I swore if the sun didn't soon return, a deep depression would suck me in like quicksand. I've been particularly glum these last few weeks and whether or not it's been a product of the never ending gray clouds and rain or a number of other posted possibilities, the weather has certainly been no help.
Today the sun finally arrived, burning off the seemingly impenetrable haze and warming the temperatures to the blissful low 70's. With the clouds went my recent heavy heart. I was up by 7:15am and told by a certain Staff Sergeant that it was far too early to rise on a weekend. At 8am my eyes again opened and I tossed and twisted the sheets until he too was awake. Keeping with trend, we lazed in bed laughing and quietly talking of an errand in need of attention. Eventually we pulled ourselves from the soft cotton layers to tackle the seamstress mission and a pizza lunch. The sewing shops, as it turns out, still adhere to the blue laws of bygone days. After scoping out every closed establishment in town we accepted a sorrowful defeat. Lunch, however, was a great success - Chicago style veggie pizza, de-lish.
Driving with the windows down to the timeless ballads of Johnny Cash was perfection. Noticing again the dark amber clarity of his eyes was my secret retreat. And when I finally found myself basking in a warm breeze on a Starbucks patio with my Nano set to shuffle, once again able to sport big, bug-eyed shades, with pen in hand and journal open, I couldn't imagine a more exquisite finale. Then late in the afternoon The Staff Sergeant stopped by on his way to work for just long enough to say hello, take a quick sip of my iced coffee, and steal a kiss. And at 4:30pm, a 2 hour coffee date with an army wife acquaintance offered an enormous amount of reassurance in my military induction.
On my way home I passed that hill, the one that was so dead with Winter. This evening as the low sun turned the sky golden yellow, I noticed it now brilliantly green with new grass. The skeletal trees are sprouting bright infant leaves and lumbering livestock grazed it's sloping incline. I sighed in relief, thankful for a necessary return to lightness. I hope it never rains again.
Showing posts with label laughter. Show all posts
Showing posts with label laughter. Show all posts
Sunday, April 6, 2008
Tuesday, March 4, 2008
Are we theeeere yet?
"First," pushing the improbable growl through clenched teeth, "I'm gonna cover you in kisses!" Seconds later her rigid farce to gives way to girlish giggles.
[soft and fragile.]
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
[insert foot in mouth]
Not even one full month prior to The Staff Sergeant's honorable act of compassion [taking me on a much postponed, and ill-deserved rain-check-first-date], I was sitting in a coffee shop prophesying my immediate future.
On July 26, 2007, I wrote:
Apparently someone in the 80's thought it appropriate to "walk five-hun-dred miles", while The Plain White T's are currently crooning hipster lyrics about love and distance - not to mention the military sweethearts that are definitely feeling the stretch. If there are songs and books, and an entire branch of the US government that is valiantly surviving the dreaded plague of separation, I guess it can't be all that impossible.
This morning I was reminded of this archived post after Site Meter so kindly pointed to the curious individual in Somalia searching Google for...hope? inspiration? reassurance? I actually don't know - love with distance lonely worry.
On July 26, 2007, I wrote:
Apparently someone in the 80's thought it appropriate to "walk five-hun-dred miles", while The Plain White T's are currently crooning hipster lyrics about love and distance - not to mention the military sweethearts that are definitely feeling the stretch. If there are songs and books, and an entire branch of the US government that is valiantly surviving the dreaded plague of separation, I guess it can't be all that impossible.
[eerie, really]
This morning I was reminded of this archived post after Site Meter so kindly pointed to the curious individual in Somalia searching Google for...hope? inspiration? reassurance? I actually don't know - love with distance lonely worry.
Back in July I was much more than unsuspecting, in fact, the reference to the tribulations of the military was spurred only from a close friend of mine whose voice inferred the struggle across long-distance phone connections. It was almost one of those totally selfish, "Whew, glad it's not me!" mentions. But life has one hell of a sense of humor as it would seem. I'm now one of those "valiantly surviving the dreaded plague of separation" and though sometimes I wish that I could close my eyes and click my heels and have him home, sweet home, it really isn't an impossible feat when you understand the value of what you have.
Again, a bit redundant, but it made me laugh - the irony of my arrogant self, that is. Maybe this will reach Somalia. Maybe it will help to bridge the loneliness and worry.
Sunday, February 24, 2008
Upon returning.
"What is to give light must endure burning." - Viktor Frankl
It wasn't until the landing gear, in a mechanical moan, released itself from the plane's belly that I knew I wasn't ready to be home yet. I made it through the drop-off an hour and 20 minutes prior without tears only now to fight them off as I sat sandwiched between two unfriendly, self-engaged passengers. I was four-weeks fine having forgotten the true delicacy of our fingers entwined, of his playful gazes followed by smiles that I always question, of his off-the-cuff obscurities that don't quite convey over the phone. Like a candy from childhood that locks your jaws in immediate recollection, there he was waiting for me when I turned the corner...all of him, all of the whole of him, and as predicted, every ounce of possible anxiety dissolved. I wanted to be nowhere else in the wide world than in a bathroom doorway of an airport, wrapped in his arms.
