for a pajama—so I picked that up too, and I thought, "I'd better take this up to Lindsay in case she wants to sleep in it again. She does seem to prefer something about my shirts over her own."
No sooner had I finished this thought then another, happier thought occurred to me, and I thought, "I love the little quirks and traits that I know about you. I love those things that only I know. I loved the passion of meeting and falling in love, but I love this even more. I love that I know you like to sleep in my shirts. I love that I know you occasionally talk in your sleep—just like your daughter. I love knowing that driving to Ithaca makes you recklessly tired sometimes. I love knowing that you hate washing silverware but not pots and pans while I hate them oppositely. I love knowing that more often than not if you're on your phone you're on Facebook or Instagram."
Do you know what I mean? I love all of these little things that have become mine alone to know. These little elements of you that are unknown to the rest of the world. This is the beauty of love and relationship.
Thank you for stumbling this road with me.
I love you.

.Patrick

Dear Lady,

As I'm typing this I'm looking at my thumbs and I sustained cuts on each in the course of the past few days. On my left thumb I cut it open with a knife while cutting cheese last week. It was stupid. I should have seen the injury coming; I am an Eagle Scout after all. My right hand is even worse and an even dumber cut. It was a sausage injury. The last two sausages in the package were frozen together and in attempting to get them apart my fingers slipped and I dug a deep cut across the back of my thumb.
So there you are, two things you probably didn't know about me (other than you knew I had worn a couple bandages).
I had a beautiful time hiking with you and the kids yesterday. That's a rather lovely little place isn't it? I'm always amazed that it's vacant pretty much every time we've ever been there. It's unbelievable that if you make a location just a little difficult to get you it weeds out visitors almost entirely. I mean, it's a good thing for us, but a sad commentary on humanity in general.
Anyway, that was a tangent. I just wanted to say thank you for going out there with me. I had a really good time. It was nice to be in the woods and just relax and be inspired. I'm always trying to "be" some kind of person that I am idealizing at the moment. Whether an explorer, a filmmaker, a farmer, etc. Yesterday I enjoyed an entire day where I, miraculously, wasn't fettered by any of that. I just woke up to it. It was so nice. I just woke up and felt like I was in love with the day. I went on that hike and was simply in love with the woods, and my kids, and my beautiful wife.
I love you so much.
Here's a haiku I wrote while we were down at the bottom of the ravine:

A rippling bubbling
tumbling sound down the canyon
waterfall to the ground

Actually I'm just now realizing that the last line has too many syllables. I'm going to get in the shower and try and fix it and then when I get out I'll try and correct it and finish off this letter to you . . .

. . .



A rippling bubbling
tumbling sound laughing giggling
and splashing around.


.boy

Dear Boy,

I'm supposed to be gathering documents at my parents house so I can scan and email them to a social worker before they're due Sunday, but I've been avoiding it since 9 and now it's 11. I did make yogurt and take Auburn to school. And look through a Kohls catalog and use the bathroom an untold number of times. And eat pie and bagels and drink lots of milk and some grape juice. And dink. My parents and Kathy are at a doc appointment. I ate too much. Don't feel so well. Anyway. I will probably rush to get all the papers in my last 20 minutes here.  I'll have to do the scanning at our house. Oh well. Procrastination is my demon. 

I still like playing thumb soccer. I think it's funny that my guys are always falling over and running off the field and passing to the goal keeper and all that. And I just like to do stuff with you.  Lots of stuff. 

Love, 

Lady

Dear Lady,

Well, soccer was fun while it lasted. I'm sorry it didn't last a little longer but it was a fun something to do for the last week. I've tried it a couple of times without you: once against the computer and once with the kids, but it was never quite as satisfying as it was when we were playing it.
So what are we going to do now?
We're out of shows.
We don't much care for movies too often.
Video games aren't the way to go.
Maybe we need to do a better job of spending some of that time improving ourselves—you practicing ukulele and me practicing . . . Something. Piano? Not really sure for me.
Anyway, you're a real dream. It's not the most awesome thing in the world to be stuck at home every night—but it's an infinitely better prospect to be there with you. To be honest I would choose to spend every evening at home with you than spend every night on some grand adventure alone. For you are my grand Adventure.
I have loved seeing this country with you and I look forward to seeing the world with you. Life is long and we've got plenty of it left. Someday we won't have the luxury of spending evenings at home with our children safely tucked away. Let's enjoy it while we have it. And I'm also going to make a more concerted effort to enjoy these moments even when it's Nolan coming upstairs at the most inopportune of times.
Though I'd prefer to spend those times alone with you ;)

.A Boy

Dear Boy,

One thing I really appreciate about our letter writing is it can overcome our alertness opposition. As in, you are alert in the morning and often write to me then, when you otherwise couldn't communicate with me (as I am generally dead to the world at that time). I sometimes write to you at night long after you have drifted to sleep. But you don't really drift to sleep, do you?  It's more of a violent fall. 

