Category Archives: boy

Friday.

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Ah, beautiful weekend ahead.
For once, I’m not entirely bogged down by babysitting plans.
I actually have some unscheduled time ahead of me this weekend, and I’m positively giddy about it.

After a miserable yesterday, I woke this morning feeling entirely refreshed. I was literally up and cleaning my house at 7:30 am.
It’s looking a little better.
Mike and I need to be better about keeping up with things like the kitchen. It’s gross. I rarely eat at home, and so I push it all off on him. But the pile of dishes keeps growing, and it’s really grossing me out.

I am the designated bathroom cleaner. Maybe it’s all the babysitting, or the years spent making faces while mopping Dairy Queen, but I am not scared of bathrooms.
Hair from the drain? 99% chance it belongs to me, so I’m not scared. Toilet cleaning? Meh, it’s just bleach.
That stuff I can do.
(And I do regularly.)

I even had a load of laundry and some clothes hung up before 9 am.

Carlos was running around chasing his toy mice. I can’t tell if I love him most when we are just waking up and he is laying on me and yawning, or if he’s sliding on the wood floors chasing something. He’s definitely got something very seriously dignified about him, but he’s also childish, when he’s stretched out lengthwise with a mouse between his paws, having just somersaulted into a wall. (God, I love him. I’ll never let anyone take him from me.)

It was all very cute.

We are expecting canine company this evening. I’m terrified. I adore Ely’s golden Archie, but I’m also not so sure how I feel about forcing Carlos to have to adapt to a dog.
Given that Carlos is so wonderful at adapting to strange situations, I’m hoping that once they realize it’s probably going to keep happening, both animals will relax around each other. Archie is curious about Carlos, and even more curious about his food. (Apparently wet food is like crack for all animals.)

Based on how Carlos reacts when he sees any dog, I’m assuming he was attacked by one or more during his Chicago years. And so I understand his fear of Archie, but I wish it wasn’t so bad. While I’m assuming he’ll just run and hide, I’m also worried about a confrontation happening. Carlos can be very nasty when provoked. And I’m not sure Archie would be prepared for that.

Alas, we have to get to the Rockies game first. I’m not going home after work; I’ll meet Emily at the DU light rail station at we will head down from there.
And then after the game? God only knows how we’re going to get my car home.
And get the dog home.

It shall be an adventure. I’m not sure if I should start stressing now, or just wait until it’s happening and roll with it.

I’ll wait.
In all honesty, trying to balance Emily’s needs with Ely’s is going to be a hot mess.
This might get interesting.

And Madeline is in town tonight. And she’ll be out after. So I’m just going to give the rest of them my keys and go dance. (just kidding. or am I?)

Happy Friday!

Odds and Ends and Saturdays

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I got an email from Mama P this morning. You’ll remember Priscilla, my absolutely insanely wonderful host mother in South Africa.
Her emails are always short and to the point. They never say much, but I’m grateful for them. Today she said that the weather is turning cold, and to say hello to Mike and James Dean for her. I laughed out loud when I read the last bit; I had completely forgotten about that. So here’s how it goes:

The night that James was coming to pick me up for our first date, I realized I had no idea what his name was. I knew it was either James or Dean. So we had all just referred to him as James Dean the entire week. I realized that this was eventually going to present a problem, so I called him, and luckily, he didn’t answer his phone. Voicemail clued me in on his real name and that was that. But we still called James Dean.

It’s amazing how much I miss that place. I know it will never be the same, but it will always have a beautiful place in my heart. I want to get back there, to stand at Muizenberg Beach and feel the waves crash against my feet and fight my way onto the train and off again.

However, my life here is growing daily. While I like that I’m learning a lot at my current job, I’m not satisfied with the compensation and have taken on babysitting to make extra cash. (This supports my lifestyle, which you may be surprised to hear isn’t quite as wild as you might think.) Anyway, I’ve got four families in the rotation and the balancing act is getting a bit hectic.

This week, for example, I will be working all seven days. And twice this week I had to go straight from work to babysit. The other nights I went directly home and was in bed relatively early. It’s all fine and well, but I’m not getting any decompression time and am beginning to get a bit stressed.
Hopefully this week will provide ample opportunity for sleep as I’m not scheduled to work any week days.

