Honor The Father

What do you say to a father with whom you have no relationship? To a man who alternated between ignoring and making loving declarations over the course of your 47 years? To a man who you’d like to call dad, but can just manage…

James,
It would be more dramatic to begin by saying that the storms that rolled through here about 7 this morning startled me from my slumber. To begin by saying that the thunder, lightning and the crash of tree parts and other debris into cars and onto the streets was a most un-settling way to begin the day would be, in truth, not the beginning of my day, though yes, it was un-settling.

My day began three hours earlier thanks to Pete, the cat! He started, per usual at about 4 with his meows, chin chucking and various other actions trying to rouse me. I did my best to ignore him and eventually he sauntered away, to sit and stare. By six, we decide it was time to eat. He feasts on a breakfast of turkey and giblets, I have cereal and a banana.

The storms roll in at 7 and Pete, the cat is a tad un-nerved. He was perched on the sill of one of the open windows. The crashes and lightning sent him skittering. He’s been pacing about, not quite sure of what to make of all the whirling and blowing. I close the windows against the growing breezes for fear that they might turn from refreshing to violent. Neither of us would welcome that eventuality.

I know you’re wondering, who the heck is Pete, the cat? Well, I adopted a cat at the urging of D, my daughter. You remember my daughter, don’t you? True, she was what…9 or 10 the last time you saw her? But I’ve spoken of her in the many letters I’ve sent in the interim. She’s nearly 23 now and working as a vet tech at one of the local animal shelters. The adoptions didn’t stop at Pete, the cat. Diamond, diva dog, also calls our condo home. Diamond and D will be moving as soon as my daughter can get all her ducks in a row. I’ll miss them both, but when it’s that time, well, it is.

There have been many other changes in my life, our lives since we last saw or even spoken to one other. M, my son graduated from college and has been pursuing a career in the theatre. He is working a “day” job that is very satisfying and will serve to provide him the security to continue to pursue his passions. He moved out a year ago and while I’ve stumbled on turning what was his space in the condo, into my space, the time has come for me to forge full speed ahead with that/those projects.

For the biggest change in the past few years is that I’ve fallen in love. The love is on her way, yes…her way here for the first time. I’ve visited her on a number of occasions because it was easier (since I have daughter here and such), but now…she wants to visit Chicago, me and see, rather than hear, how I live. When it’s that time, well, it is.

I don’t remember when you and I have last talked verbally or in print, but I do remember the contexts. I remember you’re stating, trying to assure me that you love me. I have to tell you, I find your declarations hard to believe given what we’ve shared, or rather haven’t, for the bulk of my 47 years. But, never fear I no longer dwell on whether or not you love me or vice versa. That part doesn’t matter. What does matter is that you’re my father and I would like to, at the very least know you and vice versa. So, on this day, the day set aside for children to honor their fathers, allow me to say, I hope that your life has been and continues to be all you hoped and dreamed. I hope your health and that of your wife allows for relaxing enjoyment during these golden years. Finally father, I hope you are happy.

I hope, you hope, the same for me.
Your only daughter, Deborah

I guess I would start there, maybe.

Start. Stop. Up. Down. Twist. Shout.

I'm all over the place these days. My mind is going a million miles a minute. There is a condo to brighten and shine. There are supplies and foodstuffs to stock. There is excitement to keep on an even keel, if at all possible.

Neta is coming to town. Soon, fifteen days to be exact.

Oh me, oh my...Neta is coming. Neta. Is. Coming.

Top?

I'm trying not to read too much into Chef Izard being featured in one of the local rags today. In fact, over the past several days there have been a number of Stephanie sightings (and reports). Per this most recent newspaper article, Stephanie is scouting locations for a new Chicago restuarant she's planning to open. Did she pack her knives in defeat or victory? I'll be tuning in tonight to see. Go Iz!

A,B,C more about MeMe

No doubt you've seen this nearly everywhere. Here's my jumping on band-wagon effort:
A is for your age: in a few weeks I'll be forty-eight.

B is for your burger choice: Beef, pink, spicy and hella good.

C is for the car you drive: none, zero, zip, na-da, making those extend your warranty calls on the voicemail every other day pretty annoying. This is your final warning. Don't delay, press 2 to speak with a representative to extend your warranty. Press 1 to remove your name from our list. Message. Every. Other. Day. for about six months now.

D is for dog's name: though not technically my dog, her name is Diamond. I like to call her Diva Dog.

E is for an essential item you use every day: How odd. There are many, seriously. How do you manage without soap AND water? Cheerios AND milk? socks AND shoes? Well, if I have to choose one....moisturizer to combaat ashy knees, elbows and more.

F is for favorite TV show: This is a toughie...mmmm..at the moment, I suppose would get the nod. I didn't like it when it started and for whatever reason was captured by it a couple of seasons ago. I've been watching the replays in syndication to fill in some gaps. I will eventually rent/watch all the seasons in succession. Probably.

G is for favorite game: Duck, Duck, Goose? Naaah, today it's a toss-up between Scrabble and Scattergories.

H is for your hometown: Da Bulls, Da Bears, Da Cubs......Chicago

I is for instruments played: recorder, piano (lessons) and finger cymbals. Finger cymbals rock!

J is for favorite juice: not big on juices but in the interest of full disclosure, drumroll please....V8 Spicy.

K is for what you'd like to kick: the 11:30 p.m. craving for chocolate chip cookies.

L is for the last restaurant you dined at: Demos' Yummy steak.

M is for favorite muppet: The Count.

N is for number of piercings: Two, each lobe.

O is for overnight hospital stays: Three. Tonsils & 2 birthing events.

P is for people you were with today: fellow commuters, bus operator(s) and co-workers.

Q is what you do in quiet times: Savor. Read. Write.

R is for regrets: I regret not picking up the plants & potting soil while I had access to a car.

S is for your status: Totally devoted to Neta.

T is for time you woke up: 4:14 a.m. Pete. The Cat. 4:14 AM. Pete! the Cat.

U is for what you consider unique: Ernestine, 59.

V is for favorite vegetable: Spinach.

W is for worst habit: falling asleep with the television on

X is for xrays you've had: knees & dental, a few times.

Y is for yummy food eaten today: Garlic Lime Chicken

Z is for zodiac sign: LEO. You have a great insight into major events going on right now, and a lot of people would love to know what you know! Sitting in the catbird's seat gives you a great feeling, and you are finally coming to a place where you can truly value your position in life. Resist the temptation to lord your power over other people who are at disadvantage -- you don't want to burn any bridges. Keep your cool and play this out more conservatively than you probably want to. Whatever.

Love of the Game

Chicago-land native Candace Parker rolled into town with the rest of the Sparks in tow to take on our Sky. The ladies played to a sell-out crowd (no, not me.) The Sky rallied from a 14-point deficit to tie the game at the end of regulation. The Sparks, minus C. Parker who had fouled out, won in OT 81-77.

Oh yes, I like the women. I love the women. However, I don’t have any co-workers who share a passion for the women’s game. The NBA follower co-worker smiles, nods and just pretends to understand. We do not discuss.

We don’t talk about how rookie Parker is leading the Sparks in scoring, rebounds and assists and is odds on favorite to score rookie of the year honors. We don’t talk about the other touted rookie, our very own Fowles, being out with a knee sprain suffered in the 3rd quarter of the battle with the Sparks. Or that Fowles ranks as her team’s third leading scorer but second in rebounds and first in blocked shots. Further, we don’t talk about how badly the 2007 champion Phoenix Mercury are struggling right now. How Cappie, Diana and Tangela have their work cut out for them but being up to the challenge.

We don’t talk about how with the addition of veterans Yolanda Griffith, Swin Cash and Sheryl Swoopes, the Seattle Storm are hoping for a return to the championship podium.

And of course we don’t talk about the Comets, Dream, Fever, Liberty, Lynx (who are hot right now, by the by), Monarchs, Mystics, Silver Stars, Shock or the Sun. And if we don’t talk about the WNBA, you know we aren’t talking about the NCAA women. Bring on the Madness!

Play on ladies. Seriously.

