Met the morning with Doug bellowing "oh DRIVER! Driver I need you... it's 6:30, time to get up and go..." He is off to Scottsdale Arizona for a conference/training thing for the hospital field he works in (rehab outcomes management) and I had to drive him into Logan Airport for his flight.
Fight is at 10am, so of course we are leaving at 7am (with all the commuters heading to Boston). I am not awake so he drives and I sit in my PJs in the passenger seat with a big coffee. I figure I'll be more awake for the trip home, and he's WIDE awake and bright eyed and bushy-tailed. So I let him do the driving.
Traffic is awful, which gives me time as a passenger to look down side streets off of Rte 60 into neighborhoods and industrial zones that I never get to look at. I also get to gaze longingly at airplanes. I'm impressed by their size, by the physics of what they do. The huge, shiny white noses with tiny little itty bitty windows for the pilots to look out of. My guess is they fly mostly with their gauges and science than by visuals based on the window sizes. I'm also impressed by how clean they are, compared to the front ends of cars and trucks. Air is much cleaner than roads, I guess.
At the airport, Terminal B, we are blocked in by vehicles that decide the second lane is the drop off lane, even though it is really the curb. I get out of the car to give him a hug and a kiss (apologizing for my coffee breath) and I'm aware that the woman behind us is looking at us. Him in his dress pants, dress shirt, shoes and his luggage, me in my oversize Pitt T-shirt and pyjama pants, flip-flops glasses and hair scrunchy with my coffee cup in hand.
It's almost like I'm kissing him goodbye at our front door as he goes to the office. Only I'm 40 minutes from the front door. This is a different front door, a different commute. And unlike his usual morning commute where I don't get to see him off (being unemployed means I sleep until 10am usually and he's gone at 6:45) I am glad to have the opportunity to see him off.
We take our time with goodbye and stand at the back of the Subaru for a minute because we (and the woman behind us) are still blocked in. I wonder if she looks at us and says "God, they are so fat..." or what she thinks. He takes his garment bag and backpack, tells me that he forgot our friend Amy R's phone number and asks me to call his voicemail with it. He is off. I walk around to the driver's side, get in, adjust the seat and mirrors to where I like them, and put the car in drive and signal on while I wait for the hotel shuttle vehicle and Limo Service car to move out of the way.
He's off to Scottsdale. I'm still in my pyjamas. And I'm jealous that I won't be waking up tomorrow in a hotel in the Southwest.
I need a vacation.
Showing posts with label doug. Show all posts
Showing posts with label doug. Show all posts
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
Monday, September 02, 2002
September Morn...
When Doug and I were first dating, he would sing Neil Diamond's "September Morn," to me in a schmaltzy Vegas style that would crack me up. I bet I've mentioned this before. I should read my September Archives... So every September I start laughing, waiting for him to do it again.
Problem with reading my September Archives means I have to read all the entries I wrote around September 11th. And I just don't want to do that. Not in the mood. My summer was great -- I'm feeling mentally stable and very happy. I don't want to dip back into the memory bank and start feeling scared and shitty.
I don't know about you, but I'm not looking forward to TV over the next couple of weeks. Our national heritage is worship of the dead it seems -- monuments, memories, slow motion replay reels with sappy music (none of it Neil Diamond though) and all for what? The Barbara Walters "I made you cry in an interview" kind of feeling where we bite back tears by holding our bottom lip between our collective teeth? No thanks.
This has been a busy weekend. We went to Maine for the day to see the residents of the Hyde-A-Way, and special guests from Western Mass., my old roomie Laurie and her husband and kids. We went to Old Orchard Beach, a place I can honestly say I've never been. Only we didn't go up into Old Orchard Beach Proper -- we went to Ocean Park, which is just south on the coast, and a lot less crowded. Most of the coastal beaches from there down to the cape are usually maniacally crowded, but this one was different -- there were a lot of people, but no charge for parking and we drove right up to a choice parking space in town. It was lovely. We got there at about 2:30pm, and the tide was coming in, the waves were amazing, and the kids had a blast.
Normally I would never set foot in the Atlantic ocean this far north, but found myself in the pudding, as it were, when Geoff went fast as possible up to the middle of his chest and I was convinced he was going to die.
The water temperature was lovely. It was cold, yeah, but not bracingly death grip instant heart attack cold. I showed Geoff how to ride a boogie board on his belly. He never got the gist of it, but I had fun. And I got a good work out. Sarah and Jessie were way out there with the real men (E, Wayne and Chris) riding waves and having fun. For as sore as I was after playing in the up close surf, I'm sure Jessica must have been stiff and sore the next day tenfold.
Here are some Kodak Moments:
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| Laurel and me in one of my silly hold the camera out arms length masterpieces. | Mary and Natalie digging in the sand. My pasty white son is visible just behind Nata. |
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| Jessie and Sarah take a break from body surfing | Mary is by far my favorite kid on earth. I've said it before and I know I'll say it again. |
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| Pete and Mary in the truck pit. Pete broke his arm last week when he was running in the yard... so he was breadbagged and cautious | Peteman grabs some waves, erm, some sand... looks like a pro though... |
 | Unlike my son who looks like he is trying to fly instead of surf. I love the concept of surfboard on the shore... these kids don't get it do they? What a riot... |
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| Sarah, Nata and Jessie decided that the dogs all needed a bath. After they decided, the dogs went for a mud swim up at the Hydepond... so their want turned into true need... Abby was first. | Here's poor Jack, not sure why he is tied to a bench and hating it. |
We barbecued in the Hyde yard, a feast not to be forgotten, and we sat around the dining table drinking a few beers and talking about college. Doug came into college well after I was already friends with Laurie, Chris, and Wayne... E was there but I think I never met him while he was there, and Marcia went to UVM, but we all had a great time ragging on each other and talking about Christian College Relationships (handholding and making googly eyes meant you were practically engaged! Chris was practially engaged to 100 girls at once). And the kids had a blast together.
