This Joint is Jumpin'!

So the cats have fleas...which (eventually) made me excited for the future. Yes, there really is a connection between those two things, and it is not that big of a jump (pun fully intended).

Those of you who are paying very close attention and who have a good memory might recall that little Mittons had ear mites (and worms, but those are irrelevant to this story) when she had her first check up. We treated those, and at her second check-up, she was still scratching her ears. They looked...no ear mites. I guess they (and I) missed the flea problem. I actually gave her a flea treatment, though, right away, but it apparently didn't take.

Yes, despite that innocent look she sports in the above photo, Mittons has brought a plague upon the house. Monday night, I found a flea on her. The other two had a vet appointment the next day (just a check up), so I had the vet check them...sure enough, evidence of fleas on both of them. Damn it! I got enough medicine to treat three cats for fleas for three months, came home, and started vacuuming everything -- floors, furniture, etc. I took everything they've laid on -- blankets, cat beds, etc. -- and started washing that. Of course, I immediately applied the first monthly dose of meds to the cats too.

Today, I'm doing the same thing again, as I have seen a couple dying fleas come off the mangy little one, and I don't want to take any chances. In doing so, I admit that I got a bit frustrated -- I have so many other things I want and need to be doing, that I sure got a wrench thrown my way by this! Why on earth didn't the first round of flea treatment work on Mittons? Why am I having to spend time vacuuming when I'm paying a professional cleaning team to come in next week?! What a waste of time!

Then I started to think...there must be some reason that I have to be vacuuming today. Maybe if I'd tried to stain the deck (again -- I started once and got rained out already this week!), I would have done something wrong or run into problems and gotten frustrated. Maybe I'm not emotionally ready for another "trigger" as I go through boxes of things. For whatever reason, I realized, I need to be vacuuming today.

I was thinking that as I started to vacuum the dining room. Mind you, we had/I have a beautiful dining room, at least in my opinion. It houses our dining room table -- my favorite piece of furniture due to all the great times we had with family and friends drinking wine, hosting get-togethers with out-of-town family, playing board games, serving holiday dinners, and hosting fantasy football drafts around that table. We also had a beautiful glass table/wine rack (that holds about 30 bottles!) and several wine-themed paintings.

Clearly, wine is something I loved and that Brian and I loved together. It was a big part of our lives, which might sound silly to some, but that's what we liked. We started a (very casual!) wine club a few years ago, that continues to this day. We meet once a month, at my dining room table, and everyone brings a wine to share. There is always a theme for each month -- merlot, South American wines, wines that have dirty-sounding names, etc. Boy, I am going to miss wine club (though I'm starting one in Austin, and already have several people on board!).

I digress...suffice it to say, and I'm going to miss the heck out of having a formal dining room. I love to entertain and spend time with friends and family; as much as I love the food, games, and wine, it was about the friends and family, really. I am sad to think that in my new place in Austin, I probably won't have room for that table. I am going to keep it in storage until I have a house, though, because it holds so many great memories for me.

I was sort of thinking about that as I was moving the dining room table and all 8 chairs out of the way to vacuum the area rug they sit on, but I kept thinking, "There must be some reason I am supposed to be doing this today." The area rug is a short shag that actually takes a few runs with a vacuum to look good, and I was trying to be very thorough on top of it all (on account of those fleas...remember how they tie in!), so I was really taking my time on that rug. In doing so, I sort of stepped back and looked at it from a distance. Then I saw -- or rather, remembered -- just how cool that rug is.

This rug is about 10'x15" and has an oval-sort of pattern, with overlapping shapes, contrasting borders, and several colors (black, maroon, olive green, burnt orange, gray, navy). It's really unusual, and Brian and I both loved it. Then it hit me -- I can use this rug in my new place! I'll probably get an apartment or rent a condo for a year in Austin, until I get more settled, and I'd love a modern, loft-style place, perhaps with concrete floors. In any event, I imagined that rug in the middle of my new living room space in Austin, and I got excited. Excited not just to move and to have a great, modern rug that will look great in my new place, but also excited that I will have a piece of the dining room with me. It will be a daily reminder of the good times we had and how blessed we were to share that with each other and to be able to call those good times our "lives." I'm just remembering again, how great our life was together, and it's bittersweet, but getting more sweet than bitter.

