Two Decades

Two decades.

Tonight marks 20 years since my first date with my husband. Not too shabby, is it? I think this is worth a posting in and of itself....

On May 28, 1990, I had just returned home from my freshman year at Austin College. During that year, I was dating a guy - a few years ahead of me - who had some pretty screwed up ideas about relationships and how to treat women. So...I was done with relationships in my mind. At least for a while.

But a friend of mine (whom I used to date occasionally but was really just a good friend) told me to come to his house and he'd have some of his friends over. He figured I'd meet a couple of his friends who might be fun dates and he'd get me back in the game - so to speak.

Well - within 15 minutes of arriving at my friend's house I saw my future husband and although it sounds cheesy...I really did see him across a crowded room and our eyes locked. I'm not sure - but I MIGHT have even heard Some Enchanted Evening in the back of my mind as I looked at him.

The rest is history.

I'd decided to break from my traditional Southern upbringing and call a boy on the phone for the first time ever...and I kept bugging my friend to give me this guy's phone number. He finally called me and told me that he didn't NEED to give me his number because the boy had asked for my number. Sure enough - he called me and invited me out. (Whew. My southern propriety was preserved.) I was terribly awkward during our first date, as evidenced by the fact that I stuck a straw up my nose while trying (quite unsuccessfully) to flirt - but even that didn't ruin it.

A few years later I walked down the aisle. In a REALLY HEAVY wedding dress.

But the real anniversary, in my mind, is May 28, 1990, when I went to Executive Surf Club in Corpus Christi with the future father of my children and the man who diligently and faithfully worked at a minimum wage job to put me through law school.

Twenty years is a long time. It hasn't all been a bed of roses. But it's been one heck of a ride and I couldn't be more grateful that he's put up with me for this long. I love you, David.

Freedom

Today I submitted my resignation at work and it was a great feeling. I have my work cut out for me over the next year, but it all centers around finding myself and staying focused on my priorities.

I was going to blog about my priorities but I'm just plain worn out. I've had asthma for almost three solid weeks now - my physical exhaustion and the emotional release (shamat...) of finally letting go of a toxic environment means that I've got nothing left tonight.

So instead I'll just say that I hope I haven't lost too many of my blog-buddies from neglect over the last few months, and I promise I'm coming back. Not tonight, though. Tonight I'll be watching Glee, then falling blissfully and completely asleep.

Shamat

...is Hebrew for "to release."

About four or five years ago, my husband gave me The Five Books of Moses - it's a new translation (well, new when he gave it to me) by Robert Alter - he tried to capture not only the literal meaning of the Hebrew but the lyrical sense of it as well. It's a rather impressive work and I hadn't opened it in a long time.

I ended up in Exodus, Chapter 23 and the footnote for "But in the seventh you shall let it go and let it lie fallow, and your people's indigent may eat of it, and what is left, the beast of the field will eat" (Ex. 23:11) taught me the word shamat.

I rather love the feel of that word and if there's one thing I must do, it is shamat.

Let it go.

Release.