Day 6

A long time ago, while I was between lives, I worked at a large book retailer. For $6.00 an hour I could stand for eight hours and point breathless housewives to the giant shelf of Oprah Book Club books that they had just walked past in order to demand that they hadn't seen it anywhere. I also got to clean the restrooms.

One day, someone did something unspeakable to one of the restrooms and we were all back in the break room fighting about who would have to clean it up. A very cute boy with whom I had never had a shift before, finally sighed and said: "You all are useless. I'll just do it," and walked off with rubber gloves and a mop. I sat and watched him leave and wondered at this boy who would calmly step up to take responsibility for a vile and disgusting task that no one else would touch. I wondered at this boy as I watched him in the days to come, flirt with the middle-aged ladies who ran the office and make them blush. I watched him draw customers in conspiratorially to find the title of a book. I watched him dress up as Waldo from the Where's Waldo book series and entertain a room full of screaming children. I just watched for a while, though, remaining mute and trying to melt into the background.

I watched him save me a seat on a bench for my lunch break, with a cup of hot coffee waiting for me. I watched him dance to Birdhouse In Your Soul in a deserted parking lot in the middle of the night and tell me I was the only bee in his bonnet. I watched him ask my dad important philosophical questions and listen carefully to the answers. I watched him make my mom laugh. I watched him hand over money to my sister so she would quit the job where her boss sexually harassed her. I watched him while he drove us in midnight circles, listening to music and talking about all the world. I watched him introduce me to his friends and family. I watched him leave work to go and sit with his mom at the hospital when she had an emergency hysterectomy. I watched him take his little sister to dance lessons and pick her up again, turning the music up loud and laughing at her junior high silliness.

And then one day I watched him through a plate glass window after the store had closed, as he got down on one knee in the cold and showed me a picture of a ring.

I have watched this boy over the last fourteen and a half years grow into a man - become a husband, a father, a lawyer, a leader. I have watched him get up every day and shoulder responsibilities that the people around him have refused to do. I have watched him walk boldly into unspeakable messes and try to clean them up because it had to be done and no one else was willing. I have watched him work as many hours as were necessary to support us. I have watched him study long into the night for finals with a newborn baby on his shoulder. I have watched him take care, take action, take part, take responsibility. I have watched him bestow fatherly gentleness and affection that he has never received. I have watched him smile just for me. I have watched him dance, I have watched him cry, I have watched him survive, I have watched him live, I have watched him give and give and give.

I sat in a crowded room last night and watched him tell a group of people that his marriage is a tiny piece of the divine. I have watched this man over so many years and I hope for many more. I renew my vows every morning with such humbling gratitude that this man has let me watch him all these years and that he shares his magic with me. 

A Blessedly Messy Business

Around the end of the last century I decided to divide my heart in half and share it with a really important person. He gave it back to me whole and then some. I've never understood the finer points of the "hard sciences" - some say it has something to do with chemistry or some such. Perhaps mitosis? That's biology. And it rhymes with halitosis, so I reject it. Olivia Newton John said something about physics once, didn't she? I was distracted by the headband, can't remember. But this greatly nuanced and highly developed scientific investigation proves one thing to me: it's a phenomenon that isn't necessarily codified or quantifiable.

Just to test this theorem, we took our combined hearts and split them open again almost eight years ago and then there was this very small, delightfully distracting and demanding person in our home, all up under our skin. The hearts involved never healed properly because there was so much extra material packed into and around them - like booby trapped overstuffed chairs. Once we grew accustomed to our enlarged chest cavities, we three decided to pool our resources and make room for one more. It seemed my daughter had an endless supply - just stuffed in that little body like a clown car - we stood back in amazement as her heart poured out and out and out. Not to be outdone, we did the same.

Now there's this whole big mess of hearts under our roof. Sometimes we step on it and have to back up slowly, apologizing. Sometimes someone loses theirs and someone else steps up and shares a bit of theirs until the first someone gets it back together. Sometimes we stretch that rubbery, sticky mess as far as it will go in four directions so we can have our own bits for a while. Sometimes there are intruders. People who would want to come and meddle around in that. Sometimes we let them visit for a while. Sometimes they are unwelcome. Sometimes I wonder how we all got in this mess to begin with. Sometimes I wonder how exactly it all works. Sometimes I wonder if this is how it works for everyone. Sometimes I wonder if at some point the whole mess untangles. Most of the time I don't really care. I don't know the answers to any of these wonders why.