Today, I can say it made me so happy to think I'll have this reminder with me in Texas, day in and day out, of the happy and wonderful life Brian and I created. Apparently that "a-ha!" moment, that encouragement, is why I needed to vacuum today.
And that's how the fleas made me excited for the future.

But, right now, the present requires more vacuuming...

Living in a Fantasy World

Those who know me know I love NFL football and I'm a huge Chicago Bears fan. Of course, my interest initially came about because Brian was a huge Bears fan, but I became a fan in my own right many years ago -- there were times I would tell Brian about the latest Bears news or would have the answer to some wondered-aloud random question of his, like which player would be the long snapper if Patrick Mannelly got injured. I'd routinely check the official Bears website, as well as those of the Chicago Tribune and Chicago Sun-Times for Bears news, analysis, and opinion pieces. I still do, though not quite as often this year.

As a football fan, I'd even been in a fantasy football league at one point, though it was just for a year and it was early on in the fantasy heyday, so this league wasn't even online. It was too much effort to do trades and set rosters without real-time internet control, so I only stayed in that league for one season. And I could never get into Brian's league -- it's a little bit like the FX show The League in that the guys take it very seriously -- there is a waiting list to get in, and there has been for years, so I never even attempted. I was perfectly content, though, to be the First Lady of the League. Brian was the commissioner ("The Commish") and I had an important role as his wife. Once we got a house, the draft was always in our dining room and I'd plan the menu, drinks, and setup. I would typically also play the role of the Vanna-White like "sticker girl" during the live draft, posting the picks as they were made on the 3' x 4' draft board. All the stickers are color-coded by position, and most of the other wives and girlfriends wouldn't know what color to look for when a player's name was called. I actually knew enough to do a little trash-talking to the guys as they made their picks. One year, I was running the sticker board, keeping our two out-of-state fantasy guys up to date with live chat by typing the picks in as they were made, and managing to do the occasional drink run all at once (hey, it helps that a couple of the guys are notorious for taking a looong time to make each pick!).

After Brian died, one of the first things I thought of was the Boka & Friends Smashmouth Fantasy Football League. I posted a message on the league message board telling the guys I hoped they'd continue, and that I wanted to play a role in whatever capacity they would desire. I was honored when they voted to not only make me commissioner, but also chose me to fill the spot vacated by Brian, and to have my own team. I don't know what Brian would have thought about having a "girl" in the league, but I'm not your typical girl when it comes to football, and besides -- I wanted to be in the league!

I am really enjoying having a fantasy team of my own this year. Previously, I always sort of teased Brian about having his laptop up on game day, checking his live-update fantasy score while watching the Bears, and also sometimes rooting for Bears opponents to do well (to help his fantasy game), but not so well the Bears didn't still win their game. I teased, but I was never one of those wives who got mad or didn't get it. Still, it's a whole new level of "getting it" now that I'm the one doing those things! It's amazing how much more I love football; every game is more interesting because I'm pulling for (or against) certain players in each game.

Last night, I was at some friends' house for dinner, and I was talking fantasy football with the guys; we all agreed it makes Sundays so much more fun. Then I realized -- I thought Sundays would be awfully lonely and hard this year, watching the Bears alone every week, not having Brian there to appreciate every solid block, amazing deflection & pick plays (did anyone else SEE what Julius Peppers did yesterday, by the way?!), etc. But they're not -- I actually look forward to Sunday each week. I LOVE Sundays.

In short, fantasy football has made what could have been a season full of crummy Sundays into a great time of year for me.

Thank you, fantasy football.

House, Episode Seven

This week's episode begins a little slowly, but picks up a lot at the end!

This week, Wendy does some more sorting, selling, and cleaning. In between, however, she also does some reading, some writing, some crying, some running, and some socializing. These take away from the "House" part, which is clearly the most important part of the show...

Then, Wendy's parents come to the rescue! With their help (or, with them doing most of the work while Wendy does dishes and laundry and loads up the truck with thrift store donations), the following gets done: 1) Wendy's dad power washes the deck and concrete slab outside, which makes a WORLD of difference; 2) Wendy's mom paints the ceiling in the living room; 3) Wendy's dad preps the garage ceiling for a fresh coat of paint (some was chipping and falling off); and 4) Wendy's mom removes some wallpaper from her bathroom (formerly Brian's bathroom -- the one off the master bedroom) and paints a wall in that room.