Not In the Game

Eventhough I've told him that I'm not a fan of the NBA anymore, a co-worker wants to know every morning following a play-off game if I saw the game. Every morning I tell him that I didn't. He proceeds to give me a run-down of the more scintillating moments. I listen to be polite. I even make a comment or two.

But I don't care. Really, I don't. Knowing who plays and who wins is simply an accident of memory. I check in with SportsCenter (for other sporting news), there are the crawlers along the top (or bottom) of the screen during my local newscast, I might catch a flash of conversation on the bus or train or glance at the sports section of some commuter's newspaper. The data enters and sometimes it clings whether I want it to or not.

The Finals start tomorrow. The Boston Celtics will battle the Los Angeles Lakers for the title in a best of 7 series. A decade (or more) ago I would have cared. Not now. Except if I did care I'd want Boston to beat the Lakers because "Doc" Rivers played HS & college ball in the area and I always liked his play and demeanor. Conversely, I really, really, seriously, really don't like Kobe. Seriously. One more look at his tongue (you ever notice how often he licks his lips when he talks?) and I'm going to hurl my salad. Seriously.

Play on but I don't care. Seriously.

Quirky

I was tagged (again) to do 10 (different number) things about me (meme). I’ve been thinking about this much and then again, not much at all and then much all over again. I’m hung up on the quirky. Quirky quirks me out perhaps. But, alas, quirky or not, here we go:

1. My first fried chicken dinner was a complete bust. The chicken was beautifully, golden brown outside and a bloody un-done mess inside. I was eleven, I think.

2. I redeemed myself eventually, but then, by that time I didn’t care about preparing food for anyone in my household.

3. Still, the skill came in handy during the rearing of my own children. They grew up eating a lot of fried chicken.

4. My mother had no active role in teaching me how to cook. Ergo, I learned most of what I know long after becoming an adult, a mother.

5. I do not like my water (drinking) or most any other beverage iced, usually. Chilled is ok, iced is generally too much. Waiters (more than waitresses, oddly) tend to question my –no ice- request.

6. A co-worker revealed to me today that he loves peach cobbler and loves to prepare it but can’t stand touching fresh peaches. The fuzz quirks him out. I, on the other hand, don’t care much for peach cobbler but I do adore fresh peaches. Canned peaches (his preference over even frozen peaches) quirk me out.

7. Generally, I don’t like sipping through straws. Obviously in some cases (milkshakes, smoothies) straws are a must, but otherwise, I do without.

8.I found out today that I like cranberries in tuna salad.

9. I don’t like green grapes, but I like all the others. I especially like the sweet grapes added to a buffalo chicken salad.

10.Buffalo chicken salad makes me think of Toot’s, which makes me think, Tennessee, which makes me think Neta, who makes me feel all quirky inside and out. Yum.

Finally

Gone. Rooting for Stephanie because of the Chi connect, but think Antonia is going to be victorious.

May 26, 2008

What do you say to the woman who gave birth, cuddled and diapered you?
Whose emotional ups and downs sometimes un-settled you?
Who fed, groomed and hollered at you at times?
Who put iodine on your scrapes, jackets on your back and second-hand KEDs on your feet?
Who made you eat lima beans (ugh) every once in a while and multiple moves in search of something, someplace just a little bit better?
Whose negativity sometimes confounded you?
Who offered slices of opportunity with a piano rental at 13?
Who has more questions than Trivial Pursuit?
Whose reprimands were rarely harsh and supplied paper for Art?
Who teased occasionally? And took a stab at understanding?
Whose volatile reactions made events even more?
Who provided the “What It Means To Be A Woman” pamphlet when that time arrived?
Whose Xs provided the beginning of you?
Whose years have stretched beyond her expectations?
Whose zigs and zags are now quite predictable?

What you say is happy 68th birthday. I wish for you peace of mind and body from this day forward.

A Lake Story

Chicago’s beaches are open today. It is all of 50 degrees, overcast and dreary, but if you are so inclined, you may flock to the beach today. I’ll pass thankyouverymuch. I don’t do beach even on the best of the best of beach weather days.

I do enjoy the lakefront though. I don’t spend nearly enough time walking/biking along the lakefront.

A favorite childhood memory involved the lakefront. My brothers and I often escaped to the downtown area, often separately, but sometimes together. We’d go to the movies and then just walk around, eventually making our way to the lakefront. When I got older, the lakefront was a favorite later night biking destination.

One of those together times I felt the need to dress up for some reason that escapes me now. I decide to raid mom’s closet for some chunky high heeled sandals. We were walking (me clomping) along the lakefront, pointing at and oohing and ahhing over the boats and buoys when all of a sudden, I listed to one side. One of the chunky heels had snapped, and bounced into the lake, bobbling along like those buoys we ahhhed over. Oh shit.

My older brother, true to his nature, plopped down on the ground and laughed his little ass off. My younger brother’s eyes stretched far and wide and before he could get the, “Mommy’s gonna kill you” out fully, I was down on my daisy covered (even back then mom persisted in floral prints) belly reaching for the heel.

Younger brother freaked. His anxiety over large bodies of water trumped mine by several aces. “STOP!!! BEFORE YOU FALL IN!!” he yelled. He grabbing at me, trying to pull me away. I clung to the edge, flat against the ground trying to explain that I couldn’t fall, off my belly, into the lake, (and *I* was taking no unnecessary chances—the heel certainly was within my reach-when if first fell, having gotten caught in something) but he would not be swayed. He was more and more insistent and since older brother was still laughing his little ass off, he was no help.

The heel bobbled out of my reach. Oh shit.

The train ride home was painfully long. Older brother teasing, younger brother clinging, relieved I hadn’t drowned, me scared shitless about what my mother would say, do. Half-way home, I decided I’d toss what was left of the chunky high-heeled sandals in the incinerator outside of our apartment door.

Mom wasn’t home when we steeped through the door so I didn’t have to explain why I was walking in the apartment barefooted. My brothers and I went on with the rest of the day as though nothing out of the ordinary occurred.

A couple of weeks later, mom was getting dressed to go out. She tore up her closet looking for her white, chunky high-heeled sandals. She cussed a storm, upset that she couldn’t find them. Neither brother said a word.

Of course, older brother lorded my secret over me. That is, until I caught him doing something *he* didn’t want told, which true to his nature wasn’t very long at all.

Have a happy, safe holiday weekend.

Four

I was four when I started school. It was head-start. Mom thought I needed my shyness tendencies eased a bit. I don’t think it worked, then.

Anyhoo…my teacher was Mrs. Stomper. I remember because her name rhymed with romper. Remember Romper Room? I think at some point, in some parts of the country, it was known as Romper Stomper.

Anyhoo..Mrs. Stomper looked a little like Mary Tyler Moore as she appeared on the old Dick Van Dyke show…”ooooh Roooob!” You remember. I don’t remember much else about Mrs. Stomper beyond her name and what she looked like, except, I remember liking her and for my first experience with Chicago public school teachers, she wasn’t so bad, in fact, looking back, she was probably one of the best.

Anyhoo…four.

How does one squeeze four months of not seeing one another into a paltry 4 day visit? One doesn’t, one just make the best of the time one has.

One did.

Itinerary

Thursday: 8:55 scheduled for take-off from O’Hare International. I won’t think about delays, except to be positive-there will be none. Period. Thursday: 10:05 scheduled to land in Nashville’s perpetually under construction (re-modeling) airport. Maybe, by now it’s done. Thursday: 10:35 (after a pit stop ) re-introducing myself to Miss N. She might not immediately recognize me because of the haircut (much shorter than the last time) and different glasses. Plus, she would have worked all night and I’ll be lucky she is even standing. We will alter that state as soon as we can. Thursday: 11:00 Off to Toots for fried pickles, Buffalo chicken salad and a beer or two. Yum. Thursday: 12:30 (or later if we detour to the grocery store or something) pulling into the garage, taking my bags (& such) out of the car, into the house, saying hey to the cats on the way to the shedding outside clothes. Thursday: the balance……. ahhhhhhh Friday: more ahhhhhhhhh Saturday: Repeat of Friday. Yum Sunday: more ahhhhhh until the return to Nashville’s airport at 4:00 p.m. Sunday: 7:00 p.m. Sad to be on the phone talking to Neta, yet glad for the time together, sharing meals, face-to-face conversation, laughter and ahhhhhh, until the next time.

