Stay At Home Moms (or dads); Ash Wednesday

I took some heat recently from about 10 different stay at home moms who were angry at my feelings towards the SAHMs at the Bagel Store the other day.

I got some "You don't understand how hard it is..." emails. And my very good friend Virginia even posted in her journal that I shouldn't be so hard on them.

First of all, I do know how hard it is. I was one for quite some time with Jessica. I worked nights, and stayed home days, while Doug worked. So I was there with the baby and hooking up with friends for walks in the park and busting my butt to keep a nice house. Then I had to return to work full time so we didn't have to declare bankrupcy.

I have nothing but the utmost of respect for moms who either elect to stay home for extended periods with the children (I know some dads who've done that too, because their wives were lawyers or well paid consultants, and they didn't make as much money). My invisible hat is way off to people who make that choice. If your life budget works so that one of you can stay home, I am envious, and very happy for you.

We don't have a dual income household because we love money and want to sacrifice our kids to the altar of daycare. We do it because the cost of existing in this area is prohibitive. Trust me. I'd be a stay at home mother if Doug made what I was making at my last company. Or, I'd love if Doug could stay home more. Thing is, we've made certain choices that make it so Doug gets home at the same time as the kids and has summers off. While they are in school, he'll make a lot less money than he's worth to the general market in order to work a school job on a school schedule, for our school aged kids. So don't think for a minute I scoff at SAHMs.

I dislike bad parenting. That's my beef in the journal from the other day.

The women at the bagel store could have also been executives who decided to take the morning off to get together and have their kids play.

I made the assumption they were stay at home moms just because I'm an asshole. I jumped to a conclusion based on the way they look, and I got the impression they are there a lot. And I'm sorry for that. Please forgive me.

If they were full-time employed doctors, or male, I still would have been just as irked with their children's behavior and their lack of supervision... their children were behaving badly and the moms (or it could have been grandmas, or nannies, or dads... doesn't matter who the adult was in question) let them.

I do understand the concept of how lonely it gets to stay at home with the kids during the day, especially in winter, when things get boring and there are fewer out door options. The companionship of another normal sensible human over the age of 10 is a blessing an a breath of fresh air. But it is no excuse to let your kids off the hook to run about higgledy piggledy so you can chat about local neighbors, friends and the stock market.

I suggest a play date at each others' homes. One stops to get the coffee and bagels on the way. Then you get together and allow your children to tear ass up in your own (or your friend's) home. Not a public place. These particular individuals viewed the bagel store as their own happy little meeting place, no worry if someone who works there has to mop the floor up from the full pint of milk that was dumped out because the girl doesn't know how to use a straw yet. The cute little run-amokers at the bagel store took over all five tables. The moms sat and drank coffee and gossiped. The kids put their Barbie dolls in the salad bar. I got hit in the back of the head no less than three times by paper straw covers being blown off the straw by the oldest of the girls before one of the moms stopped her. She had de-papered a few dozen straws. While that was funny as hell to her, and cute, and silly, and oh so rambunctious, those straws cost the bagel store owner money, and now... they are trash. And the mom in question? All she said was "honey, stop that." As if she was tapping her foot on the floor a little too loudly.

I am mortified when my kids do something in public that is in the traditional sense "unacceptable." Am I the only one on earth who feels this way anymore? Hell, I'm mortified when my kids do something awful at HOME when my back is turned!

When a tantrum is thrown in a restaurant, or a movie theatre, or church, the kid ends up in the car and one of us two adults sits with.

We don't subject the general public who are out to dinner to having to listen to our kids freak.

It is not charming, or cute, to have a child act out in public because they are bored or things aren't going their way.

No one should have to listen to someone else's kid in public, and too often parents, whether they are SAHMs or Execs or Blue Collar Joes, ignore their children. They let them rage. The world is their playground, their stage, their soapbox. As long as nothing gets broken. Are kids that big an inconvenience to that once a week or twice a week adult-chat? I sure hope not.

We still don't know for certain which of my kids desecrated the lipsticks at Taunia's, but you better believe neither of them will be allowed more than three minutes in someone's bathroom to pee the next time we go to a friend's house.

I am just saying... when in public, or on a plane, or in church... manage your kids. The planet is not their playground. Unfortunately, the mentality that the world is our playground is an American thing that has been growing over the last several years. We have TV shows where teams have to race across continents using any means necessary, tearing through villages where people are just trying to live for living's sake. Fear Factor (while I do adore that Joe Rogan Fella) is just an excuse to blast a shitload of money out the window on freakish stunts for the entertianment of the masses. Survivor? Temptation Island? Please. Even more examples of our combined mentality to treat the world as our big assed sandbox, without caring for anything else. And we as a culture either watch it on TV and enjoy it, or get the "chance of a lifetime" to actually participate.

