love – HampoLand

The Things We Do For Love

This morning I woke up before everyone else to get ready for work. I noticed the tv in the living room was on but muted. We have three tv clickers and I HATE them all. For years Sandor and Alex have tried to teach me how to turn the tv on and off, get to Netflix, watch a dvd but it’s just too much for me (Insert “Ok Boomer joke here).

On mornings when I actually want to watch the news I’ve had meltdowns simply trying to turn on the news.

So, most mornings Alex leaves the tv on for me, already on my news station. That’s love.

My parents Ann Stell and Irven fell in love in 3rd grade at Jones School. The Great Depression had the country on its’ knees. My mom’s father was a surgeon so they were still in pretty good shape financially. But my dad’s father was an architect. Nobody needs an architect in a depression. Times were fairly desperate for the McDaniel family.

Spoiled, Ann Stell knew she would always get everything on her Christmas list. So, for years she asked Santa for building materials, Erector Sets, Tinker Toys, slide rulers, drawing supplies and model airplanes. Then she would invite my dad over to play. As the story goes, he’d sit on the floor happily building while she sat on the couch reading.

Now, my daughter Mary does the same thing for her husband Andy. For weeks before Christmas she sends me links to things for Andy. Tools, sweaters, office supplies. Pride be damned. Mary wants Andy to have everything! That’s love.

Two years ago Alex spent too much money on some perfume that I absolutely hated. It smelled like granny perfume. But I lied. And every morning before I went to work, I stood in our dark bedroom, while Alex slept, and I squirted the perfume into the air…away from me. I wanted Alex to wake up, smell the perfume and think, “Oh Diana put on her perfume this morning.” I love him .

This year, I hope you are all loved, simply and honestly, by a friend, a child, a cousin or husband. And I hope you give your love freely, in return.

Romantic Gazpacho

Today, as my husband, Alex, fell asleep on the couch watching Michigan football, I made a batch of Gazpacho. It’s a cold Spanish soup with pureed tomatoes as a base then peppers, onion, celery and cucumbers.

Twenty five years ago, when Alex and I were first dating, he was trying to renovate his five acre redneck ranch. (We still live in the same house) Alex is a chef, not a contractor, so it was slow going. I called him, “Hey, since you bought dinner last night I’m bringing you a surprise lunch.”

He sounded excited that I was coming out to check out his house and bring lunch. He gave me explicit directions and the address.

I stopped at a little café in Hot Springs and bought some Gazpacho and fancy grilled cheese sandwiches. I felt very sophisticated and confident that Alex, the handsome, swarthy chef would be impressed.

Finding the entrance of our driveway has always been nearly impossible. It’s like finding the entrance to Narnia. With my gazpacho and sandwiches on the front seat I drove past the driveway over and over, finally I drove four miles back to a little gas station and asked to use the phone

Frustrated and embarrassed I called Alex in tears. He laughed at me gently and said he would stand at the bottom of the driveway, so I couldn’t miss the turn.

We sat down in the living room and I tried not to show my concern when I looked around the house. It was a wreck. There were so many half finished projects and power tools everywhere.

But I proudly presented my lunch. I poured the Gazpacho into bowls, carefully placed the crotons on top and handed Alex a plastic spoon. then I unwrapped our delicate little grilled cheese sandwiches.

Alex smiled at me, “Wow, thank you. This is great.” He took a bite of soup. “It’s really good. You want a beer?”

We shared a cold can of Bush and ate lunch while he told me all the things he planned for the house. He ate the Gazpacho so fast I barely got any and that made me so happy.

Alex and I have been married for 23 years now. We’ve raised four kids, buried dogs and watched a lot of football. What I didn’t know all those years ago was that Alex absolutely hates tomatoes. He picks them out of everything. When he saw me making Gazpacho today, he gave me a hug and whispered “gross.”

Love, it’ll make you do all kinds of crazy stuff.

Door Knobs

Our house, Hampoland, is a comfortable mess. A strange, unorthodox home that’s served as a sanctuary not only for our four children, but for many of their friends, kids, stray dogs and young adults, who have sometimes needed a safe and happy refuge from the world.

Structurally, it’s miraculous the house still stands. Walls are cracked, so we spackle and paint. The floors rise and fall with the seasons. The answer…more throw rugs. Hampoland, is a five acre redneck homestead, our youngest daughter, Lex, who is 22, compares to a Dr. Seuss “Who House”.

This morning, I realized what I’ve known for years. Most of the doors in our house can’t be fully closed and most of the door knobs are splattered with paint and are a rattling, jacked up mess. Our knobs are unable to fully close and lock any interior door in the house, much less keep it secured. They are loose and jangle in their holes, incapable of keeping anything inside or outside a room. Our doors can be pulled closed, then just as easily pushed open.

Years ago, we could have replaced all these useless door knobs, I suppose. But it never seemed important. New furniture has been moved in and out, cars have been bought and sold, kids have headed off to college, graduated and started their lives. But replacing the ten dollar door knobs was never a priority.

In this house, doors can’t really be closed. Push just a little and you’ll always be able to get in. And maybe that’s a good thing. So, when Alex and I die and this house is demolished, I hope each of our children will take a trashed and useless Hampoland doorknob. Because, when there is love, doors can always be opened.