Thanks for inviting me to play thumb soccer with you. It has been fun. I love to do things with you and laugh with you. And I like soccer. 

I'm home today. And I have a grand plan of cleaning stuff. Like everything. I may be asking too much of myself, but that's better than asking too little. I talked to my grandma yesterday about the chickens finally and she said she would like 3 Buff Orpingtons. I think I remember that's what you got extra of. 

I'm planning to be a good gardener this year. In conjunction with that goal is that I am going to dig a pond. What do you think I about the idea of lining the pond with big rocks to keep the mud down?  I just had that idea yesterday. Maybe that's too much work. My ideas generally involve inordinate amount of impractical labor. But we do have a U shaped driveway because of that, huh?  

I love you. And I miss you when you are gone. 

L

Dear Lady,

Listening to you laugh, in near hysterics, as we played FIFA '11 last night was worth the $5 I paid for the game (and so much more). Admittedly I just like the experience of a new video game in general, but playing with you was so much more fun than playing any game on my own. I just love seeing you smile and hearing you laugh (I'd pay any price for such an evening—at only $5 last night was a super-bargain!).
I happened to run into Olivia last night when I dropped stuff off at your mom's and she said that Ollie's family taps sugar maples. I guess Ollie's dad just built a sugaring shack. Go figure, huh? Maybe I can talk to him sometime about all of my questions.
Oh, and I'm not sure where their grey van was because Olivia was there but the van wasn't . . .
I was sorry to hear, in your last letter, that you've been struggling with depression again. I hope that it's never anything I do that encourages your depression. Of course my intent would be to alleviate every obstacle that feeds depression in anyone, and especially in you. I hope that if you haven't entirely overcome it we can do so together. I know that neither of us wants to spend another five years like we've spent the last eight. Not that all of the past eight years have been difficult. Quite to the contrary right? It's more the confinement we've each felt subjected to: you at home and me at work in a field and employ I don't much care for.
I love your new idea and trajectory for yourself. I am anxious to help you along this path in anyway I can. I'm still not entirely sure what it is is like to spend each day doing, but I now that I would love to spend my days helping you achieve this dream for yourself. Anything I can do. Just figure out how we can make it happen and I'll do what you need. That's what best friends are for, right?
I love you and look forward to seeing you smile more today. Have fun at your Uke lesson!

.a Boy

Dear Boy,

I'm sorry that I fail to write back to you and your letters pile up without a response.  It's hard for me to feel too tired or ill to do much. I start to feel worthless. And then I start to feel depressed. And then I don't know if I'm not feeling up to anything because I'm physiologically not well or only psychologically unwell or both. Or I just don't know. And then I started to feel desperately helpless with the thought that I will have a baby and be bound to the house for another undetermined amount of time. A year or five?  I tell myself that I can't do it. I can't keep puttering around the house for years and years. Then I turn around and tell myself that I can do it. I've already proven that I can.   In the end I found hope in the idea that I don't have to be bound to the house for the next how many years. Maybe just one, but maybe not even. I have this thing that I want to do. I have a dream that's followed me around for a few years now. And I think it's practical.  You don't like what you do. We don't have the means to farm. The thing I want to do will eventually yield the means to farm.  In the meantime, it will be following my dream. And it will get us out of here. So why not go for it?  

And maybe that will determine where we go. If this is what we actually do. I need a few years to become a nurse which is something I never thought I'd be interested in and I think I can do that while we're still here, but then I'll need to go to a graduate school for another few years and that may cause us to move away. I hope it will. Even though I do love it here. I can love somewhere else too.

That was a long ramble. In the end, I'll just say that I can't believe we're having another baby. It still is surreal to me. What a miracle. This baby will always seem a miracle to me. Gerret will always be the best surprise of my life. Nolan will always be the child who made me a mother. And Auburn will be the child that changed me in so very many ways. But this baby, wow. What a miracle. My boobs hurt and I feel nauseous daily, but it's a miracle. 

