Friends and family sure do help

Last week it occurred to me that my twentieth wedding anniversary was coming up (10 June) and that despite a year's worth of legal wrangling and a whole lot of money paid in legal fees, I was still, technically speaking, married. When you come from a family that has always had happy, lifelong marriages, you don't really plan to spend your twentieth wedding anniversary trying (but so far failing) not to be married anymore. So I figured, "Hm, I imagine I probably won't be in a very good mood...probably ought not inflict myself upon other people...tell you what, I think I'll go watch the Finals at a sports bar...don't particularly want to count how many beers I have...I'll see if Duane minds coming to get me." (Misery may love company but I never have had much respect for people who indulge their misery by trying to see how widely they can spread it amongst their friends and loved ones. Bad enough that your own day sucks without your running around trying to ruin other people's days too. That's just how I've always seen it. Not a big fan of whining; I much prefer the go-hide-in-a-hole-until-you're-better approach.)

So I made my arrangements and told the Troika not to expect me at home, figuring that was the considerate thing to do. Then the night before the anniversary I'm talking to my parents, and a couple of things happened to make me feel better.

(1) I realized I had done my math wrong and that it was only going to be my nineteenth anniversary, not my twentieth. Somehow it doesn't seem nearly as bad to have screwed up nineteen years of your life, as it seems to have screwed up two whole decades. So I felt irrationally better about that.

(2) My parents asked some question or other that led to the subject, and the following dialogue ensues:

ME: Oh, I'm actually not planning to be at home tomorrow night. Tomorrow's my wedding anniversary and all things considered I don't imagine I'll be in a very good mood, and I didn't want to be a jerk around the girls; so I'm planning to go watch the NBA Finals at a Sports Bar.

MY MOM (sympathetically): Oh, honey, I'm so sorry. I can't imagine how difficult that is for you. I wish there was something we could do to help. We'd love to be there [i.e., in Houston rather than in West Virginia] but we thought we'd be more help if we came down in July when the court hearing's going to be.

ME: That's okay, don't worry about it, I'll be okay.

MY FATHER (with a straight face, which I know even though I can't see it over the phone): You've always forgotten your anniversary before; why couldn't you just forget it this year, too?

This was such an excellent point that I spent the rest of the conversation bursting into chuckles, and all the next day, any time it occurred to me that it was my anniversary (which, actually, it didn't very often), I instantly thought of my dad's line and starting laughing all over again.

Now here's the thing that all the guys will understand instantly, and that will be further evidence to all my Gentle Female Readers that men are, in general, not entirely sane: what my dad said helped me out way more than what my mom said. Look, if I have to explain it for you, you'll never understand...

Anyway, the day of my anniversary, Duane and I carpooled to work, as is our wont, and when I dropped him off that evening he invited me in, suggesting that I play a little World of Warcraft. Duane and Desiree know perfectly well, and find it amusing, that I play World of Warcraft in a highly antisocial manner as long as neither of the boys happen to be online; so while WoW is for them a way to do something together and hang out with friends and family online, for yours truly it's a way to get away from people and recharge my personal-interaction reserves. So what Duane was really offering me was a chance to go into his study and hide from people. I figured I could at least check some e-mail and WoW-mail; so I took him up on it. But you know what? It's pretty hard to be around the Liongs and not feel loved, and besides I had spent the day laughing at my dad's joke rather than feeling cheated by the Fates. So when I did a quick personal emotional inventory I realized, I wasn't actually having a bad day or anything. And so in the end I sent Duane and Desiree out on an impromptu evening out without the kids (I think they went shopping), and I hung out with Deion and Danae and much rambunctiousness ensued, and los padres got back just about the time the girls were due to go to bed, and I went happily home, ready to climb into my own bed and go peacefully to sleep.

I pulled in and parked...and by the time I got out of the car, Kinya had bounced happily up to the car -- which never happens, and which means the girls had been keeping a lookout for me. "Papa, how was your day?" she asked with cheerful concern. I assured her that I had, in fact, had a good day. We started walking toward the apartment, and halfway there we were met by Anya, whose unvarying habit is to sit placidly in the chair on our landing smoking a cigarette and to wave a howdy at me as I walk up. "Papa, did you have a good day?" I smiled and said yes, and she actually tucked herself up under my arm and walked along beside me the rest of the way to the apartment. And I realized, "You know, these girls have actually been worrying about me." Which was, of course, ridiculously heart-warming.

So in the end, a day that I expected to be very difficult, turned out to be a very nice and pleasant day. And it's entirely because I have great parents, and great friends, and great (albeit teenaged, and therefore frequently frustrating) daughters.

Count your many blessings; see what God hath done.