And the mentality to just take over something and do what ever the hell we want grows from this kind of experience as kids. The bagel store. This no boundaries... no borders... free for all fun experience, is groomed in us from an early age. Does anyone else see this trend in us as a nation? Tearing up the bagel store will some day lead to base jumping off a bridge on Road Rules because hey, who gives a shit? I've always been encouraged to be a free spirit. It's all in good fun, and someone else pays for the damages if something breaks.

I'm all for being a free spirit, but fer chrissake... be a free spirit when I'm not trying to drink some coffee and eat a bagel. Please?

Okay. So being irked at those particular parents (I'll use the word parents instead of moms) yesterday is indicitive of a deeper emotion that I have towards this nation as a whole. I just think we need to do a better job parenting from the start. Pay attention. Please. And I am just as guilty as the next mom or dad when it comes to the kids, (see the Lipstick Debacle) but I think I spend a little bit more energy focusing on teaching my kids how to behave in public and I think it is slowly, slowly paying off. But I lord over them in public, and the minute they are out of line, yank -- they are out of there.

I know it works with Jessica. She's great in social situations, can still have a lot of fun without jumping up on a table and whipping her shirt out yelling "who let the dogs out!" (but we'll see where she ends up in 10 or 12 years).

Geoff still is a bit nutty, but usually we pull him out of the public situation, let him know that is his one warning, and he shapes up and flies right. Flying with him on the airplane was a heck of an experience, and it was hard but for the most part he didn't piss off everyone on the flight. He goes into stuff a little too excited, but I think reigning him in and letting him know he's gotta control himself works wonders. Sometimes he responds quickly. Other times it takes repeated efforts to stop him... but I don't give up.

In her journal, Running with Scissors, Dawn has a whole episode about a recent flight from Dallas to NYC. I think she'd agree with me. Her assessment: "Control 'em, Cage 'em, or Kill 'em." Check it out.

So if you are upset with my assessment of kids in public and lax parenting, that's okay. It is what it is. But if your kid hits me in the back of the head with a chunk of ice in a movie theatre, you better believe I'm turning around and yelling at him. If you aren't gonna, I sure will.

Okay. Off the soap box.

---

Geoff threw up at school today so his teacher called me to come get him. I was supposed to spend the day with a friend from Cambridge who was taking the train up, but after I picked up Geoff I went to the train station to meet her. I was at the wrong Damn Train STATION!!!!!! So she was there, a half hour away, freezing her butt off... I came home to check my messages, and she'd left her cell number, so I called her. She was a half hour away, and the next train back to Boston was in ten minutes. So she was just going to hop on that and head home. With Geoff coming home questionably ill, I thought it best. I felt like an idiot though. I mean, we agreed on this station, and I have no idea why I thought it was the other. I'm a doorknob.

---

It is Ash Wednesday. The beginning of Lent. I wanted to leave you with one final thought today on that topic. Lent is traditionally seen as the 40 days where you give up something, to cleanse your body and soul from sin. The way that Jesus spent 40 days in the wilderness fasting and being tempted, but holding his ground.

A lot of people completely ignore this holiday season, or, they become obsessive about it. They give up chocolate, or masturbation, or sex, or watching their favorite TV show, or smoking. And if they fail at whatever task or "sin" they've set up to avoid, they feel amazing guilt. What a way to get ready for Easter, eh?

For a change, if you haven't been giving up anything for Lent for the last several years, turn it on its ear. Instead of giving up something to deprive yourself, why don't you DO something special FOR others.

Volunteer at a shelter or a soup kitchen. I bet there is a big need for volunteers in your area. There is in mine. Look into finding out if a local animal hospital or clinic needs old sheets, blankets and towels, and go through your linen closet, cleaning out the stuff you haven't used since 1987, or 1979. Then, hand deliver it after you talk to the clinic manager or head vet. Nursing homes always are looking for people to help out with reading to the elderly.

There is a lot to DO for Lent that will purify you just as much as if you deprived yourself. Feed your soul this year instead of fasting. Or, do both. What the heck. Have at it. Let me know how you do if you want to share.

I'm not sure what I'm going to do volunteer-wise yet. I know my vet is looking for towels and blankets and God knows we have some serious old nasty crud that they would gladly take. My church is involved with a local soup kitchen called Mitch's Place. I know we serve there the last Sunday of the month. I will talk to the coordinator about being involved there. I will find something.

I am not going to Ash Wednesday services this year. There aren't any at my church, and other churches in the area have invited our congregation to participate, but I'm feeling reluctant to go someplace different.