And I love you. You are the friend of my life. I can never thank you adequately for asking me on that first date or for sticking with me after the fiasco of our second date or for being patient even while knowing I was being deceptive. Thank you for being in every moment since. Your friendship and love are everything to me. 

(Getting) Big(er) L

Dear Lady,

We're out of kindling downstairs. It's 5 in the morning and I'm working on getting the fire going. I didn't quite feel up to going outside for more kindling, so I'm trying to get the fire going using a lot of newspaper. It's helped diminish what has been, all winter, a rather over-large stockpile of newspapers, though I'm left unconvinced that it will be enough to keep a fire going. Already the paper has burned away and I'm left with some admirable, but struggling, flames.
Ah well, I suppose you'll see how it went in an hour or so.

I admire you for the early mornings, you know. You've said it before, and it's true—no one else would probably do (or could probably do) what you're doing on your sister's behalf. I hope you truly recognize that.
I know that such close association with your family has not quite measured up to what you'd hoped it would be when we moved back. I'm sorry about that. Who could have foreseen such a drastic change in everything from when you were a child? But, difficult as it's been, your family has been blessed in so many ways by your decision to come back. Without you it's unclear how Elise would be fairing in seminary at all. Or what your mom would have done when your dad became sick. Or whether or not your grandpa Borden would have had much of a chance to meet Nolan and Gerret.
Things are tough right now, but I am always in awe of how you handle them and how you've blessed the lives of those you care most about. Which isn't to say we shouldn't move away :)
And where should we move to? Local? Far away? Is it Alaska time yet?
I think that the biggest question regards employ. How do we want to proceed? I have such a beautiful idea for our family farm, but it's definitely a long term goal. One requiring a lot of up front investment—which we definitely don't have. I know you don't want to simply wait at home until we save up enough money to buy a farm, nor do I want to continue in nominal employ until then. So what should we do? Salmon fishers in Alaska? Reverse call the midwife roles where you're the doctor and I'm the receptionist? A small-scale family circus? Any ideas?

Anyway, I'm just rambling and musing by myself in the dark of morning as I'm hoping the fire will catch. I thought I'd might just as rather be sharing my wandering thoughts with you.
I love you.
Sorry you'll be waking up tired in a short little while. At least tomorrow's Saturday and you can sleep in.
I'll see you at 6:10!

.a Boy

Dear Lady,

Life is amazing isn't it?
And I don't mean this in any sort of global, transcendent sense. Not like, "Isn't the entire experience of life amazing?" Not to say that life isn't amazing in this sense, but isn't simply the very fact of life, of sentiency, incredible? Whether you did anything or not, isn't it amazing enough just to be alive?
Don't dwell on the idea that some are born in terrible circumstances. Don't dwell on the idea that some are born with more or less. Don't dwell on the fact that sometimes life, to some, seems more burdensome than valuable. I surely respect such feelings and experiences and do not seek to retract from them in the smallest.
But imagine life apart from such things. Imagine life independent of all else. Consider that anything IS, rather than isn't. Just the fact that when there could be blackness there is, instead, an explosion of color.
I mean how many poets and novelists have painted life as something that was only worthwhile if grabbed by the horns and conquered? That life lived anywhere shy of grandness was life wasted. But isn't a life an incredible thing regardless of how it is lived? Isn't it enough to simply be, rather than not be?
Is life a marvel only if "lived to its fullest"? Is there some measure that would determine for us when a life is and isn't a wonder? And wouldn't humans be the sole qualifiers? And only if meeting the determined criteria?
Isn't it so much simpler and appealing to agree that life comes labeled as "AMAZING!", regardless the packaging?
That's what I thought the other day as I drove home and noticed a fawn on a front porch.
There was nothing particular about the fawn (aside from its place on that porch). It was simply a fawn. And it was simply a porch. And it was simply munching on some leaves to the side of that porch. That's it. But don't you think that's enough? Isn't that amazing enough? That there was such a thing as a fawn. And such a thing as a porch. And such a thing as me in my car on my way home from work?

.a Boy

Dear Lady,

I'm sitting in our lobby covering the front desk for Glenda and Drake is playing in the background—Hotline Bling. I didn't set the station either. She listens to this channel out of Syracuse and, typically, it plays Motown music. Every now and again, however, some hip hop creeps up. I've even been here to hear Tupac playing for our clients.
Yep. This place is much cooler than CFCU.

