ME IN HIGH SCHOOL

I was too busy to post yesterday and today as well. So here is a scary treat for you to enjoy in the meantime during my writing absence.

This is a photo of me in junior high school. (bottom far left) As you can see from the photo - times were rough. First off, my own mother didn't even teach me about eye brow plucking. I find this cruel and unusual punishment. I look like my Long Island Junior High School's Latvian exchange student.

Secondly, that hair. Oh god that hair. It's like a triangle. I look like a man. I look like that really hot guy in high school who had super long hair and then decided to get it cut but couldn't quite go 'all the way'. You know that guy. Everyone knows that guy.

Thirdly, that sweater. I blame Benetton for an entire closet of entirely too expensive ass clothing that couldn't even dress up a nice Latvian boy like me.

I SPY

Last night I had the good fortune of riding the one hour train home from a long day of work with a family of four - two of which were Satan's offspring ages three and six. Within moments of boarding the train and judging by the looks of my fellow passengers, I knew this crew had already taken over and we were in for a long, long ride.

First off, the children were on their backs on the floor of the subway car. Looming, detached, Dad just kept saying, 'Get up. Get up. Get up. Get up. Get up.' and then after that didn't work he changed his tune to 'The floor is dirty. The floor is dirty. The floor is dirty. The floor is dirty. The floor is dirty.' Dad was a weird guy. I guessed he was a dentist or a man that perhaps worked solely with the elderly. He was tender-ish but couldn't relate to kids at all. They stared up at him like he was their giant hero and he just stared down at them like 'what is this thing you call kids?' It was like watching an awkward first date.

Mom on the other hand looked like she'd had enough. She was sweaty and silent and sat clutching the stroller. She had a far off look in her eyes and stared what appeared to be somewhat shamefully at her misbehaving family. Secretly I guessed she thought, 'It's your turn now you frickin' jerk. I don't care if you are a 'big time dentist' that 'works with the elderly' - it's your time to deal!"

Finally after letting the older boy run three times from one end of the subway car back again all the while screaming at the top of his lungs, "WOOOOOOAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!" Dad tapped into something he must have learned in his yuppy crash course on 'How To Deal With This Thing Called Kids' seminar from years ago.

D: Hey you guys, want to play 'I spy?'

Within seconds it was as if he'd turned into the Pied Piper. The kids sat down and were quiet for a moment before it all began again,

D: Ok...I'll start...I spy..
Kid #1: NO I'LL STARTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT!
Kid #2: Cookie?
D: No. No cookie. Ok...ok...ok...ok...ok. You start.
Kid #1: I SPYYYYYYYYYY... (glancing over at me with cold stare) something GREEN!!!!!
Kid #2: Cookie?
D: No. No cookie. Um...(Dad staring over at me) 'That lady to your right in the green shirt'

WOW DAD! GOOD GUESS FOR A 40-YEAR-OLD MAN! How about you do your wife and fellow passengers a little favor and NOT be right for once and extend the game a bit!

Kid #1: DADDDDDDDDDDD! Your not supposed to guess it!
Kid #2: (pointing down at some garbage) Dinner?
D: No. Not dinner.

Well let me tell ya. I spied something too. And it was the entire frickin' family getting off at York Street and that alone people, makes me the winner.

SOMEONE SPECIAL

Last night I was in bed reading Bruce Chatwin. E was out in the living room on his computer looking at his photos of bicycles and intersections (don't ask). And Jane the orange tabby cat was sprawled out on the bathroom floor like a bear rug because it was about 10,000 degrees in the apartment. And that's with air-conditioning.

We were awaiting the arrival of one of our dearest friends D who was sleeping over after band practice. D has been going through a bit of a relationship bad time and has certainly done her share of couch surfing over the past month. My heart feels for her. During the breakup of my marriage, I crashed on many floors and couches and beds. I like to share with D the time I consider a turning point during that period. I was sleeping on the bottom bunk of a family friend's 12-year old girl's room thinking, "I'm a 27-year-old woman sleeping in a bunk bed full of Beanie Babies. What have I done with my life?"

We are always happy to see D. Last time she came I ordered a giant spread of food and E danced around with his ipod and a sweatband around his head trying to make her (us) laugh. It worked. This time as we awaited her arrival, we heard the front iron gate squeak and out of nowhere E jumped out of his seat from the computer and started singing at the top of this lungs,

"SOMEONE SPECIAL! SOMEONE SPECIAL IS HERRREEEEEEE YES SHE ISSSSSS YES SHE ISSSSSSS!"