The best part is that this episode is "To be continued..."

Expect more big progress next week!

Those Darn Telemarketers!

I just received a call from a telemarketer working for Bank of America, the company that issues my Visa card (by the way, thanks for all those calls you make to your best customers to offer them various services, Bank of America! REALLY appreciated.). I always let them through one sentence before I interject and say, "I'm not interested; thank you." Then I hang up. Here's what I was told, in one sentence:

They were calling to offer me a service -- free for the first month or two, of course -- that would pay off my credit card balance in the event of any "life event" such as loss of job or death; and the ability to postpone payments if you move, your spouse dies, etc. I said, "I'm not interested; thank you." Then I hung up, and said aloud, "I'm not interested because all of those things have already happened to me this year. There's nothing left to protect against now."

I think it sort of hit me how much has and is happening to me this year, at this point in my life. All at the same time. It's overwhelming to think about -- in the last 9 months: Brian being taken so suddenly and so early in our life together, I'm no longer married, I'm looking to venture out of the legal profession, I'll be moving to a new place, getting a new job in a new industry (essentially starting from scratch professionally), and even caring for a new kitten (this is a big deal in one's life; it's probably a 15 year commitment)! That's a lot of change all at once.

It was overwhelming to think of it that way -- as cumulative, rather than one thing at a time and separately. Luckily, I've been pretty good at doing the latter, and then it's all a bit more manageable.

Today, after I hung up with the telemarketer, I had a little meltdown. My knees got weak and I slumped over and started to cry. I was just struck by how much I've gone through...and then I realized, I have made it through a lot. And the most important part is that I made it through. I'm still here! I will get through this; I'm still standing now. And, even better, I like the direction I'm facing.

I've Got a Mountain to Climb Before I Get Over This Hill

It's just the first part of October, and I'm already dreading the months ahead. I keep going back and forth between two pieces of advice that have popped up over and over in my grief books -- 1) Take one day at a time; 2) Plan ahead for difficult occasions. How do I plan ahead without getting overwhelmed at what lies ahead? Isn't planning ahead contrary to the very concept of living one day at a time?

Regardless of how I approach things, I've got the following dates/occasions/milestones that I think will be tough:

1) October 16 -- first family Thanksgiving/Christmas (my grandparents are snowbirds, so we celebrate before they head to Texas for the winter)
2) October 16 -- Animal Lifeline of Iowa annual fundraising auction (Brian was on the Board of Directors; we went to the auction every year)
3) October 17 -- Des Moines 1/2 Marathon
4) October 23 -- wedding in California (Brian and I looked forward to the trip together, as well as celebrating the love and happiness of our good friends who are getting married)
5) October 29-31 -- Freeze Out (an annual event my dad's side of the family organizes; we all camp out -- in campers and cabins! -- and have fires, etc.)
6) Thanksgiving -- times at least two (Coopers & Bokas)
7) December 16 -- Brian's birthday (he would have been 32)
8) Christmas -- I'll probably have 5 Christmas celebrations to attend, in addition to the one in October (we were blessed with large, young, healthy families that still celebrate together every year)
9) December 28 -- my birthday (which I may or may not celebrate this year)
10) New Year's Eve -- in addition to being a holiday where you kiss your partner at midnight, I'll be at a wedding reception
11) January 17 -- the one year anniversary of Brian's death

All in all, I'll have more than a dozen tough occasions (remember, FIVE Christmases!) in the next 3 1/2 months. I literally don't know how I'll make it through them all. I suppose one day -- or one hour, or maybe one MINUTE -- at a time.

I keep going back and forth between thinking I should make plans in advance so I know I won't wind up with nothing to do and nowhere to go, and thinking I should play it by ear to just see what I'm feeling up to at the time. Of course, there is also the fact that I don't want to let anybody down by missing their Christmas dinner, their gift exchange, etc. These aren't office holiday parties I'm talking about -- how do I not attend Christmas with grandparents, aunts and uncles, etc.? If I do limit myself -- say, to three celebrations -- how do I choose which?

I am absolutely paralyzed by fear of the coming months. I panic right now to look at the date on the calendar...October 4. How did that come so quickly? If the days keep going that quickly, I won't be emotionally prepared for the things to come! On the other hand, would it really help if I had more time to prepare? Probably not.