What I do know is that when I tell them I love them with all of my heart, it's a blessedly messy business.

Remember that time we got married?

Photo courtesy
 walkermetalsmiths.com

August 17 - 20, 1997 - Took an impromptu road trip with some people I had just met to a place I had never been. Returned home. Realized it wasn't home.

Sometime late August, 1997 - Parents returned from Kazakhstan. Announced they were moving to Houston, Texas. Asked me to go with them. Resounding no.

Labor Day Weekend, 1997 - Packed my stuff and cat, Chicken. Left promising career as waitress at steak house, beloved 1979 BMW 325i, and not-so-beloved-ex-boyfriend-who-had-trouble-accepting-the-ex-part behind. Moved to Houston, Texas.

Sometime in early September, 1997 - Cat, Chicken, received snake bite on front paw. Late-night visit to veterinary emergency clinic. Reconsidered this God-forsaken place I'd moved to.

Sometime later that week, 1997 - Received envelope from Not-so-beloved-ex containing only a check from  sale of beloved 1979 BMW 325i and three photos of new Jeep Wrangler. Name misspelled on envelope. Decided Texas wasn't so bad after all.

Late September, 1997 - Took job, despite parents' protestations, at Barnes and Noble. Lost self in alphabetizing and ladies who lunch. Charming co-worker, rumored to be heart breaker, introduced himself at shift change: "You're the new girl, right?" Walked away.

Later September, 1997 - Charming co-worker / Rumored heart breaker invited me to cigar bar after work to play pool. I neither drink, nor smoke cigars, nor play pool. Went anyway.

Still September, 1997 - Discovered over coffee that charming heart breaker was not ladies man, after all. Rumors spread by psycho hose beast co-worker feeling rejected. Also discovered charming co-worker was extremely intelligent and awkward with women.

Early October, 1997 - Different co-worker with teeth like shovels invited me to see downtown Houston. Spent day avoiding breathtakingly clumsy advances and wondering what Charming co-worker was up to.

Later same evening, 1997 - Teased mercilessly by Charming co-worker for how I'd spent my day.

Wee hours of next morning, 1997 - Charming co-worker made up for teasing with coffee at all-night Denny's. Laughed like I hadn't done in months. Alarm bells went off.

Mid-October, 1997 - Invited Charming co-worker to They Might Be Giants show with sister and boyfriend. Borrowed money from sister's boyfriend to pay our cover. Made Charming co-worker drop me in grocery store parking lot near my house so he wouldn't see where I lived.

October 24, 1997 - My 23rd birthday. Charming co-worker showed up at work on day off to bring cup of coffee and  Fiona Apple CD. Feigned surprise that it was my birthday. Smooth.

October 25 - November 16, 1997 - Expended much effort casually bumping into Charming co-worker. Sometimes shared lunch break, later discovered was organized by Assistant Manager who saw more than we did.

November 17, 1997 - Went to Austin on day off to see more interesting parts of Texas. Incidentally, to be vetted by college friends. Fainted in Quackenbush's on 6th. Muffins looked extremely vivid in display case. Came around with face on Formica table. There was no real good explanation for this nonsense.

Wee hours, November 18, 1997 - Got back from Austin at 4 AM. Despite my being lame fainting girl on date, kissed me in the car. "I Can See Clearly Now" on radio.

November 19, 1997 - Felt like idiot for fainting incident. Decided to be casual about kiss. He refused to accept either state of mind. Mercilessly teased and made cryptic announcements on loudspeaker at work concerning muffins. Took me out after work. Kissed me again.

Later that week, 1997 - Decided we were dating. Purchased copy of 147 Fun Things to do in Houston.

Thanksgiving weekend, 1997 - Called on Thanksgiving to say hi. Mentioned that his aunt made White Castle Dressing for the turkey. Failed to mention he was going to college friend's lake house for remainder of  weekend. Spent 3 days post-turkey driving aimlessly, fuming, writing lots of bad, bad, angry poetry. Came to senses and decided only logical course of action: break up.