Anyway, I just wanted to write and tell you I love you.
I'm looking forward to maple sugaring with you . . . And I'm looking forward to maple sugaring you?
I really hope these trays that I bought work—they were pricey enough. They look good. Really good. We'll have no resulting sediment and they should, hopefully, be easier to manage than the big bowl. Now we just have to make a new stove.
I saw something online this morning where someone had just built the stove out of rocks—instead of cinder blocks. It'd be cheaper that way, but we don't really have enough rocks. Besides, cinder blocks cost like a nickel. Okay, a little more than that, but they are pretty cheap. I think we can just get some cinder blocks this weekend and build the stove that way. Then I'll just have to accomplish my goal of tapping the trees and not having them leak excessively.
Here's to hoping!

I hope that my attempt at eating healthy helps you on your quest to eat healthier and to be healthier. Sometimes I feel that if I'm doing well at it and you're not that it might be discouraging to you. I hope that's not the case. It's really been your desire to be healthy and fit that has driven my desire to do the same. Running is not something that I've ever enjoyed (and maybe won't ever enjoy), but you've inspired me to do it and a day like Saturday—completing a 5K—provides me with no small level of satisfaction. So thank you for that.
I'll see you tonight.
I love you.

.a Boy

P.S. It sucks that all of the really most flavorful foods are the worst for you. Now excuse me while I eat my carrot . . .

Dear Boy,

You hope for these things:

A life full of friends, family and fun.
A life full of trying new things.
A life full of laughter.
A life where you, I and all our children wake up excited and ready to be engaged
A life where we don't have to scrimp and save every last cent.
A life wherein we add love and laughter to the world around us.
A life where what each of us choose to do each day brightens another's life.
And so many more things besides. 

I'm at a place where I feel I already have all of that. And I don't think I'm delusional. There have definitely been moments and entire swaths of years when I didn't think I had any of it. I have been to some pretty dark places, but I'm in the light today. It's weird because the circumstances in my life right now would seem to be the perfect ground for a harvest of hopelessness, but I've never felt so consistently happy and at peace. I've never been able to face life so humbly and with such gratitude for it. Maybe it's because I realized that I have a good chance at a shortened life. Maybe it's because the place where I put my faith has changed. Maybe it's because not knowing things you once thought you had completely figured out is immensely humbling.  Maybe I've just learned good coping strategies. Whatever it is, all I see is abundance. And love flowing through everything. And miracles. And treasures within myself.  

It doesn't mean I don't have goals, but I do relish life right now. I recognize that things won't always be like they are right now. I recognize that I missed some beautiful years when the boys were young while I was wishing for something else and sitting at the bottom of a deep pit. I regret the abundance that I missed. I wish I had the skills back then to climb out of my pit. But I did get out and now I recognize that life is always wonderful and mysterious and abundant.  It has handed me an incredible opportunity to show love to my parents and to answer a very acute need for service. Although it feels sometimes that this situation is lasting forever, it really won't. I don't want to miss it. I don't want to be too caught up wishing for something else. That day will come without my pining for it. 

This is not an indictment of your position. I understand you. I don't think you're schizophrenic.  I think your challenge is normal and I think it is redeemable. I hope we will get to that place you describe together. I hope you will soon feel satisfied with yourself and even your situation. Not complacent. Complacency is not something I imply in any of this. I hope we will always be ambitious. There's just a way to both bow to the present and get up and work. 

I love you deeply and madly. You loved me deeply this morning. And I thank you for it. 

Lady

Dear Lady,

Verbose as I may pretend to be, I have no words to convey what it feels like to be with you.
Last night, as you lay asleep in my arms and I was left alone with the night, I was uniquely happy.
Our children were safely, quietly tucked away in their beds. Hours of sleep under their belts already.
Patch was curled up and still at my feet.
You were asleep, heavy in my arms.
Even our new puppy, little Luna, was all tuckered out from the day and passed out beneath the red chair.
Everything was so very peaceful. The moment seemed timeless. How grateful I was (when so often I'm asleep before the kids are even in bed) to have been awake for that moment. Just me and a glowing fire in the corner.
Thank you for sometimes allowing me to be the last one awake. I love those moments.

