Next month will be 20 years since we bought the Big Yellow House. 20 years! That seems so wild.
David and I are what I refer to as “commitment-phobics” – neither of us is good at committing to things. For example, no tattoos. I don’t understand HOW people DECIDE what tattoo to get! It lasts FOR-EV-ER, people! And we lived together 12 years before finally getting married. Yeah, commitment is not our strong suit. So, to realize we have lived in this house in Arlington this long is bizarre.
Anyway, the reason I mention we are going on 2 decades in this house is because one of the FIRST THINGS the realtor said when we pulled up to it was that it definitely needed work on the curb appeal. I believe what ol’ Jim W. said was, “Well Dave and Sue, the FIRST thing you should do if you decide on this property is rip out this ugly old chain link fence and replace it with some BUSHES! That’ll spruce the place up”.
Yeah…
So now, 20 years and much rust later, we are getting a new fence! Well, it’s not just RUST, that poor fence was also hit by a car once while we were in Florida, which left a couple poles bent and a big dent. We called the non-emergency police number for that one, and a terrific office named Levy came and took our report. We got to giggling with her and tried to go all “Private Detective” on the situation, looking for paint chips from the car that hit it, even though the accident may have happened a month earlier… Another night a guy passed out against the fence – had to call the non-emergency police number for that one, too… But the biggie was when a car literally ran through our front gate, through the steps, and basically ended up wedged under the porch two years ago. It took two tow trucks to pull it out! That was pretty much the straw that broke the fence’s back.
Here we are now in 2020 – the year of SUCK but also the year of a new fence! We were going to hire someone to put it in, but I convinced David he had the skills to do it himself. This of course means that the fence will take at least 5 months to get done, if not longer, because that is the pace at which he works. That’s my man!!
David began designing a new fence at least 12 months ago. There have been little papers on tables all around our house with sketches and measurements for mooonths.
Oh, and the fence permit! He got that a couple of months ago. That, of course, entailed a lot MORE drawings and measuring!!
Then there was the SUPPLY purchasing. He stocked up on the needed lumber and cement. And because he loves inventing things, he built himself some special tools for measuring and making sure each post was the correct distance from the last. He also did some CHALK MARKS on the sidewalk to notate where the posts should go. Only, cuz he is a slow worker, his chalk marks washed away a few times…
But as of tonight - he has 6 posts in the ground! And they look great! Only about 16 more to go.
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| My fence maker |
But the part I really wanted to share was the special bit he did. You see, I asked David if we could put our initials in the concrete as it dried. At first he said no. Boo! But he must’ve had second thoughts about the idea because a few days later, while I was busy working, he secretly hand-carved a special love stamp!!! He made THIS stamp to put our initials in the wet concrete!!
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| David's hand-carved stamp, covered in dishsoap before pressing it in concrete |
Isn’t that the sweetest thing ever?? It took him a few hours to carve it I think. It is perfect!!
So, this week he put the first of the posts in. And when the concrete was just right, he slowly pushed it down and honestly my heart felt all “glowy” at how lucky I was to have found him in this big world.
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| The sweetest guy in the world |
Then he pulled the stamp up and we examined the concrete. And realized – THE WHOLE DESIGN WAS BACKWARDS!
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| We've got a backwards kind of love |
Yup, D & S was carved the wrong direction to be stamped. But instead of being upset, I was delighted. We laughed and laughed. Backwards.
And I realized what a fitting metaphor that stamp is for our relationship. It’s perfectly imperfect.
Perfectly imperfect. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.
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| That's my man |
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