Ok... maybe perhaps its because I'm missing my kids... but this little joke has had me giggling ever since I told it to them.
Me: Knock-Knock?
You: Who's There?
Me: Smellmop.
You: Smellmop who?
At this point, I'm snickering as I clearly have a juvenile sense of humor.
(You have to actually say it out loud to understand why its funny. Better yet, tell the joke to someone else so they say it out loud.)
To cheer myself up, I called my mom today and put her on speaker phone. Several hours later, I am still grinning hearing her first say it then her, "Oh Holli!"
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
The Daughter of the Prodigal Son
August 08
My daddy has lived in Dallas so long, I forget sometimes he was actually born and raised in about as far north as you can get in Maine. Listening to his Texas twang, you'd never know where he's from.
He had left Maine about a month or so after I was born. And rarely goes back, despite the fact he works for an airline that provides free airline tickets for him and his immediate family.
But I do have such fond memories of those rare trips we did make. They would always welcome us back with open arms. And it was always so interesting to me, who looks just like my father, to see my features on various family members.
This weekend I'm visiting my kids at summer camp, which also happens to be in Maine as well. I decided that given its been 10 years since my last visit, I should.
I arrived late last night to a wonderful dinner and was brought up to speed on the dozen or so cousins of my generation. Which I'm embarrassed to admit, I don't always remember their names. This morning, my aunt (Daddy's sister) brought me coffee on their deck. I was watching the sun rise over the lake.
The thing I appreciate about my family (both sides) is that there is indeed this connection. I'm immediately comfortable and at ease. I love listening to the stories of my dad from their point of view. All of his siblings that are still living called to say "welcome to Maine" last night.
Today I'll be picking up my kids and bringing them back here to spend the day. (It's my son's birthday too). We're cooking out and enjoying their boat.
Truly, its the feeling loved by people that I confess to barely knowing that is so lovely. They really don't know the woman, I'm loved because I'm their baby brother's baby.
But, I'll take it. And gladly return the love to the people that are my daddy's big sisters/brothers.
My daddy has lived in Dallas so long, I forget sometimes he was actually born and raised in about as far north as you can get in Maine. Listening to his Texas twang, you'd never know where he's from.
He had left Maine about a month or so after I was born. And rarely goes back, despite the fact he works for an airline that provides free airline tickets for him and his immediate family.
But I do have such fond memories of those rare trips we did make. They would always welcome us back with open arms. And it was always so interesting to me, who looks just like my father, to see my features on various family members.
This weekend I'm visiting my kids at summer camp, which also happens to be in Maine as well. I decided that given its been 10 years since my last visit, I should.
I arrived late last night to a wonderful dinner and was brought up to speed on the dozen or so cousins of my generation. Which I'm embarrassed to admit, I don't always remember their names. This morning, my aunt (Daddy's sister) brought me coffee on their deck. I was watching the sun rise over the lake.
The thing I appreciate about my family (both sides) is that there is indeed this connection. I'm immediately comfortable and at ease. I love listening to the stories of my dad from their point of view. All of his siblings that are still living called to say "welcome to Maine" last night.
Today I'll be picking up my kids and bringing them back here to spend the day. (It's my son's birthday too). We're cooking out and enjoying their boat.
Truly, its the feeling loved by people that I confess to barely knowing that is so lovely. They really don't know the woman, I'm loved because I'm their baby brother's baby.
But, I'll take it. And gladly return the love to the people that are my daddy's big sisters/brothers.
Farewell To My Pink Hiking Boots
August 2008
It was a great hike yesterday with the exception of my footwear.
You see, I've had for years the most sturdy and comfortable hiking boots. Best part, they were hot pink. Friends would tease me that if I ever got lost in the woods, I'd always eventually be found because of those boots.
But they were literally falling apart which isn't safe. (I'm already clutzy enough on my own.)
So yesterday I wore my new pair. I had searched and searched for another "fun" color on a good boot. But no luck. Had to settle for a good boot but boring brown. There's a bit of a baby blue on the ankle collar but its on the back and I can't see it.
