Christmas Day

Good morning and a very happy Christmas day to anyone online and reading. Hopefully you're not quite online yet and are spending time either sleepin' in or hanging with your homies.

The festivities here are mellow and quiet. Last night we did our pageant (Jessica stole the show as the innkeeper, and Geoff was well behaved and wonderful as a shepherd) and dinner with the family. The kids got to bed after 9, and around 10pm when I was certain they were asleep I started my Santaing.

Evidence that i torture my children every christmas.
mwa ha ha ha.

I finished wrapping the gifts and loading up the tree by 11:30 and crashed out. Geoff got up at 7:15 and sat quietly on the couch. Doug was awake enough and woke me up to listen.

Geoff was quiet, and in total awe. He sat in front of the tree and looked at the boxes. I heard him say something to his grandfather, sleeping on the fold out couch in the livingroom. Gary said "you should go wake your mom," which was our pre-bedtime agreed upon signal that Gary knew Geoff was ready to start ripping into boxes.

We all got up, made coffee and the kids had at it. They got lots of great stuff (Geoff now has a bevy of dinosaurs, about 12-16 inches long, so that he can take over the world). Rather than get into the details of what they got swagwise, I will just say everyone is happy and thank you notes are enroute. Here are a few pictures from the morning...

Jessie received several Simpsons related items, from this rubick's head of homer, to a full chess set, to a Simpson's watch. She wanted the Mmmmmm Burgers one where Homer is grilling, but they were out. So she ended up with Krusty, and will have to live.	Geoff digs in, enjoying the stocking loot. He didn't realize it was there for a long time. They were almost done opening presents when Grandma Bonnie suggested they go look at the stockings. They both got several pairs of socks and new Oral B electric toothbrushes. Santa's big on the practical things in life...
This should be scary.	Jessie enjoys her stocking swag.
This is a riot. Geoff got a Simpsons watch that says "Are we there yet? No. Are we there yet? No." and a bevy of dinosaurs. Here is a closeup view of the watch and one dino at work.

My sister got me the "Barelaked Nadies" DVD by Barenaked Ladies. Now I have to get my PC's DVD/CD player fixed so I can watch it. D'oh!

Speaking of D'oh, for Christmas this year Doug and I had decided not to get each other presents.

So, seeing as I can't let him get away with getting NOTHING, I made him a geocache for Christmas. It's titled "Mmmmm, Geocache. Aaaaaggahhhaggh" and it's filled with Simpson related swag. Check him out !!!!

After the kids opened their presents, Doug, Gary, the dogs and I all went out to find the cache. Initially I goofed and put the coordinates for the parking area in the mocked-up cache page that I made, so I had to lead him to it rather than drag our sorry asses home to get my note (hidden somewhere in this room) with the actual coords, program them into the GPS and find it. Placing the cache was hard. I bought the stuff before I got vertigo, and then when I got the dizzies I realized I had to get it out there or else there'd be no gift for Doug... so I went out, dizzy as shit, and placed it. That's how I managed to mess up the coordinates for the mock-up. Good thing I remembered where it was.

Doug found it very easily and took out the talking beer coasters (2, from Moe's Tavern, where nobody knows your name) and the talking beer opener (which needs new batteries. I had to buy it because it was the last one anywhere that I could find... we'll get batteries later). Everything else is still in there, waiting for the residents of Geocachingland to come and pilfer and find, and fill, and grow. I love that this is out there, and people will go to it and we'll get emails saying "cool cache! Thanks for the find" and stuff.

Click here to read all about our cache, if you are interested.

If you're a cacher -- go do it! It is so easy that even Wil Wheaton can find it. He calls himself the "Worlds Worst Geocacher," but I bet he could walk right the hell up to this one. I think it would be awesome if Uncle Willie visited our cache. Maybe someday he'll come to Massachusetts and do it. I think that would rule supreme if it ever happened. I should email him the cache page and tell him about it.

Like he'd give a shit, right?

Anywho -- It's such an easy cache, that I hardly feel it is worth it to anyone to go there. Unless they bring their sleds. Which they will need today. We're supposed to get a class seven kill storm today. It was snowing lightly when we went out to the cache but this afternoon is supposed to turn into a winter wildland. Eeep. If you're anywhere between here and Ohio -- drive carefully!

Alright -- I've got scallops and bacon to be makin' (showin' off the catering girl skills) and dinner to get started. So I'll sign off for now. Merry Christmas. Be sure to go read Crazy Tracy's report for today. I think she sums Christmas up really well... and what it's all about in the long run.

Merry.

It's a good life

Where shall I begin. Field trip. Yes.

