Beer in Heaven

April 14 is an important day to me.

Sawan was a recovering alcoholic.  On April 14, 2004, he decided he wasn’t going to drink anymore. 

I wouldn’t meet him for another year and a half, but that decision was so powerful.  It made him the man that he was.  It showed me so many things about him.  It took courage, it took tenacity, it took commitment.  It was such a big part of shaping him into the man of my dreams.

I often wonder what he was like before.  I wonder if I would have fallen in love with him had I met him before he stopped drinking.  It’s one of those silly things that we would talk about sometimes, knowing that we had been in some of the same places at the same times, but didn’t meet.  Knowing that we had actually lived within a few blocks of each other, and probably ran into each other at the grocery store, but never knew it. 

He went to meetings, less and less frequently as time went on, but he told me he always counted fishing as attending a meeting.  It was a spiritual thing to him, fishing, and apparently was part of him “working the steps.”

In AA, they call the day that you stop drinking your “birthday.”  We celebrated it as such.  Our first year together, when we were only dating, I made us a picnic that we took to City Park.  Not just any old picnic, but with fried chicken and potato salad that I had actually cooked.  It was a little breezy, but he wished he had brought a fly rod to teach me to fish on the little lake there.  We dreamed about getting a dog.  We walked around the park and talked for hours.  It’s one of my favorite days with him.

He had five years and change under his belt when he died.  It would have been eight today.  I’m just so proud of him.

There are some days that I can talk about him and our life together matter-of-factly, and then there are some days that when I talk about him, it just makes my face leak.  Today is one of those days.

Most of the time, he acted like it wasn’t hard anymore, like it didn’t really bother him to not be drinking, but on a hot day, like on the beach in Mexico, or after doing manual labor stuff for me at the shop, he would tell me that he craved beer.  Man, I hope there’s beer in heaven.

Opening Day, the Report

I had a great time at Opening Day, even though the Rockies lost (7-0 yikes). 

I saw lots of “local celebrities” and did lots of people watching.  I bumped into a few friends, and several texted and we met up for quick hugs and “Go Rockies!” before the game.

I only cried a little.  I keep concentrating on the fact that I loved baseball before I loved Sawan, so even though baseball makes me miss him, I choose to continue to enjoy it.  I kept having the thought that 50 years from now I wanted to remember that I was there with my Dad, who is probably my favorite person to watch baseball with.  Even though this isn’t the way that I thought my life would go, these are the best circumstances, now, that I could be in, and in the moment I want to enjoy it, not be wishing my life away because I miss my husband.

This season Coors Field had made some upgrades to the scoreboard; I can’t quite say that they were improvements.  There’s so much going on that I find it hard to read.

There were also new cans/bottles for the Coors light that they sell when the Beer Man comes around.  This, however, I can say was an improvement.  It was like an aluminum bottle.  It was a can/bottle hybrid.  A ban.  Or a cottle.  It stayed colder than the old plastic bottles, and had a wider opening.  They were pretty cool. 

Still no decision on the Pretend Rockies Boyfriend.  I did see Dinger, though, and he kissed me on the cheek.

So altogether, it was a fun day.  I’ll count that as a win!

With Mom and Dad in the front office.  Right as we were taking this picture the Governor walked through the lobby.  He didn't mention why he hadn't called me to have me cut his hair.

Opening Day!

I am really looking forward to baseball starting.

Today is the day!  It’s finally here!

Sawan and I always called Opening Day “Christmas” and bought each other a present (I know, nerdy), and I have continued the tradition by buying myself my own present.  I bought a hoodie from the Victoria Secret Pink MLB collection (Finally, they’re starting to realize that women are sports fans, too!  Dream job #2, if I couldn’t be a hairstylist, would be to design women’s fan apparel.  For real.).

As today has approached, I’ve felt slightly nervous about it, I feel the way I feel about any holiday: excited that it’s coming, determined to have a good time, and sad that he won’t be there to enjoy it with me.  My goal for this season is to be able to sing “Take me out to the ball game,” even if I cry.  I might not try for it on Opening Day, but this season, baby.  I can do this.

The first game Sawan and I went to together was Opening Day 2006.  We sat in the Pavillion, the seats that are in the outfield, just below the scoreboard, and I cheered extra loud for my favorite player, Matt Holiday.  He asked if he was my “pretend Rockies boyfriend.”  (“Yes,” was the answer.)  The term stuck, and every year my sisters and I would choose our Pretend Rockies Boyfriend. 

When Matt got traded, I changed to Ryan Spillbourghs.  He just got traded in the off-season, so now I have to choose another one.  I’m not sure who I’ll choose this year, as our roster reminds me a lot of the line-up from the movie Major League.  We’ve got to be the laughing stock of Major League Baseball, with the world’s oldest pitcher making the team.  I should just choose Dinger (that’s our mascot, the dinosaur, for my non-Denver readers), probably.  Hopefully he’ll never get traded.  But then, he doesn’t play outfield, and clearly I have a soft spot for the outfielders.

So, I’ll keep you posted on what I decide.

GO, ROCKIES!

Ellie and I on Opening Day last year.

Crafty

I feel officially nerdy.

I got a sewing machine.  It’s actually still in its box, as it was delivered Monday afternoon and I have been uber busy (getting tax stuff together for my accountant, working, being with friends, you know, first world problems).

I have been pinning on Pinterest.  For those of you who don’t know what Pinterest is, it’s the best thing ever.  It’s a site where you see pictures of everything from home decorating ideas, to DIY projects, to craft stuff, to recipes, to clothing styles, to vacation spots.  When you like something, you “pin” it.  You choose friends, kind of like Facebook, and get to see what they have pinned.  It’s like the best magazine ever.  A friend calls it “crafter’s porn” but it’s really so much more than that.

I keep finding things that I want to make.  It makes me feel sort of dorky. 

Here’s why.  My mom, whom I love, was super-crafty when I was a kid.  In the 80’s, we had a house that was decked out in the then-very-fashionable country-chic.  There was not a dusty blue plaid that she didn’t love.  There was not a goose in the land that didn’t get hung on our wall with a scarf around it’s neck.  There was not a couch without a lace doily hung over the back.  She was the wallpaper queen, she had all the tools and she and other ladies would get together and hang wallpaper at each other’s houses.  She was really good at it.

You know, sort of like this.

Whenever I make fun of our décor, my dad will defend her, and say, “You think you’re exempt.  You think you’re never gonna look back and think anything you liked is dated?”

And I emphatically say that I do not think I’m exempt.  I’m going to look back at this particular era of my life and be like, “Holy cow, it was like somebody puked Damask print all over that house.”  But I can't help it, I love it.  She knows I’m only teasing, anyway.  She has excellent taste.  And now that wallpaper is back in fashion I may have her come hang Damask print wallpaper in my living room.

But I digress.

My point is, I was thinking that craft stuff and sewing was so 80’s.  I’ve suddenly realized that it’s not an “80’s thing” at all, but rather maybe it’s more of a “women in their 30’s thing” or maybe I’ve just had a weird hang up about it and I no longer do.

I’m embracing my nerdiness.  I’m embracing my craftiness.  I’m not going to make geese, but I am going to learn to sew.  I’m stoked.