Today doesn't really seem like a coffee day. It seems more like a hot chocolate day. A hot chocolate in my new Bill Maher "...But I'm Not Wrong" mug kind of day... wherein I can tell you about how the single greatest story of 2011 happened just last night, and pretty much sums up perfectly the high point of my year.
A brief update: The Beau proposed March 17th of 2011 - the night before we schlepped my stuff to Twin Falls, Idaho (I still miss Reno)- and we were married at a beautiful yet flew-by-in-a-hurry wedding September in Boise. Thanks to everyone who could make it - you have no idea what it meant to have you there. I started a new job, hubby brought home a puppy, said puppy sadly died recently, Ruby celebrates daily having a bigger pad and outside freedoms (and birds to kill - she likes to bring them in the house if she can manage), and I got a Christmas puppy from my little sister. His name is Pilot.
To resume: On the way home from town last night, the hubby and I drove straight into a fast-moving, rager of a winter storm. The wind was relentless and pushed the car around like a playground bully shoving the newcomer around. Fat raindrops pelted the windshield and gusts made the drops look like thick schools of fish fleeing in terror. It was intense. I had to swerve to miss an irrigation pipe that'd been tossed into the road. Perhaps the most surreal part was watching the power flicker across the valley. One second we're driving along, passing lit-up Santas and glowing reindeers on either side and in the next heartbeat everything is pitch black. The power flickered two or three times before it was clear that it wasn't coming back on. Kind of put a damper on our idea to forego dinner in town and just make something at home. How does one cook with no electricity or running water? (Side note: cleaning up puppy accidents with a flashlight is something I don't feel I need to repeat anytime soon.)
I busted out my collection of candles, several of which were novelty wine glass candles, and we set about illuminating. And for dinner? Why the food that is heated by candle itself: fondue! It was actually quite perfect. We had some Hickory Farms sausage and some fresh veggies that we dipped into melty, gooey, delicious cheese until we were both stuffed. And then I started laughing hilarious. Because it was just so damn funny and sad that a power outage forced us to have our very first sit-down meal across from each other at the table... since I moved here in March. It was definitely a telling realization, and we decided we definitely need to do it more often. Obviously. Don't judge us.
After filling ourselves, the power still hadn't come on, and we weren't ready for bed. Since Scattegories was missing a few pieces (or so the hubby told me) and Apples to Apples really isn't suited for only two players, we busted out Risk. I haven't played in ages. Literally ages, so the hubby had to reteach me. Painfully, I'm sure. I only asked three questions for every move he made... We had to jerryrig some flashlights to hang from the chandelier so we could see the board better, but even with the direct light a mere two feet from the board, I still had some problems differentiating between my green pieces and the hubby's blue pieces. I had to be about 6 inches away from it to read the regions depicted.
In case you're not familiar, I have some serious issues with my eyes, which you can learn about in previous posts here - that I am too lazy to link to. Mainly, the kerataconus is the most threatening, and I just recently learned about a week ago that it has now started presenting in the right eye. My doctor assures me it doesn't seem to be very agressive, and that he's not too worried, but we're now 2 for 2. I don't consider that docile. As I understand it, the most telling signs of kerataconus's progression is the deterioration of your eyesight, rather, a change in your prescription. And guess who just had to have her prescription altered because her eyesight has worsened? This kid. *Points thumb at her herself.*
Rather than squint at every piece, we decided to swap out my green guys for some red ones. Which helped, but I still couldn't see very well. But swapping the plastic ponies and soliders made everything come rushing back - the nagging feelings of fear, that there's no real quick fix for my eyesight, that if things keep deteriorating, what kind of vision will I have? Will I even be able to see if things get so poor? And so I said it, in a moment of hyperbolic self-pity:
"Babe, you know, it's possible that at the rate things are going, I could be blind as soon as... as soon as 40."
He pondered that for a sec, then titled his head and replied, "I'll always love you no matter what. Whether you're blind or not."
Of course I started tearing up. He was so sincere. And that, friends, is my favorite memory of 2011... knowing that I absolutely married the right man.
Love and light on this New Year's Eve. Even if you can't read those damn eye charts, may you always be able to see the good people in your lives.
Rachel
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