Weekend Update

Saturday D and I spent the day browsing Border’s, people watching, nibbling and just enjoying the day and the weather. Sunday was cold and wet but Mom and I went to a restaurant of her choosing anyway. Compared to some of our restaurant outings, I’d have to say this one was quite pleasant.

Monday, M and his girlfriend met me at my office. We walked to one of the local eateries for some good food and great conversation.


All-in-all, a pretty decent set of days but I’m glad they’re over. I enjoy spending time with my son and daughter. I appreciate the opportunity to share some pleasant moments with my mom. But these last few weeks I haven’t been able to do much but think about going down to TN. I’ve been counting days, hours, minutes and seconds.


I just have to get through today and tomorrow and then it’s . . . flight time.

Question

A salesperson (in this case it’s a guy, but that is not the point) has been calling you every few weeks for m-o-n-t-h-s trying to sell your business a service that might prove helpful and cost effective. You’ve looked into the service once before a few years ago and determined at that time that the savings were not sufficient to warrant the possible upheaval to the business to switch out what you’re currently doing. You’ve mentioned this to the salesperson at every interval, you express a general reluctance to talk about it more, but they persist, going on and on about technology upgrades and really, “we can save your business hundreds a year.”

Just one meeting, no more than 30 minutes, they ask.

Finally, you agree to a meeting. Times are tight and savings are harder and harder to come by. Maybe the service and technology is much improved since your last look-see. It's worth 30-40 minutes of your time on a relatively light day.

You schedule and confirm a meeting for Friday, May 9th at 1:30 in the afternoon.

1:30 no show. 2:30 no show. At 3:15 the salesperson calls, “Hey, it’s been an incredibly hectic day. I know we were supposed to get together earlier, anyway we still can? I just thought I'd give that courtesy call to see if we can meet today or re-schedule for next week."

My question isn’t whether you’d let the salesperson come on by (I didn't because I was leaving the office earlier than 5 and the rest of the afternoon was already booked). My question is: would you ever re-schedule?

Opposites Attract*

Deena paced back and forth reminding Maria of the Brookfield Zoo polar bear. That memory brings a smile to Maria’s face. Deena spies the smile, halted her pacing long enough to ask, “What’s so funny?” Maria let Deena in on the memory only to see her scowl and resume the pacing.

Maria tried once more to lighten the mood in the tiny bedroom, “come back to bed honey.” Deena kept pacing while thinking seriously of digging out and firing up the cigarette she’d hidden in the sock drawer. She treated Maria to another scowl, adding a growl and a very terse, “no, we’ve had enough sex for one day.” Deena added, “What the hell is it with you and the rains? Every time we get these torrential rains you get crazy for sex. We’ve been cooped up in this room for d-a-y-s.”

“Sweetheart” Maria reasoned, “It has only been raining for 3 hours, you have only been home for two, I think of it as being crazy for you and not just sex but making love, honey. Besides, just think how lush and green the yards will be tomorrow.” Maria met Deena’s scowl with a more playful version trying to get Deena to smile, just a little. Those smiles melted Maria’s heart, over and over again.

Deena paced some more but without resolve. She knew Maria would be able to lure her back into bed. Again she found herself wondering just what it was about Maria and why with all their differences they seemed to work. Then she decided she didn’t care. Deena made a final turn, tilted her head and treated Maria to the smile that got her motors going.

Minutes before succumbing to the kiss Maria was aiming to plant, Deena noted that they would probably have to swim to the mailbox. However, it was clear from the depth of that kiss and the active hands that Maria didn’t give one whit about mail, swimming or anything other than making love to the rhythm of the rain.

Deena decided neither did she and further found herself saying a hearty thank you to torrential rains and for Maria.

*Weekend Wordsmith prompt from 5/2/08

Rats

Weese is having critter issues. Her rat tale prompted the following memory.

I was four, maybe five years old. Dad was notorious famous for bringing home strays, mostly dogs. Many times we’d come from school, mom from work to find yet another different animal. These strays never stayed around long. They were there today, gone tomorrow pets. We hardly had time to name them before they were gone.

Mom was none too pleased with this habit. She and dad didn’t usually fight openly in front of us but mom was not shy about making her feelings known about these strays.
Dad always seemed able to calm her fears and concerns. After the initial heat, she seemed resigned to the new additions. Each time though, he promised, no more. A few days/weeks after the latest stray disappeared, a new one would appear.

One night after we were in bed, dad came bouncing up the stairs. His excitement barreled through our door and propelled us out of bed. We wanted to see the new stray.
Mom’s shriek blocked our forward motion. Dad had something, but it wasn’t a stray dog.
“Go. Back. To. Bed. Now!”

Through the door we heard that dad had brought home a rat. The rat in a mayonnaise jar, was according to mom, was a filthy, nasty, deadly . . . thing. “I do not want that, that THING!” around my kids.

Dad tried to assure mom that all would be well. She wasn’t buying that bill of goods, but she seemed to ease up a bit. It got quiet, except for the opening/closing of the sun-porch door.

We got up the next morning and though we were scared we were still eager to see the cause of all the overnight drama. We bolted towards the sun-porch but mom yelled for us to not go out there. Dad was on our side, “oh, let them see.” He went out to retrieve his find, his capture. He came back in from the sun-porch holding a mayonnaise jar full of big filthy, nasty DEAD rat.

The discussion from the previous night started anew. We were sent outside to play.

Sometime during the night, mom had stuffed aluminum foil in the air-holes dad and poked in the lid of the mayonnaise jar. Over the course of the next 2 or 3 years that they were together, dad continued to bring home strays. But that was the first and last rat.

I’ve seen a few rats since, however only one other on the inside of the apartment/house in which we were living. It wouldn’t bother me one whit to go the rest of my life without seeing another one, alive or dead.

Any Other Day

It was a routine day, a day not so routine as to render it mundane, but routine enough so as to not set it apart in any way. This could have been any day. Following work on this any day of a mountain of routine, I head home in the usual way.

Thirty minutes of non-events later I arrive at my block. There are trucks and service vans everywhere.

I’m mildly curious as they activity seems centered on my building, but there wasn’t any work scheduled. The closer I get the more I’m able to see that yes, all the coming and going is indeed our building. I get to the lobby to see that the tile has been busted up. Moving through the outer lobby, towards the inner-lobby and I can that the carpet has been ripped apart. I climb the two flights to my unit door to find that my hardwood floors in 4 rooms and the tile in the other 2 were all busted, ripped, buffed and such. What tha... Who ordered this? Who’s paying for it? Who decided it to be done all at once, inside and out? I didn’t see any other owners around. My daughter is gone. And WHERE ARE D-dog and Pete the Cat?!?

Just as I am about to grab somebody, any body to get to the bottom of whomever or whatever is behind all this work, debris and confusion, I awake.

A dream. So rare these are. So real this was. I got up, checked the locks and the alarm, got a drink of water and tried to go back to sleep. I didn't sleep, I couldn't get the dream to leave my side.

The actual day that followed was as full of routine as the day in the dream. The actual day didn't include any ripping,busting or buffing of floors or anything else. Darn.

Corner of the Sky

**Everything has its season
Everything has its time
Show me a reason and I'll soon show you a rhyme
Cats fit on the windowsill Children fit in the snow
Why do I feel I don't fit in anywhere I go?

I could fly, without a plane, without personal wings. I flew.

Not just flew, I soared higher and higher with each trip, the beginning and ending points the same each time with the middle parts of the forays varying mightily.

For most of my growing up I shared a bedroom with my brothers. The earliest part of that sharing had us in bunk beds with me on the bottom and them up top. I think I was 4 or so when I took my first flight.

To say it scared the barrettes out of my tightly wound hair would be putting it mildly. Luckily our room was right off the bathroom. After tip-toeing to and from the bathroom, I detoured to the living room. Mom often found me curled up on the sofa.