I began to feel quite special myself because of the pure nature of the song. It was a happy tune. It would make anyone feel special.

E continued as he threw open the front door,
"SOMEONE SPECIAL! SOMEONE SPECIAL IS HERRREEEEEEE YES SHE ISSSSSS YES SHE ISSSSSSS!"

and now added a Jiminey Cricket style dance just short of a top hat and cane.

I went back to reading. Then I heard some muffled talking and heard E quietly shuffle back inside. He came into the bedroom a bit red in the face:

K: Where's D?
E: Um...that actually...wasn't...D
K: Who was it?
E: ...Heidi the landlord....taking out the garbage

All I can say is the term 'busted a gut laughing' is not even good enough to describe how hard I laughed. And when D arrived moments later and E reinacted the entire event with his dancing around and me in my pjs and Jane the cat meowing and D laughing - I was thankful for what I was finally doing with my life. Having one.

K: I think I have my blog for tomorrow!
D: (cracking up)
E: GEEK

THE PAUSE

This weekend was a wedding weekend no matter how you spun it. As I said to a friend recently, no matter how cool you are as a person, no matter how NON ’wedding like' you think you are – come time for your wedding trust me. You will freak out too.

When I say ‘freak out’ I want to be clear. It’s not an ‘OH MY GOD WHAT DO YOU MEAN I CAN’T AFFORD A HEART SHAPED ICE SCULPTURE AT THE RECEPTION’ freak out but rather a 'how can we pull off a fun, mellow, affordable, delicious, awesome night for a number of our closest friends and family?' It's hard and a lot of work. A lot. But I'm positive in the end it will be worth it.

Props to the person that left a suggestion on my blog to check out the designer in Brooklyn to make me a dress! I went there and she was great. I started off like a brat telling her all the things I DIDN'T want - no way man never nope not in this lifetime no way uh uh nope - and ended up with all of those things and more. Lesson learned? Trust the woman who went to Princeton and FIT and knows what the hell she is doing. Mmn, K?

Then I ran around Brooklyn in the heat to check out places for people to stay when here for the wedding. Despite drinking what I thought was plenty of water I was dehydrated and on antibiotics and crabby and tired and only ate a bagel all day. I stopped on a stoop down an empty street to put on some lipstick and cool off. I was approached by a creepy man who raped me with his eyes and pointed to a closed warehouse building.

CM: They open today?
K: What?
CM: They open today?
K: I have no idea.

And then I left.

Then I walked to the Brooklyn brownstone B&B. BUZZ BUZZ. I was distracted by the dirty door handle, the number four peeling off the sign, cigarette butts on the walk and faded Chinese menus strewn about the front step. BUZZ BUZZ. No luck there. A later voicemail message from the B&B owner said they are out on vacation all week. Huh.

And today we met with the woman that will marry us. She is an inspiring, amazing, calm and powerful presence. Like Maya Angelou with dreads. Loved her. She asked us questions that weren't too lame but meaningful. At one point I got teary and E ran to get a fistful of Marriott Hotel paper cocktail napkins so I could dab my eyes. (PS-we are not getting married at the Marriott) By the fourth or fifth question though related to 'love' and 'us' - I found myself getting a little gagged out. I chimed in,

K: Um...yeah. Can we ax this question and put something funny in instead?
L: Ah...sure. What did you have in mind?
E: (blank stare)
K: I mean...nothing over the top like...squirting carnations...just...funny.
L: Oh ok. Well sure!
E: (whispers) OK Carrot Top the comedian

When finished we walked over to the reception place and discussed everything from menu to flowers etc. All I can say is thank goodness there was booze involved in the process. As our friend/restaurant owner reminded us in her toast when we sat down to discuss everything,

"May you remember to find the pause in this process of planning. That moment that reminds you why you are doing this and what truly is important here."

Cheers to that.
And cheers for all those extra Marriott napkins stuffed in my purse.

YOU PEOPLE ROCK

Thank you to all of you that left a comment in yesterday's post about who you are, where you are, what you do. You all are far more interesting sounding then I'll ever be. For those of you that didn't get a chance to leave a comment I would SO appreciate hearing more about you so there is still time. Again, I thank you for all the nice feedback. While I was set out to figure more about YOU you helped me figure more about ME and this writing and this blog. And for this I am grateful.