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I'm working on a new post right now.
Sunday, June 29, 2008
Saturday, June 21, 2008
Joie de Vivre
My favorite people are those who embrace life and find joy in both the big things and the little things. I love people who are curious and who have enthusiasm and a good sense of humor. I mention this because I just found out that one of my old friends who epitomizes all these things has died.
Twenty eight years ago, my boyfriend, Al Bergsten, had joie de vivre. He inhaled life like it was a sweet perfume. Last night as I sheepishly googled him -- Beware! I Google everyone I've ever known -- I found his obituary. To say I was stunned is mild.
After we broke up, he'd call or stop by every now and then, but once I found Lynn the calls stopped and that was that. Every few years I'd think about him and wonder how he was. I'd think about calling him but I never did. Oh how I wish I had.
I think he is the most intelligent person I've ever known. He was always reading and his vocabulary was intimidating. He introduced me to Meatloaf's Paradise by the Dashboard Light which to this day, is one of my favorite songs. He made the best green chili burros and he thought I was sexy (at least for a little while!) Although he was 6'3" he was very approachable and strangers always talked to him. He had sandy brown hair and a full beard and I loved the David Letterman-like space between his front teeth. He was very loud but not in a bad way. It was in a way that drew you in.
He was the first guy I ever loved and he's the first guy who ever said those words to me (for the record, he said it first!) Our relationship was short-lived but thoroughly intense. Oh, he broke my heart into a million pieces and I hated him for a few months, but after that we became friends and our relationship was honest and sweet (booty calls notwithstanding).
Of particularly sad irony is that his wife died about 6 months before he did. Her obituary notes that Al treated her like a queen. I'm so glad he found someone who made him happy. He died about two weeks after his 57th birthday. His death in December and his wife's in May -- I've got to think that he died of a broken heart.
And last night my heart broke a little bit too.
So here's to you my old friend. I will never forget you.
Twenty eight years ago, my boyfriend, Al Bergsten, had joie de vivre. He inhaled life like it was a sweet perfume. Last night as I sheepishly googled him -- Beware! I Google everyone I've ever known -- I found his obituary. To say I was stunned is mild.
After we broke up, he'd call or stop by every now and then, but once I found Lynn the calls stopped and that was that. Every few years I'd think about him and wonder how he was. I'd think about calling him but I never did. Oh how I wish I had.
I think he is the most intelligent person I've ever known. He was always reading and his vocabulary was intimidating. He introduced me to Meatloaf's Paradise by the Dashboard Light which to this day, is one of my favorite songs. He made the best green chili burros and he thought I was sexy (at least for a little while!) Although he was 6'3" he was very approachable and strangers always talked to him. He had sandy brown hair and a full beard and I loved the David Letterman-like space between his front teeth. He was very loud but not in a bad way. It was in a way that drew you in.
He was the first guy I ever loved and he's the first guy who ever said those words to me (for the record, he said it first!) Our relationship was short-lived but thoroughly intense. Oh, he broke my heart into a million pieces and I hated him for a few months, but after that we became friends and our relationship was honest and sweet (booty calls notwithstanding).
Of particularly sad irony is that his wife died about 6 months before he did. Her obituary notes that Al treated her like a queen. I'm so glad he found someone who made him happy. He died about two weeks after his 57th birthday. His death in December and his wife's in May -- I've got to think that he died of a broken heart.
And last night my heart broke a little bit too.
So here's to you my old friend. I will never forget you.
Friday, June 20, 2008
Call Me Ishmael
I hate to obsess about the scorpion thing. But it's Friday night, 5 days after I first saw the poisonous bug. I've looked for him every night in the garage, the laundry room, the hallway... but alas, he has evaded the deadly snap of my flip flop.
So it's 11:00 p.m. and I'm reading The Last Wife of Henry VIII (I'm drawn to all things English since I crossed the pond last spring) when something catches my eye. I glance up and there he is. Three feet away from me on the tile. My white whale.
Would someone explain to me why he is scurrying full speed ahead in a diagonal line across the family room headed straight for me? With all the places to hide and explore, why is he aiming for me? It's not my imagination, I was definitely in his sights.