I also don't enjoy the ash cross on the forehead thing. How long are you supposed to keep it on? I see people walking around with it all day, and it seems pretentious and showoffy, and holier-than-thou to me. A walking advertisement that says "hey! lookie here! I'm super Christian! I went to service and am gonna wear this black smudge ALLLLLLL Day!"

They are a sign of the dust of the earth, the location where we are to once again return... and a reminder that it doesn't have to be our permanent state. But how long do we wear that reminder in the day. It's always boggled my mind.

In the Book of Common Prayer, which is the prayer book of the Episcopal Church - this is the prayer for today. I'm saying it for me. You can say it for you too, just to begin this season, with our without a sooty smudge on your noggin:

"Almighty and everlasting God, you hate nothing you have made and forgive the sins of all who are penitent: Create and make in us new and contrite hearts, that we, worthily lamenting our sins and acknowledging our wretchedness, may obtain of you, the God of all mercy, perfect remission and forgiveness; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever."

Amen to that.

Okay, enough of this from me. I've gone from the bitchy defensive Christine to the Vicar Christine all in one post.

I'm preachy and stupid. I'm judgmental and hypocritical. I'm boring and annoying. I'm going to watch Blue's Clues. Have a great day, fellow SAHMs, SAHDs, fulltime employed moms and dads, or humans without offspring. Have a beautiful day, and just enjoy the fact you live and move and breathe and have being. I know I will today. I promise. Even if Geoff pukes again... meh.

CMT Crossroads, BNL,

My sister got the PayPerView of the Barenaked Ladies concert at the Roseland Ballroom which took place in November, the day George Harrison died. The last time they played the roseland was New Years' Eve five years ago, or, as Steve said "Five years ago before we sold out to tha man."

Linda taped it for me and sent it to me recently. After I got back from Chuck E. Cheese's (yep. I went there after coffee with Naomi. You didn't think I would, but... I did. It was worth it except Geoff was sad when I split. But the dog got to go for a nice ride).

Anyway, I digress. Recall, if you will, the nerdy girl. The one in the wizard hat who danced like a spaz the entire concert when I saw them in Portland. Well, they get a full on shot of her laughing and dancing at the Roseland show. yup. She's there. Her shirt, remember I couldn't read it, it said "I Love" something. Well. It's "I Love Beer."

I'm got of her for you so you get to see it. I still totally want to meet this girl. Hell yeah now that I know she loves beer! My kinda friend! Damn! (by the way, if you ARE her, email me. I want to know where you got your wizard hat).

Doug is convinced that Ed and Steve are gay. They kiss on stage and often talk about gay stuff and porn. So he's sold on the concept.

Perhaps they are.

They still kick ass.

As if Gay Guys can't kick ass. Hello? Can you say Rob Halford? My sister and I used to totally yell out in these deep loud metal voices "Clean Cut!" when we'd see him in Judas Priest because all the other metal guys like Dave Mustane and Metallica and them were all hairy. Clean Cut was cool, and little did we know, so gay. It was the 80s. No one really cared yet. He rocked. Still does damnit! So rock on Gay America! Rock on for Rob!

Okay, where was I. Yeah BNL. It was awesome, and I so enjoyed seeing Kevin dancing on the keys of his keyboard because you so know how happy I am he beat cancer. Or at least has done so to this point. Thank you Leukemia and Lymphoma Society of America. Guinness donated the proceeds from that BNL PayPerView to them, and more people like Kevin can get past cancer. Hurrah!

hi kevin!

---

Coffee with Naomi is always fun.

Not only does she just have the coolest accent on record, she's got a lovely sensibility that is refreshing in a world of nutcases. I do enjoy her presence. Should make a plan to get together with her more often. We went to a little bagel shop in my down town, not much of a downtown really... but there is a bagel shop and that's pretty awesome. Two women were there with their combined four little girls. They let the kids have the run of the place, allowing them to put stuff on all the tables, save for the one I scored for me and N'omi to sit at. They were cute for a minute. The moms talked over coffee, and the kids tore the place up.

Remind me not to be a rude SAHM (that's Stay At Home Mom) for those of you at all confused. Seriously. It's nice to have some adult conversation when you go out with a friend, but pay attention to your damn kids. The world is NOT their play place so you can have a moment of peace. Good lord.

Naomi said something funny to me. She suggested that I go to seminary and become an Episcopal priest.

!!!!!

Uh, hello, I'm laughing on the floor over here. I think my ass fell off because I'm laughing too hard.

I said to her that she had to go get a spinal tap or something just for punishment for suggesting such a thing. She insisted that she thought I'd be the best Episcopal priest on earth.

