The many faces of Bill…

Yesterday, Bill and I decided to go to the Middle Rhein Gorge. We didn’t actually do very much while we were there, because we got a late start and had to sit in some traffic. I took some photos and we had lunch at the Rheinfels “Romantic” Hotel in Saint Goar, which overlooks the Rhein River. Then, after we ate, we went home. It was just one of those days that we had to get out of the house. The weather was beautiful and surprisingly warm, and my Mini Cooper convertible needed driving. The Middle Rhein Gorge is a popular vacation destination, and we happen to live close to it now.

One thing I love to do to Bill when we’re enjoying a day trip, is ask him ridiculous questions. I always expect some kind of shocked reaction, and Bill NEVER disappoints. Yesterday, the question of the day was, “Would you like it if I decided to become a prostitute?”

Now, bear in mind, I would never consider being a sex worker, and Bill knows it. Prostitution is legal in Germany, but I believe sex workers are required to have regular health checkups. I hate going to doctors. Also, I don’t really enjoy sex that much. I mean, I like it with Bill, but that’s only because we know each other very well and he knows and cares about my likes and dislikes in the sack. Random other people who are paying for sex would neither know nor care about my experience. It doesn’t sound like any fun to me… and at my age, probably wouldn’t be much fun for my hypothetical customers, nor would it pay much. So this was a truly ridiculous question. Bill rewarded me with a facial expression like this one.


Followed by one that looked like this…

He made this face in December 2017, when his mom came to visit and we took her on a trip to Berlin. I quipped that he once came out of her and now he comes into me…

And then, inevitably, I get this face…

I would not blame Bill if he eventually got annoyed by my silliness and inappropriate questions. Fortunately, he has a great sense of humor and a lot of patience.

When I met Bill, he told me that he never took good pictures. I would beg to disagree. I have a lot of awesome pictures of my husband and he’s become very tolerant of letting me photograph him. I’m not sure if I would be as patient if the situation were reversed. I don’t like having my picture taken because I often look hideous. Bill has had a lot of bad pictures made, but I’ve gotten good at photographing him. I think it’s because I know him very well and can easily tell when he’s going to make an awesome face. I also love him, so I often capture him at his best. Here are a few handsome pictures I’ve managed to get recently.

Someday, if I outlive Bill, maybe his long lost daughters might appreciate the many pictures I have of their dad. He’s a very handsome man to me, not just because of his physical appearance, but because of who he is inside. I may do a lot of griping about things, but I will never complain about Bill. He’s one of the very few people in the world who almost never annoys me. He truly is loving, kind, thoughtful, and caring, even if he probably indulges me too much. I think we work well together because I encourage him to have fun and remind him that deserves love and respect. And he does the same for me, although our needs are different. But mostly, he’s just a lot of fun, witty and intelligent, and mostly game for new experiences. He has a gentleness about him and a deep capacity to love and forgive. It’s always a pleasure to be with him, and an honor to be his wife.

These pictures remind me it’s time for a trip to Italy or Austria… or somewhere else we haven’t been in awhile. We are very fortunate to have so much fun together and enjoy each other’s company so much. Our idiosyncrasies are actually kind of complementary, which is a rare thing in any relationship. We rarely fight, and when we do, the make up is swift and satisfying, with no lingering bullshit. Neither of us has to walk on eggshells around the other, because we’re both eager to settle any disputes and get on with living peacefully.

Sometimes, I forget how much fun we manage to have just being together… and sometimes, I think people who read my blog think I’m just a negative, unhappy, mean-spirited person. I may be negative and cranky sometimes, but I’m definitely not mean-spirited… at least not to people who aren’t clearly asking for it. If you treat me right, there’s nothing I won’t do for you. But shit on me, and that’s when you’ll certainly see the less fun loving side of my personality. Bill is almost always a peach, even to those who mistreat him, but he’s getting a lot better at enforcing boundaries. That may make other people lament, but it’s the best thing for his own self-preservation. No one can stay healthy or happy being a doormat to other people.

I remember when I first fell in love with Bill. My mom could barely stand it. Mom always told me how obnoxious she thinks I am and, apparently, I was even worse when I found love. She said, “I’m not sure I can stand being around Jenny in love.” Fortunately for her, it’s only happened once.

I’m not sure what we’re going to do today. It’s Columbus Day and we still have beautiful weather. Maybe we’ll go somewhere and do something fun. It would probably be a good idea, rather than sitting around the house watching bad TV and drinking wine. No matter what, I’ll probably ask more inappropriate, offensive, or ridiculous questions to provoke one of Bill’s best WTF facial expressions. If I’m lucky, I’ll catch it with the camera.


The $61 steak…

Last night, while we were enjoying wine with our neighbors, Bill reminded me of a funny experience we had with my Uncle Brownlee. The year was 2010 and we were living in Georgia, not too far from the Atlanta area. On Bill’s birthday, in July, we visited Craft Atlanta, which has now closed. Craft is a chain of expensive restaurants started by the great chef, Tom Colicchio. They are usually in major cities. I’ve only been to the defunct location in Atlanta and its more casual sister, Craftbar, which is also closed.