So mustering all of my strength, I stand and take a step closer to make sure it's the guy from the other night. I remove my stylish black flip flop with the silver charms and move in for the kill. Just as I do, he freezes. Oh, like I won't see him. Then, with just a little too much force, WHAM, I smash that little *&#$^. He actually split in two pieces.
Hmmm, who's scared now?
I must admit my eyes never left the carcass as I grabbed the paper towel to unceremoniously dispose of him. No autopsy needed. Unnatural causes. Justifiable homicide.
So it's 11:00 p.m. and I'm reading The Last Wife of Henry VIII (I'm drawn to all things English since I crossed the pond last spring) when something catches my eye. I glance up and there he is. Three feet away from me on the tile. My white whale.
Would someone explain to me why he is scurrying full speed ahead in a diagonal line across the family room headed straight for me? With all the places to hide and explore, why is he aiming for me? It's not my imagination, I was definitely in his sights.
So mustering all of my strength, I stand and take a step closer to make sure it's the guy from the other night. I remove my stylish black flip flop with the silver charms and move in for the kill. Just as I do, he freezes. Oh, like I won't see him. Then, with just a little too much force, WHAM, I smash that little *&#$^. He actually split in two pieces.
Hmmm, who's scared now?
I must admit my eyes never left the carcass as I grabbed the paper towel to unceremoniously dispose of him. No autopsy needed. Unnatural causes. Justifiable homicide.
Sunday, June 15, 2008
One More Thing To Worry About
You know I hate to be one of those people who complains about everything but there are some things about living in Arizona that are intolerable.
Scorpions. Is there another state where you have to worry about poisonous bugs entering your house? They can be fatal to the very young and the very old. And yes, there are times when that demographic inhabits my house.
Tonight I went to the garage to get some bottled water. Luckily I turned on the light and looked down before I put my bare foot on the concrete. The little light brown bugger froze just as I did. Lynn was still up, so armed with my blue sequined flip flop, he slowly tip-toed into the garage. Just as we opened the door, the scorpion scurried under my tire. We tried to flush him out with our bottled Arrowhead but he didn't budge. So I made Leah move into our bed (she sometimes wanders in during the night) because I don't want her stepping on him. It's not worth it. Putting up with a family bed is more tolerable than the threat of a scorpion sting.
We made the mistake of having our palm tree skinned this weekend and that brings out the bugs. Oftentimes they make their homes in the bark of the palm so when you have it trimmed, it displaces them. This particular kind is aptly called the Bark Scorpion.
Now I keep feeling him crawl up my leg. I hate being so afraid of a little bug.
Perhaps our next house will be scorpion-free.
Friday, June 13, 2008
Enough
If I hear one more person say they are having a staycation this summer, I will scream.
It was mildly amusing a few months ago when I first heard it. And it gave me pause as we contemplated our fuel costs and other inflation, but now it's just annoying and no longer clever.
It almost makes me want to take a bunch of vacations away from home that I really can't afford.
It was mildly amusing a few months ago when I first heard it. And it gave me pause as we contemplated our fuel costs and other inflation, but now it's just annoying and no longer clever.
It almost makes me want to take a bunch of vacations away from home that I really can't afford.
Monday, June 9, 2008
Chapter Two
I’ve been in Eugene, Oregon for the past few days. We’re here attending my brother, Bruce’s retirement party. After 30+ years in education, he is retiring from the Springfield School District where he is the Director of Curriculum. (Please note that after he leaves it will take two people to replace him!) In our country, the educational arena can be very political and often focuses on test scores rather than learning, but my brother has a reputation for building relationships and always putting the needs of the kids first. I’m very proud of him.
Despite the childhood teasing and adolescent cruelty, I have always known that my big brother is a good guy. If you ask me to describe growing up with a brother six years my senior, I will say “it was the best of times and the worst of times.” He teased me, got me to believe unbelievable stories and tormented me (including when he and his friend Brad put my beloved Barbie and Ken in compromising positions that I did not understand but that I instinctively knew were wrong!) Through all the situations, he kept me on my toes and he always, ALWAYS made me laugh.
