Work in Progress Part II

I turned the radio to the local news and remembered to breathe. The rest of the trip home was uneventful reports of murder, war, and the occasional warning of ice on the roads that was causing tractor-trailers to flip over. At least those problems were on the radio and not in my own head. I refocused my Reality Binoculars. I was comfortable avoiding the chance to strut down an aisle like a white satin Mummer on New Years Day. Actually, considering how gaudy some of those wedding gowns can get, the parallel between the two wasn’t a bad one.

*****

My driveway, for once, was clear of any cars parked illegally for the bar across the street. I let myself relax as I pulled into my beloved designated spot behind my building. The wooden steps to the second floor had iced over again but it was too late at night to hack a safe path with the heel of my boot, not without chancing waking my neighbor or her German Shepherd. I held my breath and both handrails as I slowly made my way up to my back door and fumbled with the key in my gloved hand.

Finally inside, I received the usual rebuke and glare from my roommate for being out too late. Fortunately for me Dinah is a roommate with four feet, whiskers and an attitude easily appeased with catnip or skim milk. I didn’t take the abuse personally. She performed a perfect figure eight around my feet without seriously tripping me, a feat that took many years and many dropped microwave dinners to manage.

Two messages on my answering machine blinked at me. One was someone trying to sell me a time-share in Disneyworld. It was a tempting offer considering the cold snap over the Northeast, but I erased the message for my own good. The next voice was my high school pal out in Michigan, bored out of his skull and calling everyone programmed into his cell phone. I knew this because my name came after Jen and before Lenny in Rick’s phone list, and if he had been drinking he tended to lose track and call me by one or the other name.

“BEEP…Jess? Hello, Jess? Damn, I was hoping you were just screening your calls again. Are you there and screening your calls? Jess? Damn.” Click, BEEP.

Lenny? Hello, Lenny? Damn again! I could almost hear Rick’s next call as I wandered down the front steps to check for my mail. Dinah knew better than to do more than to stick part of her head out the front door to make sure I was coming back. One whisker-to-whisker meeting with Countess in the downstairs apartment was enough to keep her out of the dark stairwell.

I sorted through the envelopes, tossing the coupons and fliers onto the coffee table. On top was a telephone bill, a rather large one going by weight. Set that one aside with a wince. Electric bill, not so bad thanks to my love of thick wooly socks and an afghan knitted by my cousin Melissa during a very confining pregnancy. The four credit card applications were placed in another pile for a fateful meeting with my document shredder. A frilly and bright lavender designer envelope with my name written in perfect calligraphy…

Well, we ALL knew this...

You Are a Chick Rocker!

You're living proof that chicks can rock You're inspired by Joan Jett and the Donnas And when you rock, you rock hard (Plus, you get all the cute guy groupies you want!)

What Kind of Rocker Are You?

Work in Progress Part I

It was icy driving conditions on the drive home. I made a mental note to myself to never again listen to New Age music in the car. It made me introspective, then usually depressed. Much safer to listen to some rock station or the news, anything with words that were not my own. I replayed the conversation one more time so I could fully enjoy the feeling in the pit of my stomach. A glass of mediocre Merlot, definitely not worth the $7.50 with tip, had loosened my tongue a bit. Another mental note, either stay away from the bar or learn to be a quiet drinker when you’re with coworkers.

I had been watching my former boyfriend walk away after an awkward conversation when I turned to Linda. “You know we broke up in December.”

“No, you’re KIDDING!” She had put on a surprised and comforting face almost in time to hide the excitement from getting fresh gossip. “You two were together for so long!”

“It was two years plus a few months. It was… amicable. Things were just never going to happen between us.” I had taken another sip and muttered into my wine glass, “Besides, I probably would have been a terrible wife for him.”

I wished I could have seen Linda’s particular expression, but the edge of the glass had obscured the view. “Well, I think he would have been a perfect husband for you! What a shame.”

Thanks. The words kept zinging between my ears as I continued my drive. At the time of that conversation, I had actually nodded and agreed wholeheartedly at the time I had heard Linda’s words. Even if they weren’t true, they were close enough to nip at me. There had more than a few times I had heard something along those lines, even from people I liked much more than Linda.

