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| Thursday, 12-Jun-2008 23:06 |
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Fifteen Again
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World Market soaps smell Mmmmm
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I have been busy finishing up work for a restaurant in town. I was on-site last week when I caught glimpse of a woman I went to high school with and I quickly turned to face the other way so she wouldn't see me. I tripped on my shoe and my team had a good laugh at me and suddenly I was embarrassed. This is a woman that I was good friends with during my elementary, middle, and part of my high school years until we had a fallout. Just the sight of her made me feel small again.
After I found out I was pregnant, I waited a while to tell my friends. When I did tell them and the word spread, I had three friends left. To this day, those three friends are my best girlfriends and I know I wouldn't have made it out of high school without them. Other girls were never mean to me. At least not to my face, but I'm sure they talked about me. The guys were mean. After I had Ali, I never went on a date. Guys I went to school with told me some of the most hurtful things I've ever heard and I had a hard time trusting any guy for years. Girls were much more subtle about their feelings. I was shunned and used as an example.
After I relaxed a bit and remembered I was a professional, I turned to walk towards her and do my business. I was hoping she wouldn't recognize me, but I should have known better. Physically, I haven't changed all that much since high school. She recognized me in an instant and her jaw dropped. She was so excited to see me she grabbed me and gave me a hug and confessed she just couldn't believe it was me. If you could have seen how she acted, you would think I came back from the dead.
To make a loooong story short, she invited me to a dinner party she was throwing to welcome summer (it was on Sunday). She insisted that I go and listed all the people that would be in attendance. It was a mix of family, friends from college, those she works with, and a close knit circle of friends from high school still living in the area. I was thrown back to my junior year in high school when I was personally invited to a party and when I showed up, no one talked to me the entire night. I made my way around the house with a cup someone shoved in my hand and no one cared to spark up a conversation with me. I wanted to tell her I couldn't go to her dinner, that I had other plans, but my mind didn't come up with something fast enough. She told me I'd better come because she would be setting a place for Ian and me. We parted and I walked away thinking of what just happened. We had a lengthy conversation and she didn't asked about Ali.
I told Ian about what happened and asked him to help me come up with something to get out of the dinner and he flat out told me he wouldn't do such a thing. He said he would like to meet some of my old friends from high school (duh! he didn't get that these weren't friends) and that people change and grow up. He understood that I was afraid I'd be shunned again by those few girls and subject to those long stares and judgments and it'd be like I was fifteen all over again. This time, I'd be sitting at the end of the table eating lemon and walnut cake with honey syrup instead of a bag of chips. He reminded me that I have a lot to be proud of and a lot to tell them about my life so far. Even with all I have to be proud of, I was still a little scared. I was comforted by the fact that I'd be sitting next to one hot man, ever confident, the entire night.
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We're walking around her home in Montrose and of course, I'm looking at her decor and design. Ian has left me because he has nerd radar and can find anyone willing to talk to him about world news, tech talk, or interests in the newest little gadgets (he sat with his laptop at the beach following live updates on Steve Jobs' keynote speech this week). Normally, I would have been having a conversation with a complete stranger and enjoying my time, but I knew those girls from high school she had invited were walking around, too.
I didn't have that long to drown in my nervousness. They rounded the corner after only fifteen minutes of my arrival and were delighted to see me. They gave me these great hugs as if we had once been friends and they had missed me so much. I have to admit, their warm welcome made me feel a little better. We caught up during the dinner. I was prepared to sit with Ian, but they actually wanted to sit and talk with me, about me, and see pictures of Ali. It felt like being accepted to the closed circle of friends. They really wanted to talk to me and were amazed by everything I've accomplished while raising a child. It was so much fun. It took ten years, but I guess Ian was right. Some people can change. They were completely charmed by him, everyone is, and I loved that he made me go to the dinner. These girls have never seen Ali and are looking forward to it. I’m looking forward to it.
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| Wednesday, 4-Jun-2008 16:44 |
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VIP
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I wait in bed in the mornings for Ali's call. I know his dad has to remind him to call me. I hear him in the background reminding him to "tell her about this or that". He's anxious to get outside to help his grandfather and great-grandfather build a boat. In the evening, they will take off to do some fishing. Even more classic than a boy and his dog is a boy and his fish.
