K turned 9 years old yesterday. 9 years old! And she's starting freakin' 4th grade today. Quick, get me my walker.
I felt it even more so when J turned 16 this passed summer. Wasn't I just 16? I was her nanny, for crying out loud. I watched The Little Mermaid with her every day of the summer of 1992. Every damn day! We had a regular morning lineup, too. Sesame Street and Barney on channel 13-PBS, followed by old 21 Jumpstreet and Batman (with Adam West and Burt Ward) reruns on channel 11 before it became the WB. The Little Mermaid was saved for later in the day after lunch and a dip in the pool. How is she suddenly ready to drive? And she's taken college courses, too. That kid's gonna have more credits by the end of high school than I have now.
But I digress. We had a little party for K last night, complete with pizza, presents, and Italian cake (oh-so-good). The kid got a shload of new clothes for school (most August and September kids would bitch about getting clothes for their birthdays but K looked like she was about to go into fashion overload), an entirely new bedroom revamped by her mom this weekend while she was at her grandmother's house (surprise!) and a ticket to go to Florida with my Mom. The elation on her face-- I wish I could bottle it and drink it myself. I think I would live forever if I could do that.
Her bedroom is absolutely gorgeous. This isn't the first time my sister has redone the room as a surprise for K, but the last time, the room was a bit extreme. She had painted the walls hot pink. Yeah, hot pink walls in a 9X10 room. My claustrophobia always got to me whenever I went in there. And she had painted sections of the white bedroom set hot pink and bright purple. Pink and purple paint over a white lacquered dresser-- it was not too pretty. I think the paint could have been scratched off with a fingernail. K was 4 though, and she thought it was just so cool.
I think the pink finally started to get to her because when my sister started to redecorate the rest of the house, she asked if she could do her room, as well. M told her eventually, but that she was busy at the moment. K accepted that and waited for the day when her mom would not be so busy. Little did she know that M had a plan all along.
She had told me she was going to paint the room blue and green with a chair rail to separate the two colors. As long as the colors weren't too dark, I thought that would look very nice. Then as the neighbors were moving out last week, they mentioned that they had some wainscoting lying around that they didn't need and if anybody wanted it, they could have it. M grabbed that stuff as fast as she could and got to work. All Saturday and Sunday, M cleared the room out, put up the wainscoting, painted, stenciled, moved the furniture back in, hung new curtains and mini-blinds, put new bedding on, and even fixed the closet door that had been broken for the passed 6 years. She ended up painting the top portion of the wall light blue and the wainscoting white. The place looks like a room in a doll house, complete with patchwork quilt at the end of the bed.
Needless to say, the kid was floored by it.
When I got home from work last night and went upstairs, she immediately showed me her room. She showed me every new thing that had been done to it one at a time. At the end of the evening, she said that it was definitely the best present she got this year.
That kid is really something. I like her; I think I'll keep her.
Tuesday, August 30, 2005
Friday, August 26, 2005
Who DOESN'T like to be hit on?
Shenry just reminded me of something that happened years ago that's still a boost to my ego to this very day.
I believe it was Kev, Mike, Tom, and me at Bennigan's probably 4 or 5 years ago, before I met Harry. We had met there after I had gotten out of work, as usual, to have a few drinks and some stimulating conversation. We were probably on our 3rd beer of the evening when the guys noticed a very attractive young woman sitting across the bar. She looked to be around our age, and she was with 2 or 3 other girls having a few drinks, just like us.
The guys couldn't get over how fine this female was. I was used to hearing them talk, and occasionally, I would even get involved in the conversation. This was one of those times.
Both Kevin and Mike claimed she had been looking at them. I told them they were crazy; a chick like that would have no use for either of them (heh heh). A few minutes later, though, it became apparent that that she was, indeed, staring in their general direction, although I couldn't tell which one of them she was staring at.
A few minutes passed by, and she just kept sneaking glances. I couldn't believe it; she actually WAS interested in one of them. Kev and Mike were ready to start placing bets on who it was when she made her move. At first I thought she was making her way over to the ladies room, but no, she was headed right for us.
I held my breath, shivering with anticipation as to which one she would choose. She approached us slowly, a cigarette, not yet lit, hanging between her lips. And then she spoke...
"Can I have a light?"
And she was asking ME. Yeah, ME. The guys jaws dropped.
I smiled and lit her cigarette for her. She smiled and said thanks.
And I dropped the ball and started laughing. Not at her but at the guys.
She held my gaze for a second (while I tried to get my laughter under control), tilted her head a little, smiled again, and then walked back over to her friends.
And the guys still had their mouths hanging wide open.
Classic.
I believe it was Kev, Mike, Tom, and me at Bennigan's probably 4 or 5 years ago, before I met Harry. We had met there after I had gotten out of work, as usual, to have a few drinks and some stimulating conversation. We were probably on our 3rd beer of the evening when the guys noticed a very attractive young woman sitting across the bar. She looked to be around our age, and she was with 2 or 3 other girls having a few drinks, just like us.
