Michael Myers is a Bronco defensive tackle and a middle child of seven.? (HIGH FIVE MICHAEL!)? In today’s Denver Post, he is quoted as saying:
“I’m the interior guy who’s more like the quiet storm.? You don’t see me and you don’t hear me, but I’m doing the work.? A quiet storm.”
Happy New Years!? May all your days be blessed and all the quiet storms in your life appreciated.
Last night, we decided to head out into the snow. We walked to our local Mexican eatery around 6 p.m.
Our street looked like:
And D. shoveled snow.
This morning the view from the window is:
And it’s still snowing.
It’s another blizzard. It started snowing at noon and is not expected to stop snowing until Saturday night. Current predictions? 2 feet on top of at least 2 feet from last week. Businesses are closing today for the rest of the year.
You can’t see the snow that is falling because the flakes are small due to the cold.
We had heat and electricity last week.? Let’s hope it stays that way.
All of my life, I have had an obsession with fountain tip pens. I love the texture, the ink stain on my finger, the way ink looks. I love ink bottles and the swirl of ink inside.
Of course, I was instructed to hate fountain tips. They are too expensive, too messy, impractical, and stupid – according the nasty voices in my childhood. (You can pick one – mother, oldest sister, father, or whoever.)
I still love them. I just love them in secret.
I found some disposable fountain tips a couple years ago and used them until the ink ran out. I bought more disposable fountain tip pens and used those too. I told myself that I used them because they were fun colors.
But really, I love the ink stain on my finger… the ink in the bottle… the way the ink sits on the paper then drifts in…
Christmas Eve, D. dragged me out into the cold and snow. Bouncing around our snow filled ice ridden town, we pulled up to the art store. As I am artistically challenged, I assumed we were getting supplies for some of his artistic endeavors. I sighed.
With a little pushing and jostling, he prodded me over to the fountain tip pen section. He handed me $300 and told me to pick out a pen.
“Oh,” I said. I?m blushing. “I can just get the disposable ones. They are over here.”
Now, D. is 6’2″ and weighs more than I do. I am no small person (5’10″, life time weightlifter). He blocked the way to the disposable pens then blocked the way out the door.
I stood in front of a laughing sales woman stammering….
Then I saw it glittering blue in the case.
I started to sweat. The sale woman laughed and opened the case. The pen vibrated in my hand. She dipped it in ink (they are not stored with ink) and I literally felt electric vibration run down my hand when I wrote.
I am speechless.
“I guess the wand chooses the wizard,” D. says to the sales woman. She laughs.
And now it’s mine and it’s beautiful.
I read somewhere that every Englishperson has at least one fountain tip pen.
I’m moving.
I realize that you have been waiting impatiently for the latest report.? But, frankly, I was snowed in for 3 days.? Here’s the latest:
2 free drinks (RedBreast my favorite).
2 “I have see your ID”.
1 “WOW, you look really good” after seeing my ID.
1 “You have soulful eyes” but that was from my little sister
and may not be blonde related.
6 “YOU LOOK REALLY GREAT” from female friends.
1 “Did you hit on that guy?” from Rocker Boy.
Not a lot going on between Christmas and 4 feet of snow.? I’ll keep you posted.
Pretty boy is talking to me, but I’m not listening. The DJ is playing Romeo Void (“I might like you better….“) and I’m singing along in my head. My mind suddenly clicks in…
“It’s all over his body,” Pretty boy says and looks at me.
“Who’s body?” I ask.
“His,” Pretty Boy says and points out a man I’m sure I’ve met before.
Now, I have a dilemma. I don’t know what Pretty Boy said and I don’t remember this guy’s name. I look at Pretty Boy and he laughs.
“Weren’t listening?” he says.
I nod.
“Come on,” he says. We walk over to the man in question. He introduces me and we have the obligatory “We’ve met before” conversation. I smile and nod. After all, I’m still singing Romeo Void n my head
“He has I love you tattooed all over his body,” Pretty Boy says repeating what I wasn’t listening to before.
“He does?” I say peering at the man in front of me. Unbidden, images flip through my mind like flash cards. Hearts tattooed up and down his legs. Thousands of script of “I love you” written all over his back. A huge “I love you” in block letters down his spine.