I loved walking along the trail and looking down at those ridiculous and out of place colored boots. Made me smile. Then when I had gotten a pink iPod to match, loved that too.
No more. Big sad face.
It was a great hike yesterday with the exception of my footwear.
You see, I've had for years the most sturdy and comfortable hiking boots. Best part, they were hot pink. Friends would tease me that if I ever got lost in the woods, I'd always eventually be found because of those boots.
But they were literally falling apart which isn't safe. (I'm already clutzy enough on my own.)
So yesterday I wore my new pair. I had searched and searched for another "fun" color on a good boot. But no luck. Had to settle for a good boot but boring brown. There's a bit of a baby blue on the ankle collar but its on the back and I can't see it.
I loved walking along the trail and looking down at those ridiculous and out of place colored boots. Made me smile. Then when I had gotten a pink iPod to match, loved that too.
No more. Big sad face.
Crazy Gas Prices Good in the End?
August 2008
Like many people, I'm gnashing my teeth whenever I fill up my tank lately then read that gasoline companies are having record profits and getting government subsidies to find new oil reserves. I know we live in a capitalistic society where supply and demand are the key components, but still pisses me off.
I chose to not pay more for gas by decreasing my demand for it by changing around my personal and professional habits. I walk more than I drive now. I'm lucky in that I live in a place that has sidewalks that take me in either 5 minute to 15 minutes where I need to go. I also have the freedom to not only work from home but arrange my schedule that all my face to face meetings take place on one day. Often, I can take the train so I only drive to the station.
This made sense to me too in terms of not wanting to be a part of the problem when it comes to our environment.
Then today, as I was reading yet another story on how obesity in this country is a life-threatening problem to too many... how we all feel the burden too when it comes to insurance raising rates to cover the rising costs of caring for people with illnesses/diseases traced to that extra weight. And how we're now facing that for the first time in many, many generations, our children may have a SHORTER average life span than their parents because of the rampant childhood obesity.
I wondered... maybe this crisis is also our salvation as a society?
Maybe if we started walking more and more places rather than driving (and our children, partners and friends joining us on those walks) we'll be improving the environment AND physical health?
Like many people, I'm gnashing my teeth whenever I fill up my tank lately then read that gasoline companies are having record profits and getting government subsidies to find new oil reserves. I know we live in a capitalistic society where supply and demand are the key components, but still pisses me off.
I chose to not pay more for gas by decreasing my demand for it by changing around my personal and professional habits. I walk more than I drive now. I'm lucky in that I live in a place that has sidewalks that take me in either 5 minute to 15 minutes where I need to go. I also have the freedom to not only work from home but arrange my schedule that all my face to face meetings take place on one day. Often, I can take the train so I only drive to the station.
This made sense to me too in terms of not wanting to be a part of the problem when it comes to our environment.
Then today, as I was reading yet another story on how obesity in this country is a life-threatening problem to too many... how we all feel the burden too when it comes to insurance raising rates to cover the rising costs of caring for people with illnesses/diseases traced to that extra weight. And how we're now facing that for the first time in many, many generations, our children may have a SHORTER average life span than their parents because of the rampant childhood obesity.
I wondered... maybe this crisis is also our salvation as a society?
Maybe if we started walking more and more places rather than driving (and our children, partners and friends joining us on those walks) we'll be improving the environment AND physical health?
The Sailor Next Day... A Story
From Aug 08
When I was in my early 20s and living with a boyfriend in New York, next door lived a sailor, probably 18 or 19. We shared a balcony. No, it was more like a ledge with a railing. The very door leading to it was half the size in width. You had turn sideways to get out there.
We had nothing in common so a friendship never evolved beyond hello's in the hall or "excuse me, didn't realize you were on the balcony".
Until the one very early morning, I opened up the little door and before I could get my "excuse me" out, I realized something was very wrong. He sat on the ground with a head hung low. The pain radiated off that boy nearly knocked me on butt.