I spend some of the early afternoon in the shop cleaning up some globes (seven of them; two light up) that will be placed on top of the book shelves in Ali's study off of his bedroom. Three of them will be placed in an old treasure trunk and the others can stand on their own. They're all different sizes and look wonderful. All were picked up at a Fort Bend ISD auction. I'm also making him an inspiration board out of chicken wire. He'll be coming home to a new study for a new year. I got a tip that at the next auction, they'll have some pull down maps and I was promised a first look.
In the late afternoon, I work with my team designing a sidebar for a local restaurant. We have deadlines looming near and I've cancelled lunch meetings three days in a row. I've been promised my very own VIP table if I can get done before schedule.
When I get home, Ian will remind me we're having dinner with friends in town. I'm not to excited about going because I never knew about it. He planned a dinner without telling me and at the end of the day, when more than anything I just want to relax, I have to take a shower and get dressed. I enjoyed it, though. He was great enough to call for the car service. We stayed very late, gave our compliments to the chef, and invited him to sit and chat with us for a while.
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| Tuesday, 27-May-2008 18:12 |
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Winifred Tickles Foster
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When I woke up this morning, I had three missed calls and voicemails. My clients know when my son is away and try to suck every last breath and ounce of energy out of me before he gets back. I decided to wait to check the calls and voicemails until after I ate breakfast.
I'm in San Marcos working for a wonderful gentleman. He's forty-three, divorced, has a son and daughter, and just adopted a puppy that followed me onto his property. With my help, he's decided to name her Winifred Tickles Foster. I suggested he call her Winnie.
Right now, he's working and his kids are enjoying their last week at school. I'm sitting in his house, listening to music from his mp3 player, sorting through photographs, and digging through the garage and bedroom closets. I have to get to know him before I can do any work for him. My team should be here by three.
Music still playing, I needed to take a break to call Ali. His dad has never kept him for longer than a week at a time and we've never been apart for longer than two weeks. I miss talking with him, his voice (my frogger), I miss him. I'm not the only one. Miss Ellie keeps coming by and hanging around. She knows he's not here, but she still asks to come in. Last weekend, she helped me with some frame projects. When I told her I was leaving for San Marcos for a few days, she asked when I would be back and told me she would see me then.
Now, Fiction Plane is playing Two Sisters. I just did a little research and I knew I've heard that voice before.
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| Wednesday, 21-May-2008 06:01 |
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That's my daughter in the water
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On Friday night, my son left with his father for Nova Scotia. He'll be visiting his grandparents for a month and I miss him already. Before he left, we found out he will be playing travel ball next year and he was so excited. He carried his bag to the car and talked about wild adventures, sailing, fishing, and hiking with his pap-pap. I thought of a sraped knee, bloody t-shirt, hooked finger tip, and maybe a rash. I wish I could be around to smell the summer sun in his hair and see it in his skin.
On Saturday, I came over to San Antonio with Ian to visit his parents. I heard the song "Daughter" by Loudon Wainwright on the way and remembered how sweet it is. 
Shortly after we arrived, I misplaced my car keys. His grandmother was there and when I asked her if she'd seen my keys, she said no and quickly said a prayer to Saint Anthony, Patron saint of lost things. Not five minutes passed when I decided to give my purse a second search and found my keys under my wallet. She held my hand and reminded me to always pray to Saint Anthony when I've misplaced something. She's the sweetest woman and I like to hear her call Ian Christian. She gave me the warmest hug and kiss when we told her our plans for getting married.
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| Thursday, 8-May-2008 04:01 |
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Baudelaire Does It Every Time
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| Wednesday, 7-May-2008 17:22 |
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Rogue Squadron
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This morning, running late, we jump into the car, me with no pants, the kid still in pjs, and some toaster pastries and milk. I notice he’s brought the pants with the Rogue Squadron iron-on patch (thanks to his dad!). I remember the note home I received two weeks ago asking that he never wear those pants to school again. For today, the school can suck a fat one. I’m going to have to call Father Thomas, apologize, beg for forgiveness, and ask that they not issue my child detention. I won’t be surprised if in my note, Father slips in a reminder for family wellness classes on Wednesday nights.