Alas, today brings more babysitting, volunteering at a choir concert that one of my co-workers is singing in, and then date night. And tomorrow brings babysitting.
I really love the families that I’m sitting for this weekend – I find it much easier to babysit when I’m actually enjoying myself as well. One family has three little girls, and then, of course, there are the twins.   I find myself hoping the symphony season won’t end!

Last night, Jacob and I went to see a production of Macbeth at UCD. Jacob was personally invested – he did the music for the show. I went because I waffle back and forth on my hate/love of Shakespeare. This play was pretty well done. The costuming choices were interesting – mostly just corsets – and the cast was tiny, but the leads delivered their lines really well.
After that, we went to an art gallery where they were serving pancakes and alcohol (strange combination, but hey, whatever). After paying $5 to get in and being told that drinks were free – we ended up having to pay $4 for a small cup. Ridiculous. The gallery was cute, but it was trying too hard to replicate the scene in New York. There were topless models being spraypainted (when done properly, it’s actually really beautiful), but it just felt like an afterthought, especially as the crowd began to diminish.  After meeting up with our friend Claire and her girlfriend and wandering around looking at some art, we bailed to go dancing.

And so we danced. The night drew to a close, and I was grateful, because the tired had begun creeping through my bones. I went home, said hello to Carlos and Mike, and was asleep nearly immediately. I woke up tired – I didn’t get nearly enough sleep. I’m hoping for a nap while I do my laundry.

Tonight, once my obligations are over, I’ve got a wild night planned (as usual). The guy that I guess I’m dating (I don’t know – we eat dinner together sometimes. He made me waffles. I think that counts as sort of edging toward dating?) is going to come down from Boulder (and maybe bring his adorable dog!) and we’re going to go see Claire’s band play and then (depending on how tired I am or how bored he is) head to a weird art gallery/warehouse for a space party ordeal.

Jacob is super into the electronic scene, which means I find myself at a lot of events. I joking called it a “space cult” based on the theme of the first party he invited me to. Now, we call them space parties. They’re not really – just a bunch of people in a room listening to really good (or really bad, depending) music and maybe drinking.

And yes, we may have to relocate Carlos for the evening. Jacob is more than happy to babysit and Carlos has been itching to get out and explore.

Money is the root of all evil

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There are days when I realize how much I really love my mom and how great a job she did raising me.
Ha, I realize that sounded a little funny, because I’m not some high-paid executive with a bright future. I’m just her daughter, the one that has all the weird issues, who lives in Chicago, who finally has a nice boyfriend, who believes in karma, whose car got smashed, who loves her life, who is going through so much weird trouble it’s insane, who can’t imagine what she’s going to do after college, who’s considering grad school, who loves her mother so much.

I sat on the phone with her for like an hour and a half today, just talking about life and everything in it. Talking about Hunter, our future, his future, my future, our relationship, Emily, the money issue, values, belief systems, life, school, the Dominick’s/Safeway regional manager, rent, money, etc. It’s hot today here, hot like I’ve not felt all summer.

Also, in relatively lame news, I may have been exposed to Hepatitis C when I was in the hospital in January for surgery. How fail is that? Some crazy nurse lady was stealing painkillers, injecting them into herself and then leaving the dirty syringes filled with saline for the patients. So I received a certified letter informing me of my possible exposure and then they told me they’d like to test me. Great. Love getting tested for Hep C. It’s going to be awesome.
Good news though: out of the 5700 people possibly exposed, only like 7 have it. So hopefully I won’t be number 8.

Ah, money, the thing we can’t live without. The thing that drives us and drives us nuts.
Hunter is stressed out right now, and I don’t blame him. He’s hoping to get a second job at Starbucks (free coffee and health benefits!), so that should be nice.
I’m hoping to survive summer school. I’ve got a small part in an independent film shooting in August and I’m helping one of my professors cast a movie this next week.

Busy enough.