The guys couldn't get over how fine this female was. I was used to hearing them talk, and occasionally, I would even get involved in the conversation. This was one of those times.
Both Kevin and Mike claimed she had been looking at them. I told them they were crazy; a chick like that would have no use for either of them (heh heh). A few minutes later, though, it became apparent that that she was, indeed, staring in their general direction, although I couldn't tell which one of them she was staring at.
A few minutes passed by, and she just kept sneaking glances. I couldn't believe it; she actually WAS interested in one of them. Kev and Mike were ready to start placing bets on who it was when she made her move. At first I thought she was making her way over to the ladies room, but no, she was headed right for us.
I held my breath, shivering with anticipation as to which one she would choose. She approached us slowly, a cigarette, not yet lit, hanging between her lips. And then she spoke...
"Can I have a light?"
And she was asking ME. Yeah, ME. The guys jaws dropped.
I smiled and lit her cigarette for her. She smiled and said thanks.
And I dropped the ball and started laughing. Not at her but at the guys.
She held my gaze for a second (while I tried to get my laughter under control), tilted her head a little, smiled again, and then walked back over to her friends.
And the guys still had their mouths hanging wide open.
Classic.
Wednesday, August 24, 2005
A real, live letter!
A couple of weeks ago, I had a few minutes at work all to myself, so I sat down and wrote a letter. Yes, a real, live letter on paper with a pen in my crappy, crazy print/script. I even made a copy of it to keep with all my old letters. Have you ever done that before? Made a copy of your own letter to keep so you could read it later on?
I wrote the letter to Jess, who has always been THE letter writer. I have tons of old letters from our college days in an old photo box which I took out recently and reread, laughing my full head off. I miss those days. I guess I wanted a little piece of that back.
So here is the letter, pretty much in its entirety. No need to read it if you don't feel like it; there's lots of inside jokes only Jess and I will get:
Hey there Chica-
When's the last time one of us did this? Oh, the days of writing letters and enclosing little magazine clippings or photocopied pictures of Scott Weiland (which I still have, by the way). Where did those days go? I remember both my eagerness and greediness, ripping into those homemade envelopes, feasting my eyes on pages of your print/script thoughts. I came across a HUGE bundle of your letters from our college days not too long ago; they were neatly elasticed together, still in the envelopes they came in. Kevin's letters from the Navy were in there, too. I read through a few of yours, trying to recall who this boy was and where I was in my life then. I noticed my name changes on the envelopes from V----- to C------ back to V-----, and the address changes, as well, from ** Catherine to *** N------. There were quite a few about A+; it took me a while to remember his real first name. I wish I had some of the letters I wrote back; I wonder what faerytale lies I was spinning as my first marriage was being flushed down the toilet (and no, your dad didn't have his finger on the handle for that one, heh heh). I have the distinct feeling that I would laugh ferociously at my younger self. She thought she was so smuckin' fart.
I came across a padded envelope filled with goodies from you, too. Inside, there was a letter you wrote to Tom and me. I remember the day that package arrived. I called him up right away, and he came racing over. I remember the two of us spending hours going through each individual thing you had sent, and the both of us getting so excited when we found you had sent doubles of a few things with each of our names neatly printed on the back. I still have my lovely laminated copy of "The Gospel According to Luke"; I proudly displayed it in my cube here at work for some time.
I don't know why I've felt the need for so much introspection and reminiscences these passed few months; maybe it was the MRI, maybe it was the gray hair. Maybe I miss the good ole days when you were still on the right coast or when we spoke at least once a day when you were out in L.A. I still can't believe we managed to talk as much as we did then; when did we find the time to work?
I think back on all these things, but instead of really longing for them, they simply put a smile on my face. These two girls were absolutely crazy, yet they thought they had everything under control. I think that makes me laugh the most.
I miss days at Beans Cuisine drinking coffee, writing poetry, talking and laughing (and making fun of the herd at Archie's - well, until the day we finally ventured over there ourselves and became two of the cows in the sea of bulls). I remember going there with Jen D. and Michael Mouse and that one time we took Audra there.
I remember even further back to our high school days and going to Marnick's after a morning of finals. How many times did we do that? I remember Saturdays visiting you at The Pouch and Chinese Fire Drills on the exit ramp on our way to the "Hamlet" cast party. That was the night I tried weed for the first time and either you or Kristen wanted one munchkin at D&Ds. The same night you laughed your ass off about eyebrows while there was a cop sitting behind us the whole time. I still can't believe we didn't get busted that night.
Then there was that night we stole away from my house for a late showing of "Interview with a Vampire", which I will always somehow associate with "the stakeout". They happened around the same time because I remember parking in front of your house after the movie, hoping the guy would drive by. Were we on crack?
I can go back even further to Saturdays at Our Lady of Grace followed by a walk to WaWa's for FijiFruits and vegging out in front of the TV watching "Dr. Fad" and "I'm Telling". Yeah, I sometimes forget that I'm 28 and not 27, but i will forever remember the sweatshirt of Wacky Wall-Walkers. Funny what our brains retain.
