Featured

George

I lost my puppy last week. He was over 2 years old, but all my dogs are forever puppies in my eyes. The grief and sadness is intense. For better or for worse, I loved my little puppers like he was my own son. I expected him to be a part of my family for over a decade more.

Then, one morning I woke up as usual to exuberant puppy kisses. I stumble downstairs, my two dogs hopping around me in excitement. I fire off a work email as I heat up water for tea and pour my cereal. I take my cereal bowl and herd my dogs outside to the backyard, where I plop on a lawn chair and start to eat my cereal. My dogs are sniffing around per usual.

Suddenly I hear a loud rustle of leafs. At first I thought it was a squirrel, as they also sound like they weigh 100x more than they do. But it registered in my sleepy brain that these leaf rustles were far too loud even for a squirrel. I look up and I see two pit bulls barreling down the hill that leads into our backyard grassy area.

From there, I got complete tunnel vision. I heard my 6 lb. dog Harry give a frightened yelp and I see him hunkered, with a look of surprise and hurt on his sweet face. One of the pitbulls is standing next to him with his tail wagging. I run to him and pick him up, putting him under my right armpit. I look for George, my 15 lb dog. His neck is in the mouth of a big pit bull.

I run over and try to reach him, and manage to kick the black pitbull but he dances away with George in his mouth. I try this at least 2 or 3 times while Harry is crying in fear. I realize I need to get Harry out of the way. I run to my basement door and stick him inside. Then I run back to George.

The black pitbull is having a ball. He is gnawing on George’s neck with absolute relish. Every time I get remotely close he just ran away. George is motionless with his precious tongue sticking out of his mouth. I don’t really know how much noise I was making or what I was saying. I do remember feeling a panicked dread when I realize I couldn’t protect him. At the top of my lungs I scream “ANDREW WAKE UP” hoping my husband would hear from upstairs and help. Then I just kept screaming. At some point I remember seeing my neighbor who owns the pitbulls coming down the road. The black pitbull eventually released George when he heard his owner. I pick up George and run to the gate for the neighbors to get his dogs.

My neighbor looked shocked. “Is he hurt?” I look down at George who is motionless and has streaks of blood in his fur. “He’s bleeding,” I said. He asked me which dog attacked George and I pointed to the black one. “What? He has never..” my neighbor started to say. At some point another neighbor had run up but just backed away when he saw me talking to the pitbull’s owner. I murmured something like “I have to get him to Andrew,” and closed the gate. I went into the basement and I didn’t see Harry. My heart dropped in fear as I called him and he didn’t run up. I ran up the stairs and he was at the basement door leading to our ground floor. He started crying in fear when he saw me. I ran into the downstairs and again screamed for Andrew to wake up. Andrew came running down the stairs, gun drawn. When he saw George he put it away. We confirmed George had a heart beat and was breathing.

From there we had a quick conversation about what to do. We agreed to take him to our local vet first. The vet checked out George and said all his vitals were fine just mostly dehydrated but he needed emergency services. We took him to the ER. On the way he moved a little bit and even stuck his head out the window. I felt a flicker of hope. When we got to the ER, they told us George was lucky. He needed stitches and would be very sore for several days but he should be okay. They would do a quick procedure with George anesthetized and it would take a few hours.

We go home and wait, trying not to freak out Harry with our apprehension. We realize Harry has some blood on his back and a swelling in his abdomen. We decide to go back to the ER and have Harry checked out while we wait for George.

They check Harry out, tell us he has a little puncture but should be okay. Keep an eye on him. They tell us George is done with his stitches. They bring out a completely floppy George in a half body cast who has obviously not woken up from anesthesia yet. At this point I should have questioned. But we were still exhausted and shocked. They give us his discharge information and we leave.

