I don't have anything to tell you today.
I suppose I could tell you about the concert for Nick's fifth grade class. It was cute that Nick wanted to wear a tie and waved at us when he saw us in the audience. I loved how the music teacher danced around and played instruments and got the kids to be so enthusiastic. She's a fairy sprite, this teacher.
I suppose I could tell you how I noodled around the house today, accomplishing little. I seasoned my Dutch oven and tried to re-season my cast iron skillet. It's hard to peel off a botched job on a cast iron skillet.
This stuff is so boring. I didn't feel boring this afternoon. I was having fun. I just figured I needed to get some things cleaned up more than I needed to carve a walking stick or make a quilt. I have this idea for Mike to give an annual award of a carved walking stick to a Scout who has made a difference somehow. I'd like to foster a sense of fun in these boys and to combine it with the hope that we can get them to be enthusiastic about helping. If nothing else, I'd like Nick to grow to be a helpful and self-reliant man and Scouting will help that. So I need to help Scouting.
My boy's a tired man tonight. He read. He did math. He performed at the concert. He picked up after himself. He's just about done for the night. Good thing too, because he can't follow directions at this point, not even when his dad told him to go brush his teeth.
This is boring stuff. You must be spared. You need a story. But what to tell?
I'm still in a Valentine's groove, having my night usurped by meetings last night. Now that Nick is in bed and tucked in, I'm sitting with Mike, who is reading. I like this part of the night. It's too short. Gees, I don't know what book Mike's reading, but he gave it only a mild recommendation, so no matter. It's good, even sitting quietly in a room with him.
Twenty-six years ago, I met Mike at work. We both were engineers for Lockheed. On the first day I met him, a coworker had brought him to my desk and they sat there waiting for me to get back with my coffee. Before he heard me, I looked at the back of his head, the back, mind you, and thought, 'now this is a really good guy.' Oh, I didn't love him yet, believe me. I know exactly when that moment occurred, but I remember knowing something warm about him just looking at the back of his head.
Mike was software and I was hardware. Now, I was happy working in a department that employed a large number of young single guys. I had been dating one man, not an engineer, for nearly a year and I believed I was in love with him. Poor Jim. I was not in love. Oh, don't feel too sorry for Jim. He was that guy who had lots of charm, but asked midway through any date if I'd brought my wallet. He was also a purist who couldn't stain his art by getting a real job, but couldn't afford his art because he didn't have any income. Hmph. Near the end of our first year, Jim broke up with me 'for my own good' he said. At first I was devastated. I wrote songs. I bored my friends with stories about Jim. Then Mike, who had listened to many of these stories, asked me to go to a concert, the Moody Blues. Suddenly, Jim's sad face melted away from my vision. It was that quick and I knew if I could be so excited about a first date with Mike that I had never really loved poor Jim.
Oh that summer was fun. Before our Moody Blues date, we went dancing, played tennis, rode his motorcycle, stayed out late, and flirted over our work. Yes, you really can flirt over an engineering design. Have you ever looked at an 'and' gate on a schematic? Can you see the phallic symbols? I found out that I am really horrible at tennis, but Mike didn't mind. Mike was horrible at dancing, still is, but I could care less. I even learned to do a backward pull-up to get into his lifted Silverado in my pencil skirts. Oh, Mike loved helping me get into his truck.
And then there was the night of the Moody Blues concert. Two other of Mike's friends came and I assumed, when we met them there, that the girl, another software engineer, had been intended as a blind date for Mike's other friend, Jack. Jack seemed funny and sweet, though just a bit round and with a receding hairline. I grabbed Mike's hand, thinking that this girl was really lucky. If she'd connected with Jack at all, she might have discovered that he really was a great guy. He still is.
What I didn't know until much later was that Mike had asked this girl to the concert in an ambiguous way and she thought she was his date! I didn't learn this until a couple of years later though, so in the meantime, I couldn't figure out why she kept throwing me vicious barbs and evil looks. I was clueless and in love and never let go of Mike's hand all night. Oh, I can tell you that when you hold someone's hand, you really can convey the most sensuous thoughts. I'm not sure I heard a single note of the music. When Mike had picked me up to go to the concert, he was in a flannel shirt and a pair of Levis. That was the moment I fell in love with him, when he seemed most comfortable in his skin. At that moment and I just wanted to be right there next to him, so that's where I stayed the entire concert. That angry girl never said a word to Jack, lucky for him. It was her loss. Jack was a sweet man too, but I had already found mine.
I have to tell you that there is more to this story, agony, and revival, and a whole lot of dating in between, but for now I have to quit. Maybe I'll tell you the rest of the story another day.