I told her that when I was at my evangelical Christian college they passed me up no less than six times to be a resident attendant in the dorm because I wasn't what they expected in good Christian leader. I mean, I swear. I joke. I have a sense of humor. I'm not beating people about the head for Christ. I don't remember the four thingies that you suggest to people when you're witnessing to them. How would I make a good priest. I mean, it is crazy enough that Sinead O'Connor thinks that she can be a priest (she's so insane), and become Sinead Mother Bernadette Maria, but I refuse to make a mockery of the position, catholic or Protestant. At least, not anytime soon.

---

I've actually entertained the thought, but I could never do it. I thought that it could be cool, I'd be like the Vicar of Dibley, Dawn French's Character from one of my very favorite Britcoms. I could be understanding. Eat chocolate. Try and give it up for Lent. But no. I'm not suited for the service. She's a tv character, and doesn't seem to have a hard time getting out of bed on Sunday mornings the way I do. Plus, I have a hard enough time remembering who has to be where when for what, like doctor appointments or field trips. I'd be doomed trying to serve an entire parish.

It's a thought. But I'd have to pay to go to seminary. Doug would LAUGH at me, and it wouldn't be worth it in the end. If going to a Christian college got people to make fun of me and accuse me of being like Jerry Garcia meeting the pope, taking it to seminary would be like Marilyn Manson having a sit down and chamomile tea with Christ himself, right?

Although I DO think I'd look smashing in the robes with the groovy sashes that hang down 'round the neck. The collar and a hip cross that is third world and hand painted, not something ostentatious and big and gold, or platinum or something. Ooooh, and the rope round the waist. I dig that look. I thought I looked awesome in just a choir robe. Wearing the full frockage of servitude would rock.

Amazing that I'm entertaining these concepts. I must seriously be lacking direction in my vocational path.

---

Speaking of college, I talked to my friend Steve earlier tonight (hi Lisa if'n you are readin' this). He reminded me of some ridiculous events in our lives when he and I dated, and we boy do we have some funny stories. But one of the funniest has to do with Jessica, long after both of us were married. I was coming back from the coffeehouse one night, very late, and very pregnant with Geoff. It was late November, about a week before I had the preterm labor experience with him. Jessica had eaten more than her fair share of chocolate chip cookies, and she hurled all over the back seat of the car. All over it. She was drenched in puke, and my car reeked to high heaven and subhell.

We were about a block from Steve's house. He was married to my friend Carrie, and I knew between the two of them, or if one of them was there, they'd sure help my sorry ass out by letting me throw her four and a half year old pukey face in their shower.

Well, I got there, and knocked on the door. No answer. She was sitting in the back seat of the car, crying her ass off... begging me to take her home.

I thought I saw someone sitting on the front porch of the house next door, and called out to them for help. They didn't respond. It was a stuffed dummy that they had sitting on their porch from Halloween... Damnit! I was so pissed. I didn't know what to do, then I saw the garden hose.

They hadn't put away their garden hose yet. Here it was, mid-November, and the hose is in the yard.

I turned the water on, and it wasn't turned off at the source in the basement either, Thank You GOD!... I took all Jessica's clothing off. It had to be about 40 degrees max out. It was chilly. And I laid her clothes in the driveway and hosed them off. She's crying her eyes out (since her ass had already been cried off...) and I then took her washed off shirt and wiped her face, arms and legs.

I was all ready to take my own shirt off and drive home in my bra, when I remembered the trunk. Doug's police uniform and a change of clothes were in the trunk. I took what was in there, a T-shirt, and his uniform shirt, and put them on her. I wrapped her legs up in the pants, didn't even bother trying to put them on her. I hosed off her shoes, wiped her feet with the not-clean-anymore shirt she'd been wearing, hosed it off again and threw the whole bunch of sopping wet clothing into the trunk.

I called Steve and Carrie when I got home and had bathed Jessie to explain why there were chunks of food in their driveway and why the hose was unraveled and why I'm an amazing freak who is so glad they hadn't turned their hose off, and thanked them profusely.

Later, Carrie told me where the spare key was. I was inches away from it and could have taken her in (to the dismay of their schnauzer) and washed her up, but it all worked out in the end.

I think of that night every time I drive past the house. Steve lives there still, Carrie's a town away from here. I'm going to see her again on Wednesday morning. I'm glad I'm still friends with the both of them, and that we can look back on stuff and it all seems funny.

---

And I'll leave you with this little gem.