I remember when we first met in Mr. Moyher's class, and you thought Dan and I were brother and sister. I remember Sean sporting his proton pack. I remember "Hominy grits do you think there are?" I remember that God-awful picture of me and M in my room holding my Pound Purry you took all those years ago which I now always associate with the mountain of Frosted Flakes, even though those two events happened years apart. That was the day Trezbo and Ozbert were born while we were playing MTV's Remote Control on my Nintendo.
I hope this little stroll down memory lane is putting as big a smile on your face as it is on mine. I think I'll even photocopy this letter so I can read it again years from now. Will I still remember all of these things? How many more gray hairs will I have? Which state will you be living in? How far away are we now from where we thought we would be then? I am most definitely not a teacher living in a cool city, with hordes of students hanging on my every word. That dream has long since died.
But I am happy. That part I got right.
I love ya, hon-
Alicia
I wrote the letter to Jess, who has always been THE letter writer. I have tons of old letters from our college days in an old photo box which I took out recently and reread, laughing my full head off. I miss those days. I guess I wanted a little piece of that back.
So here is the letter, pretty much in its entirety. No need to read it if you don't feel like it; there's lots of inside jokes only Jess and I will get:
Hey there Chica-
When's the last time one of us did this? Oh, the days of writing letters and enclosing little magazine clippings or photocopied pictures of Scott Weiland (which I still have, by the way). Where did those days go? I remember both my eagerness and greediness, ripping into those homemade envelopes, feasting my eyes on pages of your print/script thoughts. I came across a HUGE bundle of your letters from our college days not too long ago; they were neatly elasticed together, still in the envelopes they came in. Kevin's letters from the Navy were in there, too. I read through a few of yours, trying to recall who this boy was and where I was in my life then. I noticed my name changes on the envelopes from V----- to C------ back to V-----, and the address changes, as well, from ** Catherine to *** N------. There were quite a few about A+; it took me a while to remember his real first name. I wish I had some of the letters I wrote back; I wonder what faerytale lies I was spinning as my first marriage was being flushed down the toilet (and no, your dad didn't have his finger on the handle for that one, heh heh). I have the distinct feeling that I would laugh ferociously at my younger self. She thought she was so smuckin' fart.
I came across a padded envelope filled with goodies from you, too. Inside, there was a letter you wrote to Tom and me. I remember the day that package arrived. I called him up right away, and he came racing over. I remember the two of us spending hours going through each individual thing you had sent, and the both of us getting so excited when we found you had sent doubles of a few things with each of our names neatly printed on the back. I still have my lovely laminated copy of "The Gospel According to Luke"; I proudly displayed it in my cube here at work for some time.
I don't know why I've felt the need for so much introspection and reminiscences these passed few months; maybe it was the MRI, maybe it was the gray hair. Maybe I miss the good ole days when you were still on the right coast or when we spoke at least once a day when you were out in L.A. I still can't believe we managed to talk as much as we did then; when did we find the time to work?
I think back on all these things, but instead of really longing for them, they simply put a smile on my face. These two girls were absolutely crazy, yet they thought they had everything under control. I think that makes me laugh the most.
I miss days at Beans Cuisine drinking coffee, writing poetry, talking and laughing (and making fun of the herd at Archie's - well, until the day we finally ventured over there ourselves and became two of the cows in the sea of bulls). I remember going there with Jen D. and Michael Mouse and that one time we took Audra there.
I remember even further back to our high school days and going to Marnick's after a morning of finals. How many times did we do that? I remember Saturdays visiting you at The Pouch and Chinese Fire Drills on the exit ramp on our way to the "Hamlet" cast party. That was the night I tried weed for the first time and either you or Kristen wanted one munchkin at D&Ds. The same night you laughed your ass off about eyebrows while there was a cop sitting behind us the whole time. I still can't believe we didn't get busted that night.
Then there was that night we stole away from my house for a late showing of "Interview with a Vampire", which I will always somehow associate with "the stakeout". They happened around the same time because I remember parking in front of your house after the movie, hoping the guy would drive by. Were we on crack?
I can go back even further to Saturdays at Our Lady of Grace followed by a walk to WaWa's for FijiFruits and vegging out in front of the TV watching "Dr. Fad" and "I'm Telling". Yeah, I sometimes forget that I'm 28 and not 27, but i will forever remember the sweatshirt of Wacky Wall-Walkers. Funny what our brains retain.
I remember when we first met in Mr. Moyher's class, and you thought Dan and I were brother and sister. I remember Sean sporting his proton pack. I remember "Hominy grits do you think there are?" I remember that God-awful picture of me and M in my room holding my Pound Purry you took all those years ago which I now always associate with the mountain of Frosted Flakes, even though those two events happened years apart. That was the day Trezbo and Ozbert were born while we were playing MTV's Remote Control on my Nintendo.
I hope this little stroll down memory lane is putting as big a smile on your face as it is on mine. I think I'll even photocopy this letter so I can read it again years from now. Will I still remember all of these things? How many more gray hairs will I have? Which state will you be living in? How far away are we now from where we thought we would be then? I am most definitely not a teacher living in a cool city, with hordes of students hanging on my every word. That dream has long since died.