He eventually was able to pry me from his neck in order to retrieve my circulating suitcase. After leaving the airport, we dined on Italian, we drove back to his temporary dwelling, we forgot about everything beyond our four walls.
Saturday was busy for both of us - he with an unexpected work obligation, and I with some collegiate business. By early afternoon we were finished with worldly distractions and able to get back to a vegetative state of doing what we do best together - nothing. Later we were off to dinner again and a movie that I won't suggest [Vantage Point]. Following the film and an unexpected run-in with a friend of his, we headed "home". Having already exhausted my still recovering body, I curled up next to him, cheek planted against his chest and blissfully fell asleep.
Sunday was as Sunday's should be. Some couples define "their thing" as a hobby or a mutual interest. Ours is pure laziness on the sabbath characterized by unusually large breakfasts and laying in bed for numerous, slothful hours. Even being away, Sunday followed suit...sleeping in, ridiculous laughter, waffles, no make-up. It was perfect, perfect, perfect.
Now I'm home again, void of the key element of the place. He remains [there] and will be for a number of weeks still, and I find myself back at the start of another one I can begin striking off the calendar of time apart. Time is so temporary a thing that it passes with each breath, each blink of an eye, every second mounting into minutes, into hours and days, and soon enough he'll be back, too. I sometimes question whether or not I really am strong enough, and then 48 hours of my life with him resounds with the deafening truth of will. Without fail, I will pick off each day that stands between us with determination because some things are too good to be waywardly discarded [even when they're really hard].
It wasn't until the landing gear, in a mechanical moan, released itself from the plane's belly that I knew I wasn't ready to be home yet. I made it through the drop-off an hour and 20 minutes prior without tears only now to fight them off as I sat sandwiched between two unfriendly, self-engaged passengers. I was four-weeks fine having forgotten the true delicacy of our fingers entwined, of his playful gazes followed by smiles that I always question, of his off-the-cuff obscurities that don't quite convey over the phone. Like a candy from childhood that locks your jaws in immediate recollection, there he was waiting for me when I turned the corner...all of him, all of the whole of him, and as predicted, every ounce of possible anxiety dissolved. I wanted to be nowhere else in the wide world than in a bathroom doorway of an airport, wrapped in his arms.
He eventually was able to pry me from his neck in order to retrieve my circulating suitcase. After leaving the airport, we dined on Italian, we drove back to his temporary dwelling, we forgot about everything beyond our four walls.
Saturday was busy for both of us - he with an unexpected work obligation, and I with some collegiate business. By early afternoon we were finished with worldly distractions and able to get back to a vegetative state of doing what we do best together - nothing. Later we were off to dinner again and a movie that I won't suggest [Vantage Point]. Following the film and an unexpected run-in with a friend of his, we headed "home". Having already exhausted my still recovering body, I curled up next to him, cheek planted against his chest and blissfully fell asleep.
Sunday was as Sunday's should be. Some couples define "their thing" as a hobby or a mutual interest. Ours is pure laziness on the sabbath characterized by unusually large breakfasts and laying in bed for numerous, slothful hours. Even being away, Sunday followed suit...sleeping in, ridiculous laughter, waffles, no make-up. It was perfect, perfect, perfect.
Now I'm home again, void of the key element of the place. He remains [there] and will be for a number of weeks still, and I find myself back at the start of another one I can begin striking off the calendar of time apart. Time is so temporary a thing that it passes with each breath, each blink of an eye, every second mounting into minutes, into hours and days, and soon enough he'll be back, too. I sometimes question whether or not I really am strong enough, and then 48 hours of my life with him resounds with the deafening truth of will. Without fail, I will pick off each day that stands between us with determination because some things are too good to be waywardly discarded [even when they're really hard].
Sunday, December 30, 2007
cherry. mango. lettuce. March.
What a crazy night...and in my new usual state, I'm too tired to truly document it. In unjust brevity, The Roommate and I honored Saturday night with what was intended to be a short trip to grab dinner then come back to the apartment to endure a low-key evening doing whatever it is that we do to occupy time. We ordered, then ate, and as we neared the end of our dining experience, a group of several other 20-somethings sat among us at the community "high top", thus including us in the conversation enveloping the circumstantial end of our table. It was someones birthday, and the party-goers were friendly. At some point we were invited over for cake following dinner, and in a moment of delightful spontaneity, we went. As I relayed the night's plans through a giggle-riddled phone call, "we were picked up by a birthday party and would be going back for cake."
