Three Beautiful Things 11.17.10

1. Watching the sky turn from grey to blue in the morning light while birds chirp all around. Looks like it will be a beautiful day; I'll have to get outside.

2. Lounging in bed since I have no need to be up yet.

3. Hot shower. Good shampoo that leaves my hair shiny and goat's milk soap that helps battle the oncoming winter dry skin.

Inspired by Three Beautiful Things

Three Beautiful Things: 11.16.10

Inspired by Three Beautiful Things

1. Waking up to kitty snores. Wanting to poke him with a finger because he woke me and not doing so because he looked so cute.

2. Playing "soccer" with the family dog. She has an uncanny ability to push a basket ball up a set of garden stairs; I can't help but praise her. She makes me laugh. (Fetish)

3. A good wine: Willis Haag- Riesling. Shared a bottle- or two- with friends this weekend. Fantastic paired with homemade stir fry and blue cupcakes. (Three Beautiful Things 11.13.10)

Obsession

His name was Kevin. I never knew his last name.

I worked with him briefly in 2002 at Miller's Restaurant in Bangor, Maine. I had a horrible crush on him despite the fact that I had a boyfriend at the time.

He was my ideal- dark hair and the clearest blue eyes, a neatly trimmed goatee, and a body to drool over: lean, lithe, athletic without being bulky. He was short for a man, 5'6" or so, but he was the perfect height to me. I had to look up to speak with him, but I didn't have to crane my neck. He was just the right height that if I had hugged him, the top of my head would have snuggled up right under his chin. Perfectly.

He made me laugh. If I recall, his jokes weren't that funny, but I am easily amused and liked to laugh, so I laughed at his jokes all the time. He told me I was good for his ego. I liked that and often made comments to bolster his ego. He was insecure in some ways and needed the boost.

He used to help me close the buffet. He would drain the water out of the steam baths, and haul the buckets to the kitchen to dump it. He used soup spoons to pry the metal chafing pans out of the steam baths; when he was done he would walk up to me, reach around me, and stick the spoon in my back pocket. I'd forget it was there at the end of the night and bring it home with me, only finding it later in the week when I did my laundry. When I moved into my apartment last June, I rediscovered them again; I have five.

He was flirty with me. I think he liked to make me laugh and smile, so he would pull pranks on the other people in the buffet kitchen. He would spin up dish towels and snap them at people- but only if I was watching.  I would laugh and shake my head in amusement. He was a show off.

He suggested I apply for a job at the mall after I told him I was leaving the job at the restaurant. I applied at Filene's and was given a job working in the intimate apparel department. He came to visit me there once. He stood and looked around at all the different bras while he waited for me to finish a sale. He was wearing blue jeans, a belt, and a white tee shirt. He had a tan. We chatted. He talked about getting a job in Hermon, Maine, or maybe moving to Florida. It was the last time I ever saw or spoke with him.

He made me feel good about myself.

I think I may have been halfway in love with him.

Now, I still look for him in every male face I see, on every street, on the T, on the evening news, and every dating site I visit.

I wonder where he is. I miss him.

Just for Shits and Giggles # 4

I wrote this piece many years ago.  It was an assignment from my writing professor- I think her name was March- when I was a freshman at University of Maine (Orono- Go Black Bears!).  The assignment was to write a piece of exposition or a paragraph on a topic of our own choosing and end it with a quote; that quote was to be the only quote in the piece.  This is one of the favorite pieces that I have written. A few years ago I began a sequel to it that I did not complete- though the urge is still there nudging me every now and again. I actually had the original published years ago in a small, local, literary journal called The Sink. I am sharing it here because the image of the trees came up in a conversation I recently had with my friend Melinda.

After re-reading it, it seems to me that something is missing from it... Hmmm, I'm wondering if I didn't try to edit it and in doing so, mess it up. At any rate, it is still one of my favorite writings.

I hope you like it.

Enchanted Forest

There is this forest glen that I know of; I know it well.  I used to play there as a child.  The forest was enchanted; the trees curved around each other, like lovers.  In the fall the leaves would be the golds and reds of precious gemstones, and the warm sun would shine through them, and dance on the lush, soft bed of green grass.  There were flowers there, too.  All kinds.  I used to pick the daisies, weave them into a crown and become Princess of the Enchanted Forest.  The wind would float through the branches of the trees like a fairy, only slowing to shake a leaf or two.  It would caress my cheeks and play with my hair.  As I grew older, I visited the enchanted forest less often.  Each time when I left, the fairy wind would whisper to me, “Don’t forget us.