At home, George is still very drowsy. Every once in a while he opened his eyes and seemed conscious. He finally moved his pale, swollen tongue back inside his mouth. I think his breathing seems labored and weird. I call the ER and ask if I should be concerned. They tell me he’s been through a lot of trauma and just needs to sleep. About 30-60 minutes later, his breathing is still weird and sounds like a whistle. I call again and they ask when he had surgery. They seem concerned he hasn’t recovered from anesthesia yet and tell me to bring him in.

We drive to the ER. George seems more alert and of course his breathing is slow and steady now. A technician comes out and barely looks at him but tells me basically what the first person on the phone said – he has been through a lot of trauma, he seems fine, just let him sleep. Okay then. We go back home. I decide to sleep with George on the floor so he doesn’t wake up and get scared that he’s alone. I hold his paw in my hands. His breathing seems a little funky to me but I remember what the ER told me and try to just let him sleep. Around 2:30 a.m. he chokes up some peanut butter we had tried to give him earlier and starts breathing extremely labored. This did not seem remotely normal by any means. I wake up my husband. He sees that George is struggling to breath and tries to give him mouth-to-mouth. A few seconds later, George stops breathing. I pick him up and start wailing. Andrew runs to the bathroom and vomits. Harry is barking and scared. I make him sniff George so he understands he is gone and doesn’t think he’s just been abandoned. I think I may feel George’s heart beating but I realize it’s just mine racing. I feel an explosion of sorrow and disbelief.

We drive back to the ER with George in my arms for cremation. Andrew picks him up and I call him back to the truck so I can pet George’s soft ears for the last time. Andrew disappears into the ER and I never see my puppy again.

My sweet baby George. He was the epitome if someone who knew me better than I knew myself had hand-designed a dog to fill every place in my heart. He was a cuddle-bunny, was obsessed with playing but not very good about the release part. He had the strongest little front arms that he would wrap tightly around his toy and it was so much effort to get it away from him. He occasionally would just play with himself – find a toy and throw it up in the air and then pounce on it,or bring it to the top of his doggy stairs and let is roll down so he could chase it. He could be a nervous nelly – decided he was very afraid of loud noises, even the sizzling of a pan made him shake with fear. I loved comforting him. i loved snuggling him. I loved playing with him. I loved teaching him.

I can’t believe I had no more chance to help improve his interactions with humans, become a more confident swimmer, learn to overcome his aggression with visitors and aggressive dogs.

George, George. You were taken away way way too soon. You were healthy as a horse, you were extremely happy and loved more than most children around the world. We were ready and able to take care of you for your entire life, which we hoped would be very long.

The pain from losing a dog is so profound. In some ways it is worse than losing a human. It has nothing to do with valuing their life over a human, but it’s for two main reasons I think. One, they are part of almost every hour of your life, especially if you work from home. There was basically no part of my daily life they weren’t a part of except going to the gym and grocery shopping. So their absence is incredibly felt as your entire house and entire day is full of the memory of their sweet presence. Two, they are so so innocent. All George wanted to do was play with toys, sniff things, and love on his pack (me, my husband, and our little dog Harry). He had no evil in him and no understanding of evil. He often slept on his back with his belly exposed, a sign that he felt exceptionally safe and secure.

It is not fair that this precious life was ripped from him by a dog that also wanted to play, but had no bite inhibition. I hope with my entire heart that George was actually conscious a few times after surgery so that his last moments were not of being attacked by a huge monster, but of us loving on him,

Oh George my heart aches for you. I want to hold you so bad. I can’t conceive of never holding you again, never scratching your soft ears, never feeling your exuberant sloppy kisses.

George, George. I hope you are in heaven. Some people think that’s goofy but I think it could be true. The bible talks about Jesus restoring all creation, not just humans. Also the lion will lay down with the lamb.. maybe a metaphor, maybe not? I really really hope there’s not a “dog heaven” but just a heaven, that includes all animal souls not just pets. And I hope I get to see George again, and that all wrongs including his very very wrong death will be made right. I hope he’s now playing with Desi and Lucy (our dogs that passed in 2022), Zorro (2008) and Valentine (2002). I hope he never has fear and nervousness in his heart ever again. I hope to see him jumping crazily up beside me as I enter heaven.