But I am happy. That part I got right.
I love ya, hon-
Alicia
Tuesday, August 23, 2005
I would laugh at myself
Harry was driving us up to his mom's new nursing home on Sunday for a visit. This is a rare occurrence, when Harry is the one driving. I like driving. I feel more comfortable behind the wheel. And I'll admit it, I'm a terrible passenger. I've come to find that I'm not the only woman like this. We feel a loss of control when merely observing things pass us by instead of being engaged continuously in the motion of the vehicle we're in. That's not to say that I'd like to learn how to fly a plane to get from point A to point B; I usually don't look out the window, so I'm not observing anything. I have this rare form of logic, see? It seems to only work in MY brain.
Anyway, we're driving along, and since it's Harry's car, he gets control of the radio dial. I sometimes let him have control of the dial in my car since we're in it so much, but we usually stick with the rule that if it's your car, you have complete control. Mwah ha ha!
So we're listening to '80s metal (on a radio station in these parts known as "The Bone"), and, of course, the volume is up. After driving for a few minutes, Harry realizes that the radio's maybe a little to loud for me and turns it down. I simply say, "thank you". He starts to laugh. This is an ongoing joke. Everything seems to be too loud for me nowadays-- the tv, the radio, the air condition, the dishwasher. My hearing seems to have gotten more acute as I age. 'Tis very strange.
He says, "What would your teenage self say to you if she met you today?" to which I replied, "I would laugh at myself."
It's true; I was one of those teenagers (and even during my early 20s) that blasted the radio in the car as I drove. I cranked it up to the top notch of the volume, and that STILL wasn't loud enough. People used to yell at me from outside my car for me to "turn it down!" I've been told I could wake up the dead with my car radio.
And then that all changed about 2 years ago. All of a sudden, everything was much too loud. It would actually hurt my ears to have the volume up any more than 3 notches. I'd listen to the TV low, so low that I could actually hear my sister's TV upstairs over my own. Oh, and the movie theatres! Don't even get me started. I think a deaf person could hear the dialogue through the vibrations in the floorboards.
I don't think I could go to a rock concert again. Sadness. I'll have to listen to sad songs and waltzes live for the rest of my days. No more Poison concerts for me.
It's really not that big a deal; it's just funny to see how much I've changed. 18-year-old Alicia wouldn't even believe that I'm her 10 years from her present. She just wouldn't. She'd say, "who is this lame-ass woman standing before me?" or something to that affect. I'm like the anti-Alicia, I'm nearly everything I said I would never be. Yet, the most interesting aspect of that is that I've managed to integrate all these new personality traits with most of the old ones.
There's still a little of the 18-year-old Alicia there; She's simply grown up and evolved. And then there are new pieces of me that came from out of left field. The changes-- my new fondness for plants and flowers (even if I still can't manage to keep them all alive), wearing my glasses all the time, regardless of how they look, wearing colors instead of black all the time (even flower prints!), having normal colored hair (no more pink or purple), quitting smoking, really getting into home decor, watching DIY shows on TV, finding an appreciation for the music my mother listens to, finding appreciation for my mother, the list goes on and on.
I just wouldn't believe that I'm me.
And the clincher...
Harry and I just purchased this---->
Freakin' fine china... in my home. The Earth must have stopped spinning.
And do you know what's funnier? Harry is more excited about the purchase than I am. I think his 18-year-old self would have a good, hearty guffaw at himself as well.
Anyway, we're driving along, and since it's Harry's car, he gets control of the radio dial. I sometimes let him have control of the dial in my car since we're in it so much, but we usually stick with the rule that if it's your car, you have complete control. Mwah ha ha!
So we're listening to '80s metal (on a radio station in these parts known as "The Bone"), and, of course, the volume is up. After driving for a few minutes, Harry realizes that the radio's maybe a little to loud for me and turns it down. I simply say, "thank you". He starts to laugh. This is an ongoing joke. Everything seems to be too loud for me nowadays-- the tv, the radio, the air condition, the dishwasher. My hearing seems to have gotten more acute as I age. 'Tis very strange.
He says, "What would your teenage self say to you if she met you today?" to which I replied, "I would laugh at myself."
It's true; I was one of those teenagers (and even during my early 20s) that blasted the radio in the car as I drove. I cranked it up to the top notch of the volume, and that STILL wasn't loud enough. People used to yell at me from outside my car for me to "turn it down!" I've been told I could wake up the dead with my car radio.
And then that all changed about 2 years ago. All of a sudden, everything was much too loud. It would actually hurt my ears to have the volume up any more than 3 notches. I'd listen to the TV low, so low that I could actually hear my sister's TV upstairs over my own. Oh, and the movie theatres! Don't even get me started. I think a deaf person could hear the dialogue through the vibrations in the floorboards.
I don't think I could go to a rock concert again. Sadness. I'll have to listen to sad songs and waltzes live for the rest of my days. No more Poison concerts for me.