Next summer I really want to borrow Sarah for a week and take her someplace with us. She and Jessie have such a good time together, and when they are together it is as if they were hanging out just yesterday, even if they haven't seen each other for months. They know how to be friends... none of this awkward "I'm not sure who you are anymore or if I'm going to like you still" crap that pre-teens do. It's refreshing.
Saturday was a hang around the house day. Nothing interesting to report.
Sunday I worked like a madwoman on Professor MF's site because it has to be ready for this Thursday. My mom says everytime I put MF there all she sees is "mother fucker" in her mind, but it isn't... those are just the unfortunate initials of said professor. I'd use her name but I doubt she would want me to, even though she's a public figure of sorts.
Doug took Geoff geocaching, and Jessie went to her friend A's birthday party. She ended up being invited to sleep over, so I brought her stuff to her. Doug and I watched 100 episodes of Law & Order on A&E (some sort of Labor Day Marathon thingie) and a rebroadcast of the 2001 Agassi/Sampras US Open quarters from last year. Yes, a year old tennis event. Don't laugh. It was thrilling then, and still thrilling to see a year later. Amazing match. And I barely like tennis.
Today it is pouring. It is actual Labor Day, the day so many view as the last hurrah of summer. I'm sure a lot of people are cashing in their chips at their vacation tables and rushing home early this year. Most of the Mondays in Labor Day Weekend over the last few years are fresh in my mind as rainy ones... seems like such a sucky way to end the summer. Good thing TNT has picked up the Law & Order marathonning so I have something to watch on this rainy day!
For me, though, it ain't over until I can't walk barefoot without getting frostbite. It's summer until I come screaming into the house after taking the dog out and I'm yelling "Damn! It's cold!!!"
That may be sooner than I want -- two nights ago I was out there in fleece pants with my breath vapor visible in front of my face. So Sad.
Not to complain -- my favorite of all seasons approaches. Fall. See the October archives for that.
Alright -- gotta get some work done. There is a slim chance Aaron and Michelle may come visit. They are spending the weekend with other friends (gasp! They have OTHER FRIENDS!!!??? No way! I thought we were exclusive!) and they may stop by before heading home. Then again, they may just go home. They're moving from their house to spend the winter on Mt. Desert Island at Farmer Matt's farm. So we may go there Columbus Day weekend and hang. That's still to be determined. Funny to plan ahead when this holiday weekend isn't yet over. Next week is a busy one for me. Tuesday meeting with Professor MF (stop thinking that Shirley!) and actual class time on Thursday. Finishing up Professor CM's stuff. Damn. No rest for the weary.Wednesday, June 26, 2002
It's all about Not Giving Up.
I slept late this morning. It felt great. My legs hurt, I was exhausted... but I woke refreshed. I had a phone meeting with the Theatre professor that I'm working with this summer, that took about an hour... and afterward Doug says, "I figured out what we did wrong yesterday at Parker River. There are blah blah blah..." coordinates styles, decimal points vs. colons... in short, he knows what to do now."
And we found it. Hot Damn.
We also got our very first travel bug, which is a trinket that has a trackable number, and you take it out of a cache and put it into another one. I have a feeling it is going to Maine with us. There are 3 Geocaches on MDI, and so far it looks as if all these tags are from Massachusetts, so let's travel this bug to another zone!
Nothing more really to tell. Doug's chefin' up some supper. It's getting on to 7pm. It is hot as a bahstid (Boston Accent, 'bastard') round heah, and I sure could use a beer. Mmmmmmmm. Beeeeeer.
Tuesday, June 25, 2002
Geocaching!
Today we went Geocaching for the first time. We tried two. We didn't find either cache.Which was somewhat of a total drag.
On the first cache, we spent 90 minutes hanging out, hiking, climbing, searching, looking in Newbury right along the Parker River, with Masconomet High School off in the distance. It was loads of fun. We got tons of bugbites, Geoff almost took a header into the river, due to his insistence that the water wasn't deep and he could swim (neither of which were true at all. the water WAS very deep, Kinger couldn't get himself out and I had to rescue him, and Geoff sort of can swim when his feet touch the bottom).
I was incredibly bummed not to have found the cache box, but you know, I had a wicked fun time. Wicked being something New Englanders say for "good" or "excellent."
Doug has a stick in one hand (for poking and whacking snakes, if need be), a GPS in the other, and his feet in the marsh. Where the hell is this cache!
Geoff looks like he's about to jump in, but in reality he's about 20 feet away from the edge of the rocks
The second cache I didn't even want to GO on, being totally exhausted from the first, but Doug, being persuasive and joyous, said "this one looks so easy. The reviews said "found in 17 minutes from my car..." etc.
So we went.
Ugh. It was horrid. We parked on the wrong side of where we should have been and walked hard, steep terrain for two hours. If it had been the only cache hunt of the day, we would have found it and not been so wiped out. But we turned back about 3/10 of a mile from our goal. The bugs were coming out, and we had a babysitter coming to the house and left no note for her to expect us to be late... so we bailed.
We're 0-2 on geocaching. Meh!
By the way, I'll be building up a site for Doug, since he is the master of the GPS, under his area outlining all our upcoming geocaching attempts.Sunday, May 26, 2002
My Life As Written By Others part 1
The picture of me and Doug from yesterday is just a freaking riot. I can't believe that was 1988, new wave was on its way out, Grunge hadn't quite been born, hair bands were starting to suffer a receding line, and we were a bunch of hippie kids living in the mountains reading Jacques Ellul, Dostoyevsky and David James Duncan.
By the way, I highly HIGHLY recommend David James Duncan to everyone I meet. Go. Read him instead of me. Now now now!
{{{By the way, even more, he was a guest lecturer and teacher at OE in 1996, and I urge you, if you don't run to the bookstore or Amazon NOW, at least go read that article I point to there. Sorry I wasn't there that year. I may have different political beliefs, stances, desires than he has... but wvoof! The man's pen writes my soul and I'm forever impressed. So go. Read, then, come back here, wouldya.}}}.
Mr. Duncan sees his life written by water. I see mine written by friends, and have been thinking a lot about them lately. From Frank, who I barely knew but wish I did know better, to Dave, who I knew before he wasn't Dave anymore... And, I have the new scanner and a pantload and a half of pictures.
