Tuesday night dinner. Anime night. Upcoming anniversary. Jokers!
Tuesday evening, the kids drove over to our house to meet us. Will’s car rides so low, he gets stuck on speed bumps. There are two sizable bumps leading to Mom & Dad’s house in their subdivision. I baked a pork loin for dinner - simple, cover in olive oil, then a mixture of salt, papper, garlic, smoked paprika, dry mustard & rosemary. Stella made macaroni & cheese, Mom made Caesar salads and supplied the wine. We had a really good time at dinner over there - Dad and Mick talked for a really long time about Mick’s future in education. Dad asked if it was okay for him to “butt in” - Mick said of course. Later that night, he got a voice mail from Dad giving him a name to send his CV. I recognized the name - she is a good friend of Dad’s from working at Spalding. She is a nun who is the legal council for Spalding University, but she also has ties to a ton of other Catholic high schools & colleges. Fingers crossed - one college is in Bardstown but it would be worth the commute if he had something close to full time work. He isn’t getting calls back about jobs yet - only one face to face interview but no call for a second one. He’ll be okay - nothing has shaken loose yet. In the meanwhile, he has ripped out a large part of our front yard to replace the grass with a garden. We’re planting vining things there - last year, the cucumbers took over the raised bad and choked out beets, chard, basil and delayed the okra. The other half of the yard has a bunch of buried pipes & utility lines, so we are setting up raised gardens instead. Mick unearthed one from the backyard, and I picked up a double bed from a freegan last night. The front yard gets so much more sun - everything is going to really thrive out there. Dad bought me these drip watering spikes - they attach to a 2 liter bottle full of water, then you spike them next to the plant in question. They slowly drip out and water gradually at the roots. Makes them stronger, less water wasted, AND is super beneficial when the plant in question is alone in a part of the yard where there is nothing else to water so you forget to water it ALL THE TIME. Not that that would ever happen…. Anyway, I’ll be able to set up some of these in the garden out front until we get a second hose for the spigot on the side of the house. I plan to make a serious dent on my vegetable budget this year. I want to make pickles again, but shelf-stable this time. At one point, I had 8 quarts of refrigerator pickles. That sounds amazing (and they were delicious), but they had to stay in the fridge. That is A LOT of real estate in there.
Last night, Mick went to the bar and had a few rounds. He’d have gone after his last class Tuesday but he wanted to be straight-eyed for the family dinner. He walked in and told me about some of the things said in there that day - the racism ranges from casual to overt. I was getting agitated by his stories, and he finally stopped to ask if I was mad at him. After a couple of drinks, his reading of that kind of thing is off. I reassured him I was mad but not at him. I get frustrated by the political climate and attitude at that bar. I made our new favorite dinner - soba noodles with peanut sauce and vegetables - and we hurriedly ate. We left to head to a bar in Germantown called Kaiju - it is a Japanese monster-themed bar. It has a dive feel, but still has some really nice cocktails there. They have a back room with a projector screen, and they do a monthly anime movie night. We got a couple of beers and settled in to watch Cowboy Bebop. Tommy & I used to watch that TV show at his place after I got off work from second shift. It used to show on Adult Swim - we’d watch that then Lupin the Third before I’d usually drive home. I saw the movie in the theatre when it came out but haven’t seen it since. I used to love that show.
We were the oldest people in the room - I sat right in the front row, drinking my cheap beer, wearing my unfashionable clothes and hair in a ponytail. Halfway through the movie, the room started smelling acrid and smoky. Aha… seems some of the kids were celebrating 4/20 in the alley behind the bar, but the smell clung to them when they returned! The room was close and overly warm, but we really enjoyed getting to see the movie on a big screen like that. I love experiencing movies in a group setting like that.
It hasn’t rained this week. I am getting a little anxious - I have this great surprise hike planned for our wedding anniversary this Saturday, but part of it is contingent on rain the week before. There is a waterfall fed by an intermittent spring - it is only flowing if there has been some rain earlier. Our actual anniversary falls on a Tuesday - we are going to eat a light dinner then go to the Moth that night. Afterward, a cocktail before heading home, and then skipping the gyn in the morning in favor of sleeping in & snuggling! How’s THAT for a fried slice of gold?!
The theme Tuesday is Jokers. I have two stories I’m deciding between - one is about this great prank my friend Hyla pulled in college, and the other is about how Mom & I convinced this guy I was dating that she’d been abducted by aliens.
