I found myself in Cranston, RI this morning, where Agent 98 had a bowling tournament at Lang's Lanes. (Don't miss the chili cheese fries!) It was our second time bowling in Cranston in as many weeks. He didn't have the best day, but with a high score of 103, he beat his average, and that's really the point anyway.
So I get on the highway to come home after we're done, and notice a couple of interesting buildings that I hadn't noticed on the ride down ... and then another one ... and then I think to myself, "Where'd Providence go?" I had driven eight miles on 95 South before I realized my mistake.
If that was only the first time I'd ever gotten lost on 95 that would be one thing. Or if it had been the most lost, I could accept that. But I have an even stupider lost than that. One that makes me cringe every time I think of it. Thankfully, I was alone in the car when it happened.
I had just moved to Medford, and had previously had few, if any, reasons to take Rte. 2 west to 95. I was headed to Waltham (this was in our Costco days) which meant 2W to 95S. After a couple of minutes on 95 I noticed that the Burlington Mall was on the wrong side of the road (and later learned it wasn't even along my expected route). I absolutely believe that any normal, functioning human being, on seeing the Burlington Mall on the left hand side of the road but expecting it to be on the right, would think "Oh, I'm going the wrong way." Totally normal reaction. But me? I thought to myself, "Hey, when did they move the Burlington Mall?"
So you try waking up with this brain every morning.
Sunday, January 23, 2011
Monday, January 17, 2011
January 17, 2011
I have struggled with how to recognize today: what would have been, and what should have been, Tom's 58th birthday. So I thought I'd share some more moments. In no particular order:
This was Agent 96's first cous cous dinner. About a half-step lower on the spectrum than a Thanksgiving feast, cous cous dinners were a ritual at our home. In fact, on Kwaj we once had a cous cous feast instead of a Thanksgiving turkey dinner. Tom loved himself some Moroccan food. Tom loved himself food, and sharing it with his friends.
We had to put Neko to sleep in 1998, when she was 18 years old. I knew we'd be going to the vet later this day, and my heart knew Tom wouldn't get to hold her again. Poor little Neko looks comfortable in this photo, but she could barely stand, and could no longer walk. A few months before she died, Neko, who had taken to hanging out with Tom in the office (where Tom had jury-rigged a running water fountain out of a plastic box, an aquarium pump, and tubing) and increasingly tired of walking up and down two flights of stairs to the litter box, had taught herself to use the toilet. We were alone in the house one day, just Tom, sleeping 96, and I, when from the kitchen we heard someone using the bathroom upstairs. We looked at each other, and remarked upon it, but it wasn't until days later that we actually saw that little kitty sitting up there, assuming the position.
Oh, how we loved our tropical Christmases. And what better way to spend Christmas Eve than teaching your 4- and 5-year-olds how to drive?
This might be my actual, official wedding portrait ...
... but here, my friend Laura caught Tom speaking his vows -- proof! This is my favorite wedding photo. In our church service a few months later, Fr. Hehir, unhappy that we used the same vows, tacked on to the end that God had put Tom in charge of family security, and put me in charge of the household. So whenever I'd ask Tom to take out the rubbish, he had to do it ... because God said so!
About two weeks before we pcs'd from Kwaj in 2002, Tom and I spent a long weekend in Pohnpei, FSM, where we visited Nan Madol. We met our friends Mooch and TOO (short for "The Other One") who let us stay in their thatched hut at The Village as long as we fed them. I don't remember which is which, but I know they were fatter when we left than when we got there.
Our first visit to the Big Island, 1999. Don't you love 96 & 98 all matchy-matchy like that? I'd still put them in matching t-shirts if I could! This was moments before the dotcom bubble burst, and if we had had our checkbook with us the day we stepped off the plane on that vacation we would own a little piece of paradise today. And we would never have left.
Lake Mooselookmeguntic, Oquossoc, Maine. Tom had been going there with friends for years before we met, and I was quite honored the first time he invited me along. We went once with the kids in the early days, but were so mortified by "the great magic marker debacle of '99" that we were afraid to make reservations again until the summer of 2006. Ever wonder what to do if you find an unattended black magic marker? Stop. Don't touch. Leave the area. Tell an adult.
I don't know which was more of a chick magnet: the cool Daytona, or Maxwell. They're both pretty hot. Hmmmm ... all three of them were pretty hot, actually!
I treasure every moment, every memory. The lifetime of moments that make the life of a man.
This was Agent 96's first cous cous dinner. About a half-step lower on the spectrum than a Thanksgiving feast, cous cous dinners were a ritual at our home. In fact, on Kwaj we once had a cous cous feast instead of a Thanksgiving turkey dinner. Tom loved himself some Moroccan food. Tom loved himself food, and sharing it with his friends.
We had to put Neko to sleep in 1998, when she was 18 years old. I knew we'd be going to the vet later this day, and my heart knew Tom wouldn't get to hold her again. Poor little Neko looks comfortable in this photo, but she could barely stand, and could no longer walk. A few months before she died, Neko, who had taken to hanging out with Tom in the office (where Tom had jury-rigged a running water fountain out of a plastic box, an aquarium pump, and tubing) and increasingly tired of walking up and down two flights of stairs to the litter box, had taught herself to use the toilet. We were alone in the house one day, just Tom, sleeping 96, and I, when from the kitchen we heard someone using the bathroom upstairs. We looked at each other, and remarked upon it, but it wasn't until days later that we actually saw that little kitty sitting up there, assuming the position.
