As the great philosopher Paula Abdul so eloquently stated, “we come together because opposites attract.” Or maybe it was the cartoon cat that said it. It was one of those two wise folks, I’m sure — the phrase certainly was not common before they popularized it. I bring it up here because as I essentially have reached a month of writing something new every day — by far the most writing I have done in a long time — I thought it appropriate to recognize the other person in my house who does stuff that is far more substantial than what I’m doing.
The helmet pictured above is Declan’s ski helmet. Caryn didn’t like that it was so plain, so she went to work in her crafting office and created those wonderful stickers to help represent our delightful, perplexing son. I believe she is currently in the planning stages to add appropriate stickers to Rory’s helmet as well. While I’m over here writing self aggrandizing posts and offering melodramatic pontification, she’s in her room making stuff. Doing stuff. It amazes and impresses me every time.
So yes, I come to sing the praises of my wife. I promise I’m not doing it to curry favor. Well, maybe to curry it a little bit, but mostly as an apology for spending some of my time writing when there are innumerable more productive things I could be doing. Yet I opened with that horrifically cliched opposites attract joke because I suspect I don’t really have to explain to her why I’m choosing to spend free time writing foolish newsletters about fruit slicing or grocery store robots. The same way she doesn’t have to explain to me why it’s important to her that she spend some of her free time making goose stickers for Declan’s ski helmet.
Caryn does things, and is capable of things I would never even attempt. And she takes care of our kids in different ways as well. Several years ago, she got interested in crafting solely because, like the ski helmet, there were certain clothes that Declan had to wear that she thought were unacceptably plain. So she bought some equipment, taught herself how to use it, and since then has made countless items for family, friends and everyone in between.
This is example is a long journey, but stay with me. Last year, we got a fireplace insert to help heat the house. It’s lovely. She did not balk when I decided that instead of always paying for wood, I would buy a chainsaw and cut our own firewood. Which I have (sort of) while miraculously not injuring myself (yet). What we didn’t have was a wood rack with a roof, to help keep the wood dry so it seasoned properly. I decided I would try to build one. I essentially met one roadblock, and then stopped and moved on to other things, saying I would do it eventually. She decided she would do it, and actually has done it (though it’s not done yet, but I have every confidence she will finish it).
Last weekend our clothes washer broke. I said I would call the repair person on Monday. She decided she would figure out how to fix it herself. Which she did. Frankly it never occurred to me that fixing it myself was an option. I’m far more likely to have written a newsletter post about the broken washer than try to figure out how to fix it. She went ahead and did the thing.
This is not to say that I don’t do things she doesn’t. But nearly every time she makes one of these things, or fixes something, or builds something, or, you know, performs surgery on someone it’s amazing to me how differently our minds work and I’m impressed and amazed each time. I think I said that already, but it’s worth repeating. Hopefully I also tell her this in person, and don’t just limit it to a blog post, but attention must be paid.
While I sit writing overly sentimental posts, she’s doing thing and making things for us — and we are all way better off because of it.