 1.20.97

There is hope

Over the last couple of days I have spent a lot of time with two of my girlfriends M. and E. They met each other about a year ago and very quickly a very beautiful relationship sprang up between them.  It has been an absolute privilege to watch them fall in love.


I remember when I met E. She was the assistant in the library of the college that I work in. I first noticed that she was so very lovely and had beautiful skin and a pixieish face. It is hard not to look at her and smile. I thought she was sweet and helpful and enjoyed talking with her about books and the students and random history nerd stuff- like King Phillip's war- which most people don't know anything about (look it up- it took place in Massachusetts)- It was a great time. I had so much fun with her. 


About six months to a year later, M. was hired.  Now, M. is an incredibly gorgeous woman- I equate her with a supermodel- she is just absolutely stunning. Dark hair, perfect body, darkly mysterious, and before I knew her, incredibly intimidating. This intimidation was based mostly on her appearance.  I saw her and said to myself, she won't want to talk to me- no one who looks like her would want to talk to a dumpling...  How wrong I was.  She, apparently, (though I still don't fully understand why) was intimidated by me. What she said was that I seemed like I had it all together- I was confidant and showed it- while at the time, she was still very unsure of herself. I still don't get it, but whatever. 


Often times, before and after I was finished teaching I would go and hide in the library because it was quiet and allowed me to grade papers and tests.  While I was there, I would have these great conversations with E. Eventually, M. started showing up in the library.  At first, I was jealous.  I really liked E. and felt as though M. was stealing her from me.  But the more I spoke with the two of them, the more that I realized that something absolutely beautiful was developing between them.  I would sit and watch them interact with each other.  The way that M. would tease E. and E would be coy and sweet was heart warming and engrossing, and so beautiful.


One day, while I was in the library with them I noticed a change and I commented on it. "Are you guys dating? Because if you are, that's great!" I asked.  They just sort of looked at each other and shared a secret little smile and E. said, "No, we're just friends." I knew otherwise...  The sexual tension was incredible.  I felt like an interloper, a voyeur, an intruder. At the same time, I found it amusing to see their minor discomfort at the comment and felt lucky to watch what I knew was developing.


A couple of days later, again, I said: "If you guys are a couple, you can tell me.  I don't judge."  Again came the uncomfortable silence, secret smiles and denial. Again, I felt amusement at their discomfort with the question- I'm a bit sadistic at times.  I knew something was happening.  I still felt like an interloper, but a part of me thinks that they really didn't mind that I was watching. By this point M. and I had discovered that we both saw and interacted in the world in a similar manner, so she was, I'm sure, keenly aware, and not surprised, that I truly knew what was developing and that they really couldn't hide it.


Weekly, I would ask them the couple question and weekly they would deny it, all along knowing that it was only an eventuality and I must wait. It was like watching a soap opera or reading a romance; the reader knows that eventually they will get together, but the how and when are the question.


E. and M. finally confessed their love for each other to me while visiting me in my hospital room. (Just another day)  I asked them straight out: "Are you guys a couple yet, or what?"  They looked at each other, and grinned and said yes.  I said, "Its about time!"


Now they live together and seem so much in love.  I go to visit them and watch them with each other.  M. looks at E. with such passion and devotion and intensity- it is overwhelming sometimes. It's like being in a room where a thunderstorm is rolling in- dark, intense with sparks of energy floating about. The air changes, it becomes almost substantial, almost solid. I can feel her passion from across a room.  E. looks at M. like there is no one else in the room. She just glows with pure joy, she's like a candle in the dark.  Her love lights up the room.  Looking at E. I can't help but feel her happiness, she overflows with it.  If M. is the thunderstorm, E. is the clean fresh air that follows. It is so beautiful to watch and behold.


A part of me is insanely jealous of their relationship, but a bigger part is just enjoying it all and so happy for them. I am a survivor of some very bad interactions and relationships with men, because of this, I felt that true love was an absolute myth, and that romantic love in itself was a falsehood created by Hollywood and romance writers.  Watching E. and M. this weekend has changed my view- I now believe in love and the power it has.  There is hope for all who seek love. A simple guide is that it may be found where you don't expect it.