Maybe Linda’s more right than she realized. Maybe I would be a horrid wife to anyone. Maybe there’s an obvious reason I’m still unmarried at this point of my life. Maybe...

New friends make things better

Yesterday evening was one of those times that almost made me regret moving. Just handling something as simple as covering the opening where my window was smashed was made difficult because I had no idea where the duct tape was in this house (after several attempts, I was able to call Pros for the location). Then, when I was able to relax for a second, I found our cable had been shut off because our bill has consistently been forwarded to Pros' old apartment.

Thankfully, I had previously made arrangements to meet a new aquaintence at a neighborhood bar within walking distance. "Wendy" is a bartender at another local watering hole, but this is where she goes to drink, so I decided to give it a shot. What a great place! Two pinball games, cheap as all hell drinks, and incredibly friendly regulars. Wendy and I sat out back and yapped until I was much calmer about living in Columbus, then kept drinking until she could barely keep her eyes open. A good time was had by all, and now I have a haven where I can have a vodka tonic while beating the crap out of a pinball.

Oh, the cable is back on and my car window is being repaired this afternoon. Things are looking a bit better.

Violated

Some schmuck broke into my car this afternoon. Nothing was taken as far as I can tell, not even my stereo, but the right passenger window was smashed in. Okay, my supply of quarters was taken, but not the nickles. What the heck? Most likely the thief or thieves either were scared off by heavy traffic or just couldn't find anything because my car was such a mess.This happened while Pros is still on his geology field trip and I'm trying to get ready to start substitute teaching.

Still can't believe nothing was stolen but I'm going to be out a couple hundred dollars replacing the window. It's going to force me to start taking the bus to and from work (something Pros wanted me to do anyway), but now I'll feel unsafe doing that as well.

As someone said to me a couple of months ago, welcome to the big city! Ugh...

Plea to alma mater

This is from a letter sent to the PR Veep of my undergrad college regarding his response to the ongoing fight to save the radio station from a takeover by the local PBS affiliate:

Mike Bruckner, a Muhlenberg spokesman, said that while the college is always interested in exploring any new opportunities it can offer its students, he is not sure how a merger between WLVT and WMUH-FM 91.7 would occur.
''As far as I know, ours isn't for sale,'' Bruckner said. ''We're always interested in partnerships, but we're all for focusing the station on students.''


Mr. Bruckner,

I wanted to write privately to thank you for taking this public stance, even if your word is not the bound oath of the college. As one of the "rabblerousers", I can be honest that we are anxious to hear any news other than the usual neutral stance. The conversation on My Muhlenberg is one of alumni who are very passionate about making sure this part of our shared history has another generation.

Since I've graduated, things have definitely changed. Several of my favorite professors have left, while others were granted the tenure they worked so hard to earn. My home from my junior year was leveled to make way for the C.A. expansion and my sorority (I am a founding sister of Phi Mu) struggles to stay alive. WMUH and Phi Mu are the two places left where I can still find my fingerprints, and it is vital to me personally that both are there for my future students to enjoy.

Another thing that has happened was the sudden death of my friend and mentor Mark Klee, known on the air as Mr. Mark. As you joined the campus before his 2001 passing, you may have had the pleasure of listening to his off the wall commentary on the Lehigh Valley and beyond. If not, Joe Swanson would probably be happy to loan you a copy of the finest DJ Allentown ever had. There is a room in the studios that has quietly been dedicated to his memory, and it is a place that I love to visit when I visit campus. To lose the free-form concept of the station in favor of full NPR programming would be to lose what made Mark's gift possible, not to mention to lose the chance that another equally talented but totally different DJ will appear on Muhlenberg's airwaves.

I am writing to you from my heart and asking that you act as an advocate for the voices you have been hearing, if at all possible. We do not write and call because we enjoy pestering our alma mater. We are weighing in at the court of public opinion because we are desperate to keep WMUH as it is. Again, I thank you for taking your public stance. Please let me know if there is any information or background I can give you as you and President Helm (whom I had the pleasure of meeting at my class reunion last year) continue the process of researching your options.