I guess I'll just focus on one OCCASION at a time. In two weeks, I've got a doozie of a weekend -- family holiday, Animal Lifeline fundraiser, and the Des Moines Half Marathon...all within the same 24 hour time span. I don't know if "one day at a time" will quite cut it. I just hope "one hour at a time" or "one minute at a time" will.

House, Episode Six

In this week's episode...

A two-man crew spends the better part of the week at Wendy's house installing windows. They look beautiful! Once the crew leaves, Wendy attempts to re-hang window treatments. This proves to be difficult.

For starters, the window treatments were all previously attached to the window sills; now that there are brand new windows (which are vinyl, not wood), this is not a possibility. Thus, Wendy must measure the windows and treatments, then first mark where to install the brackets. Imagine one person -- just two hands -- holding up a tape measure and trying to mark various distances out with a pencil.

Once the markings are made, she must drill into the solid oak window frames to re-hang blinds and curtains. This is also much harder than it would seem, at least to Wendy. First, she struggles trying to get the screw to even penetrate the wood -- they keep flying off at weird angles, sometimes into the heating ducts! She learns that it helps to first use a skinny drill bit to make a hole where the screws will go. This helps...somewhat. She still struggles excessively with using the cordless drill. She is only able to use the drill to get each screw about halfway into the oak before the screw starts to strip. This is, apparently, because of a combination of factors: 1) the skinny drill bit she first selected should be bigger; 2) the drill bit that attaches to the screw should have probably been bigger (even though they all seem the freaking same to her!); 3) she should have gotten out a bigger ladder so she would not be using the drill overhead; 4) sometimes the She brackets were shaped such that the drill could only be used to get the screws halfway in. Yes, it takes Wendy four hours to properly hang six brackets....and she can't even figure out how the window treatment in the kitchen is supposed to work! She has more than one crying spell from the sheer frustration, wondering: "Why is this so hard? What am I doing that is so wrong here? How am I ever going to get by on my own?" She gets angry, a neighbor checking the mail hears her screaming obscenities through the open window. The cordless drill gets slammed down and cracks.

After a period of about four hours passes, Wendy has installed four brackets in the dining room and three in the living room, though one is hung upside down (all three were at some point, but two got corrected). Wendy's hands are sore from hand screwing semi-stripped screws into solid oak, all while working overhead (don't forget how much labor was required to remove those two incorrectly hung brackets in the living room!). She can't even hang the living room window treatments alone, though the brackets are hung properly, because the window treatments are too large for one person to manipulate.

Tired, angry, sore, frustrated, and defeated, Wendy finally admits that this is something she needs help with. She calls a few guys who live in the Des Moines area and who might be able to help her out. Luckily, a friend who lives nearby comes over and knocks out all the needed work in about an hour, maybe less. This is the point where Wendy learns about the importance of angle and leverage, so at least a lesson is learned.

On the positive side, Wendy enjoys using her home to entertain a couple times this week, first clearing out the Bear Den (the Chicago Bears basement bar) for the Bears v. Packers Monday Night Football matchup and then hosting Wine Club one evening in the dining room. This encourages Wendy greatly, to enjoy use of her home again.

In another bright spot this week, Ellie and Riley come over to help Wendy clean and to do a fun little afternoon excursion to pick out new curtains for the bedroom. They zip around in Ellie's VW convertible, making Wendy's Friday afternoon one of the best she's had in a while.

It's Your Party and I'll Cry If I Want To

Celebrations, parties, and informal get-togethers are an important part of life. I am a social creature, and Brian and I were never ones to let an occasion pass by uncelebrated. We'd have parties for fantasy football drafts, remarkable dates (we had a casino party on 07-07-07), holidays, anniversaries, birthdays, you name it. I still enjoy such events, but feel the glow of the festivities is a little less bright without Brian.

I've gone to a lot a parties and get-togethers this year, and hosted a few of my own. Sometimes, there are tears. Sometimes, I am not the best at planning and preparation. Sometimes, I don't have a card or gift for the birthday celebrant. Sometimes, I don't know if I'll feel like going to celebrate....and sometimes, I don't. Sometimes I go anyway.