Please Jesus I beg you – please let me see my loved ones again. Even if it’s different from what I expect, please please.

I know that compared to you I am a dumb flea, and there’s this massive gap in my understanding and ability to understand. I’m sorry I don’t trust you more, but heaven seems creepy and cold without the people I love. And not in a generic ethereal unembodied sense but actually there. If not, what is the point of human relationship, invidivual identities here on earth? Why? Scripture seems to point to individuals keeping their individuality in Heaven. Jesus please let it be so. Please let me see, feel, know that you love me. Please let me rest in your embrace. Please don’t let me be deceived.

Featured

Gallo claps back at a her own video

👏👏👏

I stumbled across an old YouTube video that I participated in 6 years ago. It was a google hangout (remember those?) that some friends and I put together to discuss the perils and philosophies of Christian dating.

It was personally cringeful. Mostly because I couldn’t say 1 sentence without using “like” 7 times. Get a grip, Dr. I was also apparently cursed with a bad phone and bad cell service so my most frequent contribution was “What?”

But it did make me laugh out loud several times. What silly gooses. I almost wished we could do a follow up discussion since now we’re all married, I assume happily. Unfortunately due to budget restrictions of Galloblog – and more importantly, a complete failure to maintain adult friendships – I have instead spearheaded this opportunity to do my own personal follow up and answer the questions I now think are more interesting.

  1. What belief did you hold about dating when you were single that you do not anymore?
    Great question. There are two major things. One, I used to think I wanted someone who fit snugly into my single life. I had no idea that so many ideas of “must haves” were not musts at all. When you fall in love 100%, it becomes way less about how they fit into your current life and way more about how you’re going to live together as a unit. Two, there is a relationship prosperity gospel that goes something like this : if you get right with God, He will bring you the right person. This is false. God doesn’t withhold relationship blessings because he is waiting for you to achieve an upper echelon of Christianity. That’s not to say that being close to God doesn’t have relationship benefits, but you can be absolutely saintly and that does not mean God owes you a dang thing, much less an awesome relationship. The opposite it also true -you can meet someone at a “low point” and they bring you up and out and you have a fabulous relationship. I think Christian leaders often ignore this element because they think their message to 16 year olds (prone to savior complexes and general goofiness) shouldn’t be adjusted for nuance and more depth when they’re talking to actual adults. But I digress.
  2. If you had the chance to meet your spouse earlier and bypass the relationships you had in high school, 20s, etc., would you? I actually would not. I’m glad I got the chance to learn and grow before I started dating my husband. I wouldn’t be the same person if I had bypassed all of those relationships and so the question is somewhat meaningless. I will note that my husband said he would, if he knew at that time that I was the most perfect person ever (wording mine). That was so sweet, I wavered in my resolve a bit. But I can say with definitiveness that I’m a *not* plagued with regret that I dated prior to my husband. Some relationships were better than others but “ it was what it was” and we’re all marching to the future now!

3. Did you date differently with your spouse, or were they just different?

A little bit of the first, a lot bit of the second. The main thing I did differently when I started “hanging out” with my hubs is that I cleared the field, so to speak. I remember thinking to myself this might not turn into anything, but if it does let’s make sure it is free and clear of unnecessary drama. I wish I had done this with others too. I think I hurt people with the technically-correct-but-not-wise insistence that I didn’t owe anyone any devoted attention until we were in an official relationship. So I used to go on casual dates with multiple people. Again I wasn’t technically wrong, but it could get confusing for all. Another thing I did was allow things to progress naturally without constantly checking our relationship status. It didn’t matter, because he wasn’t being handsy and I didn’t have to decide if I needed to cool it with Jo-Jo because me and future hubs were getting more serious. So that carefreeness about relationship status allowed everything to be fresh and frickin fun. But, I would never ever claim that we got married because I used a different strategy at the beginning of our relationship. It worked because we both wanted it work, because we loved the socks off each other. And we loved each other because our souls fit together like peas and carrots. I hope you’re crying right now because that was freakin poetry.