These middle of the night flights lasted for several years. Through the divorce, through our descent into poverty, through my brothers’ affiliations with gangs and drugs, through living with relatives, through me moving to my own bedrooms, always with a curtain, never a door. Through it all, the trips became less and less frightening and though I remained afraid of heights I began to welcome the flights. I’d perch atop some spire, sit and peer down into that which was my life and try to figure out how to make being down there less scary, less foreign.

I began to feel at home in the sky. I remember wishing that the winds would just carry me away, far away. But of course, they never did and the realization struck that I'd have to find my corner of the sky, on the ground.

I don't remember when the flights ended, but I do remember soaring at seventeen. I walked out of that last curtained bedroom, loading everything my brothers hadn't stolen from me into my piece of shit car and driving away from what masqueraded as home and to a place that turned out to be the first of a few corners cozy enough to be called home and my own.

**Rivers belong where they can ramble
Eagles belong where they can fly
I've got to be where my spirit can run free
Got to find my corner of the sky

**Corner of the Sky from "Pippen"

Hello Dolly

During a recent phone call:
Son: Hey

Me: Hey yourself

Son: How’s it goin’?

Me: It’s goin’ how ‘bout you?

Son: Good, good. Do you still have those VHS tapes I left?

Me: Hmmm..sure, I think so

Son: could you check?

Me: Uhm, ok. Give me a minute to get up, I’m sitting on the floor and it takes awhile to get up

Son: Yeah, yeah.

I roll to a standing position and limpwalk over to the cabinet holding tapes, cds and dvds.

Me: I see the Lethal Weapon boxed set, Scarface, NBA Jam Session, Shaquille O’Neal something or another, Moonwalker . .

Son: ok, ok. I’m going to come over and get those. N (the girlfriend) has a VCR. We have to have some different things to watch. I mean, I like 9 to 5, but I don’t want to see it all the time. Hey, what is it with young white women and Dolly Parton? There were those two at school who were craaaazy about Dolly. Remember?

Me: hehehehehehehe, I do remember. I don’t know son. Personally I was / am all about Lily Tomlin.
Son: I know, right. Me too. Oh, did you see the A&E Biography tape, the Sidney Poitier? That's the one I really wanted.

Me: uhm…no…oh wait, yes, that’s here.

Son: Good. She doesn’t know who Sidney Poitier is. She should know Sidney Poitier. I’ll come by next week or so, I’ll be close, I’m a guest judge at the spoken word event at the high school.

Me: Yes, she should know Sidney Poitier. How did the guest judgeship come about? You guys still have travel plans?

Son: I couldn’t believe she said she didn’t know Sidney. The judge thing, Mr. Kahn forwarded me and e-mail and one thing led to another. She’s trying to get us somewhere.

Me: Well, if she brings up Dollywood, you should probably try to go.

Son: yeah, yeah, we’ll see. I gotta go shave my head. The show's done, I can get rid of this hair now.

Me: Ahhh...well congratulations on getting through all 60 performances. What's next?

Son: I've got some auditions and I'm doing something at Looptopia, I'll e-mail the info.

Me: I don't know about Looptopia, D might come down though.

Son: Cool. I'll call when I'm in the area

Me: Good talking with you son, take it easy. 9 to 5 what a way to make... Hello?

Son: Bye, ma.

Me: So long son.

You Plus Me

Cuz our love will stand tall as the trees
Our love will spread wide as the sea
Our love will shine bright in the night
Like the stars above and we'll always be together*

It is big, this love of ours. Is it big enough?
We ask it for much; arms in the middle of the night, logic in the midst of the most non-sensical moments, patience and grace towards one anothers schedules and rhythms of lives lived separately and strength to sustain us between the visits.

We ask it the embrace our past towards helping us merge our present to build our future.

We ask for much. Is our big love, big enough, strong enough to shoulder our requests?

Yes. On this day, yes.

*from Natalie Cole's "Our Love"

Reply

Amaya said...
By your level of anxiety at only having 1 pair of glasses, I'm going to assume your eye sight is pretty bad. Have you considered lasik?
4:42 PM


I am nearsighted, moderately to seriously so. It would be a challenge for me to go without my glasses but given some time to adjust, I'd manage, for a bit. However, if I drove, that would be impossible. My attachment to my glasses is deep and maybe irrational. I feel naked and vulernable without them. I have, in the past, walked around the house without them, much in the same way I might walk around without say...a shirt, briefly. But I would never venture out of doors without them.

My feelings about lasik (or any procedure to muck around my corneas) is rooted in this statement: An instrument called a microkeratome is used in LASIK eye surgery to create a thin, circular flap in the cornea. Another, newer way of making the flap is with a laser. The surgeon folds the flap back out of the way, then removes some corneal tissue underneath using an excimer laser. The excimer laser uses a cool ultraviolet light beam to precisely remove ("ablate") very tiny bits of tissue from the cornea to reshape it. When the cornea is reshaped in the right way, it works better to focus light into the eye and onto the retina, providing clearer vision than before. The flap is then laid back in place, covering the area where the corneal tissue was removed.

To which I say... HELLLLLLZ TO THE NO.

My eyes don't hurt. Wearing glasses doesn't hurt and certainly won't kill me. So, I'm good.

Random

1. Whenever I say it’s Prince Spaghetti Day people my daughter gives me that 'you're nutty' look.
2. Do you call your mending tape “Scotch” even when you’re using a generic or some other brand?
3. I really don’t like it when folks call the office phone, get the voicemail and only leave their name and number for a message. I would really appreciate some clue as to what the call was about.
4. I prepare for business phone calls. I know what the subject is and what I’m going to say in the event I get voicemail.
5. I get annoyed when solicitors show up to the office trying to solicit disregarding the –NO SOLICITORS- signage plastered on the door.
6. I get even more annoyed when they ask “is there someone else who might be interested?” after I politely, but firmly show them the way out.
7. I know, I know they’ve got a job to do. Kids with candy, guys & gals with office supplies (& deals on phone service), gals with perfume and gals (never guys) with art, I wonder…successful, any?
8. Doesn’t “satisfaction guaranteed, or your money back!” mean all your money if you return something due to dissatisfaction? You know where you can stick your re-stock charge.
9. Snyder’s Hot Buffalo Wing pretzel pieces don’t taste much like buffalo wings, but they are tasty.
10. How many different “Yellow Pages” directories are there? Is there any way to STOP them from appearing on the doorstep?
11. Having a cat around to scratch my elbow in the morning has totally eliminated the need for an alarm clock.
12. Problem is he starts at around 3:30 – 4:00 most mornings. My usual rise time is 5:15
13. We don’t have spaghetti (Prince or otherwise) much since M moved.
14. Neta and I haven’t laid eyes, hands or lips on one another in 105, 106, 107, 10sooo many days.
15. Each passing day brings us closer to the laying on of eyes, hands and lips. Yum.
16. I got tickled when an automatic dialer called the home phone. It got my answer machine because I don’t answer non distinctive rings, as you know. The automated voice thanked my machine for holding on and seconds later a guy’s voice said, “Hello. Hello? HELLLLLOOOO?” It’s on the machine. D and I laughed out loud. It was a slow day, what can I say.
17. Remember in the movie “Soapdish” where the Sally Field character is anguished over how her boyfriend broke up with her…”On the machine, Rose, On the maaaachiiine!?!”
18. I haven’t watched NBA games consistently for several years now. Yet, one co-worker persists in asking me about them.
19. After checking the Sky’s schedule, it is doubtful I’ll be able to make even one game this season, though I will try. I wish the home meeting with L.A. wasn't on a Tuesday. Hmm..vacation day 6/4?
20. Neta in 23, 22, 21 and counting . . .

Eye Have It

It’s that time again. Scratchy eyes, sneezing, drier skin…allergies. I don’t complain (much) because my case is mild compared to others. Still, for a few weeks my overall comfort level is compromised by the condition.