In 2010, we were still fairly broke. We had just moved back to the United States from Germany, and Bill was still paying child support for his youngest daughter. A visit to a restaurant like Craft was a real treat. We usually only went to nice restaurants for my birthday, but that year, I told Bill I wanted us to go out on his birthday for a change. So we did, and he chose Craft Atlanta for our celebration.

I’m glad we had the chance to try this restaurant before it closed!

I remember I had duck for dinner, and it came with family style sides of creamy mashed Yukon Gold potatoes and roasted asparagus. Bill hesitated when he saw what he really wanted… a delectable rib eye steak that had been dry aged for 28 days. The price was $61, which was more than he’d ever spent on any entree at a restaurant.

Although the price gave him pause, I encouraged him to order it anyway. He did, and I noticed our waiter looked very happy. I’m sure it mostly had to do with his getting a bigger tip, but I also had a feeling he knew that steak would put a huge smile on Bill’s face. Sure enough, it did. It was probably the most delicious steak either of us had ever had. And, better yet, we had plenty of leftovers!

I just did a search to see if I posted about that meal on Facebook. I found this thread, which is not as exciting as it could have been.

I know I also took some pictures, including the one featured at the top of the posts. These were the days before I wrote restaurant reviews, except for the odd one on, which did not allow pictures.

Anyway, in November of that year, we went to Virginia for Thanksgiving. We were talking about Bill’s special birthday meal with some of my cousins. Uncle Brownlee happened to be sitting in the kitchen, passively listening to me describe Bill’s dinner while he held up the newspaper to read. When I mentioned how much the steak was, he dropped the paper and gave me the funniest, most profound WTF look ever… His mouth dropped open. His brow furrowed and eyes narrowed. It was almost like I said the f-word in front of my Granny or something. He was shocked. I wish I’d taken a picture of his face at that moment. It was classic. Brownlee is a very “salt of the Earth” type of guy. He’d never spend that much on a steak, no matter how good it is.

Bill tried to explain why the steak was so expensive, but Brownlee wouldn’t hear it and thought it was ludicrous that we’d spend so much on a piece of dry aged meat. He’s always been practical and frugal with money. He’d probably rather spend his money on a Hammond organ or building supplies for his next project. I used to love watching him work on his construction projects. I remember he’d find cast off supplies like old doors, cables, or odd pieces of wood and he’d turn them into something beautiful and functional, as if by magic. He also taught himself to play the organ by ear and was good enough to play in bands for years. I used to sing with him accompanying me at the Natural Bridge Hotel. His old friend, Donnie, who played saxophone and sang, would join us. Donnie died on Christmas a few years ago. I was really sad to hear about his death, too… also very sudden.

I haven’t heard any more news since yesterday. I talked to my mom last night and filled her in on what I knew about this situation. She doesn’t use computers and refuses to have anything to do with the Internet, so she wasn’t aware that Brownlee had had a setback. She did say that when Brownlee saw my dad in his final days, he’d made it very clear that he didn’t want his life to end that way and was not interested in life supportive measures that wouldn’t lead to recovery. I really can’t blame him. It’s highly unlikely that Brownlee could still keep doing all that he’s ever loved doing, even if they did everything they could to keep him going. I suspect that being an invalid would be more than Brownlee could bear.

It was heartbreaking for me to see my dad like that, tethered to many machines and hearing alarms blare with even the tiniest movement. All of that intervention was ultimately for naught, and cost a mint. Dad had managed to survive health crises before. He’d even had a feeding tube for awhile and although the doctors bluntly told my mom he’d never improve, he did improve for awhile. At least physically.

But when my dad had his gallbladder operation and couldn’t recover from the anesthesia, it was clear that his body had finally had enough. My mom asked the medical staff to disconnect everything and let my dad go. He didn’t want to go. He made it plain that he didn’t want to die by trying his hardest to keep breathing. Mom had to tell him to let go, which he finally did. He passed away peacefully, with an amazed smile on his face.

I love this house. Brownlee has done a wonderful job making it what it is. He did most of the masonry and built the railings on the steps. That big tree in the front yard was planted when my Aunt Jeanne died in 1995.

I think it’s going to be very hard for my family when we lose Brownlee. He lives in the family homestead– the house my father grew up in and the cornerstone of my memories of my whole family. I don’t know if his wife will be willing or able to maintain it. Her son– my cousin– is a professional musician in Nashville. Her daughter lives in Roanoke and has her own career. My aunt has her own health issues to worry about. But it really is a stunning, magical place. I love visiting there. It’s been too long since my last visit.

The other side of the property. There are two creeks that intersect. Up the hill is the barn, where we have parties.
A rare snowy day in November.
The road that runs in front of the house is named after my grandfather.
Wish I could move in there myself. I love the sound of the creek when I’m going to sleep. It’s hard to believe that my grandparents rented part of that house for a time. I think someone from our family has been there since 1935.

Anyway… I meant for this to be more of a lighthearted post than it’s turned out to be. I guess I really miss home. I continue to pray for peace and comfort for my loved ones.