We took 20 kids and four parents to the Buttonwoods Museum in Haverhill, MA to learn about what life on the Merrimack River was like way back in the day. We had a great time. The kids got to go fishing with handmade poles equipped with a magnet tied to the end of the line, and they caught manila folder fish with paperclips taped to their mouth areas. Geoff poses with his fish here...

I got to have some fun myself. The interpreter working with the kids asked for a grownup volunteer to be a deer in the forest so the kids could be native American hunters, the exercise being that they had to be very very quiet. I sat on the floor with my back to them, singing a song about being a deer in the forest, with my hands up by my head, thumbs stuck in my ears and fingers outstretched like antlers. The kids thought it was a riot... and when they would start to giggle while coming up behind me, or they made the floor boards creak, I'd say "oh, I hear something and because I'm a deer I'm scared and will run away!" and I scurry on my butt to another part of the floor and resume being a deer, much to their delight.

Eventually I let them catch me. They had to poke me with their fingers, pretending they were arrows.

I got poked by everyone, and then fell over onto my side with my leg up in the air. Boy did they laugh. I'm such a weirdo. But... they love it. And his teacher and the other teacher thanked me for doing that because neither of them felt like pretending to be a deer at that moment.

See, I'm always willing to do the stupid stuff, problem is, I usually work the kids up into a froth and they become uncontrolable. That's my speciality.

I didn't take a lot of pictures of Geoff, I managed to take a lot of the rest of his class. I won't post them here... but suffice to say, they're cute, they're funny and they were pretty damn well behaved in my opinion.

Geoff too. He was really upset when we got back to school and I had to leave. I hate going through that with him. I want to be able to volunteer my time there at the school when needed while I can, but he makes leaving so difficult. I am reluctant to do this again with him.

---

After the field trip I went to see the director of the historical society in my town, a woman named Ginny who is like 80 something. I'd hunted her down to see if I could find out history information on my neighbor's house and the mill that used to be on her property (long story short, during the wine-in-the-middle-of-the-afternoon experience last week my neighbor expressed a great interest in learning more about her very old house and the history of our area. So I found Ginny and she had a ton of information for me).

I spent two and a half hours with Ginny and her husband, Frank, who is very old, but mentally right on target. He was all hunched over, and has hearing aides that squeal all the time whenever he moves his head. He's drop dead (no pun intended) funny, and insisted on putting my coat on me when I left, which I thought was damn sweet.

He wanted a spreadsheet designed so he could manage their monthly expenses. So I built him two, one for the rest of this year and one for next. He called me this morning and said he can't find them now, so I have to swing by today and help him out.

Ginny wants to write a history book about the town that is more of a fun fact/trivia kind of book. Light hearted and fun... the kind of thing that realtors might want to give to homeowners when they buy a property here. I told her I thought it would make a great website, seeing as our town has zilch of a presence on the web. She was THRILLED, and gave me all of her research material. She wants me to go through it and edit it, organize it (pfth! oh my God. what a mess) and told me that the president of the historical society wanted to do a website herself, but her mother is ailing and she hasn't had time, so I bet I'll get a call giving me the go ahead to start building something. Woo!

Problem is, I am SO not doing this for free.

I did a free site for a friend's not-for-profit organization and am almost done with another friend's mom's benefit fun run organization (if you wanna see the sites, lemme know. I'll send you the links). I'm needing money here, so I asked Ginny if she knew how to write a grant. She has no clue. I know some people who do... so I sent some email this morning. Hopefully we can scare up some money that gets her paid for her time doing research, me paid for building and organizing the site, hosting costs covered for at least a year, and then perhaps money to publish a print version.

There's got to be some grant money for American History/Technology stuff out there -- especially the technology end. I should ask professor CM. He'd know.

---

Well, yesterday's MF class was the BEST class to date. It was amazing. Perfect. Not a technical problem in sight. Not a glitch. Not a hiccup. And MF was high as a kite when we were done -- THIS was what we wanted all along.

During class, we broke the students up into two groups and gave them a problem -- they had to pretend they were on "The Real World" only in Cyberspace... and plan how they were going to live together. How would bills get paid... who got what room etc... and MF and I didn't participate.

There were four students in class in person, so they were one group doing the exercise. The other six who were "present" in cyberspace stayed in the CuSeeMe room.

I got to eavesdrop because I was the owner of the room and had to zap out unwanted guests so they could meet in peace. At first they didn't quite know what to do. But then they got talking and planning, and called out for help and clarification on one point so I had to turn on my microphone and camera to fill them in (the question was "What is our source of money? Are we trust fund kids with unlimited funds, does the project PAY for stuff, or do we all have jobs and have to pay for stuff THAT way?")

I overheard some of the most clever and fun discussion these kids have had to date. After the discussion, for homework they have to answer questions about what kind of a group participant they are -- a leader, a follower, a joker, an instigator, a non-participant. Why do they feel this way? What did they think the other roles in the class were and who held those roles? One person has to come to class next week and read back their group's findings... what was the plan they have for living.