So today's entry is about a few people who write my life... and some bad 80s hair. This is just a start, if you aren't mentioned here, you simply weren't in the pile of pictures right next to the computer.
This entry is for Christopher, Smitty, Scott, Shunta and my love, my life, my greatest writer... Douglas.
| Smitty, Chris and Doug stalk Bob Dylan I think it is 1989, and Doug went home for the summer. He took a couple classes at the University of Pittsburgh and did some serious hanging out with some guys he was and still is friends with. The infamous Christopher J. Kelly, and Smitty, AKA Scott. They went to see Dylan, did the typical tailgating thing, got word that he was staying at the Vista Hotel in Dahn-Tahn, so the went there to see if they could see the Master himself. They didn't, but... the pictures still remain. They have been a big part of my life, and are more important to me than I think they realize sometimes. They were in our wedding party, and I wish they didn't live so far away. Here's a glimpse at a day in their lives with Doug "Back In The Day." | |
 | CJK seems to be thinking "Oh the horrors, the horrors! I have to have my picture taken with the Smitster and he's attempting to take my beer! I'll smile and look polite but after the click, I pummel the bastard! Quick Doug! Snap the picture!" In spite of Chris' death thoughts, Smitty still lives today. |
 | Smitty aloofly stands with Doug leaning against the same Chevy Monza that he did bless once at a different Dylan show, memorialized on Doug's T-shirt. Doug looks like a foxy intellectual hippie kid, and I dig him! |
 | Smitty and Doug stalking Dylan outside of the Vista Hotel. Geoffrey wears his baseball hats like Doug does here, and looks a lot like him. Man, you can see how cute he is and why I dug him so much (still do, even though he doesn't wear that wicked cool 80s digital watch!) |
 | I love this picture. I hardly recognize these clowns. Check out the Vista Marquis in the back there. They really DID go to stalk Dylan! Chris' grin has always and forever cracked my shit right up, Doug's a cute assed little honey, and I wish I had been there instead of back here in Massachusetts. Sniff. Weep. |
| "You Can Steal Locks in Amellicka!!!!!!!" The quote at the top is from an hysterical anecdote which reeks of western misunderstanding of eastern dialect. We went out drinking one night, and Shunta needed to get a smoke on, so we all went out for a walk down to the swimming pond. It was butt-cold freezing out, and Shunta was laughing his ass off hysterically. He said something to Scott, like, "Scott, you caster wok innamellicka!" Scott answered, "You can cancer wock in America? I don't get it." Shunta repeated it, and Scott said "You can steal locks in Amellica? Shunta, you make no sense." We were laughing at us, but the very drunk Shunta really wanted us to understand him. Getting frustrated, he finally sang it, and we figured out he really wanted us to know that: YOU CAN STILL ROCK IN AMERICA!!! God Bless the friendship making, gap-bridging and communication misunderstanding healing power of 80s hair metal bands! We still say to each other things like "You can steer rocks in Amellica..." just for fun, and to remember our friend Shunta. | |
 | Shunta, Doug and I get ready to go for a walk. No smoking on campus, Shunta was an avid smoker, and we would go out in the woods and walk with him, and try and talk... towards the end of his stay, it was very easy. At first, we had NO clue what the hell this guy was talkin' about... |
 | What is Doug pointing at? Why is Shunta the only one mugging for the camera? Wake up Scottie! This picture cracks me up. I think we took it right after the "Steal lock in amellicka" discussion that almost set back anglo-asian relations 200 years. |
 | Oh my God is this picture funny or what. Check out Agrey in front. He is Kenyan, and was as avid a drinker as a guy could be. He was obviously tanked... and I love how he looks like he belongs in another picture entirely, not this white kids in a bar shot. Shunta is there in back, next to him is Derek, who was from Indonesia, Scott with his fist up in some sort of white-boy cool fist-making pose. And we have NO fucking idea who that guy in the denim jacket is/was/could be. And I'm all curly and cute. I don't look like I belong there any more than Agrey. |
| Agrey lived across the hall from Doug and Scott, and Derek lived next door from Agrey. It was sometimes hard, but the Kenyan, the Indonesian (who spoke the best, clearest english of them all) and Shunta would try and discuss religion, God, America and all sorts of other international ex-patriate topics in Doug and Scott's room. What a fun time. They got along like brothers, and I really had a blast hanging with them. I totally wonder where Agrey and Derek are today. Not to mention our Shunta. We saw him one other time after we moved to Atlanta, his cousin T.C. was living in Atlanta, and took us out one night because we had NO money. I have a really cool picture someplace of Shunta with our stupid cat Linus. I can't put my finger on it right now though. Scott in Chicago rounds out or guy side of the wedding party, and is another big writer of my life. When I first got email, so did he. We probably spent more working hours writing each other and making up these ridiculous stories and cracking ourselves up all day every day. We got paid while doing that. When he left his job, I was crushed... I was afraid we'd never regain that level of email writing frivolity, but oh, I was wrong. It followed us through a couple different addresses, and helped pass many a dull day at a desk. He's getting his doctorate now. He's a supergenius. I love him dearly. He has a laugh that is high and infectious, laughs through his teeth and grins and squints like a madman, and makes you laugh with him. I miss laughing with him daily. But I wish him all the luck ever while he does that dissertation. | |
| Candids from our wedding. I have thousands of wedding pictures. Some day, perhaps I'll do a wedding album, but I specifically wanted to post these two pictures. | |
 | This picture is actually world-renowned. Or is it world renown? I forget. Shoot me for misuse of the language. That's CJK in my wedding veil after the wedding. I love this picture. It is my favorite picture of him of all time. I plan on making copies for his children, when he has them, so they know their dad. |
 | You will notice a little somethin' somethin' on the noses of both Scotts here. I was drunk. I admit it. I went around to the three men in our wedding party, and put dollops of butter cream cake frosting on each of their noses. I told them that they had to wear them the rest of the day or else. And it was because I loved them that they were given dollops of frosting. |
|
We laughed and talked another minute or so, then my mother in law came out of nowhere with a napkin, wiped Chris' nose, and said "You've got frosting on your nose and it looks silly," and she spirited away.
