Life is Never General

The Year is 2100

Published on by Lisa

Last night I came home from work at roughly 9:30pm. Driving in a rental, I pulled up and saw Nick sprawled on the couch, watching our old but new to us TV (huge applause to Nick’s cousin, Abby Cordonnier and fiancee for selling us a monstrously large and much improved telly) with an intent look on his face. I was chatting on the phone with Kelly, Nick’s sister, about the joys and woes of the growing Pinto Bean in my belly.

As I babble, I observe Nick is flipping the channel between some NBC news special on the White House and an ABC special program about what the earth will look like in the year 2100. After I got off the phone, Nick scooted closer to me and says, “It’s good your home. I was about to kill myself after watching this,” he referenced the Earth 2100 show.

I sat down to watch.

In the next 20 minutes, I watched the most depressing and strange story which told a part cartoon, part computerized tale that predicted what the world will become should we continue in our fossil fuel consuming ways. The southern states of the USA were desert, the coasts were in perpetual threat of flooding, and everyone was hoodlums with shopping carts on the side of the road, hitch hiking their way to Canada. I felt like I wanted to just bury my head in a sand dune and hope for a quick death. That or drink myself into an oblivion.

“Ugh,” I grunted at Nick, “it IS a good thing I came home when I did. You might have put a bullet to your noggin if you were alone watching the world go to shit.”

We tried to focus on something else to cheer ourselves up from the morbidity of 2100 and impending doom of human life.

Nick asked, “Did you see our new car?”

Yesterday, we had our insurance agent shop and find us a car. When they find one that fits your general description, s/he will arrange a test drive and get the car to us for inspection. If we like it, we buy it on the spot. It’s a nice FREE service from Nationwide. (Nick asked the agent 3 times to make sure it was FREE.)

Our used but new to us (do you see a theme emerging yet?) car is 2006 Honda Accord, blue, with a non-descript gray interior. According to Nick, back in his seminary days, one of the older priests drove an Accord and Nick told himself, “If ever someday I have a lot of money, I’m going to buy an Accord.”

I don’t know anyone whose car fantasies began in the parking lot of a Cincinnati seminary.

As Nick retold me his vow to buy an Accord someday, I jested, “Well, we are just rolling in the millions these days, so let’s pull the trigger. It’s now or never.”

The test drive was scheduled at 2pm yesterday and I was not able to get off work. Nick was hesitant to be the only one driving/inspecting the car, but I told him, “Look, this will be the second biggest purchase you have to make without me. Remember, we bought our house without my ever seeing it. Now it’ll also be our car.”

The Accord runs beautifully.

We returned our rental last night and then drove around Cleveland, frequently getting lost because we are the two most geographically challenged people in the midwest.

“I like it,” I told Nick. “Good job.”

Nick muses, “This thing is going to last forever. I mean, it’s an ACCORD. It’s supposed to run forever. For real, the world is going to collapse on itself in 2100, but this car is still going to be running.”

A Dip into the Valley of Darkness

Published on by Lisa

Sometimes the sports world makes the rest of the world too depressing to deal with.

Last night, the famous four (Me, Nick, Christina, and Brian) gathered around their monstrously clear flat screen to watch the flat screen effect of the Magic against the CAVS.

Sometimes it just hurts and the pain of defeat zaps all ability to write with enthusiasm.

In other depressing news, we just got word that Nick and I need to go shopping for a new car. For some people, this can be an exciting adventure. For Nick and I, buying something large – and all the details and discussion that goes into that decision – is about as enticing as eating a bowl of raisin bran. Not exciting whatsoever.

Why, you ask, does the prospect of buying a car antagonize us so much? Well, for Nick is means shopping. (It’s the same reaction if you ask him to cook, or go look at swatches at Home Depot.) For me, it means I have to make a decision based on practicality. I hate that.

So, it puts us in somewhat bitter moods, but we try to look on the bright side of things. But with the Cavs performance lately, Cleveland is one big gray cloud called Annoying. And it’s hanging right over our house.

Like Father, Like Son

Published on by Lisa

Two words: car accident.

UGH.

Minor, but any form of a car accident has a ripple effect. It puts these tiny but significant wrinkles in your day.