It's really not that big a deal; it's just funny to see how much I've changed. 18-year-old Alicia wouldn't even believe that I'm her 10 years from her present. She just wouldn't. She'd say, "who is this lame-ass woman standing before me?" or something to that affect. I'm like the anti-Alicia, I'm nearly everything I said I would never be. Yet, the most interesting aspect of that is that I've managed to integrate all these new personality traits with most of the old ones.
There's still a little of the 18-year-old Alicia there; She's simply grown up and evolved. And then there are new pieces of me that came from out of left field. The changes-- my new fondness for plants and flowers (even if I still can't manage to keep them all alive), wearing my glasses all the time, regardless of how they look, wearing colors instead of black all the time (even flower prints!), having normal colored hair (no more pink or purple), quitting smoking, really getting into home decor, watching DIY shows on TV, finding an appreciation for the music my mother listens to, finding appreciation for my mother, the list goes on and on.
I just wouldn't believe that I'm me.
And the clincher...
Harry and I just purchased this---->
Freakin' fine china... in my home. The Earth must have stopped spinning.
And do you know what's funnier? Harry is more excited about the purchase than I am. I think his 18-year-old self would have a good, hearty guffaw at himself as well.
Friday, August 19, 2005
I am in an exceptionally good mood today!
Look-- exclamation points and everything! I woke up this morning feeling like a million bucks. I have no idea why. Maybe it's better not to question but just to enjoy.
I've been taking walks on my break at work this week. It's so beautiful outside, and I'm sick of being cooped up in the office all day. I think it's done me good.
I also just finished my first round of infertility meds yesterday. We'll see where this goes. I'm keeping my fingers crossed.
We're going camping this weekend. I've already got the tent and air mattress out of storage, and Harry went and bought a new axe yesterday. The Home Depot = Harry's Candy Shop. He comes home with an axe AND an axe sharpener. I look at this useless piece of plastic that costs $9 and quickly ask, "Can't you just use a rock?" to which he, at first, replies, "No, this sharpener is made especially for this axe," and then changed his mind when he took a closer look at this "sharpener", realizing it's just a piece of crap and stated, "Yeah, I guess I can. I think I'm gonna return this." Yep, I thought so.
This will be my 3rd camping trip. Growing up, I was never one to "rough it" and camp out, even in the back yard. I hated getting dirty as a child (minus my feet on the black tar as I ran around barefoot all summer long). Sanitized nature was my motto.
And now, well, I STILL don't like to get dirty, but I do love being outdoors so much. I love the feel of the sun, the scent of the flowers and pines, the quiet of the woods, the aroma of a burning campfire. It makes me feel so at ease. And I don't mind a little work either. I like helping to pitch the tent and build up the fire.
I decided I wanted to go camping right after we got back from Maine. Being in the woods this passed weekend made me realized how much I missed it. I was at work on Tuesday, and I suddenly realized that camping season was almost over. We'd been talking about camping since this spring, but something always came up to prevent us from going. Since we had a free weekend this weekend, I thought "Why not?"
Given Harry likes to go camping for 3-4 day stretches, but we just don't have the time off for that (and I can only sleep on that air mattress 2 nights tops before my back punishes me for being so mean). He seems content with at least being able to go.
See you Monday!
I've been taking walks on my break at work this week. It's so beautiful outside, and I'm sick of being cooped up in the office all day. I think it's done me good.
I also just finished my first round of infertility meds yesterday. We'll see where this goes. I'm keeping my fingers crossed.
We're going camping this weekend. I've already got the tent and air mattress out of storage, and Harry went and bought a new axe yesterday. The Home Depot = Harry's Candy Shop. He comes home with an axe AND an axe sharpener. I look at this useless piece of plastic that costs $9 and quickly ask, "Can't you just use a rock?" to which he, at first, replies, "No, this sharpener is made especially for this axe," and then changed his mind when he took a closer look at this "sharpener", realizing it's just a piece of crap and stated, "Yeah, I guess I can. I think I'm gonna return this." Yep, I thought so.
This will be my 3rd camping trip. Growing up, I was never one to "rough it" and camp out, even in the back yard. I hated getting dirty as a child (minus my feet on the black tar as I ran around barefoot all summer long). Sanitized nature was my motto.
And now, well, I STILL don't like to get dirty, but I do love being outdoors so much. I love the feel of the sun, the scent of the flowers and pines, the quiet of the woods, the aroma of a burning campfire. It makes me feel so at ease. And I don't mind a little work either. I like helping to pitch the tent and build up the fire.
I decided I wanted to go camping right after we got back from Maine. Being in the woods this passed weekend made me realized how much I missed it. I was at work on Tuesday, and I suddenly realized that camping season was almost over. We'd been talking about camping since this spring, but something always came up to prevent us from going. Since we had a free weekend this weekend, I thought "Why not?"
Given Harry likes to go camping for 3-4 day stretches, but we just don't have the time off for that (and I can only sleep on that air mattress 2 nights tops before my back punishes me for being so mean). He seems content with at least being able to go.
See you Monday!
