If those of you reading this don’t know us–or haven’t caught on by now–Team Bowman refers to my husband Jeffrey and I, and our power pup Maple Mae. It’s our identity, if you will. The name that will be emblazoned upon our family crest. The two words that would hover over the little stick figure people pasted onto the back window of our minivan (if we were the kind of family to do such a silly thing).
Obviously, we are Bowmans. Not so obviously, we are the team you do NOT want to mess with. It is both literal and figurative. We work well together, we compliment each others strengths, and we have each others backs til the day we D-I-E. If that ain’t a team, I don’t know what is. Where the phrase originated, I do not remember. But once it was spoken, it seemed as though life did nothing but confirm that Team Bowman is who we are.
While we don’t really have a romantic, fairytale kind of courtship, it’s one I think set us up for the realness life would bring our way. In a nutshell, we met in a bar. While I knew who he was and had seen him quite a number of times over the years (he was a local musician and fellow barfly), it was some mutual friends and a near-empty dive bar that finally brought us together. Our courtship, for many months, thrived on–get this–MYSPACE. There was some distance… some insecurity… some small town drama that threatened us, but in the end… Team Bowman emerged.
Since then we:
- bought a house
- adopted the world’s most awesome dog
- moved to Atlanta
- leased our house
- feared bankruptcy
- lived with roommates
- left our well-paying jobs
- moved to Detroit
- became self-employed
- shivered through our first real winter
- moved to Ann Arbor
… and have essentially been on a whirlwind search for a new place to call home. But as long as I gots him, he gots me, and the puppy gots we, things are good.