Nick was at a complicated 4 or 5 way stop, turned into the intersection while someone decided to pause and keep going into the intersection, part of her brain erasing one important fact: THERE’S ANOTHER HUMAN BEING IN THE INTERSECTION.

A frontal collision, the bumper ripped off, some damage that left her car scratched and ours not drivable. The most important thing, obviously, is that Nick is fine and the only thing affected was his anxiety over paper work, car rental, insurance, and my need to get to work that morning but our 1-car situation made that slightly impossible.

UGH.

Nick is fantastic in high stress situations. He claims it’s very Borchers of him, and I must agree. When the pressure is on, the shields and blinders come up so he only sees his goal, strategy, and the most direct access to resolving the issue. My brain, in times of crisis, assesses the likelihood of survival and then ponders how precious life is, how short and fleeting our dreams are…You can see the difference.

What I think is hilarious is we were just in Russia this weekend when Kay and Kelly (Nick’s mom and sister) were out running errands when the car overheated. Fortunately but against Kay’s will, they pulled off the road to make sure the car didn’t explode or anything like that.

They call Ron (Nick’s Dad).

According to Kelly and Kay, it was 2:40pm when they called and Ron said he could leave in about 20 minutes. According to Kelly and Kay, they sighed and complained to one another as to why he couldn’t leave right then and there. According to Kelly and Kay, he should just come to their rescue whenever a crisis occurs.

Ron comes to the rescue, of course.

We all laugh at the expectations in the story and I giggle at some of the similarities I see in Nick whenever a crisis occurs.

While Nick was the one in the accident, he called to let me know, ask me to find the location of the closest Enterprise, but then took care of all of the details after that. I did nothing. I offered my help, but I just sat there, watching him make phone call after phone call, eating my salad and listening to him give policy numbers and identifying information a bazillion times to a bazillion people.

UGH.

When he was done, I threw my arms around him in a big hug and asked if I could make him something to eat, relax, and take a moment to enjoy the fact that he was fine, our life is great, and no one was hurt.

He just smiled, said, “No, thanks…I’m heading off to work now to get some stuff done.”

My forehead wrinkled in confusion and disbelief, “Uh, you work for a parish. I think most folks would understand if you’re in a car wreck to at least take your lunch hour to breathe.”

But he just grabbed his briefcase, kissed me, and walked out the door, heading to the office, his original destination.

You gotta hand it to that Borchers work ethic…they sure don’t mess around.

My How They Grow

Published on by Lisa

Some people may remember that three days before Nick and I got married, my side of the family had our first baby born. My first nephew, Zach, was born June 1, 2005 and every year of his life is another year of life for Nick and I, for our marriage.

It’s been so funny watching him grow through the years and now Zach has two younger brothers – Jesse and Joey – and an older sister, Morgan, to keep him busy.

I took this photo of him on Easter, as he chowed down his ice cream. Sometimes watching kids eat ice cream just gives you a hearty reminder to relax a bit and enjoy life.

Ode to Nick

Published on by Lisa


Nick is man who works hard
There’s nothing he can’t do
He drills into new tasks
and does what he puts his mind to

Nick is man who works on taxes
and brings them to H&R block
But it’s Nick who corrects
the Block’s mistakes – oh, really, what a shock!

Nick is man who works on our bathroom
the sorrowful sight that it is
But Nick takes pride in accomplishment
and owns every task as his

So, cheers to you, Saint Nicholas
I’m very grateful for all that you do
Not just for the taxes and paint peels
But just because you’re you

Popcorn in Bed

Published on by Lisa

There is a gaping hole in our kitchen ceiling and it is atrocious.

Our contractor had to rip it out because our noggins were endangered of having the thing collapse on us.

So, Bob, our very own Mr. Fixit, is kind and generous enough to help us through this problem. It’s going to be finished at the end of the week. I can’t wait because every time I stand in front of the refrigerator it feels like I am about to be sucked into a huge vortex of darkness and leaky pipes above.

The joys of homeownership. Nothing is better.

In other news…

Last night was an unusual night. I had a late meeting for a potential and temporary short term job and came home around 9:30pm. I chatted on the phone for an hour or so with my lovely sister in law and figured, with a quick peak at our shut bedroom door and the sound of the space heater, that Nick was already sleeping, passed out like the old man he is.

