Let me start with a breathtaking piece of music, Brazilian Toqhinho playing Bachianinho #1 (from Bach).  Nothing like listening to an artist while you peruse this bit of drivel.

I belatedly celebrated our 18th Anniversary this week (31 August is the actual date).  I’ll have photos of the newest teapot, my special anniversary gift each year.  She and our youngest were away last weekend at a wedding where she squeezed in the 1st half of Furman’s victory over their once hated rival, The Citadel (where her father went to school).

I don’t think that I’ve ever put her name in my blog, more out of privacy and intimacy than anything.  Her name is Honey, not her given name but the name her father gave her I think a few weeks into her life.  The only time she wasn’t Honey was I think in class during college and during her work time.  The first evening I knocked on her door, I asked for her by a different name.  I soon learned of Honey.

I can only assume that she loved me and I loved her when we became engaged and were married, but it is difficult to understand how I could have found a person so selfless yet so rich, so full of life in such a quiet way.  She is quiet and reserved, and she would do nothing to get noticed in life.  On the contrary.  She is happiest with a cup of hot tea beside her, curled up with a blanket and a book or Entertainment Weekly newly arrived with Buffy or Angel or Bones on television.

I know our lives would bore many people.  We mainly are home with our boys or running one of them here or there.  It is special, though, to watch a mother and child together in a quiet place, to see a woman’s heart infused into a young boy.

I ordered a couple things from Bluefly.com for her as well for our anniversary.  I used to buy all of her clothes for her as she despises shopping, hates trying on clothes, and won’t get anything for herself.  Getting anything nice would never happen, and I used to bring things home from my trips (especially hitting Norstrom Rack and Saks stores when I would find them).  We’ve both dropped a ton of weight in the last six months, so I thought it was time for her to have some new things (I’m at 49 pounds and counting for what it’s worth).

Toquinho, is pretty awesome, don’t you think?  Quick segue below (Corinne Bailey Rae, John Legend, and John Mayer at last year’s Grammy’s).

It’s becoming more and more difficult for me to spend individual time with each of the boys.  Might as well have full disclosure since I’ve introduced Honey.  Jamie just turned 13, Allen is 10, and Joseph is 4.  You can see my flickr set of the three boys if you like.  This is the first year for me not to coach Jamie in soccer since he was in pre-school, and my time with him has definitely dropped accordingly.  He’s still open enough to connect whenever I reach out, so heading off alone with him to eat or do nothing together is important.   I grabbed a pizza yesterday and took it to Allen’s school for lunch with him.  You’re not allowed to share food with others, so it was left to he and I to chow down on a piping-hot pie (sausage, pepperoni, and jalapeno peppers is our pizza of choice).  Who was the coolest dad in the cafeteria?  Oh, that would be Allen’s dad!

Joseph and his carpool friend from down the street (a drop-dead cutie-pie) dragged me from my office to play chase in the backyard yesterday afternoon.  She doesn’t realize the power she has over me, what with no little girls in my life to ruin with sweets and gifts aplenty.  When she asks if I can play with them, well, I drop everything.  Alas, her mom came after twenty minutes or so, but Joseph decided he wanted to play baseball with me.  He sent rockets to the flower beds, popping baseballs with a fat plastic bat.  Many mornings, I roll over to find him sleeping next to me while Honey gets the boys off to school.  This morning, he was in a brown puppy costume, Allen’s Halloween costume from his fourth Halloween.

No promises of what appears here, the frequency, the content, the rhetoric or dialogue or meanderings or droplets that will appear here.  Dominic Frasca (above) and John Butler (below) to take you out.  Have a great weekend, and thanks for stopping by.

I’m every woman’s dream when it comes to gifts, truly.  My wife is the least materialistic person I’ve met (in case you need evidence, she last bought a pair of shoes two years ago, and the only clothing purchases she’s made for herself in the last six months are two blouses from J. Jill using the gift card I gave her for Christmas).  When I was traveling to Asia a couple times a year, I would stop in Singapore and buy jewelry inventory for gifts.  I’d been introduced to a jeweler their by a former executive friend of mine, and she regularly gave me the Bob discount on baubles and jewels.  Inventory then is distributed for Anniversary, Christmas, Birthdays, you name it.