I want to let you know that I still struggle with my mind a lot. I flip flop constantly and it's a daily battle to even keep myself to two varying paths a day (when otherwise it could be four or five). It feels grossly hypochondriatic to claim schizophrenia but that's what it feels like sometimes. The inside of my head is a mess.
Here's what I hope I'm truly looking for:

A life full of friends, family and fun.
A life full of trying new things.
A life full of laughter. Clutching-my-sides-with-pain kind of laughing.
A life where you, I and all our children wake up excited because we're going to spend the day pursuing something that full engages our hearts and minds (and bodies) in the best way.
A life where we don't have to scrimp and save every last cent to make sure things are covered.
A life wherein we add love and laughter to the world around us.
A life where what each of us chooses to do each day brightens another's life.
And so many more things besides.

I'm hopeful that I'll ultimately get a handle on myself. I'm hopeful that it will be soon. And I'm hopeful that when I do I'll be able to write to you about something other than my constant waffling.
Thank you for introducing me to How I Met Your Mother, BTW. It's been a fun year watching the entire story with you. You're the most incredible company I've ever known. You inspire so much in me. Particularly so much writing—and I'm not talking about our letters here. I'm talking about my haikus and poetry and prose. You are in every good thing I've ever done.

.a Boy

Dear Lady,

Happy Birthday!
. . .
So I'm 34. Who saw that coming?
Normally my reaction to a birthday is that I don't feel any older, but (quite honestly) I do this year. I think I feel older because I've been focused on my career indecision so much that I can't help but see my age now as a marker for another year wasted.
Now that's a bit of a hyperbole there. No year or day or moment is truly wasted unless it's spent in bitterness, or hate, or in any other form of destructive behavior (at least that's how I feel). I have loved these past number of years. The people I've met. The places we've gone. The growth I've seen in you (blue hair—what!? :) and in our children. There is so much I am grateful for and I wouldn't trade a minute of any of it. That doesn't mean I can't have regret though—and I do.
I regret that I feel I have so much more to offer you, our children, and the world and I simply haven't offered it. I've pussy-footed around different ideas and pursuits. I've started and stopped so many things so many times that I've lost track. It's crazy! I often wonder if I'm alone in this type of behavior or if it's normal. I tend to think it's not so very normal, but perhaps it's alright to be peculiar.
Okay, well, I didn't intend for this to come across as a birthday-downer. I hope it doesn't. I hope it comes across as a letter to my best friend with whom I am comfortable simply prattling on about whatever is on my mind whether it's my birthday or not. Because that's what this really is. I simply wanted to write how I am truly feeling because that's honesty and openness and that's what I want us to have. I want you to know how much I love and trust you with any of my most embarrassing or difficult thoughts.
You are my everything.

I'm glad you enjoy the monikers I attach to you. I think your comment hit it on the nose. I call you these things: Love, Paisley, Lady, etc. so as to give you a name that is uniquely ours. I love your name—Lindsay. Lindsay is the most beautiful name and I love coming across others with the same name. Each time I hear it I remember how much I love it. I much rather enjoy, however, the names that no one else shares with you. No matter how much I love your name I love our little intimacies more.

Thank you for the Parisian birthday wishes this morning. It was wonderful company in the dark. You surely know the way to my heart, and the things that touch me most, like the "places where I've loved you" masterpiece. Please never underestimate the value of your creativity and artistic capacity. You're amazing!

Finally, I am happy it's my birthday because it makes you happy. I'm happy to celebrate 34 years alive because it signifies 12 years that I've known you (and that is reason to celebrate if ever there was any). I'm happy for 34 years because it means I have three beautiful children who will turn 10, 8 and 5 this year. It's hard to believe. Those kids are amazing.
34 to me represents another opportunity to try again to get it right. "It"being a general term for anything and everything. 34 is simply another opportunity to grow and improve myself and to, hopefully, put an end to my constant career waffling. 34 is the year we had two border collies. It's the year we fenced in our backyard. The year we made applesauce and walnut syrup. The year we finished our second bathroom. The year our oldest learns to play the guitar. It's the year our kids finally learn to keep their room clean (maybe?). It's the year you meet your niece. The year Gerret is baptized (maybe?). The year we made love more than ever before (definitely). The year we had the greatest adventures yet.
I love 34 already.
Happy Birthday!

.a Boy

Happy Birthday!

Dear Boy,

you're amazing. It's your birthday (20 minutes into it) and I'm here to tell you that you're amazing. I love your thoughts. I love when we talk lots. I love your heart. It's a good one. It's a humble one. It's a kind one. I love the direction you're pointing. I'm pointing that way to. That's how we can walk together. And I love it when we walk together. I learn so much from you. I am made better for knowing you. You inspire my mothering and my adventuring and my creating. I'm so glad you're here with me. Life has kind of been beating me up and scratching scars into my heart, but you help to treat my bruises and smooth my scars. And I love you for it. And I just love you.  