So you can imagine my surprise as I head upstairs after I was done talking to Kelly and my phone rings. And it’s ringing Nick’s ringtone.

Nick is still out to tell me he’s on his way home. If he’s still out, who in the hell is in our bedroom?

And the door swings open and it’s bleary-eyed Nick, cell phone in his hand.

YOU GAVE ME A HEART ATTACK. WHY ARE YOU CALLING ME WHEN YOU ARE ONE ROOM AWAY?

“Oh, hi, babe. I was wondering where you were. I was getting worried.”

HEY MR. SHARPIE – I’VE BEEN HOME FOR AN HOUR.

“Really? I didn’t hear you.”

So, I give him an odd look and get ready for bed.

As I snuggle into my side of the bed and begin drifting off to sleep, Nick speaks clearly as if it’s the middle of the day, “I’m wide awake.”

“Well, this is certainly a role reversal.” I just want to get to sleep, but know it’s not going to happen.

“Maybe I should eat something,” Nick muses.

“If how I feel right now is what you felt the entire first year we were married when I kept yapping my head off because I wanted to talk, this is my way of apologizing right now and I swear I’ll never do that again.”

“I will go eat something,” he decides.

“Fine. There’s some popcorn I just made sitting out downstairs if you want that.”

Now, if you know ANYTHING about Nick and popcorn, you know that popcorn is not just another snack like, say, Pringles or M&Ms. Popcorn, in the Borchers family, is eaten in a rather methodical, non-stop robotic nothing can interrupt my rhythm, kind of way.

So you can imagine my surprise, slight annoyance when I am drifting off to sleep and all of a sudden I hear the clank of a glass (filled with sprite and ice, I’m sure) hitting the side table near our bed followed by Nick easing onto his side of the bed and I hear the back and forth of hand-bucket-stuff into mouth -hand-bucket-stuff into mouth – hand-bucket-stuff into mouth rhythm. All in the background is the distinct sound of Nick chewing the grains and fluff of salty popcorn.

I flipped over, “Are you eating in bed?”

I can’t see him in the dark but I hear the crunching continue, “Yup.”

My tiredness turns into sarcasm, “Is it good?” referring to the popcorn. I try not to think of the crumbs, particles, and oil that are going to get on our sheets or on me because of this late night snack.

“Mhm- MHM!”

With the dark veiling my face, Nick could not see me roll my eyes. I just laid on my back and waited for him to finish the bucket. It didn’t take long. For Nick to finish a bucket of popcorn, it never does.

As I heard him clap his salty hands and throw the excess on the ground because I know he doesn’t believe in napkins, I closed my eyes for much needed rest.

Sure enough, he falls asleep.

The Bliss that is Natural Light

Published on by Lisa

As much as Nick loves natural light, I’ve never seen him wear shades before.

Little fun fact about Nick: one of his favorite things in the world is natural light. He freaking talks about how awesome natural light is at least three times a month. If you add that up over the course of the years I’ve known him, that’s a lot of time spent talking about something as simplistic as the sun’s rays.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I love photography. I practically salivate over natural light when I shoot photos. The best weddings photos are the ones that are shot with as much natural light as possible.

But Nick’s not a photographer. He just goes nuts over sunlight.

He, and I’m not exaggerating, does not like curtains because of this. He would PREFER a curtainless world to let as much natural light into our house as possible. When we were looking at houses to buy last year, he’s say, “Look at those windows! Think about how much natural light we’ll get.”

And I, looking at him from the corner of my eye, say, “Sure. Yeah. I mean, looks great.”

When we’re driving, Nick is usual steering while I am off in my own world blabbering about my thoughts on the Universe, whether we’ll live to see the scientific proof of another galaxy beyond the Milky Way, and all of a sudden Nick will explode, “DID YOU SEE THAT HOUSE? THEY HAD ALL FRONT WINDOWS THAT WERE HUGE. DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH NATURAL LIGHT THEY MUST GET?”

And I, again, dumbfounded that he doesn’t even get that excited over Xavier basketball or a Beanie Wells run, or a discounted oil change will reply, “Huh. Where?” I’ll strain my head, look in the rear view mirrors, “I didn’t see it. Darn.”

And just like the calm sea after a brief storm, Nick will return to his 98.6 degree body temperature. His eyes will return to their normal shade of blue-ish green, and the torrent of emotion will subside as he drives on.