I manage to say, “How do you know?”
“He’ll show it to you,” Pretty Boy says. The man in front of us nods.
“Married?” I remind Pretty Boy. The man slips down the collar of his shirt to reveal a blue eye on his shoulder.
Feeling brave, I ask the man in front of me, “You have I love you tattooed all over your body?”
“Ya,” he says. “Here’s the eye. The heart is on my butt, well one butt cheek, and the u is on the bottom of my foot.”
I nod and try to think of something to say.
“I guess you’re an all over body experience,” I manage.
He laughs. Then feels compelled to over share, “I was seeing this girl when I got the heart tattoo,” he starts.
I nod.
“When I woke up in the morning, my butt was stuck to the pillow. When I pulled it off there was a red heart on the white pillow case.”
I raise my eyebrows.
“It’s kind of gross because it was blood,” he says. “You know from the tattoo.”
I nod again.
“She kept the pillow case though,” he said. “That is until I dumped her. I don’t know what she did with it after that.”
The song ends. Or at least that’s how I remember it. Romeo Void wailing “I might like you better if we slept together” and a blood stained pillow case.
I can’t help wondering what happened to the pillow case.
When God dropped 3 or 4 feet of snow on your house, what would you do?
This blonde went cross country skiing.
I hope you are making fun out of your life’s dilemmas. If not, maybe it’s time to go blonde.
My new series, “Da Boys”, has generated quite a bit of conversation in my social group.? Most importantly, there were a few inaccuracies in the “He’s what?” post.?? I must clear up or never hear the end of it.
For the second day in a row, it’s still snowing here.
Here’s the veiw from the porch of our 1907 Craftsman (yes, as in Sears) porch.? That’s Rosie:
This is what it looks like down the street:
This is what the backyard looks like – the bees are completely covered in snow – don’t worry though, they vibrate to keep themselves at a toasty 98 degrees:
And here’s my hero.? D. shovels all the sidewalks on our block, including the TV watchers and the Mom who’s husband travels.? Isn’t he great?
Think warm thoughts…..
I realized recently that some of my opinions about how relationships work come from songs from the 1980s.? Anything, Anything by Dramarama is a good example.
Ok what is it tonight
Please just tell me what the hell is wrong
Do you wanna eat
Do you wanna sleep
Do you wanna shout
Just settle down, settle down, settle down
Well I’ll give you candy
Give you diamonds
Give you pills
I?ll give you anything you want
Hundred dollar bills
And I’ll even let you watch the shows you wanna see
Just marry me, marry me, marry me
These verses describe my college relationship.? I gave him everything and he was unreasonable.? I would follow him around saying, “what is wrong?? just tell me what’s wrong?”? And oddly enough, I wanted to marry him.? Gratefully, I didn’t.? He says that? he realizes he had a “great relationship and he blew it”.? Uh, duh?
I?m so sick of you tonight
You never stay awake when I get home
Is Something wrong with me
Something?s wrong with you
I really wish I knew, wish I knew, wish I knew
Well I’ll give you candy
Give you diamonds
Give you pills
I?ll give you anything you want
Hundred dollar bills
And I’ll even let you watch the shows you wanna see
because you married me, married me, married me
This is a good example of my parent’s marriage.? My father gave my mother everything he thought she wanted (except what she wanted – emotional intimacy) and she was still psycho.? They divorced leaving lasting damage to everyone around them.? Thanks Dad.? Thanks Mom.
When I was young I played a game
That love and happiness were the same
Now I?m older and I don?t play
And I found out the hardest way
I got wasted
She got mad
She called me names then she called her dad
He got crazy and I did too
Wond’ring what I did to you
Well I’ll give you candy,
Give you diamonds,
Give you pills,
I?ll give you anything you want
Hundred dollar bills
And I’ll even let you watch the shows you wanna see
I’ll do anything, anything, anything,
Anything, anything, anything, anything, anything…
My psychotherapy training explained these relationships.? We learned that many men think that women are crazy.? Whatever a woman does, they shrug their shoulders and figure at least she didn’t shoot them.? Women then get their emotional needs met in other places while men watch football and drink beer.? It works for some.
I guess I get cynical when it snows.
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© On a limb with Claudia. Say something clever here. Or not. You decide.