Hyla was a GREAT prankster. This particular time, I walked down our dorm hallway and found her and several friends sitting on the floor outside their rooms. Everyone had their phone outside, cord stretched as far as possible. Hyla had the campus directory & was calling every guy named John that lived on campus. Each girl would leave the same message - they’d met last Friday, she was shy but had gotten his number from a buddy of his. She’d love to see him again - meet her outside Butler Hall at 4pm that Thursday afternoon.
That Thursday, all the girls that had helped make calls met in her room at 3:45. At 4 on the dot, she raised the blinds. Outside, in the parking lot in front of Butler Hall, there were maybe 50 guys milling around. Hyla shouted, “HEY, JOHN!”
All 50 guys simultaneously looked up toward the window - she snapped a photo and immediately shut the blinds. We all collapsed giggling.
Mom’s family was nomadic when she was little. To this day, we’ll be in a conversation and she’ll casually mention somewhere she’d lived as a kid, and I will have never heard about it.
I’d been out with Gregory a few times - my brother loved making fun of him and nicknamed him Gregory the Really White Guy. Rob would do this WASP-y, nasal imitation of him: “Hello, I’m Gregory. I’d like a glass of chardonaaaay. Be a dear and put more mayonaaaaaise on my sandwich. I’d never wear dungarees, I only wear khaaaaaaki pants.” On and on it went - sadly, my brother wasn’t far off the mark. I was complaining to my mom that the last few dates had been so boring - all he did was go on about aliens and conspiracy theories and Area 51 and Roswell and…
“I used to live in Roswell. What’s the big deal with Roswell?” Mom interjected.
I stopped talking, mouth agape. She’d never heard about the alleged alien space ship crash or any conspiracy theories there. She said her dad worked on an airport of something out there before they moved on to the next town where they’d alight.
An idea bloomed - I shared my plan to mess with Gregory the next time he came over.
Later that week, I had another date so I was waiting in the front porch swing with Mom for Gregory to pick me up. When he walked up, I managed to get him to mention Roswell - it took little to no effort as that was always a favorite topic of his. Mom interjected that she used to live in Roswell - Gregory got really excited and started grilling her. This time, she had a story ready.
“When I was a little girl, my family moved to Roswell, New Mexico. My dad was an outside contractor that summer, working on new landing strips for the military base there. It was a really good job - I don’t know why he left it. In fact, the weirdest thing is, I don’t remember leaving there at all. It is like one day we are there, and next thing you know, it is fall and I’m in the third grade and we’re living in another state. I’ve asked my brothers and my parents about it - none of us remember leaving Roswell. It is like there is this… oh I don’t know, a chunk of time missing. It is just gone, like it was erased.”
At this point, Gregory is nearly dancing in place, chewing on his own fists in excitement. Mom told the whole story perfectly, matter-of-fact and wide-eyed with innocence. She is a retired art teacher, and a petite, trustworthy woman - no one ever believes she’d ever tell a lie. I dropped a wink to Mom and we left to go out for the evening.
I broke things off with him shortly afterward but I never actually TOLD him that Mom & I had been having him on. I wonder sometimes how much he believed and if he still retells the story of the little girl who lost her memory of her time in Roswell.
I like both stories, but the HEY JOHN story has a great punchline, and a satisfying lead up to the climax. I love the Roswell story, too - I can’t decide. I’ve been telling both stories for years.
Last night, Mick went to the bar and had a few rounds. He’d have gone after his last class Tuesday but he wanted to be straight-eyed for the family dinner. He walked in and told me about some of the things said in there that day - the racism ranges from casual to overt. I was getting agitated by his stories, and he finally stopped to ask if I was mad at him. After a couple of drinks, his reading of that kind of thing is off. I reassured him I was mad but not at him. I get frustrated by the political climate and attitude at that bar. I made our new favorite dinner - soba noodles with peanut sauce and vegetables - and we hurriedly ate. We left to head to a bar in Germantown called Kaiju - it is a Japanese monster-themed bar. It has a dive feel, but still has some really nice cocktails there. They have a back room with a projector screen, and they do a monthly anime movie night. We got a couple of beers and settled in to watch Cowboy Bebop. Tommy & I used to watch that TV show at his place after I got off work from second shift. It used to show on Adult Swim - we’d watch that then Lupin the Third before I’d usually drive home. I saw the movie in the theatre when it came out but haven’t seen it since. I used to love that show.