Interpersonal Communication, being taught on line. It's working. Amazing... I'm stunned.

One of the kids who was in the classroom physically is kind of totally off the hook. He is really funny and really sweet but he can't stop making jokes or goofing off no matter how many times we tell him to stop it. His group didn't get nearly as far as cyber-meeting kids did in the decision making process because of him. He was just loopy.

He said to me "Now after seeing how well this class went, don't you feel like an idiot for suggesting M teach it in person instead of online?"

No.

No I don't. I still stand by my opinion that the class content would have BEST been presented and the kids would be getting more out of it if we taught it in person, but... I was psyched to see how well it worked yesterday and it felt good.

MF brought in the director of Media Services, someone I'd worked closely with in the past who is a great guy and a lot of fun. He got to observe the class in the seat where I was sitting without the kids knowing they were being observed -- he was completely impressed with what he saw, between the class participants in CuSeeMe and our content for the course set up in Blackboard.com... so he wants to tape the class session next week for presentations on distance learning for the president's office, and MF and I want to show it at a conference the college attends in June every year.

This is a real feather in her cap - and mine. I'm proud of this work, even if I don't necessarily think it is the right mode of delivery.

Right now I'm a baking fool. That's right -- a baking fool. I got a call from one of the church ladies who asked me to bake a little something for the fair because they didn't have enough stuff.

So, I've got a banana bread going, and some blondie cookies. I'm going to melt chocolate and pour the chocolate on top of the cookies and let them cool in the pan, then cut them brownie style.

I should bake more... I can. I have peanut butter. But I'm out of butter. Sigh. Perhaps a run to the store. Jessie has a half day and we're going to get her a hair cut (I should have done it before class pictures were taken 2 weeks ago. Her hair looks awful. I hope they have a picture re-take day. Meh). I have to go over to the church too and help set up for tomorrow's fair. I'm such an old church lady.

All Saints' Day

My neighbor got me drunk on Friday night. C calls me up at about 2pm while I'm busting ass fixing all the horrible mistakes I made in a page for Prof. CM, cursing myself and hating my life.

"I just opened a big bottle of wine, come on over." She says.

Well, how right neighborly like.

I tell her to give me a few minutes to finish up what I'm working on. At about 3 I go over and she's happily drinking wine and playing with her 1 year old, who simply worships me. We chat, we laugh. We play with dolls. We drink the whole damn bottle of wine. The kids come home from school. Her daughter E goes over my house to play with Jessica. We continue to drink wine.

I'm shitfaced by 5pm.

I spend about an hour here at the computer, drinking water and trying to get the buzz down to a low roar, surfing blogs and laughing. Tina at "The Other Cheek" dared me to blog while intoxicated. I considered it and passed on the suggestion. I could probably say things that would get me in lots of trouble.

I get the distinct impression my neighbor is bored as hell being a stay at home mom up here in the woods when she was accustomed to living in Salem, working in Marblehead, and having lots of other people home around her. Play groups for the kids, people to dump the baby on at short notice so she can run to Wal-Mart (or the wine store).

She said every Friday afternoon all the girls in the neighborhood down there would get together when the kids got home from school, drink, watch TV, talk, and let the kids go nuts in the yard. She misses that. I can't say I'll do that EVERY Friday afternoon, but I had a lot of fun. And, I am almost done fixing the mess I made on CM's site, so I felt it was an okay diversion for the afternoon.

Saturday I wanted to stay in bed. Not because of a hang over mind you (I was entirely sober by about 8pm, so getting the drink on early in the day made a big difference... I thought it was kind of bizarre to wake up on Saturday morning and be ... fine.

I wanted to stay in bed because it was a very warm and lovely place. Fall was falling outside my window. The wind was blowing, and it was raining yellow leaves everywhere in the sunshine. It was sheer bliss. I had Kinger dog on my bed curled up next to me, I wasn't moving anywhere.

Doug then reminded me we were supposed to go to Boston to see Bonnie and Duncan and Chloe.

I also remembered I'd been invited by Carrie to a babyshower for the wonderful and talented Elizabeth, but hadn't committed to whether or not I'd go. I then realized why I'd been noncommittal... knowing in the recesses of my mind that I already had some sort of plans but not knowing what they were... I need to start keeping a regular calendar so I know what is going on from week to week, day to day, and I won't have to have this constantly confused feeling between my ears.

So we did go to Boston. After watching Bottle Rocket on Comedy Central where they "edited" James Caan's line about Bob's brother into him being a "cockroach." That made me laugh, knowing that he wasn't saying "cockroach" in the real version.