Doug just called to me from the living room to let me know that on Sunday night at 8pm EST, Country Music Television (CMT) will broadcast a show called "Cross Roads," which couples a country star with an artist from a ... different genre. Cross Roads this week will make us all writhe in pain with the musical stylin's of with Hank "Bocephus" Williams Junior and KID ROCK. Perhaps they'll do a hip hop ode to football preparedness:

"Hey Hank, You ready for some football?"
"Kid, you mean like a Monday Nite Par-tay?"
"Yup, we got Dennis and Al and Dan, we're gonna git it kick started. Pour a 40 on the curb for our friends who didn't make it to the big dance, know what I'm sayin?"
"Kid, I sure do. Like you always say "Word to Your Mother." "
"Hell, Bocephus! No jive. That's Vanilla Ice. Don't quote his $#!^ at me! Give me some damn credit."
"Sorry Kid. Well, we better get ready, better sit tight, cause all my rapper friends are here on Sunday Night."

---

Sorry. I couldn't resist. You can bet I won't be watching. Thank Goodness Rob washed his hair and took off his ridiculous hat for the show though. Oh what the hell, perhaps I'll watch. Stranger things could happen in the universe, like me being the right Reverend Christine Amusings! HA!

Working for Catering man

8:15am

"Wakey wakey, eggs and bakey."

That's what Doug says to the short people when it is morning and time to rouse their lazy asses from bed. It cracks me up. Not sure where he got it from, but it makes me smile.

It's the kind of morning where I would normally have crawled back into bed by now, but I'm up. Had to get everyone put together for the day. And when the day is grey and gloomy, that makes it difficult. (seriously, the temptation to re-bed is huge right now... HUGE! I tells ya! HUGE!!!!)

It is a warm and threateningly strange morning. The temp on the deck is a balmy 41 degrees, but the air feels dangerous. The news radio weather soothsayer predicteth that a front doth approach and with it shall sup the swift winds of wintery bluster, yea verily... Meaning there will be winds 50 miles per hour and many an umbrella shall meet upon its doom.

Not sure where THAT came from, but again, it makes me laugh.

The temp should hit a low of 12 degrees tonight. Damn.

The weekend was really good. Friday afternoon I got a call from the catering man... the one married to the bible study leader. He needed help on Saturday with prep for two events, and wondered if I was free. Sure. What the heck. It's been years since I did catering food prep, but if he gave me a quick tutorial on what he wanted done, I'd gladly help out. I got there at 9, and he and one high school kid were already there.

They were setting up for a "mercy meal," which I guess is vernacular for a funeral reception. I never heard the term before. He told me it is mostly used in Catholic circles. So we made egg, tuna and chicken salad finger roll sandwiches, fruit plates, brownie/cake plates... and it looked awesome.

Then, they had a dinner to prep for -- 250 guests. I made croutons for the salad, which were AWESOME! And then I helped Paul make beef burgundy. I had to flour coat 40 lbs of beef cubes for him to sear in the grill, and then do the onions and shrooms while he got the wine and the other stuff going, and the veggies and rice. It looked awesome.

They listened to sports radio, and I think they were relieved that I love football, because the radio show was all about... The Patriots, of course. People Still Can't Get Over This! Then the high school kid and I talked about music. We were on the topic of the Foxboro stadium, and I told him I saw Dave Matthews there this summer. He was stoked... he loves Dave and is supposed to go see him at the Fleet Center. So we talked about Blink 182, No Doubt, Dave, BNL, gangsta rap... he says he likes anything but country. When I was his age I said the same thing, but now I can listen to it. Must be an age thing.

I got home at 2:30. I could have stayed longer. But I was under the initial impression that I only was needed for the morning, so knowing that he wanted me to stick around and help more felt pretty good. I was exhausted. My back and shoulders still hurt. I'm achy all over. Meh. I haven't worked that hard since I ran the bakery when Doug and I were first married. So it's been a steady diet of ibuprofin for me since Saturday afternoon.

Sunday morning we had our first fill-in "substitute" pastor in Charles' absence. He too is a retired pastor, from Arlington, and seemed totally cool. He did things a little differently than most of us were accustomed, but we were okay with that. His children's sermon was great. It got a great big laugh from everyone. I think he has agreed to fill in long term so we aren't stuck with a different person every time we need one. So that's kind of refreshing.

The way our church works is every other Sunday is a communion service. The weeks where there is no communion, it is our vestry's intent to have us run things ourselves. We've got people who can do the sermon, we've got a strong verger staff of three, Bob, Charlotte and Eileen, to officiate as laypeople. So those weeks we're all set. It's the communion services that need help. Laypeople cannot administer the sacrament, they can only assist. They can't bless the sacrament, or absolve people with the forgiveness during communion. So there has to be an episcopal ordained minister there for that. We've got a guy in the congregation who is ordained, but he is ordained in the Presbyterian church, so he can do the sermon and participate in other ways, but not give the host. So it's kind of bizarre to every other week get the substitute teacher in.

