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Three years ago, when I was about to say wedding vows for the second time (I refer to the first as a starter marriage), I sat my fiancée Julie down for a heart-to-heart discussion about stuff. My stuff, to be precise. Through the woes of my first marriage I had learned that it was best to talk things through and lay your feelings out on the table. So I told Julie that I love her and look forward to a long and blissful life together. With one caveat. Well, actually, three. That no matter what we did or where we went, Ansley, my morbidly obese terrier, Collier, my furry four-legged soul mate, and a 1973 2-door Toyota Land Cruiser that I refer to as my Iron Pig, would stay with us to the end of time. Julie agreed wholeheartedly, and the wedding went off without a hitch.
I should have included a revision clause in our agreement, because I’m finding that as I get older, I get attached to stuff. Stuff that doesn’t necessarily look great anymore. Stuff that Julie would LOVE to toss in the trash when I’m not looking. Like a pair of leather hiking boats that I bought in 1994 and still wear when it gets cold and rainy, and my 1997 2-door emerald green Chevy Tahoe with 185,000 miles on its hearty V-8 engine. At the time I thought I was being crafty including the dogs and the Land Cruiser, but now I realize my shortsighted ways. The older I get the more important my old stuff becomes. Plus, the comments have already started on the Tahoe: “Do you drive that anymore?”
It’s a roundabout way of getting here, but the reason I’m rambling is that my perfect things take some time to become perfect. For me it’s not the new Corinthian leather seat but the old beige leather with a perfect imprint of my derriere after 100,000 miles, or the boots that used to be stiff as a heavily starched collar, and after 13 years and countless trips to the Rockies and a foreign continent or two, have finally become more comfortable than my bedroom slippers--and even in a downpour keep my feet as dry as saltines.
So if you’re like me and it takes some time to make your stuff perfect, be sure that you get your marital agreements in writing or--even better--engraved into the rings that you exchange, because Ansley just keeps getting fatter and Collier still beats his tail when I come in the house. At least the Iron Pig is leaking oil on someone else’s driveway.
~ Todd Trimakas |