I apologize you didn’t get to hear me say this on a live video but I’m starting to think that’s not the best media for me to shine. *snorts*

Featured

When to quit, and when to sit (still)

When I was in grad school, I lived in a continual state of existential crises. I realized that the career I dreamed about in undergrad – and practically killed myself for during the first few years of grad school – was making me miserable.

I had some high points and a few victories, but in general I took every failure or set back as a sign that science wasn’t for me. I wasn’t one of those kids who categorized bugs in their backyard for the pure thrill of scientific discovery. As an adult, I didn’t consume scientific talks or articles for fun. Nay nay, I went into science with a purpose – to help find a cure for Alzheimer’s disease. When I discovered the chances of me breaking through the Alzheimer’s field were the same chances as me cooking a successful side dish for a family gathering, my purpose collapsed. So then came the dreaded question I asked myself pretty much every day – “Should I quit?” This question haunted me.

Eventually after a whopping 9 years of riding the academic wagon, I leapt off to try my chances in the wild plains of corporate America. Now that I have a little distance from this decision, I have graciously chosen to share the wisdom that I gained from my should-I-shouldn’t-I quitting saga.

I’m glad I quit when I did. I had a new job offer that was exciting and different and I was completely and utterly burnt out in academia. On the other hand, I’m glad I didn’t quit earlier than that. I hate quitting as an admittance of failure. It also would have been more of a tantrum than a rational decision at the time. I also had built up the academic career path in my head so much that maybe I needed 9 years to really convince myself that it wasn’t the best fit and not just me pitching a fit. Maybe most importantly, I didn’t have anything I wanted to run toward. I just wanted to run away. If I had quit too soon, it’s likely I would have waded through a series of entry level jobs that discouraged me and gotten me completely off course from any professional career that I hoped for myself. So by not quitting, even though I was quite distressed during most of my time, at least I was obtaining something that holds real weight – a PhD – and would perhaps give me a leg up outside of academia as well. If I had quit before I got my PhD, I would have far less to show for all the time I had already invested.

To summarize, here are some solid questions to ask yourself if you are caught up in a quitting quandary:

  1. Do I want to quit simply because what I’m doing is difficult? HINT: as opposed to truly not aligning with my long-term goals.
  2. Have I truly given this pursuit a true effort? Am I being too hasty?
  3. If not this, what do I want to do instead? HINT: recommend your alternative pursuit be quasi-realistic
  4. Is there anything I could gain by not quitting? HINT: doesn’t have to be a degree. It could be something as simple as learning how to face and resolve conflict or sticking a job out for a decent amount of time so it doesn’t raise a red flag with future employers.

Ask yourself these questions, and you can quit your quandary! BOOM!

Featured

Life is rude

When I was 16, I was a cashier for a family owned sporting goods store. Almost all of my coworkers were burly surly men with hearts of gold. Being 16, I became quite attached. I remember one day someone let it slide that one of the burly surlies was leaving. I burst into tears. “You know he’s not mad at anyone or got fired, right? He’s just leaving,” I remember my boss explaining with a bemused expression on his face. “I’m just going to miss him!” I sobbed. I remember thinking that worklife was inconceivable without this man. I was convinced the next time I drove into work, I would find the building in a heap of rubble.

Lo and behold, the building stood firm. The next week work was fine, maybe even fun. And I was so sad about that. It didn’t seem right that customers kept coming, camo pants kept selling, and I kept ringing people up with my signature charm. The store should have stuttered. It wasn’t right that someone who was such a big figure in that store could just suddenly be gone and nothing skippped a beat.