Life goes on. Good fortune should be celebrated and good times shared. That's why I've made a point to keep doing this. Hell, one of Brian's good friends (who was one of his pallbearers) hosted a keg party at a bar the evening of Brian's burial. That seemed more fitting for him than a traditional wake. So I'm used to -- and I love -- socializing, mingling, drinking, swapping good stories over a glass of wine, a pitcher of beer, or a cigar.

At almost any event, though, I feel the absence of Brian. Sometimes, music will come on that he loved, and I know he's there in spirit, while simultaneously being painfully reminded that he's not there in person with us...and I miss that. I still miss him. Sometimes I know it's the unspoken thing in the room, the garage, the backyard -- everyone's thinking of Boka, and how he'd be running the table at Tippy Cup, sporting his black-and-gold, or how he'd call out the bullshitter at the party (every party has one), or how he'd be able to tell you who sings just about any given song, and probably a little bit about their background and influences.

Sometimes, I feel bad that I haven't been the full me this year. I know there are times I show up empty-handed, in a sour mood. I know I haven't been a very good friend, sister, or daughter. Sometimes, I forget birthdays and anniversaries. Simply put, I've been very self-centered this year, and I have to apologize to my friends and family for that. I know there's been a damper on some of your festivities because of my circumstances and my weakness. I am sorry.

I've broken down and cried at parties. I have my first wedding of the year coming up in about a month, and I'm afraid it will be hard. I'm so happy for my friends, but also know it will be a challenge. I already am planning to sit at the end of an aisle, in the back, so I can make an inconspicuous exit if it gets to be too much.

No one in my life signed up for "distracted, out-of-it Wendy" for 2010, but that's what everyone's getting. So, if I'm at your party, I'll cry if I want to. Thank you for understanding.

Running on Empty

This Sunday, I ran my first race of the year...the first race since Brian died. This wasn't a race I planned on doing; it just so happened to be a 10 mile race when my training program called for me to do a 10 mile training run this weekend. My friend and training partner Laura planned on the race, so it would be a good way to get the long run in with a known training partner.

Even though this race was in my mind for a couple weeks, I was really looking at it as a training run instead of a "race." It was part of my preparation for the "real" race, the Des Moines 1/2 marathon. It is the sort of distance I should have respected more, though. I treat Dam to Dam as a "race" -- I hydrate and eat well, I have GU packets to give me carbs during the run -- and, as a 20k (12.4 miles), that race is only 2.4 more than what I did on Sunday. I didn't do any of that this time -- I wasn't taking this run seriously because it wasn't a "race," it was a training run. Similarly, when friends and family offered to come support me and cheer me on, I declined. I didn't think I'd need the support for a 10 mile training run.

I even had family in town this weekend -- my sister and her boyfriend came to Des Moines for her birthday, which was Sunday. Brian's brother has the same birthday as my sister, and he was moving into a new place this weekend on top of it, so his parents (my in-laws) came to help out and to see him. I'm sure I could have gotten any or all of them to cheer me on if I had asked, but it didn't seem necessary to interfere with the moving process, to deprive college kids of the opportunity to sleep in, etc. So I told everyone, "No, I'll be fine. Thanks for the offer though. This run really is no big deal." And that's what I thought...until the middle of the night before the run.

For some reason, I just couldn't sleep Saturday night. I started to think about the race and how weird it was going to be to finish at Nollen Plaza in downtown Des Moines -- where I've finished so many races before -- without anyone at the finish line cheering me on. I started to feel very alone, even in bed. My teddy bear is nice and all, but sometimes no matter how tightly I squeeze him, it still just feels like stuffing and fake fur. Suddenly, this was one of those nights. I cried, I tossed, I turned, I flipped on the TV, I had a text conversation with another sleepless friend who probably wasn't expecting an immediate response at 2-something in the morning. Ellie got in bed with me for a while and nuzzled around, which helped a little. Finally, I dozed off, TV still tuned to the NFL Network (hey, that's been my default since the regular season started). I think I only got about three hours of sleep.

Sunday morning, I was too tired to be worried about the race and the emotions for a while. Once I arrived downtown and got registered, I got my bib number pinned to my shirt, walked around a while, and then took my pants off (I had my running shorts under them!) and took them back to the car. Seeing all the runners in their various specialty clothes, wearing belts that hold water and carb-gel supplements, waiting in the line for the port-a-potties among hundreds of others who are anxious for the starting gun...well, then it really starts to feel more like a race than an training run. Then there's the singing of The Star Spangled Banner and the much-awaited bang that jolts hundreds of people into a run. Yep, this was going to feel like an actual race...and it was going to be tough.