Aging

Last night I came home from dinner with some of Pros' gal pals from the University. They were a ball! One of them was amazing with wine tasting even though she claimed she didn't like a lot of what she tasted. Her palate was one I envied. We talked about food and dating and all the things most discuss on a girls' night out. Only once did I mention the fact that I had at about a decade of years on them. There is a definite difference between 20somethings and 30somethings, but it isn't something that usually would come up over a silly night of pasta and porto.

When I was getting ready for bed that night, I thought of something funny said that evening and grinned in the mirror. The image staring back at me had crow's feet I had never seen on my own face, and the smile quickly vanished. The lines didn't seem to stop at my eyes but ran down the length of my face, rows of tiny wrinkles that hadn't been there only weeks before. For someone who loves passing for seven years younger than my age, this alarmed me. Yes, it's a horrid kind of vanity, but it's also a tremble of mortality that left me marked.

One thing is for sure. I will continue to smile. I'm a happy person, damnit!

Solitude Sitting Around

Pros is out of town for over a week, and I've suddenly realized how isolated I am in this new place. Tried calling the two people I know who don't have kids or whatnot. One is working and the other never answers the phone anyway. It's unnerving to feel this alone in such a big place. It was nice for about a day, but now I'm starting to wonder when and if I'm going to find a group of friends who would just say, "Yeah, we're just making pasta, but feel free to come over."

This was one of the risks I took when I moved out here. What I didn't count on was that Pros isn't the most social man I've been with, so I've turned down a lot of invites out in the past because he wanted to watch a DVD instead. So now I'm able to get out on my own but have nowhere to go. Well, I could always go to the coffee shop and write / people watch, but that isn't quite the same.

Maybe I'll just go make some pasta for myself and catch a showing of "Broken Flowers" over at the local artsy theater. Maybe I'll stay in and catch the results from "Rockstar, INXS". Maybe I'll go exercise at the place I quit after two days of work. Maybe I'll play yet another round of "Civilization III".

Who knows? I'm DEFINITELY going out tomorrow night!

Bypass FEMA!

Here's an address in Baton Rouge for direct donations of goods:

The Downtown Churches Distribution Center for Refugee Needs
St. James Episcopal Manship Ministries Center
P.O. Box 3011, Baton Rouge, LA 70821

They need clothing (baby clothes, children's clothes, adult clothing: comfortable ones like shorts and T-shirts), bed linens, blankets, towels, toiletries, etc. Mark what you're sending on the box so it can be sorted more easily. Personally, I'm planning on getting a bunch of new underwear and sending that. I have a feeling the Salvation Army doesn't have a lot of undergarments.

Dear Mur,

You popped up in one of my dreams again, so I'm assuming there was something you wanted to tell me. It's so rare I remember my dreams, but the ones with you are fairly vivid, with you wanting to take me away for a talk. The problem is that I can never fully recollect the conversations once I'm awake and remember again that you died in 1997.

Did you want to make sure I haven't forgotten you? That's impossible, my dear one. Too much of the my life was wrapped up in yours, and to be honest, sometimes it's been difficult to move forward. However, I think you're happy that I have with someone as wonderful as Pros. You really would have loved him. He's as astute with wines as your father was without having that addiction. He loves me without having to battle a love of substances as you did. He's the only other person besides you that I'd consider as a husband, and since you're gone, it's a good thing he wants me as his wife!

Missing you is an odd thing after all these years. Just reread "The Lovely Bones" and I wonder how much you really do keep an eye on us from your life. Hopefully not too often now that there's so much else in the universe to explore. It's also a sad world to view from the outside, I'm sure. Your family is trying to move forward, but they have different ways of doing so. Hopefully they will manage to coordinate someday. I haven't seen or heard from your brother in years, and I miss that contact because he was becoming an amazing adult. He knew you even better than I did, and your death almost killed him, but he seems determined to live. He'll be okay in the long run once his body heals from his addictions.

You are not forgotten, and are lovingly captured in memories and dreams.

--Love, Moi
(little in joke there, if you remember)

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