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4.26.2006

Mush Alert: don't read if you hate the sap

I know some of you don’t like to hear about the boyfriend. But, since this relationship has passed the new stage, giddy moments of happiness have been replaced with discussions of compromise and responsibility. While the uber-romantic in me has been slightly overwhelmed with (the usually male) thoughts of wow, this is it, time to relinquish all movie-induced love fantasies—I had a moment last night to put the lid on those loose runners.

We were at the Stanley Cup playoffs in Anaheim with our hockey-loving friends, my first game ever, and the teams had just taken the ice. I sat down to get ready for what was next, and John told me to stand up. The national anthems were starting and he was up, hat off, and held over his heart. Canadian singer first, then ours. Now, I'm a harsh critic when it comes to our National Anthem being played or sung. I have more stringent personal views about the way this song should be respected than I have procedures for putting together the perfect baked potato. Go ahead and laugh, but as I was trying to decide whether or not Lisa Tucker from American Idol was doing a good job, equal thoughts of importance were emerging. I kept peeking at John out of the corner of my eye, hand still on his heart, and thought—THIS is why we're together. This one little eency weency thing puts any doubts to rest. I don't have to be embarrassed or freaking out that he's singing. I don't have to nudge him with a disapproving eye to take off his hat. I don’t have to feel alone in having my hand over my own heart while I look towards our flag. He just does it, exactly the way I like it, because he is who he is.

I almost told him last night how happy this made me. But I didn't. Thought I'd surprise him here instead. Even if everyone else is laughing at me.

Yes, I'm a nutbag. But I'm his nutbag, and for the record, the USC Trojan Marching Band plays the best National Anthem of all time. I cried the first time I heard it. I was a freshman, had barely been on campus at all, and had just survived Band Camp. They walked a small section of the band to the baseball field and we were standing by the dug out. It was night. The stadium lights shown down on us with nothing but darkness and quiet beyond the spotlight. A single snare started the drum roll before the horns came slowly in. Nobody sang. It was one of the most moving moments of my life, and while I'll probably forget everything else that's ever happened to me over time, there's no forgetting how I felt in those few minutes, tears streaming down my face.

I'm a sap. I know it. Leave me a lone.

Current: Pasadena, CA
Next: No plans yet for May

4 Comments:

At 4/26/2006 09:10:00 AM, Blogger Steve said...

Nice post nutbag :o)

 
At 4/26/2006 09:49:00 AM, Blogger Mrs. B said...

sometimes the small epiphanies are the most powerful.

 
At 5/03/2006 08:25:00 PM, Blogger Tea said...

You have procedures for putting together a baked potato? All these years and you've been holding out on me with your baked potato procedures?!

You are a nutbag, but I love it.

 
At 5/04/2006 10:17:00 AM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

ahh, I love this. I got a knot in my stomach when I read it. It is the little things and you put that into words perfectly. I need to send you an email, been too long! Jess

 

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