I like these little closeups because Scott (from Chicago) has his gay 80s plastic glasses on. And I totally dig his Zeke beard. Luckily Mrs. Scott managed to get him to trim the thing down and look more stylie, while still maintaining that Oregon Extention spirit by keeping it! Smitty here has this "are you happy, woman?! you make me look like a TOOL" facial expression. I love the smirk. He's killah funny. Well that's it for now. I've got the scanner and tomorrow, I think I'll find more funny crap to scan. Mwah ha haaaaaa. There are grandparents, parents, college roommates, kids... more friends. Dang. There are so many to think and write about. That's why I keep the journal. | |
I distinctly recall dolloping Christopher's nose in the middle of the hall near the cake, I think I was talking to him and Bonnie, or perhaps it was my sister. He told me "I love this frosting, and I am going to wear it for the rest of the day and I will KILL anyone who wipes it off my nose, I swear. Kill them."
Chris had been in mid sentence when she did that. He stood there, stunned, not knowing exactly what to do. I think I peed my pants, well, my dress. It was priceless. I believe he wanted to slay her. But, nFriday, May 17, 2002
My Honeymoon; Stars Stars Stars
Mein Gut Gott im Himmel, is it really May 17th? In two days it is my half birthday. Usually by now it's summer, or close to summer-like. The weather all week has been rainy and cold. Two days ago we needed jackets. What is this world coming to?!
I reminded me of Nova Scotia, when Doug and honeymooned there. I thought, "Hey, It's June. It's Gonna Be Nice And Warm!"
HA!!!
It didn't get above 50. The tourism season doesn't even really start there until the beginning of July. We were a tad chilly, to say the least.
I want to go back there with the kids one of these days, see the same places, see how they've changed. One of my favorite parts of our honeymoon was when we took one of the "trails" less traveled. The island is broken up into trails, the Cabot Trail is the most popular. We took the Fleur de-Lis trail, and it was unpaved. In a little crossroads of a "town" called Framboise, we met an interesting guy named Mike McKinnon. He ran a little roadside store. We stopped for soda, and to pet his dog. He took us for a ride back out behind the shop... he left the store unattended. How's that for faith in human kind. He wanted to show us the inlet called "Mary Joseph Lake," and told us we could camp out there for the night.
Here's Mike McKinnon, in his general store. Lots of pretty woodwork, and tables to sit at. Hurricane Lamps for the evenings... a really nice guy.
Mike took wood that was warped and twisted from the rains... it would rain and rain and this particular tree would absorb and grow in pockets. Sometimes it would look pretty freaky. An he'd make cool sculptures out of them. Here's us with the mosquito. It was the reason we stopped, and how we got to meet Mike.
Mike's dog Tattoo kept watch over the door, and a more ferocious beast none could be found in all of Canada. What a lie. Look at her. Oh my God. My whole life I'd been terrified of dogs, and then I meet this one. She melted my heart an was the sweetest thing on the island, with a tail.
That's me, younger, with a perm. I still had blonde hair. I can't believe this picture... I look so ... young and healthy and fresh. If you don't have kids, I warn you now -- DON'T HAVE ANY!!! They make you crazy and old before your time. Run! Run for the hills. Kidding. I love my kids, and even though I've aged a million years in a short time, I wouldn't trade them. Well, perhaps for some serious money. No. I'm kidding. Hmm. Am I? Yes. I'm joking... cough.
Mike and Tattoo check out the lake, this was such a cool day for us. I mean, this guy could have been a serial killer for all we knew. And he treated us to a day of gorgeous views and hiking all over the backside of Framboise. I wonder if he's still alive, if he still runs the store. I've thought of just picking up the phone and calling information to see if there is any McKinnon in Framboise. Just to say hi, even if it is just a relative of his and he's been gone for years. I look at these pictures from that day, and I laugh. I'll never forget it.
I've been on the lookout for new blogs to read... most of the ones I've got linked off the first page aren't updating frequently or seem to have stopped all together. I check them, long for them... but alas, they do not write. Sniff. So I've gone a-searchin'. "Diaries of a Working Mom," and she follows me in the "blogging mommies" web ring, which I joined but never went through. Her name is Jennifer, and she lives somewhere in this state, and is the mother of one. Her writings around Sept. 11 are poignant, and I like her sense of humor even when she's puked upon.
I followed a link from Shelley's Cynical Life over to a blog called "Little Red Boat." The author lives on the island of Iona, off 
Watch out for Armageddon Rainbows, folk singers with pornographic tunes, disco dancing and 14 year old boys with comedy breasts. It fondly reminded of Rowan Atkinson's "Black Adder" drinking party when all the guests were to show up wearing comedy breasts. Look at this man's face and you see the face of an early teen boy stuffing socks into his dress for a disco. Too damn funny.
In reading Little Red Boat, I stole this passage from her as she described the night sky over Iona on August 27, 2001...
There were stars in their billions from horizon to horizon. For any city-dwellers, a star is a small twinkling device at night (nb; not a streetlight) which shines above one’s head for little apparent reason but great aesthetic effect, when seen in herds. And there were herds and herds and herds of them last night. Clusters, the great big cloudy cloud of the milky way ran through the sky like a great big … cloud. Of stars. I’m sorry, I don’t seem to be very good at the whole ‘English language’ thing today. Maybe I’ll try again later. Simply, if I can speak simply, it was very, very beautiful and very very humbling to lie on the road and stare at heaven last night. I saw shooting stars, four of them. One with a tail. I couldn’t think of enough wishes to go around. If anyone has a wish they want me to make on their behalf, you just let me know.
I cannot remember if I've talked about this before in this journal. I scanned through the journal, cannot find reference. Perhaps I need a search engine? I don't know... Anyway, even if I've blathered about it before, you're hearing it again. In old age, we repeat ourselves. Repeat ourselves, we do, in old age. If this is new, great. If old hat? Meh. Go find something else to read.