Our 17th Anniversary came and went with no special gifts.  I’ve given my wife a teapot for our Anniversary each and every year, so I still have to hunt for this year’s edition (see all the teapots here on Flickr).  Seventeen teapots in all (one given to her on the day of our wedding, and one every year after that).

While most everyone was snuggling down to a USC blowout of The Ohio State University Saturday night, I was sitting across from my wife and her best friend at dinner before seeing the Indigo Girls in concert.  South African cuisine Boerwors, Crab Pastries, Biltong, Sosaties with an off-the-menu spice instead of the Apricot sauce.

The Indigo Girls celebrate their twentieth anniversary of recording music this year, and it was nineteen years ago that a fourth-year co-ed at Georgia Tech drove back to Furman to see them in concert for the first time with me.  I’ve seen them in eight states over a dozen time, and she’s seen them maybe twenty times.  Amy and Emily.  They’ve written songs together since high school, which is to say each writes a song then together they arrange it.

Let It Ring (above), performed in Dublin.  Amy’s songs are harder, more raw, and hers is a talent that has grown rapidly over these two decades.

Kid Fears (above) was one of the early hits of theirs, here with the cameo from Michael Stipe.

Sugar Tongue (above), a new song on their upcoming indie CD after they were dumped by their record label.

Emily’s songs are more melodic, gentler, stunning in both their lyrics and in their tone.  Power of Two is a favorite of mine, and I’m normally drawn more to Emily songs.

Missy Higgins (above) opened for them at Chastain Park, just as she did the night before in Hilton Head (where my wife had flown to see them with her best friend, back-to-back concerts). 

This is How It Goes (live, above). Grab her CD’s if you don’t already know her.

Hearing Amy and Emily, they’re such an intriinsic part of who my wife is.  The complexities of this lady who was gifted to me, who deserves so much more.  A shy woman with a closet passion for vampires.  The bookworm is the same, only she’s transformed over these years from the little girl in mason jar glasses to a bouquet who becomes more beautiful with each year.  The one of few words who is probably smarter than anyone I know.

I’ve belted out these songs at my wife’s side for so many years.  Saturday, I just sat there with my eyes closed most of the evening, a full moon beaming down on us with a few stars in accompaniment.  It wasn’t my time to sing, just to drink it all in.  Some couples drift away over two decades, and some people change as their circumstances batter them down or set them apart.  She is no different, but the woman she has become is so much bigger and richer and deeper than the curly-haired co-ed I fell in love with.

How I found her; well, it was surely accidentally in this huge mass of humanity.  How I captured her imagination; well, it was surely a momentary lapse of judgment on her part.  How I’ve kept her heart; well, it is surely not for my achievement nor my attractiveness nor my wit nor the depth of my thought.  I cannot say.  She doesn’t like change, so I’ve had that going for me.

All I know that her touch, her smile, all of it. I treasure each new day she’s still here, each morning she brushes by me, each night I flop my arm over and touch her back. And I think the best days may still be ahead.

In case you need a little head start, here are a half dozen or so romantic ideas to get you going.