Saturday, October 27, 2007
story time
He chuckles wildly from somewhere deep within himself. I pause my chatter to verify that I've heard this rare laughter, and I have.
"Man, I hated the military! In fact, I could have slugged the guy who called me into his office when my time was up...they call that...something other than re-enlisting, but that's what it was," he rants behind the belly rumble.
One of many really fantastic things about dating The Staff Sergeant is that it has awakened another grand avenue of my father's story telling.
He continues, "I had the meanest DI, man he was mean, but he could tell a great one liner. I think that if he had ever given up The Navy, he should have been a comedian...he had some great one liners..."
He's as bad as I am at staying on track.
"When you stand at attention, you can't laugh. You can't do anything, but you can't laugh, and that DI, some great jokes. So anyway, there was this one day that he dropped one into his talk [I can't remember what it was], and this 'ole boy couldn't help but laugh," he says with another diluted rumble, himself.
"'DO YOU THINK SOMETHING'S FUNNY?!' hollered the DI, 'I'LL SHOW YOU SOMETHING FUNNY! GET UP HERE AND LAUGH - FOR 20 MINUTES!' And that poor guy did. He stood in front of us and laughed for 20 whole minutes." my father finishes.
"They would do anything to embarrass you...I'll tell you what, I don't know if it made me a better man for being in the service, but I never once thought, 'I don't want to leave The Navy.'"
And that was just one of about 10 that found their way into last night's hour long "test of his new phone." My dad's a trip.
...I still miss my current man of the military.
"Man, I hated the military! In fact, I could have slugged the guy who called me into his office when my time was up...they call that...something other than re-enlisting, but that's what it was," he rants behind the belly rumble.
One of many really fantastic things about dating The Staff Sergeant is that it has awakened another grand avenue of my father's story telling.
He continues, "I had the meanest DI, man he was mean, but he could tell a great one liner. I think that if he had ever given up The Navy, he should have been a comedian...he had some great one liners..."
He's as bad as I am at staying on track.
"When you stand at attention, you can't laugh. You can't do anything, but you can't laugh, and that DI, some great jokes. So anyway, there was this one day that he dropped one into his talk [I can't remember what it was], and this 'ole boy couldn't help but laugh," he says with another diluted rumble, himself.
"'DO YOU THINK SOMETHING'S FUNNY?!' hollered the DI, 'I'LL SHOW YOU SOMETHING FUNNY! GET UP HERE AND LAUGH - FOR 20 MINUTES!' And that poor guy did. He stood in front of us and laughed for 20 whole minutes." my father finishes.
"They would do anything to embarrass you...I'll tell you what, I don't know if it made me a better man for being in the service, but I never once thought, 'I don't want to leave The Navy.'"
And that was just one of about 10 that found their way into last night's hour long "test of his new phone." My dad's a trip.
...I still miss my current man of the military.
Tuesday, August 28, 2007
Friday, July 27, 2007
A laughing matter
I find that I laugh more than I used to. Today, walking through Macy's with The Future Californian on the phone I was almost certain they would ask me to leave. It isn't that life has gotten funnier, I'd even venture to say that it is more complicated than it has been in years, and maybe that's the main contributer to the current state of increased humor. One of my many mantras is that it's better to laugh than cry. Maybe it's more healthy to be able to celebrate your own flawed humanity than to wallow in it, or maybe it just looks better when you're wearing it than the alternative. But these days I'm laughing it off because frankly, life is that funny. Who has parents like mine? Or friends like mine? Who meets guys in the round about ways that I do? I always kid that I should have a personal film crew because I live a comedy...maybe a dark comedy, but I would totally watch the plot unfold except that I'm living it.
Another theory is "the boy." It's possible that even though familial things have become a bit more hectic, and I'm suffering from a rather severe case of burn-out in what was originally billed as the summer session before graduation, every time I think of him I smile (like, right now - no joke). See look: :) For the most part, you all know the details so I'll spare the blogging world all of the sap. He's amazing, though - really, really. And the days drag as the hours until we're together near. He makes me laugh a lot, too. He just makes me happier in general.
Basically, life is just a big hysterical mess of living...it's true that it's oftentimes better than fiction.
Another theory is "the boy." It's possible that even though familial things have become a bit more hectic, and I'm suffering from a rather severe case of burn-out in what was originally billed as the summer session before graduation, every time I think of him I smile (like, right now - no joke). See look: :) For the most part, you all know the details so I'll spare the blogging world all of the sap. He's amazing, though - really, really. And the days drag as the hours until we're together near. He makes me laugh a lot, too. He just makes me happier in general.
Basically, life is just a big hysterical mess of living...it's true that it's oftentimes better than fiction.
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