Then I saw what he was holding in his hand was a razor. His other wrist was bleeding from a scratch. Apparently, he had just cut himself but not deep enough to sever the necessary artery for death. Beer cans were scattered about his feet. Was he just being drunk and stupid? I knew this was one of those Big Life Moments that you either get right or fuck it up.
I calmly ask, "What are you doing with that razor, ---?"
He looks at me with the deadest eyes. I don't remember the exact words but those eyes I'll never forget. He confirmed what I feared.
Never had I had any kind of experience with this kind of thing. If I ran and got help and he slashed his wrist, would it be too late before it arrived? Didn't in movies the deal was never to leave the person alone?
"Are you sure?" He nodded. My mind raced with what I should say. What came out:
"Did you leave a note saying goodbye to your family." He shook his head.
"Oh, ---, you must leave a note. Come inside, I have some stationery."
He stumbled in behind me, thankfully putting the razor on the coffee table. I sat him at the kitchen table and gave him paper and pencil. I told him I was going to make some eggs and toast now.
He was in middle of writing when my boyfriend walked into the kitchen. He and I were very close so with just a look on my face and a gesture, he didn't start asking what the hell was going on.
The sailor finished his note and sealed in envelope. I asked if there was anyone at work I needed to contact for him? He wrote down a name and number.
All three of us ate in silence. Frankly, I was still so unsure what the heck I should say or do. When we were done, he got up and slowly headed toward the living room and I whispered to my boyfriend quickly what was going on.
My boyfriend took the paper with the name and number of his boss and went into the bedroom, where we had a phone.
I quickly followed the sailor out again. He was nearly to the table with razor when I called out his name. I held out my arms and said, you didn't say goodbye to me. "Please, come here ---."
He fell into my arms. He started to pull away and hugged tighter, "Not yet." Then he began to shake. And at last, tears started to fall from those dead eyes. I'd never held a sobbing person in my life.
Then I took his face in both of my hands and turned it so our eyes could meet. "This is the part where I beg you not to leave me. Please, please ---. Don't leave me. Stay with me. I couldn't bear it if you did."
He sighed and asked me the question I had asked on the balcony. "Are you sure?"
I nodded and moved us toward the couch. I sat next to him with my head on his shoulder while he just cried. I held both his hands in mine. No idea how long we sat like that.
My boyfriend had walked into room and wordlessly picked up the razor and sat on a nearby chair. Not too much later, there was a knock at the door. It was some people in uniforms I didn't recognize.
One man began talking to the sailor in such soothing tones, telling him he needs to come with him so they can make sure he is okay. I hadn't realized that my head was still on his shoulder until he stood up to go.
A few days later, there was a knock again at my door and another sailor stood there holding this plant. He told me that my neighbor was being hospitalized and he specifically asked that I take care of this little plant for him until he gets home. It was maybe 8 inches tall. It was in a container that made it obvious it was some sort of gift... I'm betting a woman.
That sailor never came back. And I never stopped taking care of that plant. It was repotted many times and survived several moves on my part. Now it sits in my living room in front of the big picture window. It has thrived for so long, reaching 5 feet in height.
I'd like to think that my sailor did too after getting the help he needed. That he grew and is now a strong man. He went on to marry and have children and is content with his life.
After the internet was invented, I've thought about looking him up and offering back his plant on more than one occasion.
But the sad truth, I am now too attached to the "happily ever after" I created for him in my mind that crosses it from time to time when I water that plant.
When I was in my early 20s and living with a boyfriend in New York, next door lived a sailor, probably 18 or 19. We shared a balcony. No, it was more like a ledge with a railing. The very door leading to it was half the size in width. You had turn sideways to get out there.
We had nothing in common so a friendship never evolved beyond hello's in the hall or "excuse me, didn't realize you were on the balcony".
Until the one very early morning, I opened up the little door and before I could get my "excuse me" out, I realized something was very wrong. He sat on the ground with a head hung low. The pain radiated off that boy nearly knocked me on butt.