Laura and I ran together and I could tell from the get-go that the pace we were running was going to be doable, but tough. We started and ended in downtown Des Moines (race course here: http://www.capitalstriders.org/assets/races/CapitalPursuit10m-5k.pdf). As we were turning to head north out of the downtown area, about a mile and a half into the run, I looked up at the building at 801 Grand, the tallest building in Des Moines. I saw a lone hawk circling around the building. I felt it was Brian, watching the race and encouraging me from the sidelines as he would normally do.

The race went very well from there. It was a gorgeous day, a challenging but mostly comfortable pace for me, a pretty and relatively flat course, and good company for running. Yes, my friends/training partners and I talk while we run. Not the whole time, and certainly not as much toward the end of a race, but enough to keep from getting bored. For the most part, it was a wonderful race.

However, during the last 1/2 mile it did get hard. We ran by ING, where Brian used to work. There were people sitting on the ING bench outside, and I thought of our friend Bobby. He recently told me about how he would wait on an ING bench in the skywalk when he was waiting to meet Brian for lunch. I thought about how I'd never again pull up to the building and wait for him to come out when we had plans after work. Then I saw the finish line and thought of how he wouldn't be at the other end of the chute. I started to feel like crying; my breath was choppy. At the same time, I just wanted to get through the race, to finish strong, to prove to myself that I could make it there (to the goal) and so I'd be done with the damn race already!

Laura knew I was struggling; I think I said it, but if I didn't, my face and body were telling the story. She encouraged me, reached out and held my hand, and told me, "We started this together. We're going to finish it together. Brian's with us today. He's been with us the whole time." This was a strong emotional and physical challenge, and she pulled me through. I made it across the finish line in time to log a sub-11 minute pace.

As you've already read, I didn't really prepare my body for this race either. I probably didn't come into this with the right hydration level or with the right food/fuel in my body. Combine that with pounding waves of emotion and the fact that I picked up speed upon seeing the finish line...and you've got a recipe for physical breakdown. Thus, while I crossed the finish line in a good time, I also did so with some complications. I threw up right after I crossed the line. Luckily, it was just a small amount (having no food in my system), and I was able to lean over the side of the finish chute to get rid of it. It wasn't even enough for me to feel embarrassed or feel terrible. Once I got some Gatorade and caught my breath, I was fine. It was just weird though -- that's the first time I've ever thrown up from pushing myself running.

Anyway, it was an emotionally taxing experience that even manifested itself physically. I had shared my anxieties about the race with Laura, and shed a few tears, right before the race. She said she thought it was good for me to do this race before the Des Moines Half Marathon, to get in "up to your knees" before jumping right in. It felt more like I was in up to my belly button (because it's so intense when the cold water reaches your navel!), but the point was -- it was a good stepping stone on my way to my first "real" race; the Des Moines Half will still be hard, as it is a bigger race and it is the end goal of this course of training. I thought her comment was spot-on, especially after I ran the race. It was harder than I had thought, so I'm glad to have gone through it before "the real thing."

It turned out that this weekend's race was a good training run...physically and emotionally, I am more ready for the real thing next month.

House, Episode 5

In this week's episode....

WINDOWS ARE GOING IN!! That's really all that happens this week, as Wendy is preoccupied with writing an appeal brief for work.

Next week's "episode" should be longer, and should include a report that all the windows in the house (save one decorative window and the basement windows) have been replaced.

TO BE CONTINUED....

Murder in the City

I'm busy today, so just going to share this link to an article about the Avett Brothers:

http://www.spin.com/articles/exclusive-preview-avett-brothers-live-dvd

The article also includes a link to Scott Avett singing "Murder in the City" live in front of 9,000 people. It was really neat to read about Scott Avett's thoughts on the song and the first time he played it. This was one of Brian's favorite songs, and the last line has been both a torment and a comfort to me in the past 8 months. Brian and I sang this line to each other when he was alive, I whispered it to him in the hospital right after I found out he was gone, and I put this in the Valentine's Day card I left at the cemetery this year. I never thought it would ring so true as it does after his death. It's just an incredible song about life and death, family, and love between spouses.