Making matters worse is I need new eyeglasses. I’m going on three years with the current prescription and that is at least a year too long. The pressure to go is heating up because I broke a pair and now am only down to one. It scares me to have a single pair, should something…
No, I won’t jinx it, but moving to the top of the “things to do/get list” is a trip to an optometrist.

The only question remains…which one?

It's Official

Me, the daughter, the dog and now the cat, all overweight. Not, mind you, by much, but still over our respective recommended amounts.

I think a contest is in order. The daughter and the dog might happily agree. Somehow, I think we’ll have some trouble with the cat.

To be continued . . .

On This Day

Left Knee: Whoa! What the heck is she doing?
Right Knee: Calm down, it’s April and the sun is shining (for a change).
Left Knee: Are you crazy? She just can’t get on a bike, start pedaling and expect me (us) to fall in line.
Right Knee: 1.Speak for yourself 2. Get a grip 3. We’re not going that far 4. Stop whining, I have to do more work when you whine.
Left Knee: Bite me. All I’m saying is she could give some warning. She can’t go from walking to riding and expect no reaction.
Right Knee: You’re a baby.
Left Knee: You’re a suck-up.

The other big happening on this day was the early morning earthquake. Seriously? Earthquake?

Whoa.

Actually, it wasn’t much, but certainly noticeable. No, it didn't wake me, I was somewhere between that awake / asleep mode where you think you're dreaming and then realize, nope, not a dream.

A Tale

I stumbled upon this site and this week was inspired to play.

Four, Five, Six…
The pug next door said it was useless to count the humans. He said there were too many and since you didn’t know which ones were good and which not, why bother? I asked him what he counted. He said he counted the dark times.

The dark times, what? He explained further that as there were times the room was bright and times when it wasn’t. He counted the times it wasn’t. He said a poodle clued him in, the dark times signaled an end and the start of a beginning. The poodle noted how when the bright came after the dark another bowl of food was delivered.

Nine, Ten, Eleven. . .
I was confused as to how counting the dark times was any less useless than counting the humans. I liked counting the humans. There were more of them than dark times and it was more fun. Some of the humans were nice. The short ones like to pat my head. Some of those had sticky fingers. Now and again I got to taste peanut butter they left behind.

Fourteen, Fifteen, Sixteen…
I heard the pug sigh loudly when he got to sixteen. I asked if all was well. He said no one made it past twenty dark times. I wasn’t sure what he meant by that, though I did notice the chocolate lab and that weird terrier were gone and a different poodle and a stout bulldog were in their places. I’d lost track of my dark times, since I was counting humans but if pug was on sixteen my count had to be more. I was here before him.

Nineteen….
Oh goody, more humans and they have some short ones with them. I just love the short humans. I think I’ll wag my tail. They seem to like when I do that. The short humans giggle when I waggle my tail.

“Mommy, please Mommy, please, please, please…may we have this one!!”

Six

In one of those twisty full of fate, six degrees, first in chicken or egg kind of turn of events I met a new blogger buddy face to face before I ever read her blog. The sterling personality behind Blog Antagonist, as it happens, is a very good friend of my friend Nina, who I met in blog land some time ago. Nina invited me to a dinner when she was in Chicago last summer, that is when and where I met BA. Dinner was a blast, full of fun and lively conversation.

My new blogger buddy, BA has tagged me to share six unimportant factoids about myself and I’m happy to play along with one exception, I won’t tag anybody else, but if you are so inclined, go for it.
Six things:
1. Pierced. As in, my ears are pierced. The first piercings took place the summer before 6th grade. My mom paid a neighbor-lady a few bucks and a six pack of beer to torture numb my ears with ice cubes and stab me with a large sewing needle. The first ear went rather quickly, considering. The second, not so much. Hours later she finally got my ear numb enough to stick the needle all the way through without me squirming too much. I’m sure that’s why that hole is on an angle. Putting earrings in that ear used to be a trial. I’m an old hand at it now though.
The second set was one of those mall jobbies with the gun, in and out in seconds. It is the second set though, that gives me the most trouble, re: irritation when I keep earrings in for any length of time.

2. Purses. I have two, one tan the other black. Functional, multi-pocketed, inexpensive quasi-necessary evils. As you may have guessed, I don’t like purses. I do however like bags, so long as they don’t give the illusion of purses.

3. Dresses and skirts. I don’t own any, ergo, I don’t wear any. I did once upon a time as my mom & ex-husband would buy them for me. They both favored big bold floral printed shitty vibrant designs. All of which I made me want to puke. To stem the proliferation of the botanic garden in my closet I made a few select purchases which I didn’t like much but at least wouldn’t make me lose my lunch. Eventually, my mom caught on and stopped. The ex continued until he was, well, ex. One by one each garment found homes in other closets. My slacks had a party to celebrate.

4. Make-up, you know where this is going by now, don’t you? No, of course I don’t wear make-up. When I remember, I apply lip balm and when I know I’m going to be kissing Neta, lip gloss, because she likes it, but otherwise, no. Ages ago my step-mother tried to teach me about make-up. She gave me up as a lost cause, wagging her finger at me, telling me that one day I’d want to care more about foundation, eyeliner and the like. I don’t think we’ve had a conversation since.

5.I like the color blue, every shade of blue. I don’t care for pastels much but I can handle pale blue. I have a lot of blue in my wardrobe. A lot. There is also a lot of black. For the past few years my daughter has been nagging asking me to try expanding my wardrobe to include a wider range. My first stabs were disastrous in her view, but progress, I believe is being made.

6. I can’t commit my cell phone number to memory. I’ve had it for nearly 4 months and I just cannot remember the number. True, I don’t dial it and I don’t give it out often, but still….

MeMe Finale

25) Do you like your mom or dad? My dad has been absent from my life most of the 40 years he and mom have been separated / divorced. I didn’t like him when he left and I suppose now it is more a matter of not knowing him rather than like or dislike.

My mom struggled to hold us together after the divorce. The struggle marked with chronic illness, poverty, street gangs, drug and alcohol abuse has impacted the present tremendously. Her life and mine have been and continue to be inextricably woven and though she can be caustic and short-tempered, some parts of some days, yes, I like her.

26) How long does it take you in the shower? 5-7 minutes weekday mornings, usually longer on weekend & yard / building chore days.

27) What movie do you want to see right now? Heck if I know. I like movies but don’t like the movie going experience much these days and I don’t much like going alone, so I don’t really follow what’s coming or is out. Neta and I are supposed to go when I’m in TN. I’ll want to see whatever seems promising then.

28) Do you put lotion on your dog or cats? Does anyone? If so, why?

29) What did you do for New Year? NY 2007/2008 I was in TN with m’lady. We had shrimp cocktail and conversation with her parents. We went back to her place and she grilled some kick-ass steaks, baked some taters & stuffed them with baked potato stuffing stuff. We ate, drank and made merry. Yum. I hope to make it a tradition, at least until we cast our lots together and then we’ll make even more merry and maybe more traditions.

30) Do you think The Grudge was scary? I’ve heard of it because D likes horror type flicks, but I haven’t seen it (I don’t think she has either). Not really my kind of entertainment.

31) Do you own a camera phone? Yes, I haven’t decided if I like it or not. I’m leaning towards not.

32) What is the last letter of your middle name? E. In fact, there are 2 Es in my middle name. There is an E in my first name and yet another E in my last name. The Es party hardy, they own the joint.

33) Who did you vote for on American Idol? I have never voted for anyone on American Idol. I don’t even watch the episodes unless Neta and I happen to be on the phone and she’s watching and talking about the contestants.

Thus ends this exericse. I've been tagged to list six things about myself. I guess that's my weekend homework assignment, since it doesn't look like I'll get outside much as we are expected to be hit with winter-like conditions. Oh. The. Joy.

More MeMe Parts 2 and 3

Part 2
9) As previously stated, nine is missing. This just in and confirmed, 9 struck it rich with the lottery ala “The Connors” but unlike the TV family, nine moved out of Cuba(IL), flew to Greece, bought a villa and interest in an olive company.

10) Would you date someone with different religious beliefs? Perhaps, provided the beliefs weren’t radically different. Then again, someone with a radically different belief system probably wouldn’t be interested in dating me.