I get home and remain pantless. I’m sure everyone lives like this. Pantless at home. It’s almost summer and the sticky humidity will soon become unbearable. The first thing you want to do when you walk into your home is take off your pants. You know you’re an honored guest if you walk into my home and everyone’s wearing pants.
Let me answer your questions.
1. How does the kid change his clothes while safely buckled in?
We were parked in the school parking lot. He already had his shirt on, just needed the pants.
2. Why does school care about Star Wars patches?
Ali attends a private school with a very strict dress code. He has to wear boring white button-ups with navy pants and black shoes everyday. On Wednesday, they have prayer in the church and they have to come to school with a blazer and tie. On Fridays, he can relax in a white polo. But he must always wear plain navy pants. They didn't care for the patch on his back pocket.
3. If you apologize, will it be sincere?
Yes, it would be sincere. I really was sorry that my kid walked into school with his shirt untucked, unruly hair that needs a trim, his tie in his pocket (I roll his ties, but he stuffs them in his pocket and they become wrinkled), and wearing pants that we knew he wasn't supposed to wear to school. All these little details are like little failures on my part.
4. What is a "fat one?"
Umm... Consult with the Urban Dictionary and take your pick.
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| Tuesday, 6-May-2008 22:36 |
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To All of Our Tomorrows
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First Speeding Ticket
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My parents have had some ranch land outside of Katy for years. The house they are building on the ranch is almost complete and will be big enough to hold our entire family plus significant others plus children. My mom and dad know that the rolling hills of green and Texas wildflowers will keep us around for good. Oak trees line the entrance. The trees are so thick that when you're driving down the pebbled path, your satellite radio will go out and search for a signal. The cricket chirps are so loud at night. Count the number of chirps in fourteen seconds, add forty, and you'll have the temperature. It usually seems about right.
This morning, I went shopping with my mom and my aunt Grace. We need a table. Immediate family only would require a table for eight. Add husbands and wives, fourteen. Room for kids? We are looking for something for around 20+. The dining room is more like a dining hall. If there's one thing we enjoy doing as a family, it's dinner. We're a pretty loud group and we've got lots to talk about. Friends I have brought to our table are often amazed and tell me it's like something you see in feel good holiday movies and I agree: talk of new loves and lost ones, the vegetarian menu for one, too much wine, lots of laughter, whispers and giggles, stories and a few tall tales. The difference is those huge dinners as seen on TV only take place once a year. We try to do this every week. My younger sisters and brother still moan and try to come up with an excuse when mom calls days ahead with the invite and enticing menu. When we do all get together, you can tell they secretly love it.
We saw many different tables, none of which we thought was right for the house, and I had fun picturing where everyone would sit. I thought of Ali sitting with a brother or sister and cousins. I want to give him what I had growing up. I just hope it'll be the same for him though he will be much older than his future siblings and new family.
Toasts to new members of the family, birthday boys and girls, graduates, new jobs, achievements, our friends, hopes and dreams, health, love, and happiness. And to all of our tomorrows.
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| Tuesday, 6-May-2008 04:41 |
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Waffle House
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Ali’s school had an ice cream social on Saturday. The weekend weather was perfect and I wore a light sweater. Just like last year, I was placed under arrest and spent thirty minutes in jail. I sat with the AP and the custodian. My bail was set at $50. Ian, my gorgeous man, bailed me out and brought me a lavender ice cream cone. We spent the rest of the night walking around, eating ice cream, hanging out by the tire swings, and shuffling gravel back and forth with our feet. We set out for the track to participate in a game of Red Rover. When I was Ali’s age, we called out, “Red Rover, Red Rover, let (name) come over!” Now they call, “Red Rover, Red Rover, send (name) right over!” When my name was called, I wasn’t able to break through the line.
We drove home with the top down listening to Kings of Leon. We passed a Waffle House and I had a flashback.