Again -- I love that movie. Owen Wilson is genius. And Luke Wilson is just nice to look at for some reason.

Anyway.

There was a bit of miscommunication between me and Bonnie -- I thought she was interested in GOING on a geocache with us in her neighborhood (there are like 3 right near her house). She thought we would come visit and go DO a geocache when we were done visiting. So it was kinda funny. Classic.

We spent a couple good hours with the three of them, Chloe was enthralled with the kids, and the feeling was mutual.

Geoff wants a little brother and has asked me repeatedly if one can come live with us. I reminded him that Chloe is 15 months old, and that a little brother or sister wouldn't be any fun until he was about 8 and by then, well, I bet he'd feel totally different about having a sibling in the house younger than him.

He still wants one. Perhaps we just need to spend more time with Chloe. Just look at her and you'll want to spend time with her as well.

Miss Chloe says, yo.

Geoff was yelling "Take a picture of me with Chloe! Take a picture of me with Chloe!" So... I took a picture of him with Chloe. I love how the late afternoon light comes into their living room. It's so pretty. The kids look... glowy. Glowy Chloe.

And this one is special. She's all like "what are you lookin' at?" Diva in training.

Jessica stars as guest reader (and above as guest puppeteer)
at the Chloe Entertainment Facility, Boston, MA.
It is evidenced here that she would make a good big sister, again.
But won't get the chance, so she may as well just do a good job being a
good friend to all my buddy's kids.

It was a great visit indeed, and we did go do a geocache, but it was pimpy easy. It was in the Arnold Arboretum, and it was so close to the Bussey St. Gate that it hardly seemed worth the bother. Well. Yes it was, just to put another notch in the side of the GPS. We were in and out of there in less than a half hour.

Geoff had to climb under the tree and pull this one out.
Once in a while it pays off to have a very small person with you on your Geocache Team.

Today was Sunday. Church was extra long and sort of dull... and everyone seemed to be not quite in gear, all the cylinders weren't firing for us. Father M from South Africa did the service, and he read everyone's name that had been submitted to the church secretary for the prayers for the saints. It seemed to go on forever, and it was soothing to listen to his voice, his accent, reading all these names. Then, he read names of his family and friends... and there were a few younger kids in the congregation kind of laughing at him, because the African last names combined with his accent were... sort of amusing. I couldn't tell if he was irritated or not. I would have been. I wonder if he goes home and shakes his head, muttering that we're all a bunch of white idiots.

He really should.

I was very excited to see he is ministering our Christmas services. He is really cool, and fun to listen to. He is very very English, sings a beautiful tenor, and I think that Christmas will be very interesting this year.

Everyone's in bed now. I should go myself. Bonnie and Duncan loaned me Helen Fielding books and the new one by Nick Hornby (bwa! I accidentally typed Horny instead of Hornby. How hysterically funny is that?) and I'm feeling rather lethargic... time to turn in. It's a busy week next week, complete with an early release day for Jessie's school and a doctor's appointment and field trip for Geoff (which I volunteered to chaperone. Again -- what am I thinking?!)

Memorial Day Weekend; Frank; Oregon Extension

Wow. We are doing NADA for Memorial Day weekend this year! Today I worked for catering man, made bbq chicken for a big honkin' barbecue he's doing on Monday, did prep for another thing tomorrow, and made coconut shrimp skewers for his wife's 50th birthday bash this Tuesday night. I'm actually not at all worn out or sore, for the first time in my catering man existence. Feels damn good.

I made this AMAZING chicken salad today. Before I started working for him, chicken salad was chicken pulled off a roast chicken as leftovers, mayo, salt, pepper, maybe an onion or a celery... meh. How thrilling. Now I know secrets. Six ounces of cream cheese, zest and juice of one lemon. Walnuts. Thyme, parsley, scallions, celery, [insert Homer Simpson Drooly noise here]. Oh man, oh baby! It's to die for. And there is so much more I can do now. I can properly julienne stuff. Before, it was whack and chop. Throw it in. Whatever. I feel like a pro.

We drew on the sidewalk today for several hours. What a damn good time. The kids drew pokemon characters (Geoff's idea, of course) and I drew Patrick and Spongebob. I do a mean Spongebob. Normally on this weekend we'd be dying to get away from work and life, but this year... I feel like I've been on vacation for months, Aaron and Michelle are settling into their summer schedule (Michelle is still teaching but Aaron is at Acadia, working). And going to New York seemed such the pain in the butt. So the yard, the garden, and maybe Home Depot will be our destinations this year.

We interrupt this entry for the gratuitous Geoff shot of the day.
This is from the porch yesterday in the hot sun, while we played Pokemon Battle. I have to say, this is a good lookin' kid. I love his eyes, even if they are kind of crooked. And he has really cute lips. I just wish he'd play something other than pokemon friggin' battle.