11) Are you continuing your education? Of course, though not currently in a formal setting, but I’m always learning something.

12) Do you know how to shoot a gun? I pulled a trigger once. I doubt that would count as knowledge.

13) If the house was on fire, what’s the first thing you’d grab? Presuming of course daughter & pets are already out or on the way out, my phone I guess, to call the fire department.

14) How often do you read? I’ll take a leap here and presume the question means books, because really, I read every minute of every day my eyes are open. If we’re talking books then I average one a week, generally. It’s been a little slower since I’ve been actively courting my lady friend, lately it is more like one every two weeks.

15) Do you think more about the past, present or future? The operative word here is more I don’t know, if I had to guess I’d say I give each tense equal time.

16) What is your favorite children’s book? I can’t say that I read any book as a young child that resonated with me. I wasn’t allowed to go to the public library until I was 9 or 10 so I was limited to whatever school I was in had to offer. Once given access to the public library I began to explore the world of books. I remember reading a lot of biographies, auto-biographies and teenage angst novels. I couldn’t name any single one as a favorite. A couple of titles leak over the memory banks, “The Autobiography of Miss Jane Pittman” and “Go Ask Alice”. I enjoyed every novel required for high school and those I selected on my own. Favorite? There are soooo many that had an impact on the development of me, who can name just one?

Part 3
17) How tall are you? I am taller than 5’ 6” but not as tall as 5’ 7”

18) Where is your ideal home located? I haven’t seen enough of the country / world to feel confident to state categorically. Home will be wherever my love and I reside. When we are together, it will be ideal.

19) Last person you talked to? Neta

20) When was the last time you were at Olive Garden? May, 2007. I took my mother for her birthday. She enjoyed it…but we probably won’t go back, or rather I won’t. Nothing against OG, my mom is just not in her element in restaurants.

21) What are the keys on your key chain for? 8 total: 4 for doors /locks to dwelling, 2 bike locks, 1 mail box and 1 storage cubicle.

22) What did you do last night? As it is technically Thursday morning, Wednesday night I got in from work, changed into sweats & rode my bike to my mom’s to help her with some paperwork & hang out a bit. Came home, ate dinner, did the dishes, talked to Neta and answered these questions and (will) talk with Neta again before turning in for the night/morning. Oh yeah, I watched Top Chef.

23) Where is your current pain at the moment? My left knee, the right and then the left, again.

24) Do you like mustard? Not really. However, EB sent me some last year (?) and it was pretty good. As a rule though, I don’t seek out mustard. Now & again, I might dabble it on something.

Whew, that’s it for parts 2 and 3. This sucker is long so there are yet more questions to answer, but for now, I have to go say Goodnight / Good Morning to my sweety.

All Too Soon

The …maybe the girlfriend from the previous post was not meant to mean my girlfriend, but M’s girlfriend. There was a chance she’d meet us for dinner and then no, but as it happens we were able to meet ever so briefly. She’s very cute (and practical). There will be a lunch, probably after the run of the show.

My girlfriend doesn’t have any definite plans to come up, the conversation has been raised and there is a slight chance it can happen in a couple of weeks. I will, however, be going down next month, finally.

Now, on to the real post…. a stroll down MeMe lane. I’ve seen this over at Maria's , Lobal's, Sassy's, and Kitty Litter's you may have too. It’s a painless Q and A. Oddly, there are 33 numbers but only 32 questions. Number 9 is gone. The rumor is that 9 entered into the witness protection program and was dispatched to Cuba (IL). It's only a rumor, for all I know, 9 is hanging out in Atlantic City, losing her skirt at the casinos.

Anyhoo I decided to perform this MeMe and I'm doing it in 4 parts, just because. Part 1.

1) The phone rings. Who are you hoping it is? The land line is been programmed to emit distinct, distinctive chimes for each of the 4 V.I.Ps in my life. Any of those 4 chimes would be welcome.
2) When shopping at the grocery store, do you return your cart? Well, more times than not, I’m on foot so the cart doesn’t leave the store. However, when I am in a car, of course the cart is returned to the corral or the store, whichever is nearer.
3) In a social setting, are you more of a talker or listener? Friends or acquaintances, listener. Family, talker. Usually. Dynamics and / or alcohol consumption might alter any usual routine.
4) If abandoned in the wilderness, would you survive? Hellllz to the N-O.
5) Do you like to ride horses? I don’t think so. I was on a horse once many, many years ago. It didn’t suck too much, but I guess it says something that I haven’t sought the opportunity to do it again.
6) Did you ever go to camp as a kid? Well, just "day camp” which was more a very large play-group. Our family didn’t camp and I was never a scout or anything like that.
7) What was your favorite board game(s) as a kid? Monopoly, Life, Sorry and Checkers
8) If a sexy person was pursuing you but you knew he/she was taken, what you do? Tell them to sod off, I'm taken.

Monday arrived much too soon and now Tuesday is here as well, so I'll take my leave and pick this up later.

Goodnight, Good Morning.

Friday, Finally

Customer service is a major component of my job, has been for years. As the company is primarily mail order, most of my contact with customers, vendors and others is via the phone. I have very few face-to-face encounters but e-mail is making some inroads. Still, the phone rules and I am on the phone much during the course of a typical week.

Years ago a customer complained to my boss of the time that I didn’t have enough “sunshine” in my voice. She acknowledged that though I wasn’t rude, mean or nasty I didn’t exude “sunny” either. He didn’t offer any suggestions as to how I could get “sunnier.”

The comment did stay with me over the years. And while I wouldn’t describe my quality as “sunny” I do approach each telephone encounter with customers, vendors and others with an air of geniality laced with knowledgeable command and professionalism.

Sometimes it is a trial and this week has been one of those weeks. My emotional tilt-o-whirl aside, the job must be done. There were moments though, that threatened to crack my steely professional resolve.

An insurance company was supposed to issue a credit for 4 months of billing errors instead they back billed us above and beyond the original error.

A business checks printer who sent the wrong checks & deposit tickets not once, but twice and then, then had temerity to charge the company for RUSH delivery. We still don’t have the correct checks.

A payables clerk from Florida called to quibble about $1.25. We billed $100.75 but the purchase order was approved for only $99.50. She went on and on about budgets and hard times and really, that day she had me at hello. Seriously. This instance was small change but it does hi-light a broader issue, the guys simply must follow the terms of the purchase orders. Most school districts will not pay beyond the orders terms. The budgets are just too tight. But, that’s another story for some other time.

It is Friday. Friday means that the mail is lighter and the phones are quieter. And as this Friday is nearly over as far as work is concerned I can look ahead to being home with my feet up, resting my aching back, nursing a tall tepid one (I don’t go “cold” usually), with candles flickering and soft music playing. The ills of this week will eek out of my fingers and toes and I will begin to feel, well, probably…sunny, despite the cold dreariness of this particular Friday.

Saturday promises sun and warmth in abundance and Sunday I get to hang out with both son and daughter and this just in...maybe the girlfriend and of course, Babeball. Any and all doing their part to get me ready for another busy business week.

Distinctive Tone

Two days ago, on the phone.
Me: Hey Son
Him: The box office is closed today. I’ll look into a ticket for Sunday, tomorrow.
Me: Alright, let me know, when you know.
Him: I will. I need some help with something.
Me: Sure, what’s up?
Him: She’s buying me stuff.
Me: Yeah? Hmm, stuff. Cool.
Him: No, it’s not.
Me: No? Well, what kind of stuff?
Him: Well, she bought a shower curtain, some pillows and a belt.
Me: Did you need a new shower curtain, pillows and a belt?
Him: Yes, but that’s not the point.
Me: No, of course not. Son, she cares about you and this is her way of showing that and that she’s thinking about you. It’s not like she saw you needed a belt and she bought you a suit. She’s being thoughtful. But, if you are having a problem with it, you should talk with her. If she likes you the way you say, the way you think, she’ll understand. However, son, you do realize that you are no longer and *I* you are now a *WE* and with that comes…stuff.
Him: You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?
Me: Yep Yep

Yesterday on the phone:
Me: Hello, son.
Him: I sent an e-mail to the box office, I should hear back in a day or so.
Me: Alright. I hope D can get a seat.
Him: Well, we talked.
Me: Yeah, how did it go?
Him: Well, I helped her put up some shelves. She had fixed dinner and we ate. It was good, the food. I told her and it was really chill. She understood about that and me being busy and distracted because of the show. She said she understood. It was really chill.
Me: Good. I’m glad to hear it. Are you still going to take her to the Arboretum?
Him: Yeah, when the show is done. It’s a surprise. She knows we’re going somewhere, she just doesn’t know where. She’s excited. She hates not knowing, kinda like you.
Me: I’m happy your talk went well. Soooo, when are we all going to have lunch?
Him: Geeez, you and her geez. Soon, ma. Soon.
Me: Probably not until the show is over, huh?
Him: Yeah, probably.