The Dominicks/Safeway regional manager called me today. He apologized, listened to me tell him that I was treated like a criminal, explained the policy (which is absolutely moronic, in my very valid opinion), I told him I understood the policy, but questioned its implementation. This exchange went on for quite awhile. In the end, I got a sort of apology, the promise that the store manager will be hearing from him personally, etc. etc. I told him not to get the workers in trouble, but that it was the manager and his female goon that embarrassed me and hurt my opinion of the integrity of the store. So you know, we evened out. Whatever. At least my emails got the attention of the regional manager. I feel a little bit better about that.

Well, a nice summer party tonight. Emily is out of town, so I’m heading down to South Michigan Ave to a friend’s, where we will all hang out.

Good day.

spring break

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It was the best spring break ever. We went snowboarding, played soccer, climbed trees, drank tea, drove around, watched movies, made like eight runs to Target, held hands and fell in love again.
There is nothing worse than losing someone you love, even if they haven’t gne far.

Pre-Halloween and final Oregon pictures.

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Saturday night was the pre-halloween party at Melissa’s friend Kaylie’s house at Illinois State University, which is a two hour car ride from Chicago. I dressed as Snow White and spent the better part of the night drifting between people that I knew, making the required small talk. I went outside, to talk to Danny for a little while and get some air, and then ended up having an actual conversation. Another party, another set of faces, and back again. It was enjoyable, but not overly stimulating.
I jumped on the trampoline at Melissa’s house today with her and Bobby and her 8 year old brother. That’s the one thing I was never allowed to have as a child, and the one thing I always wanted. Relaxing into the couch, curling up with football and a golden retriever, and a home-cooked meal. The drive back, eventually, and the weekend ended.
It’s back to the grind again.
The pictures: all of us at Kaylie’s; me and kaylie; melissa decided to give me a piggy back ride (at that point i had ditched my cute but painful shoes and slipped into my new favorites…..); Danny and I in Oregon, being young and in love.

Time melds as days turn into nights and then swiftly into days again. Lists and agendas pile up, good intentions never quite turned into actions. Clutter, so carefully attended to for such a long time, piles now, in places most awkward and obvious. THe desk, a dumping ground for paper products: receipts, art supplies, notebooks, textbooks that should have been opened nightly for the past two months. The floor, a collection of dirty laundry and clean, socks, mittens, a duffel bag, the Communist Manifesto. Pictures adorn the walls, models, friends, impressionists, photographs. There is no theme, no rhyme nor reason to the rooms. Now that fall is official, there are Halloween decorations, borrowed from parents whose lives are already set.
It is a question, hanging there, waiting to be answered.
It is the silence that follows, in the moments where one is unsure of what to say, or how to respond.
It is the deafening, the slow quiet in the room.
It is time to explode, to begin, to renew, to live.
She offended me, today, telling me I have nothing to worry about. I laughed it off then, standing at the check-in desk, waiting to let her into the building, but I wanted to tell her that sometimes things aren’t what they seem. Set into life, she has it easy. The endless stream of bills is constant. The mortgage payment doesn’t change. Her husband’s eyes don’t wander, her children are safe and happy. She has a career, a path, and I’d assume goals.
I stand on the edge of everything. Of staying, of leaving, of wanting to do what I love and loving to do what I want. I’m confused. I’m thrown and tossed a million different directions, caught between the two cities that I’ve grown to love and the people that I’ve become attached to. Every time someone says I’m too young, that I don’t know what I’m doing, I become more resolute. Life, to me at least, isn’t about doing what you should do, or what will lead to a standard life. I want to follow my heart, and if that leads me somewhere incorrect, then I’ll laugh about it, say I made a mistake and keep going. There are times I just want to run away from here, and not look back. I’d pack a duffel bag, taking Buddy and my Winnie the Pooh comforter that I just can’t get rid of, and some t-shirts and my clogs and just get away from here. I’d sell my books for plane tickets, and run to him and let him hold me against his shoulder and tell me everything will be alright. Or I’d run somewhere else, and get a job, or a little cottage by a lake somewhere, and spend hours working on the masterpiece that is daily edging itself into my brain. But not much, so don’t start holding your breath yet. I want to be happy. I want to experience everything. I want to move around and not settle down. Something happened in me this summer, a sort of yearning for comfort. I no longer want my heart to be broken in one of those heated arguments; I don’t want to be with someone just because I think I have to, that I need the practice. I want what I have, right now. It’s not that far-fetched of an idea, really. And today, for some reason, we decided, was going to be the day. 3 months, then, we are into this endeavor and I have not wavered in my opinion. If anything, it gets stronger every day. There is a connection there, the sort of thing that I never expected to find.
My clock has been blinking in a strange way, as though the power was turned off, since I got back from Oregon. And every night, I stare at it. I’m beginning to read it as though it was an actual clock. It’s only fifty minutes off, so I just sort of do the math in my mind. I don’t change it. I wonder how long it will take.
I’m consumed by thoughts of everything. Of worry for the safety of the one person I could never lose, of the success of the procedure people I don’t trust are about to embark on. I worry about him, always, just as much as he worries about me. I think about scenarios, I run them through my head. I play with the future, with ideas, places, people, life.
Australia, I think. Maybe.

