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7/16/1999 Friday Update note: I added a picture of Stephen to my 7/15 entry. If you read it last night, you might want to go back and check it again. Watching: Zoboomafoo, Dry at Night Progress Report: As I wrote earlier this week, our first attempt to get the twins to stay dry through the night was unsuccessful. Since Tuesday night we've been getting the boys up at 11 to use the bathroom; this seems to have helped Stephen, at least, who has remained dry on each of the three nights since. Matthew, however, has been wet every morning. Norm Redux: Tab received a package in the mail yesterday, opened it, and discovered he had won a New Yankee sweatshirt. He had forgotten all about filling out an entry form for a contest drawing while he and Daniel were waiting to see Norm last week. Tab was surprised. "I never win anything," he marveled. It's a marvelously thick sweatshirt in a lovely, deep cranberry color. Hmm, wonder if Tab will share it with me?
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Meeting TabI spent whatever free time I could find this week working on my collab for the On Display webring. It is a more personal piece of writing than I am used to sharing with others since it deals with the emotions I was experiencing during a pivotal time in my life: the summer I met Tab. As I was writing that piece, I relived the memories of that time. I was living alone in Portland, Maine, a city to which I had moved after college. Though I hadn't known a soul when I first moved there, I soon had a job I loved, a small circle of friends whose company I enjoyed, and a quiet apartment for me and my two cats. I was content with my life; by the ripe old age of 24, I'd decided I never wanted to get married. I had several flings, but I was not interested in long-term relationships with any of these guys. I valued my privacy and independence too much to ever want to live with a man, let alone marry one. I'd heard about Tab before I met him. Elaine, a childhood friend of mine from New Jersey, had visited me in August 1985 and had told me, "You should really meet this friend of mine. You and he have so much in common." Prophetic words, though at the time I didn't pay much attention to them. The following May, I flew down to New Jersey to visit Elaine, and she introduced me to Tab. No, that's not true. I was standing in the kitchen of her house, when Tab, who was at that time living with Elaine and her boyfriend, walked in and gave me a big hug by way of introduction. I was taken aback by this exuberant greeting; but like many shy people, I warm up quickly to demonstrative folks. And soon I discovered that Elaine was right: Tab and I did have a lot in common. He was the only other person I'd ever met who could quote lines from Buckaroo Banzai. We also shared an interest in science fiction movies and space exploration, and we discovered we had both frequented the same penny candy store when we were little. And, best of all, Tab made me laugh. I'd never before experienced such an immediate connection with anyone. In July I went back to New Jersey to visit Tab. After that trip, I told my mother that I'd met the man I was going to marry. I returned again in September, October, and November. I missed him so much when we were apart. Phone calls and letters did not suffice; I remember that between visits I craved his touch so intensely it was actually a physical pain. Tab came up to spend New Year's with me. Six weeks later, I packed everything I owned into the back of a U-Haul trailer, and my father drove me to New Jersey where I moved in with my grandmother. Less than a year later, I moved in with Tab, and in October 1989 we were married.
Here's a picture Elaine took of Tab and me in July 1986. I have 1980s-style permed poodle hair. Tab was 30, and I was 24 that summer.
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