1. Flowers I’m a huge fan of flowers of all kind, and the more the merrier.  Head to a Fresh Market or Whole Foods and grab two dozen roses, Gerber daisies, or just grab bunches of flowers.  And do this at the most random of times, like a Saturday morning or Thursday afternoon.
2. The Night Away This is one of our favorite things to do, and it’s something that requires a little work on your part if it is a surprise.  Get a babysitter you trust, and negotiate a good rate to come by at 4:00 on a Friday and stay with the kids until 4:00 Saturday.  Plan the menu for the kids, and work on anything required to keep them having fun while your gone.  Make sure your lady’s schedule is cleared the following day.  Then find one of the nicest or most interesting hotels in your city and book a room for the evening.  Pack your overnight bag for her and for you, then sneak it into your trunk.  Add a terrific restaurant for Friday evening, head to your normal dinner place, then tell her that you’ve arranged a new place.  Then let the rest of the 24 hours unfold, whether it be a show, movie, concert, art gallery, whatever she likes to do.  We’ve done this at Ritz Carlton and the W, and it has been both a romantic and relaxing time.
3. Massage This can be a his-and-hers massage or just for her.  If you’re ambitious, then you get a little skilled up on how to give a massage yourself.  The feet are a great place to start (see below).  Giving a good massage is actually hard as you want to move quicker than you should.  Take your time and focus on her.  Add oil and candles to complete the mood.
Instructions for Beginners : Swedish Massage for the Feet — powered by ExpertVillage.com
4. Breakfast in Bed Tried and true.  It requires some preparation the evening before (make sure you have whatever you want to make.  This might mean a quick trip to the market on the way home to get berries, flowers, eggs, juices, and breads.  Sneak out in the morning and put your breakfast together.  I think smaller quantities and more variety works best, so maybe some fruit, berries, an egg or two, croissant, hot tea or coffee, some granola, a couple fresh juices.  Then share the breakfast with her while still serving her.  Once she’s done, draw a hot bath for her, adding some rose petals and other great bath products (just a little).  Then give her some time alone with her iPod and favorite book.  Get the kids out of the house (maybe take them out for breakfast after cleaning up your breakfast mess).
5. Touch Her This is something I struggle with constantly.  How do I approach my wife in a novel way?  If my touch was for the first time, or if my hand brushed a woman’s arm who I worked with and was infatuated with, emotions and hormones would surge through me.  When you have been with the woman of your dreams for five or ten years, her hand becomes too familiar.  You may have to come up with your own artificial tricks to renew the excitement and mystery of touching your true love.  Take her hand in both of your hands.  Run your hands through her hair and massage her scalp.  Sit behind her on your sofa and wrap your arms all the way around her.  Close your eyes, imagine her arm or side or thigh, then move your hands along them.
6. Create a Love Note I am no writer, but some of the greatest words I’ve ever penned have come in the form of love notes to my wife.  Some have come on an occasion, while others have been moments of spontaneity.  I would suggest praying about and for her before you start, as well as having photos and artifacts to inspire you.  Then just let it all out.

These are just a few ideas, but hopefully they can help you to add a little romance in one of the least romantic times of the year, the dog-days of summer.  Any other ideas?

Monkeys do it.  Vampire bats do it.  Even bees do it.  Altruism is an action from one to another that gives no benefit to the giver.  Often in nature, the altruistic beast is actually diminished in some way; i.e., weakened, put at risk, or even destined to death.  These are not conscious decisions but are DNA-coded behaviors, making the charitable provider an unwitting accomplice.

For humans, true altruism is difficult to get a handle on.  Compassion is often confused with altruism.  There is no requirement for a person to move from compassion to altruism.  Want to help those less fortunate for a tax deduction and a warm heart?  Go ahead.

The truly altruistic act of romance is rare.  Romance has its own hierarchy based on expectations for what is returned.

• Blind Romanticism (the desperate actions of mainly pleading men, hoping that some heart-shaped red pursuit will lead to the recipient turning around and reaching for the romanticist)
• Romantic Repentance (digging yourself out of a hole)
• Romantic Manipulation (leading the recipient to decisions through fuzzy, rose-colored glasses)
• Romantic Nurturing (actions that lead to a deepening of affection and emotional connectivity)
• Romance as Altruism (giving with nothing expected in return; pure selflessness)

I find that I have become much more self-centered the last two years in our relationship than I ever was.  I’m not sure of the causes, but it has become more common for me to choose myself over my wife.  Granted, it is mostly small things, and it may reflect a growth of individual in our marriage yet not at the expense of couple.  My wife is free to enjoy time with her best friend, time with her different groups.  She is better for it, and I am no worse for it.  Whether these times to ourselves are a big deal or not (or even noticed) really isn’t the point.

As a man, a husband, a lover, the opportunity to put yourself and focus squarely on the woman in your life is rare, or at least I think it is.  Cut away all of the buzzing of life, the gnats of pressures and children and chores and tasks snipping at your ankles.  Push through the legacy of the past, the failures of relationship, the tricks of coupledom.  Get through all of this without diminishing it or neglecting it, then place all of your energies on her with a level of subtlety or brashness that you’ve never reached.  Is it possible?

Romantic altruism can be the great venture, no question, but it can also be the spontaneous moment of deep love.  Can you hold her face and gaze into her eyes and lose yourself there?  Can you move your heart to a new place, not contingent on anything she is or does or can become?  Can your capacity for love grow without intervention, without the risk of loss to another or to death or to suffereing?