It's funny how someone describing something in their world can take you to a memory of something in your world. Her entry reminded me of the fall of 1988 when Doug and I were students at the Oregon Extension in Ashland, OR. A ton of Christian Colleges have this "cooperative" agreement and you can go to several different programs from urban studies in Washington D.C., to France, to the woods high above the Sierras. One night we were walking from the bunkhouse/library/poolhall back to our cabins, in the middle of Rte 66/Greensprings Highway. Normally one wouldn't do that, running the risk of being plowed over by a logging truck.
It was a moonless night, the sky was pitch, filled with stars right to the horizon. Standing in the middle of the road, with the universe touching right down in front of me, it felt as if I could reach out and place my hand on the cold diamonds embedded in coal before my eyes. I recall laughing, and kind of falling to my knees, disoriented, not sure where the road was... where I was. It was the most surreal experience I've ever had.
I've never seen such a sight in my life, and have yet to. I thought that perhaps I would see a sky like this in the super desert this past summer, but most nights were cloudy, and only when we were at the Grand Canyon did there seem to be enough sky with stars to compete, and there was too much light on the ground to compete with to get the right impact.
I will see a sky like that again, as I've mentioned before I've always wanted to go see the Northern Lights someplace, and I want to relish the experience. I want to fall on my knees again the way I did when I was 21, in the middle of the asphalt on a highway in Oregon. I want the stars to be like my tears. I want to laugh at how dizzy I feel when I suddenly realize how fast they are moving, and we are moving. I want all that, and to share it with my kids. Perhaps they'll feel the same heart-stopping joy.
I'm glad I had the chance to share that with Doug. There are so many incredibly cool things we've shared, from trippy stars to childbirth. I'm amazed sometimes when I realize that 15 years of my life have been spent with him by my side, usually with him grumbling, but he gets over it and enjoys... I think I have more of a reckless abandon towards doing things than I once had. I have taken on what he used to have insofar as adventure, and perhaps taken it from him. He's a lot more solid-footed than he was when I met him.
Anyway. It's another rainy day. The world outside our windows is verdant... green and lush, thick. So thick that light barely penetrates through branches. And it is only May. A rainy day like this in August, with the heat of it all and the thickness... that's what I'm looking forward to. But today, the greys and greens are lovely and wrapping me in, and a maroon fleece sweater completes the color scheme. If someone came over from "Trading Spaces" to work on my house, this is the color scheme I'd want for my livingroom.... dark maroon fleece, grey sky, green early spring leaves.
Geoff is drinking hot cocoa, his new favorite beverage, and I've got a site to work on... so that's it for now.
Sunday, May 05, 2002
Par-Tay Checklist; Frontier House
The immediate To Do list:
Tomorrow:
1. Contact the mortgage company first thing in the morning to get fax number to send my homeowner's policy to them so they'll pay my bill. it's due the 17th. Call the insurance agency to make sure that's all I need to do. Must do. Or we lose policy.
2. Get the form from HUD notarized to get the money (about 1000 clams) from our refinance last year. Didn't realize we hadn't done that.
3. Check with tenants on where the rent is.
4. Verify Geoff's next eye appointment date in June because I think it conflicts with his CORE eval.
5. Contact Dart folks to tell them who to host with and get final info to finish site. They've been awfully patient. And I'm 99% done with cateringman, so that site won't take up nearly all my time anymore.
This week:
1. Download the professor's site I'm working on.
2. Get boxes for the food drive next Saturday, organize church basement so there's plenty of room to bring the stuff in. It'll be fun. Also, ask Pete if we can use his GMC Jimmy.
3. Send mother's day cards to certain mothers. Grandmothers. Matronly aunts... etc...
4. Call Gammy, she fell and broke her arm.
5. Remind Doug about taking Wednesday morning off to be with Geoff while I go to some ridiculous unemployment "retraining" crap. Jeesh.
It is a gorgeous day, I just wanted to do a quick life update, write those things down because I always remember things better when I write them out. I've gotten kind of forgetful in the past few months... eep. Can't be a forgetful nelly in this life. We went to Wayne's birthday party on Friday night. We got there about 20 minutes late because of traffic on the Spaulding Turnpike. We were at Newick's Seafood on the Great Bay of the Piscataqua River in Dover New Hampshire... it was GORGEOUS there. I love living in New England... the sun was setting in the west up the river, and there were all these cute little boats and serious lobster boats, lovely dark pines lining the river and beautiful stately homes across the water in what I guess is Newington, not sure... but I loved it. The boy was kind of well behaved. For as good as he's been the last two weeks, he gets way excited when he gets with his buddy Pete.
Pete always looks at Geoff like "okay, what new trouble can you lead me into here!?" and seems to get such a kick out of him. Wayne enjoyed his cake immensely. It was lots of fun. We had a blast.
Before, when the cake was new...
After... when none of us got any. D'oh!
Kidding! We staged this after all the cake was dealt out. It made me laugh. Good cake too. Kudos to Marcia.
I was supposed to go to this reunion party for one of the companies that I used to work for in Marblehead, but Doug was in a kinda poopie mood, and Geoff was giving me a hard time about leaving. I knew I was screwed if I left Geoff there with Doug in a poopie mood, that I'd get grief for it later. So I decided not to go. At about 8pm Doug says to me "when are you going to this thing?" Mind you, it started at 6 and was 45 minutes away. I told him, obviously I'm not going. Cited my reasons. He kind of shrugged and said "whatever."
I hate going to stuff without him, even if it is something that is primarily MY friends or MY history. He gets all bitchy and moany about going, but then he always has a great time. We went on a harbor cruise once that this same company paid for and had for us, and he didn't want to go. Didn't want to get a sitter. Didn't feel like it blah blah blah.
Halfway through it, he's having a blast talkin' shit with my buddies.
Whatever.
Anyway, I feel badly about skipping it. I'm a schlub. I should have gone and just had him deal.
Marriage: Sometimes it isn't fun. And sometimes it is hard work. But you're a team. And teamwork is necessary. So sometimes there are concessions.
Which brings me to my next topic (nice segue, eh?) I've been watching marathon sessions of this PBS show "Frontier House." Perhaps you've seen it, heard of it? You can't go NEAR PBS without it being on lately.