After church, we took a long, lovely walk in the woods in North Andover, basking in the relative warmth and enjoying the lack of bundling and layering. It was very nice. I took a few pictures but am not yet awake enough to pound them onto the computer screen.

I am having coffee this morning with Naomi from Australia. I used to work with her before she left for greener pastures. The week before I got laid off, SHE got laid off. She didn't see it coming at all. So she has been in a similar predicament for a while, cannot find work, and is starting to get depressed no matter how good a face she puts on things. She lives the next town over, so once in a while we try and hook up for dinner or coffee.

I've had to inadvertently blow her off twice in the last few months, so if I blow her off today she'll truly have the right to think I'm not liking her. Once for sickness, once the night of the Patriots rally (too damn exhausted to speak or breathe after the fact) and now today. There's one thing I feel badly about though... there is a field trip today for my son's school. I offered to chaperone and was told they were all set. On Friday, the teacher told my husband that I was "welcome to come." Now, do you think that's her extending me the invite because I'm laid off and have nothing else to do or is she in need of a chaperone?

I'm afraid it could be the later, but being a stickler for language and how people phrase things, she should have said "We're short a chaperone, please ask your wife if she can..."

Wouldn't that make more sense? I'm not going to go because I've got... issues with intestinal fortitude (that's all you need to know, I'm not into sharing the gory details) and chasing a bunch of four and five year olds around isn't my idea of treating that sort of ailment well.

And, I think Doug wanted me to go because he doesn't think it is fair to Geoff when I don't spend time with him, so here I am having coffee with a friend while blowing off my son's class. What kinda mommy am I? Well, one who doesn't want to deal with 20 screaming kids at Chuck E. Cheese on a dark gloomy day with the trotsky trots in her nether-regions, that's the kind.

But it does seem kind of stupid to go out with a friend instead.

Another problem is that when I have to leave, Geoff probably isn't going to take getting left behind very well. He tends to want to be with me, which he should, and if I leave him there he's bound to be pissed. So going and making an appearance may not be a good idea. Oh the struggles internally that I face as a mommy. I'm going to skip it. I was going to go up after coffee at about 10:30, but I won't. It'll be a mess. It is just bound to be.

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.

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.

Patriots Rally on City Hall Plaza

Couldn't resist. So... guess where I went today?

That would be Boston's City Hall Plaza and yes. I went out in the freezing awful cold to stand around for hours and hoot for guys I couldn't even lay eyes on. I went to the Patriots Welcoming Rally.

Shoulda stayed home and watched on TV, but... I actually had a very nice time.

I had left Ben a voicemail at work yesterday morning saying "Woooooo! Let's go!" and he called me back saying no one else wanted to go with him, and he wanted to, so sure. Let's go. We agreed to meet at his place at 10. I had hoped Holly would come too, but she opted out. She confessed to me that she isn't that big a fan yet and didn't feel that it was something she wanted to do. I would have enjoyed her company.

So Ben and I treked the way into the city, parking in one of the very last spots for the Wonderland T station, and we got to town at about 11:10. The picture above is what greeted us when we came up out of the Government Center T stop. Jumbotron central.

Here's Ben, wearing the best hat on earth... I was able to find him whenever we had a horde of people cram between us. Hurray for the hat!

And here am I. Green wooly cap and sunglasses, freezing and loving it.

And I'm thinking... I'm at the friggin Pats Rally. Holy Shit! I can't believe this! What the hell am I thinking!!!!!!!!

It wasn't nearly as cold as I thought it was going to be. When I left the house it was 18 degrees on the front porch, so I thought the worst and dressed overly warmly. There were tons of people to stop the wind, which wasn't as much of a factor as it could have been for an early February winter day. And it wasn't as bad as long as the sun was shining on us.

We walked around the plaza and realized that no matter where we stood we were shit out of luck if we wanted an actual human view of the stage. So we headed back to the Jumbotron and actually had a great spot to stand and look at the screen.

They were rebroadcasting the game, which sort of pissed me off. I think they should have showed the parade from Copley so we could see the guys as they were coming. The parade started at noon, they got to city hall plaza at about 1:30.

While we waited, this is what we saw.