Then I saw what he was holding in his hand was a razor. His other wrist was bleeding from a scratch. Apparently, he had just cut himself but not deep enough to sever the necessary artery for death. Beer cans were scattered about his feet. Was he just being drunk and stupid? I knew this was one of those Big Life Moments that you either get right or fuck it up.
I calmly ask, "What are you doing with that razor, ---?"
He looks at me with the deadest eyes. I don't remember the exact words but those eyes I'll never forget. He confirmed what I feared.
Never had I had any kind of experience with this kind of thing. If I ran and got help and he slashed his wrist, would it be too late before it arrived? Didn't in movies the deal was never to leave the person alone?
"Are you sure?" He nodded. My mind raced with what I should say. What came out:
"Did you leave a note saying goodbye to your family." He shook his head.
"Oh, ---, you must leave a note. Come inside, I have some stationery."
He stumbled in behind me, thankfully putting the razor on the coffee table. I sat him at the kitchen table and gave him paper and pencil. I told him I was going to make some eggs and toast now.
He was in middle of writing when my boyfriend walked into the kitchen. He and I were very close so with just a look on my face and a gesture, he didn't start asking what the hell was going on.
The sailor finished his note and sealed in envelope. I asked if there was anyone at work I needed to contact for him? He wrote down a name and number.
All three of us ate in silence. Frankly, I was still so unsure what the heck I should say or do. When we were done, he got up and slowly headed toward the living room and I whispered to my boyfriend quickly what was going on.
My boyfriend took the paper with the name and number of his boss and went into the bedroom, where we had a phone.
I quickly followed the sailor out again. He was nearly to the table with razor when I called out his name. I held out my arms and said, you didn't say goodbye to me. "Please, come here ---."
He fell into my arms. He started to pull away and hugged tighter, "Not yet." Then he began to shake. And at last, tears started to fall from those dead eyes. I'd never held a sobbing person in my life.
Then I took his face in both of my hands and turned it so our eyes could meet. "This is the part where I beg you not to leave me. Please, please ---. Don't leave me. Stay with me. I couldn't bear it if you did."
He sighed and asked me the question I had asked on the balcony. "Are you sure?"
I nodded and moved us toward the couch. I sat next to him with my head on his shoulder while he just cried. I held both his hands in mine. No idea how long we sat like that.
My boyfriend had walked into room and wordlessly picked up the razor and sat on a nearby chair. Not too much later, there was a knock at the door. It was some people in uniforms I didn't recognize.
One man began talking to the sailor in such soothing tones, telling him he needs to come with him so they can make sure he is okay. I hadn't realized that my head was still on his shoulder until he stood up to go.
A few days later, there was a knock again at my door and another sailor stood there holding this plant. He told me that my neighbor was being hospitalized and he specifically asked that I take care of this little plant for him until he gets home. It was maybe 8 inches tall. It was in a container that made it obvious it was some sort of gift... I'm betting a woman.
That sailor never came back. And I never stopped taking care of that plant. It was repotted many times and survived several moves on my part. Now it sits in my living room in front of the big picture window. It has thrived for so long, reaching 5 feet in height.
I'd like to think that my sailor did too after getting the help he needed. That he grew and is now a strong man. He went on to marry and have children and is content with his life.
After the internet was invented, I've thought about looking him up and offering back his plant on more than one occasion.
But the sad truth, I am now too attached to the "happily ever after" I created for him in my mind that crosses it from time to time when I water that plant.
Voices from Childhood
From July 08:
Last night was "movie night" in my house... which is always tricky with kids. Most of the age appropriate movies for them are dreadfully boring for me. So I often pick several classic movies for them to choose from, even ones I've seen before are better than what is on the kid shelf at Blockbuster.
Their pick was "To Kill a Mockingbird." Nice choice. Mama likey Gregory Peck and the story. It also provided some illustrative background to explain exactly why Barack Obama being the democratic nominee is so important to our entire society. To go one more step toward erasing once and for all that skin color does not determine a person's intelligence and integrity.