I have since recovered from my first work-departure trauma, but this same idea still holds true. This year has been majorly suck -o. We’ve lost a kind caring Grandpa, two dogs that we practically considered our children, and a nephew with a sweet purity and strength that my heart is eternally seared. Each loss was so heavy. And of course we had some sweet friends and family who expressed sympathy, but after a few weeks everyone moved on. Including me, in some sense. I still get up in the morning, I still get very stressed about work, and I still get excited when one of my favorite tv shows drops a new season. I guess I should be grateful that I’m not in a dysfunctional depressive state, but I almost want to be. I don’t want the universe to think it can get away with that sort of crap and it not change anything. It doesn’t seem right that people or doggies that I loved that much can just vanish and I keep functioning like they were random bugs that splattered on the windshield.

Whatever happens, life will go on. And I think that’s incredibly rude.

Featured

Privacy is not shame

There are many behaviors that were historically taboo, but currently are widely acceptable. For example, a woman showing off her delicate ankles used to be considered quite provocative. Then of course, a woman wearing slacks was seen as very inappropriate because I suppose it revealed women actually had legs instead of an amorphous blob of flesh (?). In some societies, it’s shocking for a man and woman to hold hands in public.* It’s easy to mock the idea that these innocent body parts and behaviors could ever resemble anything remotely titillating.**

Now, many people have adopted this idea that any sense of propriety is absurd, misguided, or somehow promoting the subjugation of women and other bad things. We have Kesha going to lunch with her mom (!!) wearing basically a mosquito net. Furry conventions exist. There are mothers who think that sharing pics of their bosoms is fine as long as their baby is somewhere in the vicinity. And if you dare suggest like “yo, maybe keep that to yourself?” then you will be accused of being a rude, closed-minded, patriarchy-promoting, homophobic, bigot-y poop head.

I think part of the outrage here is that when I suggest someone not go public with their body – or what they enjoy doing with their body – it’s interpreted as me casting shame. And that has a certain logic – we often hide parts of ourselves that we are ashamed of. But saying “keep that to yourself” doesn’t necessarily mean I don’t approve. It doesn’t necessarily mean I think what you’re sharing is fundamentally gross.

I think about it a different way. Take the word treasure… or savor, maybe. When I’m savoring a moment with my hubs, it’s not a public thing. It’s private. And if I went public and posted something like “my husband just gently caressed my derrière,” it would be met with indifference at best and voyeurism at worst. So, I don’t share those sorts of things because it gives other people the opportunity to evaluate it (even ignoring something is a vote of value, just negative!). It also detracts from the moment itself because it wasn’t meant for anyone else. Sharing that moment would dilute and cheapen.

Although I do not advocate putting cauliflower in your hair, I do advocate to “keep it secret, keep if safe,” when it comes to these little intimacies.

So even more so with our bodies and sexuality, aye? All morals aside, I don’t want to know what gets you sexually revved up. I don’t need to know what your nips look like. I don’t need to witness your tender family moments. Am I repulsed by these things? Sometimes, not always, it really depends. But it’s actually the beauty and specialness – or at least, potential beauty and specialness – of bodies, sexuality, and intimacy that makes them cringey to witness in public.

Don’t exploit yourself, your body, or your privacy by offering it to the public like a desperate sacrifice to the gods of attention and validation. Treasure it. Savor it. And if you find that you cannot savor or treasure your body, sexuality, intimate moments without sharing them with the world, well.. maybe that’s something to mull over during your next poo time.

❤

— EDITORIAL NOTES —

*My family visited Zimbabwe when I was 9, and I remember the local friends we knew there warning my parents to not put on this shocking display of affection.

** speaking of, I always thought titillating was a particularly unchaste word. [blushes]

A great date does not make a great mate

When you’re single, you have the opportunity to go on tons of dates. When you first begin dating, which usually coincides when you’re young and overly prone to overly romantic notions, it’s easy to take things too seriously. You over share on a date and savor each ”lol” text because it’s all so new and exciting and special.