I was sixteen and Ali had just turned one. I remember it was a Tuesday because I was studying for my weekly Wednesday quiz for Mrs. Dickerson’s class. It was past ten and Ali refused to sleep. He was fussy and so was I. Everyone else was asleep except for Adam. After a while, I got frustrated by the crying and koala clinging, so I got up and told Adam I was sneaking out for a drive with Ali and he decided to join us.
We ended up driving down to Rosenberg. We pulled into the Waffle House. It was already past eleven and most of the people at the Waffle House that late on a Tuesday were truckers. There was an old couple enjoying coffee and sharing the day’s news in a corner booth by a window. Ali was still playing koala with his arms and legs wrapped around my body, static cling, crying, laughing, and flirting with everyone we passed on the way to the counter, fluttering his eyelashes. I wasn’t hungry and settled for a tall glass of milk with ice. Adam ordered pancakes. The baby flashed his baby blues at the waitress and she twirled his baby locks in her fingers.
I don’t remember what Adam and I talked about that night. I just remember how happy I was to see droopy eyes and feel soft, wispy baby hair on my neck with some pancake crumbs on my shoulder. He would rub his eyes, turn his head from side to side, his body folding into me, and finally let his arms drop and then he fell asleep. The clinking and scraping of forks and knives on sticky plates, the percolating coffee machine, the loud laughter of a group of men, put him right to sleep.
I strapped him down in the back seat. Adam fell asleep on the way home with his head against the window. I kept my eyes on the road and the rear-view window, watching Ali breath and shift, thanking God for a sleeping baby.
I haven’t been back to the Rosenberg Waffle House ever since.
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| Monday, 5-May-2008 22:24 |
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Must Be The Sawdust
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I walk in the front door a little tired from having stayed up most of the night reading Kite Runner. I had a quick lunch at Panera with my sister Ava. It rained all morning and some of the afternoon and I’m wearing my raincoat. I’m setting some magazines and my bag on the coffee table when my gorgeous man walks in through the back door. He always greets me with mi amor in his thick Spanish accent. I turn around and while he’s slipping off my coat to put away, I tell him I’m thinking of taking a nap before I pick up Ali from school. While he’s taking my coat, I smell the hint of sweat, sawdust, and paint, and I find that very sexy. He walks to the hall closet and I see he’s wearing jeans and a t-shirt, both splattered with paint. He’s walking and talking at the same time, saying he’ll pick up the boy so I can sleep and we’ll all go out for dinner. It’s Monday and I’m sure there is nothing left to eat in the house anyway. He’s standing by the closet waiting for me to sign off on his plans and he looks like a chiseled sculpture. I find his energy infectious and I could jump him and do the deed on the coffee table next to my Real Simple magazines.
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| Friday, 2-May-2008 23:33 |
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Sweet Tea
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This morning, I got the kid to school and came home to get back into bed and read. I barely have the book open when I think I’d rather be sorting the laundry and deciding what needs to go to the dry cleaner. I love going through pockets and finding notes, some from a girl named Ellie and others with cryptic messages that I can’t decode in a boy’s handwriting.
Later, I have lunch with my better half. We were brought up in different worlds and he has tastes that differ greatly from mine. I like sharing my food. When I ask, “Hey, you want half of mine,” I really mean yours looks better and I want to try it. I can’t do that when he orders something like calf’s tongue. I hate when he does this.
I come home and see my neighbor. I haven’t talked with her for over a week and I miss our ten minute chats outside when the sun’s going down. I ask her to come inside and offer her some sweet tea. I ask her how she’s been and she tells me that she found out she was pregnant and having a miscarriage. She wasted no time beating around the bush. I was unprepared for that kind of response and I sank into my chair. She’s thirty-six, married to a wonderful man, has a beautiful home, and works all day on her flower gardens. She tells me that they’ve been trying for two years and she’s miscarried three times, all in the first trimester.
She’s not completely discouraged and is enjoying the training for a foster care program. She walks out my front door smiling and I’m completely awed by her strength.
Ali comes home and throws his bag on my bed. He jumps up, gives a deep sigh, and says he’s hungry. Even though I get a glimpse of the man he’s quickly becoming, he’ll hug me, tell me he’s glad I’m home, and look at me like he’s taking in his entire universe.
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