So it was no surprise yesterday, out on a long walk and taking advantage of our 50 degree day, Nick says, “Guess what?”

“What?”

“It’s 5:30pm now and look how light it is. Just think – next week, it’ll be this light out at 6:30pm!”

“Yes. Daylight savings time. Incredible.” I am bemused watching him practically skip down the sidewalk like a little boy.

I remain silent, enjoying his enjoyment.

“You know,” he continues, “I don’t even know what I’d be like if daylight savings time were on the same day as my birthday. I wouldn’t know what to be more excited for.”

“Mhm,” I speculate, “I’d air on the side of celebrating existence than natural light, but that’s just me.”

I don’t think Nick hears me. He is lost to the world, absorbing his joy of the impending spring.

And with that story, my friends, I am sure you will remember to jump your clocks forward an hour this weekend. I don’t know if Nick will be able to sleep the night before from his excitement.

Late Night Out

Published on by Lisa

Spell insomnia.

L-I-S-A.

No caffeine. No uppers. Nothing to keep me awake.

But I can’t sleep.

N-I-C-K, on the other hand is snoring louder than our beloved space heater in our bedroom.

Happy Valentine’s Day! And instead of getting a nice rest and putting Friday the 13th to bed, I am up, writing, blogging, brainstorming possible article topics because I can’t sleep. I think the culprits are the two pieces of Ghirarhdelli chocolate I had five hours ago. For those that don’t know, I rarely eat chocolate. (I heart vanilla.) I don’t drink caffeine. And so, when I take a moment or two to indulge, my heart goes a little something like, “HEY! WHAT’S THIS? LET’S SEE HOW FAST I CAN PUMP BLOOD AND KEEP HER AWAKE!”

And my mind follows suit with, “HEY! LET’S THINK ABOUT WHAT I WANT TO GET DONE TOMORROW, WHAT I DIDN’T GET TO DO TODAY, WHAT I WANT FOR MY BIRTHDAY, HOW I WILL GET TO THE POST OFFICE BEFORE NOON, DON’T FORGET TO BUY GOAT CHEESE AT FRESH MARKET.”

And I waaaant to sleep, but can’t.

Nick and I returned home at – grab the sides of your computer screens – 1:30am.

GET OUT! I’m not lying.

It’s like 2001 without college drama.

We met up with Books (aka Matt Thomas), his leading lady Janet, and our two friends Sam and Laura at a wine bar about 20 minutes from our house. It was one of those situations where you have no idea who everyone else is at the table (there were at least 8 other folks all crowded with us) for someone’s birthday, but you don’t have the capacity/energy/motivation to talk, so you just smile and mooch off their cheese plate.

Well, that’s what I did anyway.

Afterward, we got all kick ass crazy and went to Panini’s, a bar with 89% John Carroll students and I felt like the only female within 15 miles not wearing a black top (aka typical bar attire). So much opportunity for people watching. Why wish to go back to college days when you have the real thing right in front of you?

“I don’t think I have to relive anything from college. I can just walk into the bathroom of any bar and find a drunk, crying, grasping her cell phone 20s something gal who is going through exactly what I went through eight years ago.” – my comment to Nick at approximately 12:30am

“Do you remember in college when you saw that it was 12:30am and thought, ‘Maybe it’s time to head out to Dana’s?’ and now it’s like, ‘Get me out of this place. I want to go to bed.'” – Nick’s comment to me at 12:31am

Regardless, it was a marvelous time and it was good to show that we’re not completely old and gray and still kicking it.

Although, if you need further proof that we have graduated from young sprigs to oaks and cypresses, here is my newest thought:

The biggest evidence that I am old is that when I was out and about in college and decided not to didn’t drink, my friends would pat me on the back and say, “Pretty bad hangover, huh?” Now when I go out, someone will glance at my water and say out of the corner of their mouth, “Probably pregnant.“

Life Unfolding

Published on by Lisa

It is officially my birthday month and I’m happy to say the festivities to kick off my 30th year of existence are already rolling.

I already received a lovely letter from my hubster on February 1st. I’d like to think he did this out of pure freedom, but let’s get real here folks. He knows what’s coming to him if the first of the month went unacknowledged.