---

Frank

Frank passed away on Friday. I've never mentioned him here before, but upon reflection, he's quite a character and I wish I'd paid closer attention to his existence.

He was in our church choir. Sang Tenor. He was uber elderly, and had been in a nursing home for a few months. He got pneumonia a couple weeks ago, went to the hospital, was in death's hands with a Episcopal priest from the neighboring city (remember, our church has no current pastor), sitting by his side waiting for his last terminal breath to come.

And he bounced back. Out of intensive care. He'd done this a dozen times in the past few years. We'd always shake our heads and say, "Frank did it again!"

He kept stealing my choir robe, if he got there before me on a Sunday or if I wasn't there, he'd wear mine. Not sure why. Normally it would be no big deal. But he'd drool on it.

Usually with a cough drop in his mouth, so there would be a cherry red mark on the front of my white surplus.

I'd simply wear a different one, and take my dove pin off the surplus before church, much to his confusion. He'd laugh when I'd tell him time and again, "dude, you got my robe on." "Oh! At least I don't have your unmentionables on too!" And I'd crack up.

He didn't like to accept help from anyone, and if you tried to give him a hand he'd get angry. Especially if you were... me. A woman. He'd once in a while accept help from J.A., the bass singer in the choir, but me. No. And whatever he would do would take him an hour... so most of the time I'd stand and wait to see if he was about to wipe out, fall down, and catch him. Sort of like a weightlifting spotter.

A few weeks ago he was having an excessively difficult time getting up out of the pew after church. I was on the other side of the pew and stuck my hand out. Again. He eyed me and said "I'm not sure you can get me out of this seat."

"Try me, Frank." He eyed me up, steely and seriously, and then looked around for JA Not finding him, he conceded, accepted my offer. He stuck out his hand, and I yoinked him up. Not very easily mind you, but I yoinked him.

The look of astonishment on his face made my day. "Well, perhaps I'll allow you to give me a hand more often, young lady!"

He was wearing my robe again.

His wife would bring him to choir practice, and it would take him a half hour to get from the back of the church to the choir pews, and he'd always beam and smile as he came down the aisle. I would groan inwardly, because our choir practice would be held up for however long it would take him to schlep his way up to us. But deep behind the groan there was always a smile... Frank made it to practice. It was nice to see him. He had a wicked sense of humor. He was prayed for weekly by me, and I'm sure by others. He sang a lovely tenor. He loved Christmas music. I will miss his voice.

---

OE, focus on Dave
I got email today from a college friend I hadn't heard from in ... maybe 10 years? Not sure. I've lost track. A mutual good friend had given him the link to this journal, and he decloaked for a moment to confess to reading it and yea verily, enjoying it. He feels as if he slips into my house and goes through my sock drawer without my knowledge.

The analogy is good and I've heard it often... Most people who read online journals admit the pleasure they get at the concept of looking into a life. But it isn't quite like going INTO the house and going through the sock drawer unbeknownst to the sock drawer owner. It's more like I did my laundry and hung the socks out on the line in the yard, by the road. With a neon sign that says "LOOKIE HERE! It's my socks! Check them out!!!"

He shared his fond remembrances of Clay, which made me cry. And also reminded me he went to the same Oregon program that I did, which I'd forgotten. He went the year after me, and the year before Scott in Chicago, and one of my roommates Diane...

Can you find me? Can you find Doug?

I've blabbed about OE on several prior occasions here. Unfortunately my email sendin' friend and I weren't there together to share Lincoln, at that same moment in linear space, but once someone goes to Lincoln, you are connected with them, whether you went in the fall of 2000 or the fall of 1978. So it gave me a very warm and happy feeling to think of him, and others I've known all these years, who did the OE thing. Their motto is "Chop a little wood, read a few books." And that's what it is all about.

Thinking about Lincoln is something I do at least once a week, and my friend's email confessed he did the same too. There honestly are so many things that I see, hear, read, that point to the time I was there. With 75 other people. Sharing life. And then, after it was over it was almost like it never happened... connections that seemed so tight disintegrated. I knew I'd never see most of these people ever again.

Well, never is incredibly harsh a word. Very rarely. It's kind of a bunker mentality... you're there, shoulder to shoulder day after day for four months, and then... poof. You're home in Pittsburgh. Or New York. Back to your own college. Back to the friends you left at the end of the previous academic year. Facing a spring semester on your familiar territory, you get back into the familiar place, but part of you is still in Oregon, and Oregon is positively part of you.

I've long wanted to write about one of our friends there, who we haven't had contact with in quite some time, but think about daily. So why the hell not, right?

Dave was weird.