Tuesday, August 16, 2005
Mini Vay-Kay
The trip to Maine this weekend was lovely. We saw an extraordinary amount of pine trees, traveled about 800 miles total, saw numerous aunts, uncles, and cousins (1st, 2nd, 3rd, great-, once-removed, the works), went shopping at the outlet stores (oh, the treasures we found) and at a few antique stores,as well, went swimming, and sat around the kitchen table shooting the shit.
We had a great time staying at a rented cottage with my mom, my sister and her guy, his niece and nephew, C and C, and, of course, K. M brought up the game Racko to play; she had seen it in the store and said she had to get it for old times' sake. We used to play for hours whenever we went to The Camp as children. It was one of our Maine rituals. When Harry and I got to the cottage, I saw it on the table. M and I sat down and played a few rounds immediately. We ended with a tie. She won the first two, I won the next two. When I suggested one more round to break the tie, she declined, saying it wasn't fun anymore now that she had lost. Ah, just like old times. K was excited to learn how to play since M and I liked the game so much. She caught on quickly. I'll have to get it so we can have it here to play on Sundays.
Everyone seems to be doing well. My aunt that turned 80 this weekend is starting to lose her memory, which just plain sucks. I visited with my Aunt R and Uncle R, whom I haven't seen in at least 10 years (yes, Jess, Aunt R who made me the dice bracelet). They're on their way to Alaska right now. How cool is that? They've always traveled a lot.
We got home last night, happy to be here once again. And the house is oh-so-quiet since the gang upstairs isn't coming back to CT until Friday. Bliss.
We had a great time staying at a rented cottage with my mom, my sister and her guy, his niece and nephew, C and C, and, of course, K. M brought up the game Racko to play; she had seen it in the store and said she had to get it for old times' sake. We used to play for hours whenever we went to The Camp as children. It was one of our Maine rituals. When Harry and I got to the cottage, I saw it on the table. M and I sat down and played a few rounds immediately. We ended with a tie. She won the first two, I won the next two. When I suggested one more round to break the tie, she declined, saying it wasn't fun anymore now that she had lost. Ah, just like old times. K was excited to learn how to play since M and I liked the game so much. She caught on quickly. I'll have to get it so we can have it here to play on Sundays.
Everyone seems to be doing well. My aunt that turned 80 this weekend is starting to lose her memory, which just plain sucks. I visited with my Aunt R and Uncle R, whom I haven't seen in at least 10 years (yes, Jess, Aunt R who made me the dice bracelet). They're on their way to Alaska right now. How cool is that? They've always traveled a lot.
We got home last night, happy to be here once again. And the house is oh-so-quiet since the gang upstairs isn't coming back to CT until Friday. Bliss.
Wednesday, August 10, 2005
One Lazy Bitch
I could say that I've been busy, but really I've just been one lazy bitch.
My X-Files fixation has taken over my mornings. I'm almost done with Season 8.
I've even toyed with calling in sick one day so I can polish off Season 9.
I am a sad, little woman.
But I love Mulder and Scully.
David Duchovny, why won't you love me?
My X-Files fixation has taken over my mornings. I'm almost done with Season 8.
I've even toyed with calling in sick one day so I can polish off Season 9.
I am a sad, little woman.
But I love Mulder and Scully.
David Duchovny, why won't you love me?
Friday, August 5, 2005
Ah, it's Friday!
And only one more week until I get to breathe in that fresh Maine air. I can't wait. I love going to Maine.
We used to go every summer growing up. It would be Mom, Dad, Melissa, and me and our family friends Marie, Joe, Jennifer, and Christina. It was usually for 2 weeks in July, staying at my grandmother's cottage (which we used to call "The Camp") in Waterville.
We had so much fun those summers. My parents were happy, my sister and I were happy; it was always so much fun. We looked forward to it every school year, even having to go visit our relatives while on vacation. Maybe this was because my relatives are so cool.
We'd always visit Aunt Pauline, who is celebrating her 80th birthday this month. We're having a celebration for her during the reunion this year. Aunt Pauline rocks. She makes the best homemade Blueberry muffins in the world and she owns like a million Hummel figurines. I loved her house in Fairfield so much. Alas, she doesn't live there anymore. Part of me wants to drive by it on this trip just to see it, even if I can't go inside. It was such a great little house.
We'd also visit Gramp Webb, Aunt Pauline's father, my great grandfather. Gramp Webb (Ranceford - isn't that a great name?) is by far the most amazing man I ever met. He was a minister for most of his life. Built his beautiful house with his own bare hands. He and my greatgrandmother (Mildred - whom I've been told was the kindest woman that ever lived by anyone who ever met her) lived in this house and had 3 children: my Uncle Bradford, who died at 14 in a tragic hunting accident, my grandfather, Manford, whom I never got to meet as he passed away a few years before I was born, and Aunt Pauline, whom they dubbed "Paulinaford" because all the menfolk had ford at the end of their name, and they didn't want to leave her out. Gramp Webb passed away my sophomore year of high school. It broke my heart.