After about 5 .. or 10… or let’s be honest.. 15 years of dating around casually, intermixed with a few serious adventures that ultimately failed, you get good. At dating. You know what to say to get someone to agree to go in a first date (spoiler alert- it’s usually to suggest something ambiguous so they don’t have to overthink it). You know just how flirty and interesting to be on a first date. You learned to impulse control so you don’t text your potential boo 30x a day while they’re at work. And let’s be perfectly honest, you learned how to not care so much. You learned how to pull back and keep your expectations at bay and not try so hard that you lose your dignity if they’re not interested.

And for some people, this is where they stay. They master the art of catch and release, but at the end of the day they wouldn’t even know how to prepare a fish even if it was perfect and they were starving. Gross analogy but you get it.

But to be good at healthy relationships, being good at dating is a major detriment. You need to invest, put yourself out there, and care an embarrassing amount.

I share this because when I was dating, I went on some amazing dates. But some of those amazing dates were with people that were the most ill fit for me. When I started hanging out with my now husband, we didn’t always go on amazing dates. He didn’t always take me to the fanciest of dinners or most elaborately romantic outings. His conversation topics were often funny but quite strange. He didn’t try to artificially push romance into every moment. We did normal stuff. I helped him paint his garage. He helped me put together my new dining room table. We made doggy cupcakes for his dog’s birthday and he spontaneously wiped some frosting off my face with the perfect amount of tenderness. That was the romance. And yes sometimes we went to an art museum or a play or something cool, but those moments weren’t artificially propping up our relationship, hiding our lack of true connection with grandiose moments and sticky sweetness. They were real.

So, if you’re dating right now, don’t get too good at dating or limit yourself to other people who are too good at dating. Try to make space for real connection that can’t be forced or rushed.

Love and morals ❤

this will be a quickie. So quick I didn’t bother to capitalize the first word. Take that, losers!

I’ve been thinking about love lately, in relation to my husband (awwww).

There was a time in which I compared guys I was dating to an Ideal. The closer they were to that Ideal, the more interested I was. If they showed signs they were not Ideal, we would break up.* Because you know, standards.

But then I met my future hubbadubs, and then blah blah we fell in love 🥰 But at some point, Ideal died. And there was just my future hubs. And I loved him not because he was Ideal, but because he was Him. And every other man’s proximity to ideal became irrelevant. The new standard was him. And no one could be him better than.. him 🙂

— weird graceless transition–

I wonder if this is how we’re supposed to approach God and biblical morals. I know some people who delight in picking out distasteful old testament passages to prove that God is an evil jerkface. I don’t disagree there are some passages where I’m like “ehhh, did all the women and children need to die too?” But as Beth Dutton on Yellowstone said “Right and wrong, there’s no such thing… I believe in loving with your whole soul and destroying anything that wants to kill what you love.” From an individual human perspective, I don’t endorse. But could this be how God operated.. operates ? His right and good was protecting his people and destroying people who were their enemies. (Jesus is stunning because what he did made all people God’s people, and what was destroying us was sin. So Jesus let himself become sin and be destroyed by God in our place. Yowza.) So at some point, instead of comparing God to our standards of morality, God becomes our morality. What he does is moral because he did it and he is morality and morality is what God does. And no one or idea can be more God than.. God.

The only thing I never quite understand is why the delay– like why not Jesus from day 1? And why this group of people originally versus this other group? I don’t know, that’s above my saint grade I guess (dad joke FTW ! )

One thing I can’t question is love, and how it changes everything you thought you knew.

C Anders (née Gallo) out !

*Obviously I was always more than anyone could ever imagine thus NEVER happened in reverse 😉😉

You can’t Make-Up this stuff

I need to disclose something that pains me deeply. Long long ago I watched – and shared – a satirical video about what beauty instructionals would look like in 1999. Since then, my recommended Facebook videos have started to slowly creep in makeup tutorials – and more recently, celebrity skin care regimes – and most recently, REACTIONS to celebrity skin care regimes.

I desperately want to tell you all that I sneer in derision and keep scrolling. But I can’t, because I don’t. I. am. mesmerized. by these stupid videos! I spiraled so hard I watched not one but two seasons of Glow Up. Geez.