Act Two, Scene Saturday

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The lights go down, the audience hushes singularly, as though their murmurs were a group effort and not individual conversation. Soft music pipes from somewhere behind, some sort of jazz, fast paced yet slow enough to keep the moment. The lucky patrons in the front row can smell the faintest hint of cigarette smoke floating behind the curtain. It opens, then, when no one is expecting it, flung back with a great flourish. The light comes from somewhere above the stage, no shadows, only the four players gathered around the little coffee table and on it, the board.

One of them rolls, haphazardly, her eyes twinkling mischievious as she stares in his direction. The hotels are upset by her dice, flying everywhere, causing the blond one to yell in frustration. It’s girls against boys, and the tension in the room is obvious. Back and forth, the money changes hands, back and forth. They roll, move their little pieces down the allotted number of spaces, letting fate choose for them. He’s unlucky, they’ve decided, every roll of his brings the impending disaster of financial ruin closer and closer to their team. Blue eyes find his brown, and she giggles, knowing he knows there’s no way out. She shifts, the floor suddenly too uncomfortable for her, sliding her foot under his leg and letting it rest there, as if she doesn’t feel his weight on it. She waits, taking a sip of her poison while the brunette rolls. His hand finds her ankle, then slides up, silent acknowledgement of her move. There is more than one game going on at this little table, and they are lucky players, testing strategy versus fate. This continues for some time, the rolling, the yells, the agony, the joy as the girls finally begin to take the upper hand. Their properties are all bedecked with hotels, while the unlucky boys have been forced to mortgage most of theirs. When they concede, the girls high five and hug, pulling their piled money closer to them to take the final count. There is no uneasy silence, only the soft moans of defeat and the ecstatic squealing of girls who came back to take it. She’s lucky, and she knows it, sitting there, slididng her foot up his leg.

The fan is on, the windows open, so the three of them, two pretty girls and the unlucky man, find themselves sitting out in the perfect city night. There are no stars, obviously, city living takes the wonderful away, but the sounds of distant sirens and cars bring another feeling to the situation. They are comfortable, surrounded by darkness on their well-lit porch. They wait, and then throw the remains as far over the fence as they can, hoping they’ll land in the street and be forgotten until morning. The brunette with the brown eyes makes her excuses, blaming the need for sleep, and goes inside. The two of them, both dark haired, somewhere between black and brown, sit there a minute longer, lingering over nothing.

She takes her spot, perching on the couch under piles of blankets and stacks of pillows. He joins her, unexpectedly, but to her delight and hopefully his. They put in the movie they fell asleep to the night before, and wait as the blond one checks his email and goes to sleep. They lay there, on the couch, under the blankets, and let their hands find each other. He puts his hand on her shoulder, rubbing gently, as she puts hers on his stomach, unmoving but comfortable. And when he is finally gone, and they hear the door down the hall close, he leans in toward her face and kisses her. Her eyes close, and for the next few minutes, or hours, they make the soft advances they are allowed. Just kissing, only eyes and ears and lips and necks, hands find backs and shoulders and arms and finally other hands, and she opens her eyes and stares into his. They laugh, there’s something funny now, a giggle here, a whispered word in his ear.

And they fall asleep content.
As his slow snore fills the little liviing room, the jazz music that had faded after the Monopoly game slowly starts to overtake their breathing, and the curtain drops.