Essentially it's "Survivor" meets "The Real World" meets 19th Century Montana.
Three families, starter provisions, period clothing and tools, and the homestead act. The goal isn't family vs. family, but family vs. requirements to meet for making it through the winter. Only one of the three families end up having proper stores of supplies, and that's just barely, by the time the whole thing is over. And it is interesting to watch how they changed, grew, transformed... I enjoyed this program a lot, and like my addiction to "The Real World" and "The Real World Road Rules Challenge" programs, this is another "reality" program that I will proudly declare as a guilty pleasure.
The only complaint I have is that I wish they had filmed an episode a week the way "The Real World" does it... but there are like eight episodes total I think. The website gives a lot of detail that you miss out from the overview programming, so if you've watched the show and haven't checked the site, please do.
Nate and his dad Rudy head out to the west and are preparing a homestead for Nate's bride Kristin to come out in July and have their wedding (by the way, yes, I cried and cried, it was gorgeous. I'm a friggin' sap. But I loved it).
How hip and cool and sweet and wonderful is this guy?
The cabin he built for her, the dress he sent to her, ugh! Gorgeous and romantic, and so grounded. He's a damn riot too, very funny. I'd have all the Brooks family members over for a beer and hang out anyday. Especially compared to the other two loser families.
The Glenns officially separated, after they got back to Tennessee.
They cheat, and break laws, and basically don't really learn anything from the experience but they are convinced in the end that they did and would have survived the winter with one pile of "wafers," Gordon's nickname for unsplit rounds of firewood.
The wife, Adrienne, begins the journey all heartbroken about not having makeup, skin cream, shampoo etc... the girls are just as shallow. They smuggle 'contraband' into the past with them, which they later realize was stupid and they bury the stuff under a tree. Gordon, the dad, is upset and angry that life is so hard. And "you mean to tell me that 19th century man wouldn't have come out here more prepared than our so called "history experts" sent us out here?"
The two boys seem to get the most out of things, and really love being with their dad on the frontier. By the end, the girls who started out naughty seem to have learned the absolute most.
They all would have died lonely miserable deaths in 1883.
The thing that pisses me off the most about these people is they are the most highly educated of the bunch, but the dumbest when it comes to reality of things.
They came into the project thinking "this is going to be fun, romantic, and so cool." The wife "has a degree in food science" so they obviously planned on living off her skills. She is an excellent baker, wonderful in the kitchen, and makes great baked goods with her time. But they miss the point. The first winter out there would have been the hardest, and being most prepared with essentials instead of peach pies would have been the important task.
They needed wood split and hay cut for their animals. Not scones with raisins. She ended up building a romanticized 1883 life as their crops come in and their hunger abates after the spring, but this does nothing to prepare them for the future, for the winter. It was kind of sad to see her get all into it and happy, only to know in the back of your mind that nothing she is doing is going to benefit the clan in the months of cold to come.
So this show sucked me in, and I really liked it. It's one of those things that I can't pass on the dial without seeing what's up.
I'm glad I didn't watch from the start though, because the very first episode where Adrienne is crying because she put rag curls in her hair, and wasn't allowed to wear makeup for the olde tyme photograph they were having done, pissed me off and I couldn't take it seriously at all. If that was the first episode I saw, that would have been the last. Glad I tuned in when they were milking cows and the Glenns were a fightin'.
Anyway. Geoff is head to toe mud out there. It's spring. I have some seeds I want to plant, get a garden going out there... And during the week we'll go pick vegetable plants out. I saw where one of the squash seeds that Geoff had planted is growing up. Aah, frontier life.
Thursday, February 07, 2002
This is why every day is Valentines Day for Doug and Chris
March 6, 1988
Beaver, PA
"Dear Chrissie
... I was thinking of you today - I think you're pretty special. That's it in a nutshell. If I really started writing about it this letter would be too long and I want to get some sleep soon anyway.
"...I keep thinking about you - but there's really not much to write about. Actually it's kind of late and I'm supposed to get up early & help Bonnie (*) do some stuff, so I'd just like to say I love you, I miss you, I look forward to seeing you very much.
"Douglas
"S.O.S. 4:1-15 (**) (discard all the goats similes and geological references -- I just want to say you're beautiful to me)."
5-17-89
Beaver, PA
"Dear Chrissie
"...I know I am not explaining things very well -- I'm just not concentrating much on communication I guess, because I'm trying to write but I'm thinking about you too much, but trying not to think about you so I can write -- hence it ends up as sort of a mess. I look forward to hearing from you again soon and seeing you in June. Things are going well here, but I'm aware that there's just something missing here (that's you) -- the picture is fine but just isn't complete, my little bruin. (***)"
5-30-89; 12:21am
Beaver, PA
"Dear Christine
"...All I can say is I wish I was there to be with you because you could need that now. ... It sounds as if maybe your whole world is crashing in (again) - a prolonged period of crisis maybe. I was just thinking last night of how calm my life is now & how everything goes so well, and I was very thankful to God for that -- and I knew something out of the blue would come & shake me out of it (such is life -- a series of trials). You see, when you're all upset, well I'm upset (like that stupid song about smiling). It's at the point, at least for me, I think we share the burdens & joys of one another. I wish I were there to put my arms around you. But maybe in some ways its better this way if everything in your life has tarnished and it all has a malaise and all I hope for is you'll truly find your rest not in earthly things...I pray that peace comes to you afresh and in abundance. Seek diligently and you shall surely find. And hey, I love you."
No Date Indicated
Gordon College
"I am in this building looking for you. Don't leave it. Cordially, Douglas (#)"
No Date Indicated
Gordon College
"This is what I'd like to do:
1) Study my notes until I have a good grasp of the information
2) Go to WHP (##) with YOU
2b) Mess around with YOU after WHP run
3) Sleep for a while
4) Wake up early - maybe a light breakfast - and study the book (I have a lot to do)
5) Go to Marvelous Marv's class
6) Skip chapel & study
7) Maybe have lunch with you & do the mess around if I'm well prepared for the exam
8) Review & take exam
9) Play loud music in my room & maybe read some
10) Have supper with YOU
11) Do some studying w/you & do the mess around in my room
or
11) Do some studying and go to the Cabot (my treat --unless it's something really queer (###) looking or dull), and then do the mess around until the wee hours of the morning and beyond
12) sleep
etc., etc.