Thank you for listening to my Valentine story, jb
I suppose I could tell you about the concert for Nick's fifth grade class. It was cute that Nick wanted to wear a tie and waved at us when he saw us in the audience. I loved how the music teacher danced around and played instruments and got the kids to be so enthusiastic. She's a fairy sprite, this teacher.
I suppose I could tell you how I noodled around the house today, accomplishing little. I seasoned my Dutch oven and tried to re-season my cast iron skillet. It's hard to peel off a botched job on a cast iron skillet.
This stuff is so boring. I didn't feel boring this afternoon. I was having fun. I just figured I needed to get some things cleaned up more than I needed to carve a walking stick or make a quilt. I have this idea for Mike to give an annual award of a carved walking stick to a Scout who has made a difference somehow. I'd like to foster a sense of fun in these boys and to combine it with the hope that we can get them to be enthusiastic about helping. If nothing else, I'd like Nick to grow to be a helpful and self-reliant man and Scouting will help that. So I need to help Scouting.
My boy's a tired man tonight. He read. He did math. He performed at the concert. He picked up after himself. He's just about done for the night. Good thing too, because he can't follow directions at this point, not even when his dad told him to go brush his teeth.
This is boring stuff. You must be spared. You need a story. But what to tell?
I'm still in a Valentine's groove, having my night usurped by meetings last night. Now that Nick is in bed and tucked in, I'm sitting with Mike, who is reading. I like this part of the night. It's too short. Gees, I don't know what book Mike's reading, but he gave it only a mild recommendation, so no matter. It's good, even sitting quietly in a room with him.
Twenty-six years ago, I met Mike at work. We both were engineers for Lockheed. On the first day I met him, a coworker had brought him to my desk and they sat there waiting for me to get back with my coffee. Before he heard me, I looked at the back of his head, the back, mind you, and thought, 'now this is a really good guy.' Oh, I didn't love him yet, believe me. I know exactly when that moment occurred, but I remember knowing something warm about him just looking at the back of his head.
Mike was software and I was hardware. Now, I was happy working in a department that employed a large number of young single guys. I had been dating one man, not an engineer, for nearly a year and I believed I was in love with him. Poor Jim. I was not in love. Oh, don't feel too sorry for Jim. He was that guy who had lots of charm, but asked midway through any date if I'd brought my wallet. He was also a purist who couldn't stain his art by getting a real job, but couldn't afford his art because he didn't have any income. Hmph. Near the end of our first year, Jim broke up with me 'for my own good' he said. At first I was devastated. I wrote songs. I bored my friends with stories about Jim. Then Mike, who had listened to many of these stories, asked me to go to a concert, the Moody Blues. Suddenly, Jim's sad face melted away from my vision. It was that quick and I knew if I could be so excited about a first date with Mike that I had never really loved poor Jim.
Oh that summer was fun. Before our Moody Blues date, we went dancing, played tennis, rode his motorcycle, stayed out late, and flirted over our work. Yes, you really can flirt over an engineering design. Have you ever looked at an 'and' gate on a schematic? Can you see the phallic symbols? I found out that I am really horrible at tennis, but Mike didn't mind. Mike was horrible at dancing, still is, but I could care less. I even learned to do a backward pull-up to get into his lifted Silverado in my pencil skirts. Oh, Mike loved helping me get into his truck.
And then there was the night of the Moody Blues concert. Two other of Mike's friends came and I assumed, when we met them there, that the girl, another software engineer, had been intended as a blind date for Mike's other friend, Jack. Jack seemed funny and sweet, though just a bit round and with a receding hairline. I grabbed Mike's hand, thinking that this girl was really lucky. If she'd connected with Jack at all, she might have discovered that he really was a great guy. He still is.
What I didn't know until much later was that Mike had asked this girl to the concert in an ambiguous way and she thought she was his date! I didn't learn this until a couple of years later though, so in the meantime, I couldn't figure out why she kept throwing me vicious barbs and evil looks. I was clueless and in love and never let go of Mike's hand all night. Oh, I can tell you that when you hold someone's hand, you really can convey the most sensuous thoughts. I'm not sure I heard a single note of the music. When Mike had picked me up to go to the concert, he was in a flannel shirt and a pair of Levis. That was the moment I fell in love with him, when he seemed most comfortable in his skin. At that moment and I just wanted to be right there next to him, so that's where I stayed the entire concert. That angry girl never said a word to Jack, lucky for him. It was her loss. Jack was a sweet man too, but I had already found mine.
I have to tell you that there is more to this story, agony, and revival, and a whole lot of dating in between, but for now I have to quit. Maybe I'll tell you the rest of the story another day.
Thank you for listening to my Valentine story, jb
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