Today is my third anniversary. My gift for Ted is something I made myself: a plastic mesh bag for holding little pieces of soap. This will allow him to use up the tiny slivers of Irish Spring and Lever 2000 accumulate in the shower because he can’t stand the waste of just tossing them. I have every confidence that Ted is going to be delighted with this gift.
It would be wrong to say that Ted’s sense of thrift is one of the things I initially found attractive about him, but it is one of the reasons I married him. I believe that love and sex are vital parts of a good relationship, but those things are easy—I mean, idiot teens can manage that much—but the successful day-to-day operation of long-term monogamy requires more than passion. I knew before I got married that I really should be with someone who is responsible about money, because if I married someone with my own spendthrift ways, we would be broke all the time. This might seem cold and calculating, but I figured that it would be impossible to sustain even the most feverish passion in a climate of chronic fiscal misery.
Ted and I have a lot in common—a fondness for murder ballads and Thai food, antipathy towards Republicans and baby gear featuring licensed characters—but the things we don’t have in common are, I think, just as important to our marriage. We complement each other. We help each other and balance each other out. We’re stronger together than we are apart.
Ted and I have known each other for awhile now. We’re both in our late 30s. We just had a baby. Anyone familiar with two out of three of these phenomena will understand the ways in which our relationship does not currently resemble what we had when we first started dating. I may occasionally heave a little sigh for those carefree days, but, given the chance, I wouldn’t trade what we have now for what we had then. We have a daughter now, of course, but I also like our union better the more we keep working at it. I think that Ted and I are both better people today than we were three years ago, and I know that I love him even more than I did on the day that I married him.
Happy anniversary, babe.
Who Wore It Better: Nip Slip Edition
[PHOTOS VIA EGOTASTIC.]
Some Items I Purchased at Rummage and Garage Sales Last Weekend
Vintage Tupperware Ice Tups set (50¢)
Egg separator (10¢)
Electric skillet ($2)
Flat Stanley by Jeff Brown (25¢)
Toasts and Forms of Public Address by William Pittenger ($1)
Children’s Hour: 3 Games (10¢)
Bennett Cerf’s Book of Animal Riddles (25¢)
Le Creuset 1¼ Quart Saucepan ($1)
Figures from Fisher-Price Circus (75¢)
Complete Nursery Song Book by Inez Bertail, illustrated by Walt Kelly (50¢)
The Jumblies by Edward Lear, drawings by Edward Gorey (25¢)
Print of Boy Jesus in the Temple (75¢)
Archival Interview: Jeffrey Eugenides on Middlesex
So, way back when Middlesex was first published, I got to have lunch with Jeffrey Eugenides. I was very excited. I was at the table with the author; his editor at Farrar, Straus and Giroux; a couple of booksellers; and a very blonde, very tan, very loud PR woman who would not shut up about a galley she had just read. It was called The Da Vinci Code, and she made the rest of us listen to her very detailed—yet in no way compelling—recapitulation of the plot pretty much from the time we sat down until the check was paid. Seriously: Her domination—her really, really loud domination—of the conversation would have been astonishing in any case, but what made it truly spectacular was that she was at a lunch with one author and yammering away about another author’s book. Thus, my antipathy towards The Da Vinci Code actually predates my own pre-pub reading of the book, and it’s kind of personal.
Nevertheless, I sat next to Eugenides at the lunch, and we managed to have a few quiet words about Alice Dreger and John Money, and we ultimately had a very nice email exchange that turned into this interview. I’m mentioning the interview now, of course, because a bookselling force more powerful than Dan Brown just picked Middlesex for her book club.
The Sentencing of Scooter Libby: Any Eyewitness Report
My very good-looking fellow Scorpio Scott Shrake moved to Washington, D.C., recently. He’s decided that his near-complete lack of knowledge regarding and, really, interest in politics will not stop him from becoming the Ultimate Washington Insider. He’s a true American hero.
He just posted his report on the sentencing of Scooter Libby over at The Huffington Post. This is my favorite bit:
Scooter’s very interesting-looking wife coughed, then leaned down and got a cough drop or something out of her purse. At the first 10-minute recess, she greeted people in the hall, and went and had a last chat with the security guards and court personnel, whom Scooter later thanked in his brief statement. She had on a black suit with a long, light-blue sash around her shoulders. Like a dark cloud with a bright lining. Her hair is amazing, and she knows it, and she makes a habit of pushing it back with her hand, sensuously. (You don't get these details from the AP, folks!) She really is fierce.