I debate each year which month is worse: February or March. In New England, they are both piercingly cold, dark, mostly miserable time spans. Valentine’s candy typically pushes February ahead of March, but not this year. I don’t remember anything of note.
I think I’ve traditionally disliked March more than other months since by then I am so deep in the SAD disorder, I want to sleep under a heat lamp and can only watch uncomplicated children’s movies without full on weeping. They lied when they quipped “March comes in like a lion and goes out like a lamb.” In the northeast, it normally just rains or snows or both, all month long.
But this March, I met Jeanette Winterson. British author of “The Powerbook”, “The Passion”, and her cover story / autobiography “Why be Happy when you could be Normal”, Winterson is one of my favorite contemporary writers. And I met her. I said some silly things to her and she signed my copy of “The Powerbook.” Then I swooned all the way home and bought more of her books on Amazon. It was one of those inspiring experiences that made me simply happy to exist.
|Oh you know, me and Jeanette.|
April 30th was our four year anniversary (and Queen’s Day in the Netherlands). This year was even more special as we would be getting married in two months, on another 30th. We had afternoon tea at the Four Seasons in Boston and semi-anxiously awaited the upcoming nuptials...by pretending nothing was happening at all.
About a month before my wedding, in the midst of a plethora of activity and events, I started this blog. I loved to write and wanted to do it more often, but I needed structure (and positive feedback). Thus “Tea and Circuses” was born and I finally stopped being a total creeper and actually started commenting on some of the blogs I had been reading for years.
On June 30, 2012, I married my best friend. While many people make this cliche statement, I actually mean it. April and I are madly in love and very compatible, but we spend more time playing silly games, reenacting chase scenes through the house, quoting “Shaun of the Dead” or "Austin Powers" and engaging in general ridiculousness than we do gazing into each others’ eyes and reciting poetry. Though I do sometimes read the sex columns and Jeremy Clarkson pieces out loud to her. She brings me tea every morning and rubs my perpetually sore muscles. I cook her favorite meals and pack her lunches for work. We are the couple the photographer turns to, even when it’s not our wedding but I rarely notice, since I’m usually whispering to April to check out someone’s unfortunate dress choice.
Part II to follow...