Within an hour of his returning, Thanksgiving weekend, 1997 - Went out for coffee. Script of preemptive heart break preempted by him. Disclosed he was falling madly in love with me. Could leave if I thought he was crazy. Explained I was crazy too, then.

Early December, 1997 - Begged him to locate, and then take me to, The Hobbit Hole Restaurant as described  in 147 Fun Things to do in Houston. I ordered the Gandalf - a 3-inch thick guacamole and egg salad sandwich. Spent remainder of evening surreptitiously farting.

Christmas, 1997 - First Christmas I had ever escaped to spend it with someone outside family of origin. Gave me a blown glass fountain pen with ink to dip it in. Gave him a book about cigars and a crappy mix tape. Decided I was completely insane and never wanted to be without him. Began planning my exit.

New Years Eve, 1997/1998 - Further endeared himself  by attending extremely lame NYE party thrown by  my mom. Wore a silly hat.

Early January, 1998 - Wavered on exit strategy. Tried instead to talk around subject at Denny's. Uttered garbled nonsense: "I worry about the longevity of our relationship". Drunk vomited an astonishing amount of alcohol and pancakes all over the table next to us. Discussion tabled (no pun intended) until further notice.

Later in early January, 1998 - Registered for classes at a frightening state university an hour and a half away. Drove me to registration. Bawled on the way home [me, not him]. Didn't want to leave. He said "Or we could get married." I said "OK". He got out, put gas in car, got back in. Said "Did you just say OK?"

January 10, 1998 - Celebrated his birthday. Attended special performance of  Houston Symphony and Choir: Beethoven's 9th, Ode to Joy. They played that just for us.

Later that week in January, 1998 - Worked different shifts. He showed up waving catalog of Celtic knot jewelry I liked. Given to him by my dad. Conspiracy complete.

Sometime in January, 1998 - Told his mom he was going to marry me. Screamed: "Is she pregnant?!" Proceeded to cry, hug, and lend him money for ring.

February, 1998 - Stood in bathroom getting ready for work. Soft knocking followed by a single rose and small blue box extended around corner of bathroom door.
"I have something for you."
"OK, let me put some pants on."

July 3, 1998 - Married. Fajita bar at reception. Spent remainder of evening surreptitiously farting.

July 4, 1998 - Whole country celebrated in our honor with fireworks, barbecues.

Sometime last month, 2011 - Mom, on phone to me: "Sometimes you just meet someone and they smell like home."



**Written in response to Weekly Writing Prompt from Mama Kat's Pretty Much World Famous Writer's Workshop: "Married? Tell us the story of how the question was popped." I sort of followed directions. Check out Mama Kat at http://www.mamakatslosinit.com/. **

What If Wednesday

What if?
whisper slips
winking wordless
distant misty
dream shores.


What if?
screams
choked sobs
sweats
opens up the night.


Above is a cheery little poem fragment I've been working on for exactly a year today. I came across it in my journal and thought... what if? What if we play the What If Game today. If nothing else, it's an exercise in imagining alternate universes. Might come in handy if someone is writing a sci-fi novel this month. So here are a few that have been kicking around the noodle. Feel free to add your own. Feel free to provide answers if you have them, too.

There's a handsome devil

What if Florida had declared for Gore in 2000?

What if, like in a dream I had once, I had a small hand growing out of my left index finger that gave me advice?

What if the whole world simultaneously decided that Kim Kardashian has nothing to do with anything?

What if all my Facebook "friends" were actually all in the same room together?

What if my dad had gone to Canada instead of Viet Nam?

What if wishes really were horses? Can you imagine the smell?

What if I had married the first person who asked me?

What if I ate only bean nachos and sushi for the rest of my life?

What if my kids were horrible and annoying? Would I know? What if they really are and I just don't think so because I'm their mom?

What if suddenly there was no more electricity, ever? What would we all do?

What if someone actually read this blog and commented on it?

Flotsam and Jetsam

I have very little capacity for small talk. I listen politely and smile, answer direct questions when asked, and then usually blurt something vaguely appalling that stops conversation dead and then abruptly walk away after a few seconds of uncomfortable silence. Yet people still talk to me.

I have a deep and abiding love of the U.S. Postal Service. I mail things as often as possible and see the postage increases as an opportunity for new stamps. One of my dreams is to be on the Citizens' Stamp Advisory Committee.