We visited Aunt Pauline's Daughter, Cousin Linda, and her family, as well, on our trips up. There's her husband, Albert, and her two children, Michael and Tavia. Michael and Tavia are now both married and each have children as well, Michael with 2 and Tavia with, I think, 4 at last count. Visiting with them was my favorite part of the trip because almost everyone was there. Everyone would pile into Linda's house, and we'd have ourselves a good visit. We'd get to look through Linda's numerous photo albums (and you thing I take a lot of pictures!), have a barbeque, and go swimming in the pool.
We'd visit my Uncle Gary and Aunt Liz, as well. The have a fantastic house. Acres of lawn that go right down to the water's edge, rooms upon rooms inside the house, and a train set hooked up around the perimeter of the ceiling in the main room he'd always turn on for me. And there was Samantha, the coolest dog ever. My uncle loved her so much he had her name put on his personalized plates for his car. I cried when she died.
We'd go and see Grammy King, too, who is Uncle Gary's and my grandmother's mother. She only lived a few miles down the road from the camp. She had this little dog that just shook all the time. Looked like she was going to scare herself to death. She spent most of her time in her kennel. I guess she felt safer there. Grammy King was a funny, tough old broad. She used to make us laugh for hours. She passed away a few years ago at the age of 99. She was just 2 months shy of 100. She lived a very full life and had more love than most people know what to do with.
Last, we'd have to visit with my Aunt Alice, who is my grandmother's sister. She was really the only person Melissa and I didn't like to visit with. She had 2 very angry dogs she brought everywhere with her. We weren't allowed to touch them because they'd bite us. And then there's Aunt Alice. Man, she was touch back then. She was a Colonel in the U.S. Army. She ran with the Big Boys. Later, we found out from Mom (when she thought we were old enough to know) that Aunt Alice is a lesbian, but an ashamed lesbian who has hidden what she is from everyone and looks down on the gay community even to this day. The thing I remember most about Aunt Alice is the way she looked. She was short and waddled when she walked. She kept her hair short (it was black) and had a rather large nose. And she smoked with a black cigarette holder. Remind you of anyone?
We might actually be going to visit her on this upcoming trip. It depends on what kind of mood I'm in and if we decide to stay an extra day.
The rest of the trip was spent at the camp, cooking, swimming in the lake, playing on the swings (where Jennifer broke her arm one year). Or we'd go into Waterville to shop or see a movie or go to a restaurant. Oh, and to go play minigolf. Kim remembers minigolf. We took her and Chris up there one year after we'd finished high school. She won a free game. I wonder if that place is still there? I know the Rummle's is gone; it was an ice cream parlor next door to the minigolf place. Had the best blackberry ice cream ever made.
When Harry and I went to Maine a couple of years ago, we drove all the way over to Waterville from Camden just to see the camp. My Aunt Rhonda owns it now, and it's proven difficult to find a weekend when she's not using it so we can stay there. The camp was supposed to be for everyone, but that's not the way it panned out. It saddens me. My fondest memories of my childhood are locked up in that house. My Lincoln Logs, which were there waiting for me every year, were thrown out when my aunt took the house over. The swings are still there, as is Wendel, my mom's cousin who lives year-round two doors down. He's kind of like the street (and I use that term loosely seeing as it's really just a dirt road with no name) caretaker. I used to call him "Cousin Window" when I was little cuz I really thought that was his name. And when that song, "Mr. Wendel", came out on the airwaves, it always made me think of him. We saw him when I took Harry to the camp, and he waved at me. When I told my mom he couldn't have possibly known who I was, she said, "Oh, you'd be surprised. I bet he knew exactly who you were."
I remember wanting to live up in Maine growing up. It was just so beautiful. Now that I'm older, I realize it's just too damn cold for me to live up there. Harry still wants to. His family is from there as well, from a little town called Hallowell we went and checked out on our last trip. I loved this town. They don't have towns like that anymore. It's made up of one main street, maybe 6 blocks long. There's probably only 18 blocks total in the whole town. You could walk it in less than an hour. I love it.
I could go on and on about our adventures throughout the years, like our journey to Canada and scaling Cadillac Mountain, but I don't think I need to write down those memories just yet. They're all still fresh in my head. When I think I'm starting to forget them, I'll put them to paper. Until then, I'm going to make some new ones.
We used to go every summer growing up. It would be Mom, Dad, Melissa, and me and our family friends Marie, Joe, Jennifer, and Christina. It was usually for 2 weeks in July, staying at my grandmother's cottage (which we used to call "The Camp") in Waterville.
We had so much fun those summers. My parents were happy, my sister and I were happy; it was always so much fun. We looked forward to it every school year, even having to go visit our relatives while on vacation. Maybe this was because my relatives are so cool.
We'd always visit Aunt Pauline, who is celebrating her 80th birthday this month. We're having a celebration for her during the reunion this year. Aunt Pauline rocks. She makes the best homemade Blueberry muffins in the world and she owns like a million Hummel figurines. I loved her house in Fairfield so much. Alas, she doesn't live there anymore. Part of me wants to drive by it on this trip just to see it, even if I can't go inside. It was such a great little house.