Lady 

Dear Boy,

You're asleep downstairs. I'm laying down upstairs because I don't feel so well. I have a goal to feel better more often and I understand what it will take to get there, but ... I don't know what the but is. There must be one though. Mara from ablogaboutlove wrote today about a few goals she has set for herself in the past, what she did to accomplish her goals and how each one changed her life. The first one she mentioned was the goal she made with her husband to cut out sugar. One thing she said was it was a lot easier to do because they live in Ecuador.  Maybe that's the key??? We do currently live in a culture saturated in sugar and gluttony. It's gross. 

I very vividly remember that time that your Aunt Cindy was off put by your calling me Lady. I remember thinking it was funny, because I really enjoyed being monikered by you. I still do, in fact. I like to have a name from you that no one else calls me by. You have a few. I relish them all.  

Thanks for good holiday memories. Thanks for spending time with me. Thanks for doing cool stuff with me. Thanks for dying my hair. You're amazing. Thanks for getting a puppy with me. And for adventures in PA.  Thanks for rescuing me on the side of 227 this afternoon. Thank you as always for your faith in and patience with me.  How can I ever explain how much I treasure you?  You're just in every smile and all my laughs. All the time in the world spent with you is not enough. So please stay forever. 

Lady

Dear Lady,

I really like punk rock. I think that's rather obvious.
It made me laugh to have you poking fun at it during our drive Saturday. I can't say I hear the Circus in it like you do, but it is a funny genre of music. It's my childhood though, so there's a lot of nostalgia in it for me. I'm not using that as an excuse for why I listen—I love the energy from it. That's why I listen. I think that even if I'd only just been introduced to it I would still listen to punk rock.
I recognize that I have to be careful with this type of music. A lot of it can be rather crass or destructive. I try to filter that. There's enough good punk to not need the less uplifting kind. And I'm not too proud to say that my favorite punk band is still Blink 182 no matter what anyone else says about them. I still love that stuff.
I had a young men's advisor when I was in high school who listened to punk rock. I stress LISTENED. He would talk with me about it and, at first, I just assumed he still listened. We'd talk about music and concerts and the punk rock lifestyle. Then, one day, it came out that he didn't listen to it anymore.
What!?
I didn't understand how he could know so much about it, love it so much, and yet have nothing to do with it anymore. It turned out it was his wife who had convinced him it wasn't good for their family. She convinced him (and probably he convinced himself too) that he had a responsibility to his children to not listen to punk. As if it was inherently a bad thing.
I don't think that's true.
I think that almost anything has its good and bad. For my part I choose to believe that punk rock (my punk rock) is good. I don't mind exposing my kids to it. In fact I hope my kids enjoy it. I don't care if it's their favorite music, but I hope they don't hate it.
Even if all they think of it is that it makes good clown car music . . .

.a Boy

Dear Lady,

Dear Lady,

Do you remember when I first introduced you to my aunt Cindy's family? I introduced you as Lindsay. Later, though, I called out to you by saying "Hey, Lady!" and my aunt immediately verbally lashed out at me for referring to you that way. She thought I was being impersonal and rude. Things got rather awkward for a moment there until you and I explained our use of the term Lady and its Peter Pan reference.
Do you remember that? I think about it almost every time I come here to write a letter to you.

So how are you?
It's a new year. How does 2016 feel to you? To me 2016 feels like Batman v Superman is finally coming out and I'm entirely prepared for it to be no good (all the while secretly hoping it will be amazing (probably not though (but I can hope))). I have those Christmas movie tickets I could use on it, but I'm not convinced that's what I'll do. I'm sure you wouldn't be overly devastated if I chose something else :). It's always a little bit of a dilemma when we get free movie passes, because I feel obligated to overly scrutinize what's coming out and try to pick out the best theater experience. When there're things like Avatar, or Gravity it's a little easier to decide—I'm not aware of anything so very ground breaking this year.
Anyway, I'm excited for the weekend with you. For a crazy drive down to Philadelphia just to visit a puppy (and then not even be able to purchase her). For some time alone in Ithaca with just you, me, and Nolan. For the potential digging of a small pond in our side yard. For games of Dominion. And for every other moment spent together.
Thank you for your good company and laughter.
I love you.

.Patrick