Oh, how we loved our tropical Christmases. And what better way to spend Christmas Eve than teaching your 4- and 5-year-olds how to drive?
This might be my actual, official wedding portrait ...
About two weeks before we pcs'd from Kwaj in 2002, Tom and I spent a long weekend in Pohnpei, FSM, where we visited Nan Madol. We met our friends Mooch and TOO (short for "The Other One") who let us stay in their thatched hut at The Village as long as we fed them. I don't remember which is which, but I know they were fatter when we left than when we got there.
Our first visit to the Big Island, 1999. Don't you love 96 & 98 all matchy-matchy like that? I'd still put them in matching t-shirts if I could! This was moments before the dotcom bubble burst, and if we had had our checkbook with us the day we stepped off the plane on that vacation we would own a little piece of paradise today. And we would never have left.
Lake Mooselookmeguntic, Oquossoc, Maine. Tom had been going there with friends for years before we met, and I was quite honored the first time he invited me along. We went once with the kids in the early days, but were so mortified by "the great magic marker debacle of '99" that we were afraid to make reservations again until the summer of 2006. Ever wonder what to do if you find an unattended black magic marker? Stop. Don't touch. Leave the area. Tell an adult.
I don't know which was more of a chick magnet: the cool Daytona, or Maxwell. They're both pretty hot. Hmmmm ... all three of them were pretty hot, actually!
I treasure every moment, every memory. The lifetime of moments that make the life of a man.
Monday, January 10, 2011
Dogproofing Fail
I remember the days when putting a cup on the coffee table got it safely out of reach. I remember scrambling to move stuff to the end table, because suddenly the coffee table no longer meant childproof. Then, to the kitchen table, or higher and higher on the stairs; or, God forbid, I'd have to put something away in order to ensure its safety.
If I wanted to have to childproof my home, I'd have had another baby, thankyouverymuch. Said baby wouldn't have stolen my leftover orange chicken, though, or eaten my Burt's Bees lip balm, container and all. Admittedly, the baby might have chewed through a rattle or two, and maybe an occasional bag of dog treats. But really, Zoet? Pipe insulation?
This is a straggler I just found under the couch. I really hope this was an open can she found and thoughtfully cleaned for me, and not a can she opened herself. Have I mentioned the dog only gets dry food? The cats eat canned. Miraculously, this treat did not require a followup visit to the vet. But I predict this episode did not involve any learning, either (by either one of us.)
About the only pristine stuff in my house anymore: dog toys. Man, they make that stuff to last! The orange ball and the bone? Those came with Zoet in August.
Oops - gotta run. Duty calls ...
If I wanted to have to childproof my home, I'd have had another baby, thankyouverymuch. Said baby wouldn't have stolen my leftover orange chicken, though, or eaten my Burt's Bees lip balm, container and all. Admittedly, the baby might have chewed through a rattle or two, and maybe an occasional bag of dog treats. But really, Zoet? Pipe insulation?
About the only pristine stuff in my house anymore: dog toys. Man, they make that stuff to last! The orange ball and the bone? Those came with Zoet in August.
Oops - gotta run. Duty calls ...
Sunday, January 2, 2011
Dont Get Me Wrong
Don't get me wrong. I love my kids. This is not even a "I love my kids, but ..." post.
I love my kids. Period. Unconditionally. Forever and always. Blah, blah, blah.
I love my kids, but ... being the single mom of two teenage boys sucks. Sucks bad.
I totally get that I'm not the first single parent in the world, or the only one. I can't even use the excuse that I'm the least experienced one, since I've been going at it almost a year now. I was raised by a pretty competent one, in fact, who also had two concurrent teenage boys. And two simultaneous teenage girls. But we were the sensible ones, so I like to think we mitigated a bit. And when she was done with us, she still had one more left to go.
Argue all you want about politics, Agent 96, and society, and how people stink and there's no God, and go right ahead and argue that comic books are literature. And yeah, you can even have input into bedtimes, and menus, and schedules, and extracurricular activities. But this getting an argument about every little thing is getting really old really fast. If I mention that we need a new couch, you know what would be totally awesome?
"Okay, Mom."
I love my kids. Period. Unconditionally. Forever and always. Blah, blah, blah.
I love my kids, but ... being the single mom of two teenage boys sucks. Sucks bad.
I totally get that I'm not the first single parent in the world, or the only one. I can't even use the excuse that I'm the least experienced one, since I've been going at it almost a year now. I was raised by a pretty competent one, in fact, who also had two concurrent teenage boys. And two simultaneous teenage girls. But we were the sensible ones, so I like to think we mitigated a bit. And when she was done with us, she still had one more left to go.
Argue all you want about politics, Agent 96, and society, and how people stink and there's no God, and go right ahead and argue that comic books are literature. And yeah, you can even have input into bedtimes, and menus, and schedules, and extracurricular activities. But this getting an argument about every little thing is getting really old really fast. If I mention that we need a new couch, you know what would be totally awesome?
"Okay, Mom."
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