In the Morning

This tale is my entry to this month's Wordsmiths exercise. The groans emanating from the bedroom, slicing into the serenity of Justine’s early morning ritual signaled the return of Rachel’s nightmares. Experience and the memory of a painfully bloody nose kept Justine from making her way to the bedroom. It was too soon. She must wait.

Justine does move to pour another cup of coffee. The steamy aroma taking her back to a similar morning eight months ago. She dropped a cup of coffee then, running full out to Rachel’s side the very first time she’d heard those groans.

Having cleaned up and settled down after being pummeled about the head and face when trying to rouse Rachel, Justine wanted to know if Rachel wanted to tell. Rachel didn’t want, but she did tell some.

“I was seven and my brothers were six and five. Mama’s friend, Papa Jack announced he was taking us to the carnival. Mama was working, so she didn’t go. We left in Papa Jack’s green truck and arrived at the carnival about 30 minutes later. It was cold. Too cold to be at the carnival, I thought. Other people must’ve thought so too, because there weren’t many people there. We jumped from the truck and half walked, half jogged about, unable to decide what to get on first. We were so excited. Papa Jack eventually suggested the Ferris wheel. Mama hadn’t let us try that ride before so we ran to go do that. Papa Jack paid the fee and the man operating the ride strapped us into baskets. I got to sit alone, since I was the biggest and oldest. It was the most exciting thing I’d ever done. I loved being up at top, being able to see the whole world. The boys weren’t even scared when it stopped and left us hanging in the air. Soon it was our turn to get off. The boys got off first and stayed together until I got down. I looked around for Papa Jack and didn’t see him anywhere. I called for him but he didn’t answer. The boys called and still nothing. The ride operator asked me if anything was wrong and I told him we couldn’t find our Papa Jack. He closed the ride and took us to an office. We sat for a long, long time with many grown-ups asking us our names and other questions. The boys started to cry. The carnival people gave us hot chocolate and peanuts. Sometime later the police came. We left with the police. “

It took a long time but Justine was finally able to get this part of the story from Rachel. The nightmares started two years after she left foster care. There is more, but Rachel won’t say. Though Justine has tried to find out what triggers the nightmares, more importantly she has had to learn how to soothe.

The coffee is nearly finished, soon it will be time to go to Rachel and hold her close

Seven Wonders

While cleaning the building earlier today a few wonders tripped through my mind. For instance, I wondered if...

• I’ll eventually be able to look over the 3rd floor banister without feeling dizzy
  
• Neta’s headache will ease and whether we’ll be able to talk more today
  
• The sun will make an appearance and /or the winds will die down a bit
  
• I’ll try to get in a bike ride anyway
  
• My mom found endearing a former boyfriend’s oft repeated proclamation, “I’m in love with you honey like stink on shit.”
  
• That was an original BobbieJoe-ism or no.
  
• Listening to music while completing the chores would be better or worse, efficiency wise.
  

Just to name a few.

Speaking of Crabs

It may surprise you to learn that I had my first crab leg February 14, 2008. My daughter, cuckoo like Co-Co Puffs over crab legs decided to prepare some for the Valentine’s dinner she prepared for her boyfriend. I was invited too since I was, you know, home.

I like crab meat. I’ve always only eaten it though after it was out of the crab. Crab cakes, crab salad, Flounder with crab meat stuffing. You know, like that. I never had any inclination to tackle crab legs. None.

Tackle some I did on February 14, 2008. It came as no surprise that the meat was succulent and quite tasty. In fact the entire meal was delicious. Also not surprising was my dislike of the effort it took to get at that succulent meat. Pain. In. The. …yeah, there.

It probably would get easier as time went on if I kept at it. The boyfriend and D seemed to be having fun (they’d both had crab legs before). People in restaurants always seem to enjoy the effort. Me? Nah. I like tools but the crab crackers don't excite.


Though the meat was yummy, I've probably had my last crab leg, King or otherwise. Probably. Someone might be able to entice me to give it another whirl, someday.

Just A Slice

A/P Lady: I sent you a check for $212.74 ! ! YOU are STILL billing me for $212.74

Credit Mgr. (me): Yes, ma’am. We got your check for $212.74 and we applied the $212.74 to your bill. That is not in dispute. However….

A/P Lady: I DON’T KNOW WHY you KEEP billing ME. WE PAID the invoice!!

Me: Yes ma’am, I’m not disputing that, however …

A/P Lady: I HAVE A CANCELLED CHECK!

Me: Ma’am, I am not disputing payment of the $212.74. Your total bill came to $1,704.51. The $212.74 combined with your subsequent payment of $1,279.03 brings your total payment to $1,491.77, leaving $212.74. ~~There were 2 invoices for 1 order, from the beginning someone in the A/P office misconstrued the larger of the two invoices. The $212.74 represents payment of the smaller invoice. ~~

A/P Lady: I don’t see how that is, I sent a check for $212.74.

Me: Yes ma’am you did. We got that check, however….

This went on for about 15 minutes with me explaining every which way how it is that she or rather her employer: a school district is MI still owes the company $212.74. This tussle has been going on for several months. The collection agency dropped it as too small for litigation. I’ll keep it on the books until the end of the year and if A/P lady still hasn’t gotten it it will go down as a bad debt for the company.

Let’s talk about King Crab Legs some more. Yum, except…

Define Sexy

One of the topics this month over at The Lesbian Lifestyle is Define Sexy. I think sexy is...

... strong, sculpted calf muscles that jump with amusement when warm hands wrap them in a gentle embrace. It is also higher up, the biceps that throb under the ministrations of soft succulent lips. Sexy is that sound she makes deep in her throat when she realizes you are awake. Moreover it is that sparkle in her eyes when she looks the question in your direction. Sexy is your reply that starts as a whisper and ends with a sigh.

Sexy is reading her suggestive text message with mother sitting across the table.

Sexy is the laughter shared in the early morning hours, the lovingly prepared meals, cheerfully crafted cards, tenderly worded letters and thoughtfully selected tokens of affection. It is the understanding her need to rest and knowing her need to talk. Sexy is caressing her when she needs to cry. Sexy is her knowing the same about you, doing the same for you.

Sexy is 365 or 366 as the case may be. Sexy is love. Sexy is together. Sexy is all I am with you and all you are with me. Sexy is life.

Like Any Other Day

I don't get together with my brothers. The older is in Texas and has no interest in being in Illinois and certainly no interest in being part of this family, or any, perhaps. That may be changing as he appears to be in recovery and softening on some points. But, we don't talk so I don't know that to really be the case. The younger is still in jail. He's been offered a plea bargain deal but he won't take it. His wife is scrambling to get him legal representation. I do try to foster a relationship with his kids, but it is tough as their mother is, in a word...harried for a number of reasons not the least of which is the scrambling with my brother. They do however, have an open invitation to come by, anytime. They couldn't today because they live several miles away and are very active in their church. In years past that was the life my brothers and I led and in turn the lives my two led. Easter Sunday meant dressing up in your finest duds, going to church often participating in a special program and eating a huge dinner.

This Easter Sunday was different in several regards. Mom came by after her church service to share a meal with me and daughter. Son couldn't be here for he had two performances today and the break between them was not sufficient to allow the trip our home for dinner. He'll come by later in the week for the "basket" I packed for him.