We were the oldest people in the room - I sat right in the front row, drinking my cheap beer, wearing my unfashionable clothes and hair in a ponytail. Halfway through the movie, the room started smelling acrid and smoky. Aha… seems some of the kids were celebrating 4/20 in the alley behind the bar, but the smell clung to them when they returned! The room was close and overly warm, but we really enjoyed getting to see the movie on a big screen like that. I love experiencing movies in a group setting like that.
It hasn’t rained this week. I am getting a little anxious - I have this great surprise hike planned for our wedding anniversary this Saturday, but part of it is contingent on rain the week before. There is a waterfall fed by an intermittent spring - it is only flowing if there has been some rain earlier. Our actual anniversary falls on a Tuesday - we are going to eat a light dinner then go to the Moth that night. Afterward, a cocktail before heading home, and then skipping the gyn in the morning in favor of sleeping in & snuggling! How’s THAT for a fried slice of gold?!
The theme Tuesday is Jokers. I have two stories I’m deciding between - one is about this great prank my friend Hyla pulled in college, and the other is about how Mom & I convinced this guy I was dating that she’d been abducted by aliens.
Hyla was a GREAT prankster. This particular time, I walked down our dorm hallway and found her and several friends sitting on the floor outside their rooms. Everyone had their phone outside, cord stretched as far as possible. Hyla had the campus directory & was calling every guy named John that lived on campus. Each girl would leave the same message - they’d met last Friday, she was shy but had gotten his number from a buddy of his. She’d love to see him again - meet her outside Butler Hall at 4pm that Thursday afternoon.
That Thursday, all the girls that had helped make calls met in her room at 3:45. At 4 on the dot, she raised the blinds. Outside, in the parking lot in front of Butler Hall, there were maybe 50 guys milling around. Hyla shouted, “HEY, JOHN!”
All 50 guys simultaneously looked up toward the window - she snapped a photo and immediately shut the blinds. We all collapsed giggling.
Mom’s family was nomadic when she was little. To this day, we’ll be in a conversation and she’ll casually mention somewhere she’d lived as a kid, and I will have never heard about it.
I’d been out with Gregory a few times - my brother loved making fun of him and nicknamed him Gregory the Really White Guy. Rob would do this WASP-y, nasal imitation of him: “Hello, I’m Gregory. I’d like a glass of chardonaaaay. Be a dear and put more mayonaaaaaise on my sandwich. I’d never wear dungarees, I only wear khaaaaaaki pants.” On and on it went - sadly, my brother wasn’t far off the mark. I was complaining to my mom that the last few dates had been so boring - all he did was go on about aliens and conspiracy theories and Area 51 and Roswell and…
“I used to live in Roswell. What’s the big deal with Roswell?” Mom interjected.
I stopped talking, mouth agape. She’d never heard about the alleged alien space ship crash or any conspiracy theories there. She said her dad worked on an airport of something out there before they moved on to the next town where they’d alight.
An idea bloomed - I shared my plan to mess with Gregory the next time he came over.
Later that week, I had another date so I was waiting in the front porch swing with Mom for Gregory to pick me up. When he walked up, I managed to get him to mention Roswell - it took little to no effort as that was always a favorite topic of his. Mom interjected that she used to live in Roswell - Gregory got really excited and started grilling her. This time, she had a story ready.
“When I was a little girl, my family moved to Roswell, New Mexico. My dad was an outside contractor that summer, working on new landing strips for the military base there. It was a really good job - I don’t know why he left it. In fact, the weirdest thing is, I don’t remember leaving there at all. It is like one day we are there, and next thing you know, it is fall and I’m in the third grade and we’re living in another state. I’ve asked my brothers and my parents about it - none of us remember leaving Roswell. It is like there is this… oh I don’t know, a chunk of time missing. It is just gone, like it was erased.”
At this point, Gregory is nearly dancing in place, chewing on his own fists in excitement. Mom told the whole story perfectly, matter-of-fact and wide-eyed with innocence. She is a retired art teacher, and a petite, trustworthy woman - no one ever believes she’d ever tell a lie. I dropped a wink to Mom and we left to go out for the evening.
I broke things off with him shortly afterward but I never actually TOLD him that Mom & I had been having him on. I wonder sometimes how much he believed and if he still retells the story of the little girl who lost her memory of her time in Roswell.
I like both stories, but the HEY JOHN story has a great punchline, and a satisfying lead up to the climax. I love the Roswell story, too - I can’t decide. I’ve been telling both stories for years.