This woman was one of like four dinguses walking around with these stupid donut things on their heads, bumping into people... Goddam corporate sponsorship stunts. It made me think of Homer Simpson when he sold his soul to the devil for a donut. And in the end his head ends up shaped like a donut and he keeps picking at it. The guy on the right was wearing this cool assed Pats hat that was beat to shit and totally ragged... and in a sea of thousands of brand new hats I thought it was kind of special. So I asked him if I could take his picture and he laughed. He kind of looked like Aaron too, and that made me smile.
The left is the top of Boston City Hall, home of the hack city employees... and there's a bunch of them standing up on top freezing ass. It was really windy up there and all these women are up there wearing fashiony leather coats and jumping up and down to keep warm. Accident waiting to happen. The right picture is part of the crowd between the City Hall Building and the JFK federal building... the stage is at the far end of this crowd, way in the shadows of City Hall. Dumb place for a stage.
This guy and his buddy were a trip. You can't see it in the picture, but he's missing one of his front teeth and the ones that are in there are a friggin' mess. He and his buddy had a running conversation the whole time that amounted to hours of pure drivel. The buddy, who has the hat on at the right edge of the picture and his back is turned, said some of the dumbest things I've ever heard. It is hard to pinpoint exactly what was the dumbest thing that stands out, but trust me...he was full of them. Toothless Guy agreed with every inane comment that came out of his mouth. They were kind of rude to the mentally handicapped dudes that were standing in front of us too, so I SO disliked these guys. Jerks. So much smarter and cooler than the assisted living handicapped guys... meh. I do like this picture though because it looks like God rays shining down from Tremont street right on this dude... There is room at the cross for everyone, even you, ya toothless redneck.
And here are the handicapped guys. They were so nice and funny. They watched every play of the replay and cheered and clapped and booed as if it was happening live. The house girls that brought them were really funny too... great attitudes for two girls who probably didn't want to be hanging out in the cold with these three residents (you can see dude number three in the first picture, far left, hat on backward like Geoffrey likes to wear). The dude in the blue tried to get a hi-five from a guy to my left and the guy just stared at him and then turned his back... so I tapped him on the shoulder and told him that I would gladly give him a hi-five. He was psyched and then told me how much he loves football. He knew every player when they came on the screen, and I talked to him for a while. I make friends very easily. How rude do you have to be to not want to have some friendly time with a dude like this?! They were sweet. Big Huge Pats Fans... and don't make fun of them for being 'retaaaahds' and Pats Fans at the same time like it is some sort of obvious connection. They were infinitely cooler than the toothless redneck and King Sarcasmo standing behind us.
Then the Pats show up, and they come down Tremont street, turn right onto Court Street, and then they went in the back of City Hall up the back stairs to the podium. here's a picture of the crowd facing up to the corner of Tremont and Court. And we can't see the Pats at all.
The wicked cool thing was when they hit the corner of Tremont and Court, they were showing the final drive of the game and Vinitieri's field goal, so everyone was going totally nuts and cheering, cause the timing was perfect. Nicely done jumbotron boys... They then put up a view of the podium, and the sign says "Mayor Thomas Menino and The People of Boston Congratulate the New England Patriots." Then Bob Kraft comes up and puts the Lombardi Trophy up on the stage and the crowd goes insane... Totally insane.
Then, the Jumbotron Breaks. It freezes on this picture of the guys coming up on to the stage. And it is stuck like this and they start the program. ???!!! Uh, hello, tech support! Come fix the jumbotron! So the crowd where we are starts to get restless. King Sarcasmo mentions that he thinks someone should start a chant "Fix the Tron Fix the Tron..." and two seconds later off to our left the chant starts up. He was thrilled at his powers of suggestion and his super human mental strength. He thinks it, we do it. Yes master... shut up! The jumbotron doesn't fix, so some people start bailing and walking away, others start pouring over to the left to try and see the actual stage. Then, they unfreeze the Jumbotron, and put up a Great Big Advertisement for Dunkin Donuts, (used earlier up in the picture of the two dudes from the assisted living house)... kind of a screensaver thing. That gets booed wickedly. We can hear the program going on, and we know there are football guys there smiling and waving, but we're looking at a stinking corporate logo for something that I'd love to have more than anything right then. So the crowd starts getting ugly. They're throwing bottles of water up at the jumbotron and hitting the display. People start cheering. Ben and I both kind of stand there for a minute. At first I thought it was kinda funny, but then thought better of it when full bottles of liquid started to get hurled at the malfunctioning screen. We decided to hotfoot it outta there. Find a bar, eat some food (neither of us had eaten before heading down and the hunger was starting to outweigh the novelty of hanging out...) so retreat was our obvious choice.