At 8 and 11 years old, living in an upper-middle class and often over-educated suburb of Washington, DC... they've never really seen any kind of racism.
It is also always soothing to me to hear southern accents. Lost most of mine years ago between going to a college in New York and majoring in theater for a spell, but those are the accents and phrases from my childhood.
I also understand when I hear them again why my southern accent back then was incorrectly regarded at a yankee school as a sign of ignorance.
But... it was still delightful to hear again the "yes'm", dropped g's and goofy phrases to describe something .
When Dill (the neighbor's 6 year old visiting nephew) exclaimed why they should go to the courthouse, "Come on. I bet they got chains and instruments of torture down there,", I burst out laughing. It was the combination of the enthusiasm, words and accent coming out of a little boy that did it for me.
I'm really ready for a visit home. Thankfully, a nice one is coming up.
Last night was "movie night" in my house... which is always tricky with kids. Most of the age appropriate movies for them are dreadfully boring for me. So I often pick several classic movies for them to choose from, even ones I've seen before are better than what is on the kid shelf at Blockbuster.
Their pick was "To Kill a Mockingbird." Nice choice. Mama likey Gregory Peck and the story. It also provided some illustrative background to explain exactly why Barack Obama being the democratic nominee is so important to our entire society. To go one more step toward erasing once and for all that skin color does not determine a person's intelligence and integrity.
At 8 and 11 years old, living in an upper-middle class and often over-educated suburb of Washington, DC... they've never really seen any kind of racism.
It is also always soothing to me to hear southern accents. Lost most of mine years ago between going to a college in New York and majoring in theater for a spell, but those are the accents and phrases from my childhood.
I also understand when I hear them again why my southern accent back then was incorrectly regarded at a yankee school as a sign of ignorance.
But... it was still delightful to hear again the "yes'm", dropped g's and goofy phrases to describe something .
When Dill (the neighbor's 6 year old visiting nephew) exclaimed why they should go to the courthouse, "Come on. I bet they got chains and instruments of torture down there,", I burst out laughing. It was the combination of the enthusiasm, words and accent coming out of a little boy that did it for me.
I'm really ready for a visit home. Thankfully, a nice one is coming up.
Erasing All Memories of a Former Love
From July 08
If you could, would you totally erase from your memory a former lover who broke your heart? It would truly be as if it never happened. If you saw them on the street, you'd think they were a stranger.
That's what the movie, "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind" is about. It stars Jim Carrey (way toned down) and Kate Winslet. It was written by the same guy who did "Being John Malkovich" and since I really enjoyed that movie, I was excited to see this one.
Its one of those twisted romance movies that explores the labyrinth of the mind. It goes to places that make you smile and wince at same time.
And guess what?! Its on hulu.com which means if you have NOT seen it, you can for free! (What can I say, I'm a cheap date.)
To answer my own question, I would never want to forget. And its for the most narcissistic reasons of all too. My experiences shape who I am. They make me who I am. If I erased them, I'd not be me. And while there's many things I dislike about myself... overall, I don't want to be anyone but me.
Would you erase anything from your memory if you could?
If you could, would you totally erase from your memory a former lover who broke your heart? It would truly be as if it never happened. If you saw them on the street, you'd think they were a stranger.
That's what the movie, "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind" is about. It stars Jim Carrey (way toned down) and Kate Winslet. It was written by the same guy who did "Being John Malkovich" and since I really enjoyed that movie, I was excited to see this one.
Its one of those twisted romance movies that explores the labyrinth of the mind. It goes to places that make you smile and wince at same time.
And guess what?! Its on hulu.com which means if you have NOT seen it, you can for free! (What can I say, I'm a cheap date.)
To answer my own question, I would never want to forget. And its for the most narcissistic reasons of all too. My experiences shape who I am. They make me who I am. If I erased them, I'd not be me. And while there's many things I dislike about myself... overall, I don't want to be anyone but me.
Would you erase anything from your memory if you could?
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