He was from New Jersey, and was a senior at an evangelical college in Michigan. He was very into radio broadcasting, and had an alter ego/DJ persona called "Scott Brown," which he would whip out once in a while. Ironically, there was already a Scott Brown there that year, from an evangelical college in New York State, so he was shocked that he couldn't really use his Scott Brown persona to its fullest.

He was an aggressive if not technically abusive scrabble player. "The game is NOT over. You DO have a word in there, sheathed! QUA!!!! QUA is a fucking word! I thought you were an English major! What the hell are you LEARNING at that piece of shit college of yours in Massachusetts... QUA!! QUA!!!"

He was pissed and irritated about a lot of things from the fact we weren't allowed to drink, even if we were 21, to the fact that we didn't get to go down the mountain to Ashland enough. One time in specific he pitched a fit in class about not getting to go down the mountain for Halloween. Vociferously opposed to being stuck up there all the time, we all wondered aloud to each other, "what is the DEAL with this guy? What was he thinking coming up the mountain to be here in the program when it is obvious he'd rather be in NYC or something." When we had our group picture taken on the back steps of the library, he read from a copy of "The New Yorker" Magazine rather than smile pretty for the camera. He was deeply into Nietsche and did a big section report on him. I learned more about Nietsche from him than I did in any of the philosophy courses I took in college. He was an odd duck, but an okay duck. And he and Doug got on swimmingly.

He had weird eyes. I remember sitting next to him at dinner one night at Doug's cabin, and watching his eyes as he looked down at his food. One of his eyes seemed to freely move... and it was bizarre to realize his focus on his meal was with the one fixated eye, and the other one was off on its own course. I remember that very vividly... it was disconcerting.

After we got back east, we kept in touch with Dave more than anyone else, as he was geographically the closest, and ... we knew him pretty well. He graduated and moved to Manhattan, the way he wanted to.

We went to see him in the winter of 1990, and he took us on a walking tour of Manhattan that could not be beat. He took us to see things that I've never seen again. He wrote restaurant reviews for a publication at Columbia University spotlighting Hidden Cool Shit in New York City, and brought us to the best Chinese restaurant we have ever gone to in our lives. We were incredibly impressed, he was an amazing font of NYC lore and knowledge.

He introduced us to the Cathedral of St. John the Divine. He shared an apartment with a bunch of people, and his "room" was in the livingroom, and he could see the cathedral from where he slept. That was a wonderful visit. We decided to hook back up with him in the spring of 1991 right before we got married. He wasn't quite as fun, but did take us to a great trattoria in Little Italy where he updated us on life.

He took us to this unbelievably bizarre play called "The Happiness Tent," where the audience talked back to the actors. It was obvious that he went... weekly at least. And the actors knew him. And I think they dreaded seeing him there. But the experience was .... unique. As always. Spending time with Dave was unique.

The Swiss banking institution was going to be arresting him very soon, so he didn't know if he'd see us again, and he was very happy we came to see him... He knew very dangerous things from his job as a teller at Chemical Bank or whatever NYC institution he was working for, and he knew that he was in imminent danger. Very soon he was going to take two in the hat because he had written an expose, a manuscript, outlining the corruption up the ladder, to the president and congress. He had to go, but thanked us for being his friends, and he walked us to the subway so we could get to Penn Station and back to my parents' house. Before we left the cafe, he bought me a rose from a street vendor.

On the train, Doug asked me, "So, what'd you think of that?"

"I'm worried about him..." I answered quietly. Doug agreed. Shortly after that came our wedding. He had RSVP'ed, but called the night before while Doug and our wedding party and I were packing all my stuff up in cars to finish moving things down to Doug's apartment in Boston.

"I'm not coming. I'm tired, I'm cranky, and I don't feel like getting on the train," he told me. "Sorry."

I was pissed. I handed the phone to Doug, because I thought to myself, that's fucking 100 dollars worth of place setting that could have gone to another friend for the wedding... goddamnit! He didn't come. And we didn't hear from Dave for quite a while.

When Jessie was born, I sent him a birth announcement. She was born a year and 10 days after that last conversation. A few months later he wrote me at my parents, thanking me for the baby announcement... and letting me know he was not well, but was in hospital for schizophrenia.

Like I didn't see it coming, Swiss Banking Espionage Man. His handwriting was a mess, and he was obviously medicated. We spoke with him on the phone a while later, and I guess what went down the summer of 1991 was this: He threw all his belongings out of his apartment window. He walked downstairs. He put a hatchet through his apartment building main door several times, and proceeded to walk down the street naked. He was sure the limousine would be coming right around the corner. Instead, it was an ambulance, and they took him to Bedlam for the first of many hospital stays.

We kept contact off and on through the following year. One day when we were living in Marblehead, he phoned us with an exciting idea. He was MANIC with joy, and wanted us to move to Manhattan.