Ben suggested we head over to The Rack, a bar by Quincy Market, but there was a huge line waiting to get in there. We looked into a few other Quincy Market Bars, and they were overflowing. So off to the North End. We hit Joe's right there on the waterfront, and it was an hour wait for a table, and the bartender ignored us when we wanted a beer, so we screwed out of there. We looked for the Aquarium T stop so we could bail back to Wonderland and then hit food on Rte 1 or something... but for some odd reason neither of us could FIND the Aquarium T stop. What the heck!!! It used to be at the corner of a hotel in front of the Aquarium, but damned if we could find it. Dumbfounded, we walked south trying to figure out where to go, and decided to bail and cross back to the other side to the Financial District. We found a little Irish joint called Tiernans, it looked like it wasn't too darn crowded... There were two very busy waitresses and the owner greeting and encouraging people to come in and grab a table when ready. He had a nice thick Boston Irish brogue, and was darn friendly. I felt good about the place but kind of apprehensive when I looked at the crowd. How many of these people are here for a drink and how many are waiting for tables. The owner guy's "grab it if you see it open" policy kind of made me nervous. Ben went to the bathroom and a table opened up, so I grabbed it. He was all ready to suggest we bail because he felt the same way I did, so he was surprised to see me sittin' down and readin' a menu. We had a good lunch, a couple beers, watched some of the podium happenings on the TV, and relaxed. Aaah. Beer. Food. Warm. Nice. We got the train back to Wonderland and I got home before rush hour could ruin my day. Stupid Jumbotron! I saw these guys on the way home on I-95. The sign says "Honk for the Pats!!!" They passed me and I honked for them... and they cheered and hooted. Then I wanted a picture so I waited until there was free road in front of both of us and I caught up to them, rolled down the window and took this picture. Those guys were laughing their asses off. The driver is cracking up. I love it. What a day. What a bunch of happy fans. I had a lot of fun today, in spite of the jumbotron screwing up and the incredible amount of friggin people. The news on the way home said that there were 1.2 million people there. Ben and I were two of 'em. Yahhoooooooo! I'm exhausted... but laughing. I so never need to go to another one of these things again as long as I live. I went. It was fun. I'm old... Here are some observations I'd like to pass on: 1. Don't bring strollers or small ambulatory children to things like this. This particular event was rather mellow, but this whole thing coulda turned wicked ugly, wicked fast... so for the love of your kids, stay home and watch it on TV even if they beg you to take them. 2. High school kids should just get a room. Man. I saw more hanging on, pawing, and other gratuitously overt displays of love here that kind of surprised me. Get a room. Tell your parents you're going to the rally and stay home and paw each other. Man. The show here is supposed to be the Super Bowl Champs, not you and your Newton Lower Falls cheerleadin' girlfriend. Snarf. 3. There wasn't nearly enough face paint or other ridiculous behavior. If the Steelers had won, or the Raiders... fuggeddaboutit. The scene would have been full of crazy dressed freaks from every corner of the stratosphere out there showing their true colors. The fans here were patient, mellow, rather polite... kind of a let down. Not enough chanting, yelling, cheering. Perhaps it was where we were... The announcer came on the loudspeaker twice and told people in front of the stage to stop pushing and to stop doing the wave, that people were getting hurt. 4. Have a backup plan for the jumbotron, show the parade instead of a rebroadcast of the game, and for crying out loud, thank you for not letting Mayor "Mumbles" Menino talk. That was the best move of the day. I so enjoy hanging out with Ben. He is so easy going, that sometimes it is such a relief. He didn't come into the day with an agenda in his mind that only he knew and wasn't willing to share... he's all about "whatever works. Let's go..." I am like that too for the most part, so a couple times the two of us stood there not doing anything, which was funny. Kind of weird. I am glad it was just us because Dan and Brian might not have had fun just standing around. So this was nice. The bummer thing is that this morning after I dropped Geoff off at preschool I was almost in a car accident. I was driving up the road and a guy wanted to make a left hand turn but obviously had to wait for me. But he decided he didn't want to wait until I passed... he decided to jump RIGHT out where I am... without waiting for me to pass. I slammed on the brakes, held my breath and closed my eyes. I ended up in the oncoming lane, and the guy was basically touching my right front fender and screaming at me. He was an old fart, with a HAT on... gotta watch those guys in hats. I stepped on the gas and drove away, and he sat there for the longest time. I could see him in my rear view mirror. Sitting there. Hope he was so scared by what he did that he shit his pants or something. MEH!!! I actually for a split second was totally convinced beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was going to hit me. Then, I said, Ben's waiting for me. I have no cell phone to call him and say "buddy, I can't make it." Football fan angels were watchin' over me. My right hip and knee are killing me from the slamming of the brakes, just like a few months ago when I was coughing and almost hit someone and slammed my brakes. The freezing weather didn't help the stiffness. So a hot bath and a shot of whiskey are in order... And a nice hot pad. AAAAAHHHHH. Okay. I gotta post this for posterity. Woo! and again I say Woo. Thanks for indulging me these past few days. Your regularly amusing journal will not be football filled henceforth. Yay Pats.