We'd also visit Gramp Webb, Aunt Pauline's father, my great grandfather. Gramp Webb (Ranceford - isn't that a great name?) is by far the most amazing man I ever met. He was a minister for most of his life. Built his beautiful house with his own bare hands. He and my greatgrandmother (Mildred - whom I've been told was the kindest woman that ever lived by anyone who ever met her) lived in this house and had 3 children: my Uncle Bradford, who died at 14 in a tragic hunting accident, my grandfather, Manford, whom I never got to meet as he passed away a few years before I was born, and Aunt Pauline, whom they dubbed "Paulinaford" because all the menfolk had ford at the end of their name, and they didn't want to leave her out. Gramp Webb passed away my sophomore year of high school. It broke my heart.
We visited Aunt Pauline's Daughter, Cousin Linda, and her family, as well, on our trips up. There's her husband, Albert, and her two children, Michael and Tavia. Michael and Tavia are now both married and each have children as well, Michael with 2 and Tavia with, I think, 4 at last count. Visiting with them was my favorite part of the trip because almost everyone was there. Everyone would pile into Linda's house, and we'd have ourselves a good visit. We'd get to look through Linda's numerous photo albums (and you thing I take a lot of pictures!), have a barbeque, and go swimming in the pool.
We'd visit my Uncle Gary and Aunt Liz, as well. The have a fantastic house. Acres of lawn that go right down to the water's edge, rooms upon rooms inside the house, and a train set hooked up around the perimeter of the ceiling in the main room he'd always turn on for me. And there was Samantha, the coolest dog ever. My uncle loved her so much he had her name put on his personalized plates for his car. I cried when she died.
We'd go and see Grammy King, too, who is Uncle Gary's and my grandmother's mother. She only lived a few miles down the road from the camp. She had this little dog that just shook all the time. Looked like she was going to scare herself to death. She spent most of her time in her kennel. I guess she felt safer there. Grammy King was a funny, tough old broad. She used to make us laugh for hours. She passed away a few years ago at the age of 99. She was just 2 months shy of 100. She lived a very full life and had more love than most people know what to do with.
Last, we'd have to visit with my Aunt Alice, who is my grandmother's sister. She was really the only person Melissa and I didn't like to visit with. She had 2 very angry dogs she brought everywhere with her. We weren't allowed to touch them because they'd bite us. And then there's Aunt Alice. Man, she was touch back then. She was a Colonel in the U.S. Army. She ran with the Big Boys. Later, we found out from Mom (when she thought we were old enough to know) that Aunt Alice is a lesbian, but an ashamed lesbian who has hidden what she is from everyone and looks down on the gay community even to this day. The thing I remember most about Aunt Alice is the way she looked. She was short and waddled when she walked. She kept her hair short (it was black) and had a rather large nose. And she smoked with a black cigarette holder. Remind you of anyone?
We might actually be going to visit her on this upcoming trip. It depends on what kind of mood I'm in and if we decide to stay an extra day.
The rest of the trip was spent at the camp, cooking, swimming in the lake, playing on the swings (where Jennifer broke her arm one year). Or we'd go into Waterville to shop or see a movie or go to a restaurant. Oh, and to go play minigolf. Kim remembers minigolf. We took her and Chris up there one year after we'd finished high school. She won a free game. I wonder if that place is still there? I know the Rummle's is gone; it was an ice cream parlor next door to the minigolf place. Had the best blackberry ice cream ever made.
When Harry and I went to Maine a couple of years ago, we drove all the way over to Waterville from Camden just to see the camp. My Aunt Rhonda owns it now, and it's proven difficult to find a weekend when she's not using it so we can stay there. The camp was supposed to be for everyone, but that's not the way it panned out. It saddens me. My fondest memories of my childhood are locked up in that house. My Lincoln Logs, which were there waiting for me every year, were thrown out when my aunt took the house over. The swings are still there, as is Wendel, my mom's cousin who lives year-round two doors down. He's kind of like the street (and I use that term loosely seeing as it's really just a dirt road with no name) caretaker. I used to call him "Cousin Window" when I was little cuz I really thought that was his name. And when that song, "Mr. Wendel", came out on the airwaves, it always made me think of him. We saw him when I took Harry to the camp, and he waved at me. When I told my mom he couldn't have possibly known who I was, she said, "Oh, you'd be surprised. I bet he knew exactly who you were."
I remember wanting to live up in Maine growing up. It was just so beautiful. Now that I'm older, I realize it's just too damn cold for me to live up there. Harry still wants to. His family is from there as well, from a little town called Hallowell we went and checked out on our last trip. I loved this town. They don't have towns like that anymore. It's made up of one main street, maybe 6 blocks long. There's probably only 18 blocks total in the whole town. You could walk it in less than an hour. I love it.
I could go on and on about our adventures throughout the years, like our journey to Canada and scaling Cadillac Mountain, but I don't think I need to write down those memories just yet. They're all still fresh in my head. When I think I'm starting to forget them, I'll put them to paper. Until then, I'm going to make some new ones.
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