"I've got this deal going, I'm meeting with Disney Studios and [Jim] Henson productions to do a writing collective, and I want you and Doug to come be part of it. It is going to be GREAT!"

"Really. Move to Manhattan. Like now?" I tentatively responded.

"Yes. I've got office space which will be on one floor, and the upper floors will be the living quarters. You and Doug and the baby can move in, and it'll be like college. Like Oregon. We'll share a kitchen, and during the day we'll work, read, write, and make history with our creations. I've got a few other people lined up for the project. And you guys have to come because you're the best. I've got a meeting with Jim Henson, and they're coming over to pick me up..." etc. etc.

Jim Henson was already dead by then. So I knew he was talking out of his ass. I listened to him go on and on. He told me that the production company was going to be called HalfKing, because he was only half the king, and we completed him and made him the whole king. So without us, it was pointless. There would be no project. There would be nothing.

Shortly thereafter, he was back in hospital.

He was in and out of mental hospitals for years after that. One day I talked with him, and he told me he simply would check himself in when he'd had enough of the street and the outside world... He would stay and get good food for a while, get medicated, get stable, and then... leave when he saw fit. Because he checked himself in, he could check himself out when he thought it was time. He said that mostly why he went to the mental hospitals was the good food, and "these people are really interesting!" He would stay on meds for a while, then go off. Then the cycle would start again.

When we moved up here to the Way Out Inn, I didn't let him know our new address or phone and by Christmas time guilt and wondering how he was got the better of me. I called his family home and spoke at great length with his mom. We had a great talk, she told me Dave had recently come home for a visit and took her credit card and spent a ton of money on the streets on strangers, mentally deranged people he'd met, and then ended up arrested and back in the hospital. This time, he didn't check himself in, so he couldn't check himself out.

She asked me towards the end of the conversation the most painful question I think a mom can ask someone's friend... "Tell me, what was he like... when you knew him?" Meaning at OE... right before he went off to be the HalfKing in search of someone who would finally make him whole. I started to cry. He was great. He was crazy. He was intelligent, witty, funny. Angry. He was pretty much a haresbredth different from the rest of us in sanity. And with time that haresbredth grew to the size of the Mississippi.

I believe I talked to her in 1996. Perhaps 1997. Not sure. I've meant to call again. I send a Christmas card every year, it doesn't get returned as undeliverable by the post office, so either they are getting to him, or they are being held by his mom, in hopes of better days.

By the way, if you couldn't find me and Doug, we're smack dab in the middle of the picture on the first landing... here's the closeup.

So that's the story of Dave. It's kind of a downer, but ... if Hollywood has taught me anything, it is that schizophrenics can have great movies made about them starring Russell Crowe. I'm not sure who would play Dave though. It's memorial day weekend, and I don't know anyone personally I've lost in the military. So this spot right here is in memory of 1988, Oregon, friendship, and all the other things that count. Which matter. That have changed who I am, made me the person I am today... and Dave is a part of that. Unlike Clayton, Dave isn't dead, but... he is a memory to me.

Food Drive, band concert

The weather report last night indicated that between now and Saturday Thursday is the only day anticipated to be sunny in any way. Well, the sun will make its attempt to burn through the spring showers on Wednesday for sure, maybe Tuesday... but for the foreseen future by the weather prognosticators, it'll be a stormy Monday and rest of the week.

The rain started yesterday afternoon, monkeywrenching any wistful thoughts I'd had for a nice hike for Mother's Day. We sat around the house and Geoff was noisy. Doug made lunch. I made dinner. We all went to bed.

It was kind of a downer.

The rest of the weekend before it was great though. Aaron and Michelle's presence always improves the fun ratio. The can drive went great. It was a Godsend having Aaron there though, he made it his personal mission to out carry all the trash talkin' braggarts in the line saying that last year they carried 100 pounds and 110 pounds.

Aaron carried 104 pounds on his first heft. Subsequent trips to the trucks brought back 134 pounds.

Some of the trash talkin' braggarts in the line were getting pissed.

"Well, it's his FIRST year doin' this. I've been doin' it for seven!"

Like it matters whether or not its your first or fiftieth. Aaron rocked the party. When he'd get to the weigh table, the postal service dude would weigh his stuff and then yell, "YOU DA MAN!!!" It had me in stitches.

We didn't get nearly as much food as in years past, because only two people from our own congregation showed up to help. It's that way with our church. People don't get into things, and that is okay... I'd rather have people who show up willingly than people who groaningly feel obligated to help.

Next week after church is when they will get their opportunity to help when they go down to sort all the food out onto the tables.

I worked with the professor at the college on Saturday night for about 2 hours. It went really well. I always moan about having to go down there and work with her but I always have a great time... I should just learn not to moan about it and just go with a willing heart.