Summertime now, a day like any other day.  Can this be a new day in your heart and mine, in your eyes and mine?

One of the neat parts of the new site design is the Category names and icons that we developed, a fun way of bucketing these thoughts into different categories.  There are a few with no links to date, the most blatant omission being Loving.

In deciding to move toward a life blog, I first decided that it’s OK not to be an expert in a specific topic.  I think what makes this site interesting is that I put my introspection, self-reflection, candor, and probably wallowing right out there.  If it is interesting, so be it.  If it is helpful, well that’s OK as well.

I’ve always felt like I was a romantic man, but my idea of romance has changed dramatically as I’ve matured and as I’ve been married for close to seventeen years.  Romance used to be dispersing romantic items to a woman: candlelight, flowers, locale, sweet words, a dance.  These are all components that are wonderful regardless of the occasion.  I am a big flower buyer, moreso with the cost of flowers dropping dramatically.  Head to a grocery store or Whole Foods, and you’ll find $20-40 can buy a gorgeous bouquet or two dozen roses (the more the merrier).

We’ve been suckered into believing that being romantic is mimicking a movie or television show, or that being romantic is an extra half a minute of foreplay before getting it on.  Let me give you one man’s thoughts, hardly definitive on the subject though as I’d like to really get into this in detail.

First, romance demands nothing in return.  This has to be the hardest hurdle for men to leap when it comes to being romantic.  Most of us are really just puppies; we just want to be patted on the head and told we’ve done a good job.  This is true for handling some rare household chore or some childcare task, and it is true for romance.  Too often, a romantic act is actually a plea for some sort of recognition for the man.  “Look, I’m romantic!” we shout.  Recognition is wonderful, don’t get me wrong, but the point of romance is to center all of your energy, heart, and mental capacity on her.  I wrote this and come back to it after going upstairs for more coffee, and it is so easy to simply fire those words out and move on.  This little gem, however, is the embodiment of romance.  How difficult is it to put your own self-centeredness aside and focus every once of your being on the girl or woman you love?  It has always been difficult, whether we live today in our Crackberry, 24/7 plugged-in world or 200 years ago when loving a woman was a character flaw of a spineless man.

Let me take you through an exercise that illustrates this a bit.  Close your eyes and think of your favorite sports moment.  It may be a live event, watching some great game, or maybe some individual day of glory in your own life.  Remember the energy, the adrenalin shooting through your veins, the euphoria and elation?

Now, purge your mind, and close your eyes again, and put 100% of your mind on the girl you love.  Touch the back her neck, her cheek.  Smell her hair.  See her smile.  Wrap your arms around her.  Watch her walk along a path, oblivious to your presence.

Maybe it’s easy for you, but it is so difficult for me.  And so rare.  So rare to put all of me squarely on her, with nothing asked for in return.  Yes, romance demands nothing in return, but it also starts with me and you.  Most of us aren’t exactly experts at subtlety, so the ability to focus so much and impart such a small touch in return is hardly natural.

Romance is best when it isn’t a special hat to be adorned on a certain date or event. Valentine’s Day, Anniversaries, and Birthdays are the top three days of Romance, and I’m sure some of the most romantic times with a man come during these times.  Yet, there is something a bit artificial in being told by Madison Avenue that it is time to be romantic.  More endearing and impactful are the romantic acts of spontaneity and of out-of-the-blue romantic journeys.  Romance as improv, taking a right turn in an evening’s journey that is all about her is a breath of fresh air.  The same can be said for the typical Thursday that suddenly unfolds before her eyes, with a babysitter arriving unannounced at 4:00PM with a note to get dressed for an evening of mystery, a car whisking her away to her favorite shop where a gift card is waiting, then takes her to the small Italian bistro where you are waiting in your best, with candles ablaze.

Romance isn’t a special trick, don’t mistake it for that.  It isn’t a tried and true out-pitch or cross-over dribble ready to be rolled out whenever we’re in trouble.  Romance should be extra-special on your part, with delightful results to follow.  You can have a single rose on a pillow or a hundred filling a bedroom.  “It’s the thought that counts” is truer in describing romance than probably anything else, especially when romance is premediated.  Focus on her with love relentlessly, and let that take you to the what’s of romance.

Think of this as a preface, and I’ll explore the topic of romance in more detail the rest of this week.  Hope it’s a good start.