And for those who cannot believe that I take an entire month to celebrate, consider this: there are 52 weeks in the year and 1 day to be happy about yourself just isn’t enough time to celebrate. A month seems appropriate. Once March begins, I zip my mouth and you won’t hear a peep out of me for a long time.

Nick and I had a really nice weekend. It was one of those weekends you’ll likely forget once you move into the week, but it was great nonetheless. What made it so great? Well, here are the reasons:

1) MINIMAL MOVEMENT. We stayed in Cleveland. NO TRAVELS.

2) GREAT COMPANY. Friday night we went to a Happy Hour with a group of 20-30 year olds that belong to the parish. Afterward, the few of us left (hard core partiers like me and Nick who rock till 11:15pm) went to a bar SASA where a friend/colleague of Nick’s was playing guitar and singing. It was really great company and it is (finally) starting to feel like we are forming a great community here in Cleveland.

3) INDIE BOOK STORES. Saturday we went to an independent book store, Visible Voice, where I curled up into a chair and lost myself in the biography of poet Audre Lorde and Nick immersed himself in the history section. Our geekhood cannot be challenged.

4) CINEMA ENTERTAINMENT. We saw Gran Torino. We both really liked it a lot. Two thumbs up from Borchers/Factora-Borchers. It swings between being a deep movie about generational and racial differences to hilarious un-PC dialogue by Clint Eastwood. Highly recommended.

5) SPORTS. Sunday provided a nice 4th quarter for the Cards, but not enough to put Ben Worthlessburger — oops — Ben Roethlisberger away. Still very entertaining though.

6) CANNOLI. As we were exploring Little Italy, we stopped at Corbo’s – a lovely bakery that has freshly made cannoli’s – and since parking was a bit of a hassle, I asked Nick to drop me and drive around the block. So we did. I ran in, bought a little slice of heaven and waited in the f-f-frigid cold. The traffic was a bit heavy and my fingers were starting to go numb. When I finally spotted our car, I ran into the road, forcing Nick to stop in the dead of traffic. (Hey, I was frickin’ freezing.) As my hands defrosted and the sweet bites melted on my face, I barely heard Nick mutter, “Way to illegally cross the street with a cop right in front of you.”

Oh Nick – he’s so lawful.

We’re heading to Russia this coming weekend for Paul Cordonnier’s (Nick’s maternal grandfather) 80th birthday.

When Nick and I talked about what it might be like to grow old, Nick responded with, “It’s gonna be great! Just talk with your friends. You don’t have to give a crap what anything thinks about you…well, I’m kinda like that now, but that’s how old people are. You get to be in your own world. Then you go to lunch! HA!”

You talk with your friends. You don’t give a crap about what people think AND THEN YOU GO TO LUNCH.

For the umpteenth time, we debated the odds of him going deaf in his old age and while this possibility may scare some people, Nick – who is NOT like most people – says he won’t mind a bit. “I’ll just nod when you’re talking to me and I’ll get to just wander around in my own happy world.” To which, I debate, the likelihood of Nick being so hearing impaired that he can’t hear me is slim to none. This is true for two reasons: 1) I refuse to be married to someone who cannot listen to me when I talk and 2) In 40 years or so, when his hearing starts to fade – don’t you think medical technology would have advanced so that all the elderly can hear much better than now?

We have an extremely thrilling ride of life unfolding here.

The Yes List

Published on by Lisa

January is always a month geared toward self-improvement and in the tradition of setting goals, I decided that I am going to make a YES list. Specific things that I can and will do to make the planet a better place and to simplify our busy lives so we can spend time on the things that truly matter to us. Instead of calling it a TO DO list, I have renamed it The Yes List.

– have Nick post something on our blog once every two months
– load the dishwasher immediately
– send at least a bag of clothes to the Salvation Army every six months
– attend a funeral for whom there will be an expected low attendance
– pray more often
– run more often
– balance out my intake of Propel water with regular tap water
– turn off the porch light each night
– send more handwritten letters
– RSVP to events
– return feedback surveys
– finish our wedding album, give prints to parents & grandparents before 5th anniversary
– write more, blog less
– stop being so hard on the wrong people
– ask the right people to be more accountable
– curb Panera Bread visits
– smile at strangers when I walk in public even if I look psycho
– use what I have, limit what I want, pray for what I need