I used to drive a green 1973 Chevy Impala. I was on a first name, hugging basis with the tow truck driver. Sometimes I really miss that car.

I was thinking about Heraclitus the other day. When he said "you cannot step twice in the same river; for other waters are ever-flowing on to you," I'm not sure he was talking about being a mom. He could have been, though.

I dated a guy once who complained about my vocabulary. "Why can't you just talk normal [sic] like everybody else?" He asked me to marry him. I said no.

My Jaybird was all excited after school yesterday because as part of their Social Studies unit on communities, they are building a city and writing laws. The mayor of Seattle sent their class a proclamation recognizing their fictitious community. "Mama! I was so excited I cried a little!"

I really want to learn how to rap. I think that would help with awkward social silences.

I cried a little during an episode of Curious George this morning. George's friend Betsy has chicken pox and misses a performance of her favorite opera, Hansel and Gretel. George re-enacts the opera for her using finger puppets and makes a finger puppet that looks just like Betsy to play the Dew Fairy. It was just such a thoughtful gesture for a cartoon monkey to make.

The Hooligan explained to me how his "brain was acting funny" on the way home from soccer practice yesterday. He said he kept seeing flashes "like at school picture day" coming out of the traffic lights. I assured him he was probably hungry and tired and we'd take care of it. I spent the rest of the evening worrying that he had a brain tumor.

I am much more comfortable delivering a soliloquy on stage in front of hundreds of strangers than I am mingling at a party. A complete stranger that I met in a park when I was 16 told me that was because I am a coward. For a long time I believed him.

Sometimes when I'm doing housework, I make up poems in my head to keep it interesting. My favorite is "Piles to Fold Before I Sleep".

I religiously read instructional signs and follow them - stay off the grass, do not touch, no food or beverages allowed, take one. The one firm exception to this rule is any sign indicating where I can or cannot park and for how long. For some reason those are completely invisible to me.

I have a recurring nightmare that we find out my daughter's verbal acumen and bright personality are the result of a brain tumor that's pressing on her temporal lobe. We are given the choice of operating to save her life but sacrificing her personality and speech or letting her go on as she is, knowing she will die young.

One time when I was nine, I fit 227 candy corns in my mouth at once.

When my husband and I got engaged, I read somewhere that the top three reasons for divorce are fights about money, in-laws, and children. We agreed to never fight about those things. So far, so good.

I write extremely silly cover letters for job interviews. I figure they should know up front what they are getting into. Sometimes I even get hired.

I had lived in 6 states and 3 countries by the time I turned 18. I never feel quite at home anywhere, but I feel quite at home everywhere.

First semester of my freshman year in college, a close friend of mine died from a brain tumor that had been quietly growing for years. A few hours before she died, she and I had a spectacular collision on the softball field. A lot of people blamed me for her death. It wasn't my fault.

I dated a guy once who asked me to tell him all about the strangest place I'd ever lived. I took the next hour and told him about Wrightsville, Pennsylvania. I don't think that was what he was going for. He also asked me to marry him. I said no.

Whenever I log into Twitter, it reminds me of a semester in college when I told the advisor I was interested in "Urban Planning" and she signed me up for mechanical engineering courses. I wanted to plant flowers and stage theatrical performances starring homeless people. I found myself in classes surrounded by people who spoke a language of symbols and numbers that were incomprehensible to me.

I don't mind appearing vulnerable, but sometimes I mind appearing strong.

Ten words I hear almost every day that just make me fall in love with my husband all over again: "I'm on my way home. Can I pick anything up?"

My daughter likes to play "The Stranger Game". She invented it when she was 3. She pretends she is an orphan who has turned up on our doorstep and creates a whole back story for herself as she "meets" us. I think she is practicing for the day she will disown us all.

My mom sent my son a potted plant for his 5th birthday. He tore open the box, looked at it for a second and then said "Oh. That's not what I was expecting."

I have a recurring nightmare of being trapped in an endless public restroom. It's one of those up and down sort of nightmares because sometimes I bump into old friends.

I dated a guy once who told me he "had a vested interest" in my taking my lunch break at work because his was next. He asked me to marry him. I said yes.