Blast, Part 2

I have been thinking a lot about life and change lately.

My new gig, essentially laying around the house, has provided me ample time to reflect. And I discovered that I still am learning lessons, even at the ripe old age of 45.

Now, I've always felt that I was in a state of evolution. Sure, like most people, I knew everything when I was 20. Somehow, I still managed to become editor of a daily newspaper by 29, married at 37, publisher by 42 and semi-retired at 45. Along the way, I have always amazed myself by my capacity to learn. Now I have this rare gift: Time to pause and actually put aspects of my life in some perspective.

When this year began, neither Mary nor I expected to end up at home. We're both workaholics, fiercely competitive and each have had some kind of regular job to go to since our teens. Yet, the two pushy know-it-all-control-freaks - either of whom could easily have harpooned the other with a paint stick just seven years ago - have somehow evolved into a supportive, enduring, loving, attentive couple. Despite the office pools, we've stuck it out and will observe our 8th anniversary later this month.

Yeah, it's almost sickening. For better or worse? This experience is something in-between. But if it has to be, in the words of the great Paul Williams, "you and me against the world," we kind of like the odds. We wouldn't have it any other way. Well, at least I wouldn't.

Hence we have been bravely embarking on a series of home projects in our free time, which we manage to find nearly every day. We took two days to restain the pool deck. We're renovating our third bathroom - and changed light fixtures in two. We built four deck chairs and Mary is making new drapes and valances. Certain episodes aside, calm has reigned. Now, maybe it is because we aren't shoe-horning a project in between 10-hour-a-day jobs and weekend events, but we have even found some, er, joy in shopping at Lowe's together, choosing paints and appropriate accoutrements.

I'm sure people see us holding hands and skipping down the aisles and just presume we're drunk...

That said, not all has been without incident. The other day, Mary assisted me as we built a "space saver" (the polite way to refer to those shelves that fit around and over toilets) and I became extremely angry. My pet peeve in any project in which I am required to build some furniture-thingy, is when the instructions are wrong. Well this particular item, from the fine folks at Target, had 13 steps and the very first one was clearly WRONG! It was instructing me to put the cam screw where the wooden guide rod was supposed to go and vice versa.

Now Mary had a simple solution: Just reverse them. Voila! My solution was a tad less impetuous, the result of years of putting together crappy wooden furniture. I sought a studied approach requiring a careful examination of all of the steps in the instructions to make sure that reversing the placement of those beginning steps would not render the entire toilet shelf (the impolite way to refer to those shelves that fit around and over the commode) obsolete. First I had to have a screaming, crying, curse-filled rant invoking God's wrath to bestow all sorts of ills upon anyone who has ever worked at Target and their families. And their pets. And the future fruits of their respective loins.

Screaming fits make a lot of women nervous, Mary included. But if prayers are answered, God has something pretty bad in store for anyone who has ever had anything to do with Target.

I'm off an a tangent. Sorry.

Eventually, that project was back on track and the finished product looks fine in the newly renovated master bathroom that I am not allowed in.

Earlier in the week, we had another small detour in the road to typical household calm. Mary had gone upstairs to prepare that same bathroom for painting. I had gone to run errands and do some banking. I arrived home to discover Mary was no longer working on the bathroom, but, instead, was working on recovering an ottoman. Thinking nothing of it, I sat down in my chair to watch Judge Judy give someone what-for. No one gives good what-for like Judge Judy. Something caught my eye and I looked toward the ceiling to see giant wet spots.

I was pretty confident that they weren't there in 1998 when we bought the house or even earlier that morning before the errands...

"Honey, why is the ceiling wet?" was my reasoned query. She gave a sheepish look as she came into the room. "Oh, THAT. A bucket of water fell off the toilet and spilled..."

Notice it "fell." It wasn't pushed or the result of any human intervention. Much of the water poured into the air grate in the floor and some how leaked from a duct into the family room ceiling, I surmised. In reality, it looked at first like some bigger disaster occurred rather than mere water dribbled from a bucket. I've attached an illustration of what I really think happened, though I have no proof. The good news: Much of it dried and disappeared within a few hours.



In the old days, this could have been the setting for a fierce battle royale. Now? I simply said: "This is the last time I let you and your friend Viv install a shower." Seriously, so great is my love for this remarkable woman, the teasing all-but ended within 24 hours!

So here is what I learned at 45: Lots of things can happen to you in a lifetime. Ferris Bueller summed it up pretty well: "Life moves pretty fast. If you don't stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it." I am grateful for this time to look around and even more grateful to have this wonderful person with which to enjoy it.



Mark