The video that started it all!

IF BEAUTY YOUTUBERS EXISTED IN 1999 – YouTube

The real kicker, though, is I usually find the final looks … distasteful. So many of them are skilled, in the sense that they have artistically altered their face with a precision and control that even my surgically trained hands wouldn’t dare to attempt. But, in general, the looks are unapproachable at best, and somewhat psychotic at worst. I can’t imagine walking up to someone with false eyelashes so long they’re smacking me in the face.

What disturbs me the most about it is that most of these people are little teeny boppers. I’ve seen a 14 year old school her mom on her skin care and makeup regime. On one hand I think, “bully for you,” but on the other hand I think, “NO! Be a teenager and look awkward for a while!” I honestly think it’s bad for your psychological, social, and .. spiritual ?! development to look too perfect when you’re a teen. Smearing $74 of skin care products and make up on your face when you’re that young just seems so.. wrongly focused. I understand these youts are not 7, but still. They are not adults. There is so much time to obsessively worry about and launch a full-on battle against skin imperfections as you enter the workforce with a fancy degree and realize you somehow have both acne AND wrinkles, the most insulting combination of all time. But when you’re a chillin, go to a concert and slap on some mascara because you’re feeling flirty. There’s no need to have a 15 step nighttime regime and spend 1-2 hours every day creating a complicated make up look with the obsessive idea that your skin should look as smooth as a Pixar movie character. We’re human. Our skin is not perfectly smooth, even toned, or pore-free. Get over it and move on .

Moreover and thusly therefore, I * guarantee * you that the makeup we find so sophisicated and advanced today will seem ridiculous in a few years. And the “science” behind current skin care is 100% guaranteed to change. So please don’t wake up 10 years from now and realize you spent 40% of your paycheck and 70% of your time on make up and skin care regimes that didn’t make you a better person, didn’t help you reach any actually useful goals, and will likely just be comedy material for the next generation.

.. But watching these videos as a sophisticated critic is VERY NORMAL.

Forever your wrinkly writer ❤

Mawwiage, is what brings us apawt today

Hellur! Tis I, your deadbeat blogger emerging from the silent ashes as a gabby, married Phoenix. Completely re-charged and in charge! *brushes off cereal crumbs with quiet dignity*

I have a few musings on marriage. Or, more precisely, on the decision to get married.

Everyone has a range of time in their own minds in which they think is a reasonable time to get engaged or married after the “start” of your relationship. For some, anything serious before 1 year of good ol’ fashioned dating is irresponsible and impulsive. For others, there’s no reason to keep dating after you’ve had 2-3 grueling dates in which you both outline your worldviews, faith, life plans, and toilet-paper-on-the-roll orientation preferences. The 1+ year crowd likes to wait and see how people and relationships play out over time. The intense interview crowd sees dating like skirmishes. Get in and get out – either through fading back into the forest of singleness or diving straight into the pool of eternal promises.

From my perspective, each person can take their own relationship at whatever pace they want, as long as the other party (or parties, for you polygamists out there ! jk jk) is fine with it. I think what rubs me is that most people – and ALL female relatives – think the appropriate range of time for dating they have conjured in their own minds should be the appropriate range of time for all couples, in all situations, of all backgrounds. So if any couple “rushes” according to the Cautious Connor’s, or dawdles, according to the Rushing Reginald’s, their relationship is doomed. DOOMED!

To me, it just completely depends on the couple. I have friends and acquaintances who made a short work out of dating, and their marriages seem to be just as stable and happy as any others. For certain personalities, age groups, etc. this is perfectly acceptable.

Although, of course there are the couples that rush into things and realize they don’t know each other and have made a terrible mistake. At best, they can sometimes turn the boat around and sail into a wonderful marriage, but often they sink as soon as they realize the other is a bit of a dud when they’re not in active woo mode.