14,568) Have our fifth child (!!!) and take another vacation to Cancun
14,569) Share a romantic dinner with you & make you moan with ecstasy on the beaches of Cancun
14,570) Pay bail to get us out of Mexican prison
etc., etc."
That is just a small sample, excerpts from the many letters I've received from my husband, who was then my boyfriend. Reading through them this afternoon has totally cracked me up and made me smile. There are moments in these letters that I'd like for him to re-read, where he talks about his family and his mom and dad and their relationship, and I want him to keep them in mind as we grow older together.
I have a box of letters from him, the letters folded nicely inside a birthday card he gave me years ago, tied with an army surplus shoe string from when we were in Oregon. Some of them don't mention his love for me at all but instead narrate scenery passing as he's riding a bus from home to Pittsburgh, poems about sodium vapor lamps and mall construction ruining his views of the rivers in his town... Each letter is a gift, whether it is directions on how to drive to his house or a quick note left on my desk in the library when he came looking for me and I'd wandered off for a break. And each letter, even if it isn't a gushy love letter, is a love letter, letting me know that at that very time, no matter where he was, he was thinking of me enough to write me a letter.
I am a very lucky girl. And I swear I will never take that for granted.
Footnotes, necessary so you understand, not to confound you...
(*)Bonnie is Doug's mom's name. He was home that summer.
(**) Song of Solomon... the passage reads, and I've totally killed the poetry by removing the indents, the spacing and everything by just slapping it up here... :
"How beautiful you are, my love, how very beautiful! Your eyes are doves behind your veil. Your hair is like a flock of goats, moving down the slopes of Gilead. Your teeth are like a flock of shorn ewes that have come up from the washing, all of which bear twins, and not one among them is bereaved. Your lips are like a crimson thread, and your mouth is lovely. Your cheeks are halves of a pomegranate behind your veil Your neck is like the tower of David, built in courses; on it hang a thousand bucklers, all of them shields of warriors. Your two breasts are like two fawns, twins of a gazelle that feed among the lillies. Until the day breathes and the shadows flee, I will hasten to the mountain of myrrh and the hill of frankincense. You are all together beautiful, my love; there is now flaw in you. Come with me from Lebanon, my bride; come with me from Lebanon. Depart from the peak of Amana, from the peak of Senir and Hermon, from the dens of lions, from the mountains of leopards. You have ravished my heart, my sister, my bride, you have ravished my heart with a glance of your eyes, with one jewel of your necklace. How sweet is your love, my sister, my bride! how much better is your love than wine, and the fragrance of your oils than any spice! Your lips distill nectar, my bride; honey and milk are under your tongue; the scent of your garments is like the scent of Lebanon. A garden locked is my sister, my bride, a garden locked, a fountain sealed. Your channel is an orchard of pomegranates with choicest fruits, henna with nard, nard and saffron, calamus and cinnamon, with all trees of frankincense, myrrh and aloes, with all chief spices -- a garden fountain, a well of living water, and flowing streams from Lebanon."
(***) My little bruin. I had a Boston Bruins jersey in college and wore it a lot. He thought it was amusing, and seeing a bruin is a bear, it became his nickname for me once in a while... a cuddly, fat, hockey-loving brown lump of a bruin. That's me!
(#) Okay. This one is NOT romantic. But it is one of hundreds of little notes letting me know he was looking for me in the library. He also left weird things, like he'd draw a picture of a skull, and write "this is here to confound you." Just to be weird and different and indeed confound me. I have about five of those. They make me laugh. He once left me a letter in greek letters... like I can read Greek weirdo!
(##) WHP is White Hen Pantry. A 24 hour convenience store kind of place that we'd drive to down in Beverly for snacks and just to get out of the college and get a break from there. A residential college experience when you're living in the dorms is often a 24/7 thing. And sometimes, it just is a good idea to go to WHP.
(###) Aaah, the 80s... when saying "queer" meant lots of things to people, and to us it was "stupid." No offense to the gay/lesbian population of readers... it's historically relevant and I'm not editing the word. I love the word queer meaning peculiar, odd, kind of stupid, and so wish someone hadn't come up with using it to rag on homosexuals. Darn.
(!!!) fifth? was this seriously on his list of things to do?!! Two is fine, thanks baby. And I'd still love to go to Cancun, get sand in the crack of my backside while making love on the beach, and, pay the bail.
Wednesday, February 06, 2002
Every Day is Valentines Day for Doug and Chris
I have never been a big fan of Valentine's Day.
Aside from elementary school where the giving of valentines to classmates was mandatory, I never got much of anything from guys. My dad always bought me and my sister something, and I thought that was cute... but you get to a certain age and you really want someone to love you who isn't your daddy.
A boy, in my case.
When I was in elementary school there was this kid named Sean who used to call me on the phone and read me poetry. He had blonde hair and wore glasses, and was so sweet. I was all giddy about him. My mom said he called me all the time. This had to be in like third grade or something. Nothing ever came out of that relationship and eventually I lost track of him.
In fourth grade I harbored a long simmering crush on a boy named Robert and maintained it for well over a year... but in fifth grade a girl named Randi hooked up with him and they fell madly in mutual love. They were both in my class and they made me ill. I hated her guts, and one day dared her to put raisins up her nose in the cafeteria. She put up five and only managed to get three out. The other two were embedded in her sinus cavity.
She went to the nurse, I got my sweet dried-fruity revenge on her boy stealing ass. Raisins up your nose. Pfth. Who does that in fifth grade.
I have no idea where she ever ended up... she is in my yearbook, she graduated with me... but I don't ever remember speaking to her after sixth grade.
I also remember being insanely in love with a kid who moved into our school somewhere in maybe fourth grade?? not sure the year. His name was Mark, and he had brown hair and brown eyes, and his mom brought him to his first day. The teacher introduced him to the class, and I recall him wearing a brown corduroy jacket and a striped shirt, and he had a lunchbox in his hands as he hid slightly behind his mom.