As our lives continue to change so too will our "holidays" and our gatherings.

Purdue beat Utah. Fudge, there goes another bracket. Ah well, hopefully all the rest of the seeds will hold court. Either way, YaY for March and the Madness of it all.

It's Spring ! ! ! !

Forecast from National Weather Service As of 12:03 PM CDT on March 20, 2008
Rest of Today... Partly sunny. Temperatures nearly steady around 40. Northeast winds around 10 mph. Tonight... Mostly cloudy. Snow after midnight. Snow may be heavy at times after midnight. Snow accumulation of 1 to 2 inches. Lows in the upper 20s. East winds 10 to 20 mph. Chance of precipitation 90 percent. Friday... Snow. Snow may be heavy at times. Snow accumulation of 3 to 5 inches. Blustery. Highs in the mid 30s. East winds 15 to 25 mph. Chance of precipitation near 100 percent.

I don't care. It's spring and I got it. The fever. And it's burning a whole in my... oh never mind. Happy Spring!

In My Head

Good Morning. Two simple words, a customary greeting even, if not especially, among strangers. Why…

I was ten or so when my mom began to relinquish her authority over my wardrobe. I was given more freedom to make my own choices and those choices…

On my way to see my son on stage on Saturday I encountered some St. Paddy celebrants all decked out in celebratory garb. Some conversation among the celebrants wound its way to astrological signs and related attributes. One celebrant asked the other “are you like, psycho sensitive?" My mind wonders what…

I checked and double checked my tax forms before my e-filing. Still, I got the rejected e-mail. Turns out I flubbed my SS No. What? I’ve been writing, typing and reciting this number for over 30 years. I know it! What!?! My head is just…

...clogged, like my ears, well actually just one ear. The right ear is disconnecting periodically and it is driving me…

The fog outside is nothing compared to the fog in my head. In my day-to-day I’m slogging through the important, funny or relevant details or scenes. I can articulate them and then I can’t. Consistent coherency is a struggle right now. My thoughts and energies are not here with me, they are there with her. I want ME to be there, right now!

But I can’t be, not right now. So I need to finish a thought, compose a tune that allows me to dance, to function well enough, long enough until there is where I can be.

More Than A Feeling

It started at the base of the spine. A sizzling sensation radiating up and outward, leaving warmth where there was once a chill. It wasn’t long before that full body warmth delivered signals to my brain and my brain in turn sent signals…elsewhere.

Emotional hand wringing ensued.

I’d known this might happen. The head was already at the resort the body was now begging to visit. But, not now, all evidence to the contrary, mind and body, not ready. Not yet.

She was talking. What was she saying? I couldn’t concentrate. The buzzing in my head, the throbbing…elsewhere; must have been the wine. No, it wasn’t. I couldn’t take my eyes from hers, the blue vibrant, then smoky. I wanted to ignore the eyes, the buzz the throb, but I couldn’t. They would not be ignored.

Some what ifs broke through the cacophony momentarily interrupting my reverie. During the break, I heard her ask, “Do you even know if you’re really gay? I mean, you’ve never even kissed a woman.” To which I replied, “No time like the present.” And just like that, I was ready.

After several weeks of correspondence and conversation I visited Neta for the first time a year ago this week. My first night there we talked through the night. We kissed some too. We retired in the wee hours of the morning, falling into sleep, holding each other gingerly. Then daylight came and we...decided to be a couple.

Birthday Suit

He came into my life seven months ago. I wasn’t so sure I wanted what having him in our space meant. Pete the cat, was a new adventure in a time chock full of new adventures. I wasn’t quite so sure I could handle it, but I was willing to give it a go.

There were some humps along the way but we have formed a bond.

We have an understanding and he knows that I am on his side on at least one primal issue.

Suits.
I don’t think my daughter would actually try to outfit Pete the cat in anything quite so silly, but one can never to too careful. Diamond girl has acquired some interesting wardrobe in her few months in residence. Not a taco suit, but she has a cape with a matching cap, a belted sweater, polo shirt and a fur and more. Wardrobe. Diamond girl balks at some but gives in to others.

I guess she’s picking her battles. Pete the cat will have none of that. Daughter presses on, insists that a cat in, at the very least, a hat is de rigueure. Pete and I are in total agreement. No hats! Or any other suits of clothing while we're on topic.

Pete the cat is two years old today. The celebration, sans hats, is on!

Madness

Illinois...block out, oops too late. Maybe next year.

Comcast... WTF*???



*Fudge. The broadcast on the Tennessee / LSU battle hiccuped during the fist half. Aaaarrrggghhhh. I sure hope you have it togther now, it's shaping up to be quite the battle.

Zip It

The zipper on my warmest parka broke.

Nothing dramatic. Dog. Poop. Squat.

Fudge.

I took it to one of the my friendly, neighborhood dry cleaner / tailor.

Mr. Liu wrote the ticket, telling me to come back in a week, on Thursday.

I paid (dearly) for my parka the next week. I wore it to work the following day.

A(nother) very cold day.

Warmest parka zipped with relative ease. After walking a bit I felt a draft. I looked down. The zipper was apart.

Double Fudge.

After work I go home, change into my other parka and return to cleaner / tailor.

Mr. Liu listens to me, inspects the parka and zipper.

Words (a flurry) are exchanged between Mr. and Mrs. Liu.

I have to hope they aren’t saying things like I’m too fat for my coat. I don't understand the exchange. The looks, though, I've seen those before. Buuuut.. I feel myself wanting to defend:


I’m doing all this walking. I feel the burn.

Mr. Liu says to me, “I fix, come back Thursday." Another seven days with the other parka.

Triple fudge.


I pick up the warmest parka the next week.The parka with another new zipper.

The warmest parka has been worn for a week. The newest zipper has held.


Mr. & Mrs. Liu's exchange was likely about the defective zipper, lack of confidence in their zipper supplier and / or about my warmest parka zipper replacement being one in a series of do-overs.

Or something like that. It had to be. Mr. & Mrs. Liu friendly they are but they don't care one whit about how fat I may or not be, just about the zipper on my warmest parka. Thanks to Mr. Liu my warmest parka is back in top form.

A Moment of Sun

The sun shone today. For a minute, but it was out there blazing away like there was no tomorrow, if ever so briefly. Taking advantage, I took not only the usual mid-day walk, but another to boot. The need to soak up as much sun, all bright and shiny, is powerful these days. I hope this sun shining folly extends beyond the brief stint it shared today.

Though walking is my most routine exercise regime, especially during these cold weather months, I find the walking much productive when I have a specific destination. Walking around a couple (or several) blocks and then back again just doesn’t hold much interest for me. Obviously the lack of interest doesn’t extend when walking with the dog. When I have the dog with me there is the dog and the dog’s business on which to focus.

I’ve tried listening to music while I walk. Sometimes effective, however, more often than not the music creates a dstraction that I just can’t handle. I have flashes of klutz and those seem most active when my ears are dressed with listening devices. I’ve tumbled up and over my fair share of curbs. I’ve tried to mask the tumbles as dance maneuvers but the moves fall flat just as my body hits the pavement.

The destination for the mid-day jaunt was none other than the land of Ohhhs. Ohhhprah has a store. Not just an on-line marketplace, but an actual brick, mortar, glass and steel structure where wares are sold. The store is staffed by perky folks clad in black, business casual attire.

…and pink silk bunting draped over anything that would stand still. If you know your “Steel Magnolia” quotes you know what comes next. Trade the silk bunting with “O” all over and you have what it felt like to be in Ohhhprah land. Pass the Pepto.

Not quite the thrill ride of say…Elvis’ Graceland, the land of Ohhhs offers its own unique brand of worshipping, right down to the huge plasmas offering favorite Ohhh scenes, interviews and special events. The empire that is Ohhhprah has grown again. What’s next you might ask, a reality show?

As a matter of fact…yes.

I’ll make it back to the Ohhprah store, though not to purchse. It’s just a place to go during my mid-day walk.