Andy's got a Squeezebox, Larissa Can't Sleep at Night

No, really, Andy bought an accordion.  It smells like an old man, and it came from the Ukraine.  Andy tried to name it Maya; I named it Torvald.  

Yes, this is my life now.

Torvald has paneling that looks like a bowling ball, heightening that old man charm.  He even sounds like an old man, in that he can't tell he's shouting because his hearing is going:  Torvald can project.  When Andy was first tinkering, we were in The Big Peterson House and all that open, wood-lined space amplified the sound.  I was certain our neighbors would hate us within a week.  Home, though, Torvald is very polite, keeping behind a closed door.  

Torvald's a chromatic, button accordion, a Bayan to get a little technical.  For those who don't know an accordion outside of Weird Al, it's like a handheld pipe organ, in terms of versatility and depth of sound.  French accordion music is different from other classical pieces which is different from a German Polka.  Or so I'm learning.  And would anyone be surprised that Andy is interested in an instrument featured in Norwegian folk music?  Because as soon as I heard that, the rest of it made sense to me.  My dear husband, I am only partially joking when I tease that I could slap a Norwegian sticker on anything and he would buy it.  

But he has caught me in his dream, too.  Andy is really good at that.  He comes up with all kinds of strong ideas, and carries such a beautiful child-like excitement that I hope he never loses.  We're going to Norway for our fifth wedding anniversary (particularly as our first was a bit of a bust, timing around my Crohn's hoopla), and more and more it feels like an audition.  We've even started to learn the language.  

Then here's the downside--Andy comes up with great ideas, but can be quickly swept up into the excitement of the next thing.  In the meanwhile, I'm sticking with it:  Jeg snakker norske ikke så bra men jeg vil gjerna snakke norske ganske bra.  His excitement regarding Norway has not waned, but his dedication to some of the details can get distracted.  

This is just an example, though, of how we work together.  Most major changes in the apartment have been made at Andy's suggestion, then I help a lot with the maintenance.  This is not to say that I don't contribute ideas or that Andy never helps push ideas through, but these just seem to be the typical roles that we fall into.  Andy comes up with an idea; I find a way to make parts of it happen.  It's a pattern that we've fallen into without thinking about it.  Similarly, when we're looking into a major purchase, Andy does the research and he is very thorough--if he comes to me with an option, it's the best reviewed for the best price.  For my side, I keep an almost obsessive eye on our finances and have some good organizational skills, dictating, then, when we'd best be able to buy it and where it's going to be in the house and/or what other pieces would need to come with it.

It has been bothering me for a long time that I don't feel I have a dream right now.  I had a very clear direction for a long while, or otherwise by the time I was done with one step I knew where to place my foot next.  I feel like I'm treading water and that I have been treading water since my first bowel resection didn't go as planned (**cough** hell of an understatement **cough**).  But here is where the two of us have worked out something together again:  this ultimately has left room for Andy's dreams, which have been more than enough for both of us.  I had him say it aloud once, that there are things he would have pursued had it not been for my health circumstances.  It wasn't a blaming statement, but I needed him to stop pussy-footing around it.  Both of our lives would have been different if my colon had not spilled all over my abdominal cavity, I hadn't spent a few weeks in and out of ICU, and I hadn't needed an ostomy bag for the first thirteen months of our marriage.  But this is where things are now.  I have my eye keenly on the present, working on our short-term goals and day to day needs, but Andy has his eyes on the future and where we want to be.

And right now I'm content to follow with his dreams until mine begin to take a shape of their own.  Teamwork and accordion notes humming from the next room in the meanwhile.