The biggest surprise of the party was the moment my brother — who only reveals himself during rare unguarded moments and never in front of 100 people — transformed into Mr. Sentimental. He asked his long-time assistant, Amy, to join him on stage. Amy has been with him at the District for 17 years. She has kept him on track and been fiercely loyal. Amy reluctantly took the stage, leaving at least five feet between them. Bruce not only dedicated a song to her but he sang the first verse. His choice? “Thanks for the Memories,” Bob Hope’s signature song. Who knew??? Who knew my sarcastic, restrained brother had it in him? I’m sure I will never forget that moment of sweetness and admiration and I venture to guess that neither shall Amy.
There is a line in the verse that goes “You were always a headache, but never a bore.” I know he meant it as a fun-loving tribute to Amy but I couldn’t help think that it perfectly described our childhood when I dreaded his ridicule but anticipated the inevitable amusing payoff.
So congratulations to my hardworking brother. I hope the next chapter of your life is filled with fun and travel and plenty of new, wonderful memories.
Despite the childhood teasing and adolescent cruelty, I have always known that my big brother is a good guy. If you ask me to describe growing up with a brother six years my senior, I will say “it was the best of times and the worst of times.” He teased me, got me to believe unbelievable stories and tormented me (including when he and his friend Brad put my beloved Barbie and Ken in compromising positions that I did not understand but that I instinctively knew were wrong!) Through all the situations, he kept me on my toes and he always, ALWAYS made me laugh.The biggest surprise of the party was the moment my brother — who only reveals himself during rare unguarded moments and never in front of 100 people — transformed into Mr. Sentimental. He asked his long-time assistant, Amy, to join him on stage. Amy has been with him at the District for 17 years. She has kept him on track and been fiercely loyal. Amy reluctantly took the stage, leaving at least five feet between them. Bruce not only dedicated a song to her but he sang the first verse. His choice? “Thanks for the Memories,” Bob Hope’s signature song. Who knew??? Who knew my sarcastic, restrained brother had it in him? I’m sure I will never forget that moment of sweetness and admiration and I venture to guess that neither shall Amy.
There is a line in the verse that goes “You were always a headache, but never a bore.” I know he meant it as a fun-loving tribute to Amy but I couldn’t help think that it perfectly described our childhood when I dreaded his ridicule but anticipated the inevitable amusing payoff.
So congratulations to my hardworking brother. I hope the next chapter of your life is filled with fun and travel and plenty of new, wonderful memories.
Monday, June 2, 2008
GRA8FUL
You'd think I'd learn. Another Starbucks mis-judgement.
Again this morning I needed a venti green iced tea. Again, I'm in a hurry. A thirtysomething blond, wearing fashionable reflecting sunglasses arrived at the drivethru at the same time as me. We each hesitated but I let her go ahead feeling a little intimidated by her shiny white Range Rover and the fluffy brown designer dog perched on her lap. As she turned into the driveway I saw that she was on the phone probably chatting with her perfect husband or perfect sister or her stock broker. Why did I let her go ahead of me when she probably didn't work and I have a full-time job and am so obviously more deserving of a beverage jumpstart? I pulled in behind her and immediately felt ashamed.
Again.
Her vanity license plate had the image of a pink ribbon next to the word GRA8FUL. The plate was outlined with a chrome cancer survivor frame. Yes, I had just harshly judged someone who had faced death and won. She had cancer yet professes her gratitude. She probably embraces each day savoring any chance for mundane things like grabbing a quick drink at Starbucks.
I felt like a jerk.
Again.
Again this morning I needed a venti green iced tea. Again, I'm in a hurry. A thirtysomething blond, wearing fashionable reflecting sunglasses arrived at the drivethru at the same time as me. We each hesitated but I let her go ahead feeling a little intimidated by her shiny white Range Rover and the fluffy brown designer dog perched on her lap. As she turned into the driveway I saw that she was on the phone probably chatting with her perfect husband or perfect sister or her stock broker. Why did I let her go ahead of me when she probably didn't work and I have a full-time job and am so obviously more deserving of a beverage jumpstart? I pulled in behind her and immediately felt ashamed.
Again.
Her vanity license plate had the image of a pink ribbon next to the word GRA8FUL. The plate was outlined with a chrome cancer survivor frame. Yes, I had just harshly judged someone who had faced death and won. She had cancer yet professes her gratitude. She probably embraces each day savoring any chance for mundane things like grabbing a quick drink at Starbucks.
I felt like a jerk.
Again.
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