She has 1000 in grant money that she is giving me and has to use it by the end of May. I'm pretty psyched. I need to figure out how to do the whole paying taxes thing. I think I'm supposed to pay quarterly taxes on the stuff I'm making, but it really isn't that much. I don't know who to even talk to where it isn't going to cost me a lot of money. Sigh.

I'm clueless.

Well, I'm going to sign off. Geoff has been pretty much an angel for the last several days. He was the best kid ever at the can drive. Lucky for us our table was right in front of the Kindergarten Sunday school classroom. That kept him busy for 6 hours. And yesterday he was cooped up all day.

He allowed me to rest and snooze all morning, without trying to mix chocolate milk or writing on the walls. I got out of bed when the first of my three UPS deliveries showed up.

I may just let him go out to play today in the pouring rain. It doesn't seem to bother him, and he has a great imagination. I told him we'd bake cookies because he's been so good. And I have to swing by the church to pick up the box of donations for the local women's care center. So we have errands to do. I also have pictures to post, but I think that Jessica accidentally took my camera to school. This morning she was wearing the jacket I wore yesterday. My camera was in the front pocket. I'll crap my literal and metaphorical pants if she loses it. I have to go check the dining table to see if she was conscientious enough to remove it from the pocket.

2:24pm - addendum

Jessica did indeed have the sense that God gave geese and left my camera home. I found it in the kitchen after I posted this entry. God love her. Sometimes she is without a clue, other times, she's on top of it and then some.

Here are some recent pictures. Unfortunately, I didn't have the camera during the can drive. Don't know what I was thinking, but... here are some other pictures nonetheless.

	Last Wednesday night I'd mentioned that Jessie had a beginner band concert. I didn't get to mention my thoughts on it yet. Suffice to say, she's a cutie with her dad's saxophone. She wanted to take violin, but I told her she could take flute or sax, because we already owned the instruments. She's the only girl taking sax. She does a good job... hopefully someday she'll be as good as her daddy was!
After Church on Sunday I went down to assess the basement and Jess and M. came with me. M. is the one who got bit by Missy back last year... she and Jessie are still really good friends. And her dad and mom are people I love dearly and fully appreciate for being in our lives. Here, the pals show off with boxes of goods. All the tables down there are covered with boxes of food right now. Before, just the blue shelves in the way back. We've got a lot of work ahead of us to organize!
Michelle found some rather bizarre items in the food sort at the can drive. Here she models a can of Sprats, a product of Estonia. She also found duck pate, and some other wacky shit. We laughed and laughed. I've renamed her "Mischprat." We laughed and laughed...
We actually had to look up online what sprats are. It was a mystery to the four of us. Are they like sardines? Smelts? What? ... Notice that they are imported from Estonia by a company in Ft. Lauderdale. Linda, if you're interested, I'll mail you their address and you can maybe get a good sprat related career going there!
After church got out, we noticed a parade going up the street of First Communioners on their way to the Catholic church's hall, which is up around the corner from our church. The kids had to walk 2 blocks in their dresses and suits up through the neighborhood. I'm sure some felt like tools. Some of the boys were wearing sneakers, which cracked me up... but the girls looked lovely in their dresses. We waved at them... I stood with Jessie and M. and watched them walk by. We had a long talk about differences in faith between the Catholic church and the Episcopal/Protestant Churches... how at age 7 in the Catholic church sees your first communion, but most protestant churches want you to be in 7th grade or so before making the committment, because you should be making an adult choice... It was a good discussion. The girls were interested in learning, because both wondered why they didn't get to do this. M. said her cousin gets to do this in two weeks... most of her family is Catholic, but her parents started attending our church because it was across the street from their house. Jessica said she is relieved that we are not catholic. She said she'd hate to have to wear a dress like that. I thought it was really sweet to have First Communion Sunday on Mother's day. And this was kind of nice to see. Children so sweet, innocent and refreshing, in light of all that the Boston Media puts forth on the Catholic church right now. There's a lot of bad about it, but here you've got some sweetness. And I hope they continue to grow in fellowship and faith, and don't do what most of my catholic friends did when they were little -- quit going next Sunday.
Here's a picture I took in M.'s parents' yard. We dropped in to wish her mom a happy mother's day. They had spent the whole weekend prepping the yard for the mother's day festivities which are held annually at their home. The yard looks spectacular. I thought this was a pretty sight. She's a killer gardener, and makes my leaves droop with envy. I want to go through later in the summer and take more pictures of her yard for her. And for me. She gave me the bleeding hearts that I took a picture of a few days ago and used in the top left corner. She gives me cast offs from her garden sometimes. The bleeding hearts are the only things that seem to be doing well. She's awesome. Alright. That's my little picture show. Addendum fini!