My husband and I probably took a longer-than-average time to get to the point of engagement, and I’m actually very grateful we dated as long as we did. I can’t speak for my hubbadubs, but I needed the time. I needed to know how we reacted to each other when one or both of us was going through a hard time. I needed to know that it was love I had, not a love-y feeling. I needed to know I still loved him when he wasn’t showering me with attention. To me it was great, and I don’t think I would have been able to say “si” to marriage without that knowledge and experience.

For some though, the stretches of time just reflect true dawdling, or a reservation with the relationship itself. Can’t commit, but don’t want to quit. I’m sure some people thought that was the case with my hubs and I, and to them I emphatically flick my hair in defiance.

So my avid reader, I present the case that there are many reasons to take a short or long time to get to the point of engagement, and a relatively fast or slow journey is not necessarily a “warning sign, ” or cause for worry among loving friends and relatives. This is especially hard when you or someone close to you has experienced the “bad” form of fast or slow – you are hypervigilant and ready to warn someone you think may be heading in the same direction. I’m here to tell you to take a deep breath, relax, and let each couple be the pace setters for their own relationship.

Red White And Blue Wow GIF by Bomb Pop - Find & Share on GIPHY

Free to love (freely)

About oh .. 51 days ago, my best friend and love of my life asked me to marry him. (In classic Gallo weirdness, I said “si!” instead of yes.) It was the best of contexts – at the top of a mountain after a glorious hike. His proposal was the perfect mix of silliness and deep sincerity, and it was the easiest answer C Gallo has ever given.

Actual pic of the event. I was so amazed when a little cartoon heart popped out of the ring box!!

The type of happiness that filled me was a unique sort. The other most significant event in my life where I felt incredibly happy was right after my dissertation defense, but that was the happiness that comes from a heavy, ever-present burden being suddenly lifted. Being engaged might be a tiny bit about the removal of the “burden” of singleness (although I actually enjoyed being single for most of my life), but it’s much more about the addition of something awesome and literally life changing. Sure, we dated for 2+ years, so you might think that a “long-term” dating relationship is similar to being engaged. It is absolutely not.

Pretty much all my other dating relationships that lasted any length of time required vigilance to suppress my exuberant heart and wild expectations. I always had this stern voice in the back of my head telling me to pull back, curb my expectations, and keep enough mental and emotional distance so that I wouldn’t be completely distraught when the inevitable end came. Even if that inevitable end was initiated by me, it still sucked.

A stoic I am not.

But being engaged! It is no longer weird or creepy to think about the future. It isn’t even weird and creepy to talk about the future with the very man I want in it! It’s even.. recommended?! I don’t have to worry that I love him too much or want to be around him too much. For the first time, the depth of my feelings and inner commitment are not an inverse measure of how miserable I will be down the road, but a measure of how happy I will be down the road. Craziness!

Granted, at some point while dating my fiance I said to myself “Girl, if this ends you are going to be a total mess for a loooong time. But whatevs. He — and this zany, amazing, heart lifting relationship we have built — is truly worth it.” So even though* I was pretty terrible at tempering the wild romantic within me as I dated my forever Galloboo, there is still a difference that now there’s nothing remotely foolish about it. And that is incredibly joyful.

This may seem a rather awkward transition, but I can’t help but connect this whole experience to my faith. Being engaged hasn’t made me forget other men I dated or even how I felt about them at the time. Now, the sadness or angst I felt during/after those relationships is no longer tragic but kind of .. humorous? I look back at myself sobbing over some idiot and I want to tenderly pat my shoulder and say “girl, you have no idea. Keep it moving.” I wonder if this is what is meant by “there will be no tears in heaven.” That statement has been speculated to mean we won’t have memories of anything that happened on earth, because there’s no way we could remember all the sadness and angst of our lives and not cry. I disagree. I modestly propose that perhaps we actually will remember – everything. But, in the face of our one, complete true Love the contrast with our former sadsies and angsties will not subtract, but add to our joy.

❤

— EDITORIAL NOTES —

*or because of? Hmmm…!