Oh my God. He is SO cute.
I was insane about him, while also being slightly insane about Robert, but feeling that kind of ebb and flow the way elementary school romance goes.
In sixth grade I was outside at recess, which for me meant sitting on a steel bench reading a book while the other kids played. I hated going down to the playground because you had to climb back up a big hill and that was no fun (I wonder where my daughter gets her laziness from, don't I?) and Mark came and sat down next to me on the bench.
He sat there very quietly for a long time, and then said "Can I ask you something?" I responded that he could, and I can still see him looking at me out of the corner of his eye, his hands in his jacket pockets, his head tilted sideways... "I have a feeling you like me. Is that true?"
!!! Oh my God! He's talking to me about me liking him! What do I do!!!
I ran away screaming.
No lie, screaming.
He never approached me again, and I kick myself to this day. I think he liked me too at the time, but me being a scared shitless little moron prevented me from even speaking to him.
The old mad crush from afar would have to suffice. I remember being at Jenssie's house a bunch of times when she encouraged me to call him, talk to him. She even dialed the phone for me.
His mom would answer and I would ask for him .... she'd get him, and when I'd hear his voice I would just panic and a noise would eek out of my throat as I dropped the phone onto the hook. Oh my God. I'm an idiot. What is wrong with me...???
I so regret not being the kind of girl who would just TALK to people then. He was so sweet. And so many other people were so sweet and kind to me, and I either wouldn't talk or I'd be a wiseass and drive them off.
I wonder where Mark is today.
In high school I started to get over that whole being a social retard problem and got two sort of boyfriends in 11th grade. One of them lived in another school district, and I met him through the youth group. The other was a year ahead of me and hooked up with me just so he'd have someone to mess around with while the true girl of his dreams wouldn't date him. I remember her coming up to me at a party during senior year telling me that "the dude you dig really digs me, and not you." And I didn't speak to him or her after that.
And then during the summer after my senior year I met a kid who was going to be a sophomore, but he was older than a sophomore due to starting school late (birthday cut off, just like Geoff will face when he goes to school). I dated him for the summer. He was interesting... and had a drinking problem at age 16, which kind of distressed me and I tried my best when I was with him to have him not drink. I won't go further into detail about that, but suffice to say when I left for college he didn't want to speak to me anymore. I have no idea what ever became of him. Doug and I ran into him when we were dating, and we were home at my parents for a weekend. He looked marvelous, had shot up another five inches in height and totally bulked out (he was a skinny little wiry wild kid when I dated him. Damn. Pretty hot)... and that was kind of odd. He seemed well, had just gotten a new pick up truck and was very proud of it. Other than that, he's gone off the radar screen. Haven't seen him since.
I dated a guy named Steve for a year and a half in college, totally madly in love with him. He kept dumping me and I kept weaseling my way back together with him. Finally it was totally over and I was depressed for an incredibly long time. I tried dating a guy named Ryan who I thought liked me but he really liked four other girls and was messing around with all of us until he finally settled on leaving college. Jackass.
Then I met Doug.
My buddy Clayton hooked us up. There's a whole great big story about how he did that. I won't get into it here. Suffice it to say that we started officially dating in April of 1987, broke up for the summer, got back together at the end of that summer and have been together since.
Valentine's Day Weekend 1988 we were sitting on the floor of his dorm hall reading and his mother called for us. She talked to him and to me for a while, and got back on the phone with him. She asked what we were doing for Valentine's Day, and he told her we had no plans. She was surprised... "But it's Valentine's Day."
"Every day is Valentine's Day for Doug and Chris," he answered. I thought that was funny. Seeing that it hadn't been a big holiday for me, that I never was a mushy romantic chick, this was nice to hear him say. Admitting up front that every day should be a valentine's like day, a day of love... my expectations were set low.
I did get a dozen roses from him. Long Stem. He was upset with me that I trimmed the stems down so they fit in the vase. But I had no choice. They were lovely, and he delivered them to me in a box. I appreciated them, but told him I'd much rather have roses any other day of the year for no reason... and I meant that. Once in a while I get them. In August, or June... December. No reason other than they were there, and there is no price gouging. We are so damn cheap.
Valentine's Day since then has always been mellow. Restaurants are too crowded with people trying to over do it... so we order a pizza and hang with the kids. It's refreshing. I love my husband and especially love that he doesn't feel the need to impress me once in a while with an overt display.
The best Valentine's Day for me this year would be if we made a trip to home depot and got stuff to hang a new ceiling. That'd make it all worth the love. And worth not being all mushy and romantic all the time... don't you think?
Just Call Me Peggy Hill... Substitute Teacher Extrordinaire
In order for me to substitute teach in Massachusetts, I have to have a negative TB result... so I went and got the needling done. I got up and got Geoff ready for Doug to take to school, had some coffee and schlepped myself to the doctor for the TB test this morning. I have to go back in 2 days to have it read. Hell it was free. Why not? Everyone should get one. TB is a lot more prevalent than people think anyway.
I still have to get my college transcripts in order to complete the application process for Jessica's district, so I must hop on that now. Doug brought me an application for subbing in his district, so I'm filling that out.
I also have to call the unemployment office to find out if I am eligible to collect unemployment if I am substitute teaching. I am sure there will be days I don't get called. So will I be eligible to collect unemployment on those days or am I screwed. Oh the decisions and choices. I can't believe I'm thinking about doing this. What if they put me in a Math class. I failed all my math classes.
Okay. I have some dishes and cleaning to do. I spent the better part of two hours on the phone with Aaron shooting the shit. He has no classes today (he's in college in Maine, so he's housecleaning and bored) so I'm always a good crutch to use when you don't want to do anything else. I'm Bored. I'm calling Chris! I also have to go to the market and get toppings or the pizza dough I have. It's all about the love... good pizza toppings say I love you more than roses or chocolates... right?
Thanks for your time. And I wish everyone an Everyday Valentines Day, like it is everyday for Doug and me.
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