Trifextra: Please

Once stone.

Turning my insides out,

You softened me.

Wringing like a wet rag,

You altered me.

Stunned.

Left

Wondering…

“Man, was I dreaming?”

Craving…

It would happen again.

Pleading…

Please…Please…PLEASE!

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This Trifextra entry was inspired by recent conversations ;-)

Why Do I Know How To Do These Things?

I haven’t had the chance to play over at Mama Kat’s in the last few months so I thought I would join in the fun since I need a little lightness and air today. I chose:

5. List 10 random things you know how to do.

1.    I can bounce on a Pogo Stick like nobody’s business. If I was challenged right this very minute, I could probably do at least 50 if not 100 bounces. When my kids were little, I bought them one. Mr. Cautious (aka my husband) said, “Are you kidding? Someone will break their neck!” Well, no one broke his or her neck pogo sticking...

2.    I can turn my tongue upside down. You know, flip it over. It’s not useful but I know for a fact not everyone can do that. And not everyone can tie a cherry stem with his or her tongue either, but I can. Don’t know why I know party tricks but I do.

3.    Recite the Greek alphabet three times before a lit match burns my fingers. Again, I learned a lot in college just not always the “right” stuff.

4.    I can memorize just about anything within minutes. If you tell me your birthday (two times) or phone number (three times), I will be able to repeat it back for you the next time you see me. You should watch me Internet shop alternating credit cards (to dodge detection) from memory.

5.    I can wriggle my right ear, and only the right one, without moving any other part of my face/head.

6.    I can make homemade pasta or pizza dough within minutes.

7.    I can maintain silence for hours and hours on end. I actually think I could do a ten-day “vow of silence” meditation retreat. Now wanting to actually do it is an entirely different story.

8.    I can stand for a very, very, very long time in tree pose and do it on top of things. Like a tree stump or a rock.

9.    Not to brag but I can pick up anything with my toes, even something extremely small. It’s akin to my talent with chopsticks where I can pick up one teensy grain of white rice. Oh, and watch out, I can pinch too (with both toes and sticks).

10.    I can actually grow and maintain some decent dreadlocks…with  the right hair products, of course. Gross (?) but true. I kind of like that look sometimes (while on a beachy vacation not in regular life). 

The Sense of an Ending

It took some getting used to in the beginning but it’s my father-in-law’s way of greeting women he cares about. He “pecks” directly on the lips.  Men get strong German handshakes (even his boys). That’s about the extent of his touchy feely displays of affection. He’s not a hugger.

He’s only said, “I love you.” to me three times in the 24 years I’ve been married to his son. It’s never been necessary. I know how he feels about me. He reserves the expression, I recognize, for his children and grand children. It doesn’t hurt me. That’s more important anyway.

I do remember each and every time he’s said it, nevertheless.

(He said, “I love you.” at the memorial service after Nan died, his wife of 50 years and my husband’s mother, almost nine years ago.)

Once Nan passed away, the family “glue” dissipated. Someone needed to step up, hold things together and no one did for far too long. The family dynamics changed. Things happened. Relationships unraveled as they wont to do when they're not tended to carefully.

Families are complicated creatures, aren’t they?

(He said, “I love you.” eight years ago.)

It followed a heart breaking conversation in which I told him something he needed to know after his quickly timed re-marriage. I will never completely understand why it was placed in my hands but it was. Maybe they were afraid to hurt his feelings. I did it and it was hard as hell.

(He said, “I love you.” this last Saturday.)

You see, he’s sick.

I’ve purposely stayed away for my own reasons and haven’t seen him since Thanksgiving. And as difficult as it is to admit, I recently had my husband drop me off at Costco while he stopped by. My husband understands my reasons. I felt like crap.

So I didn’t tell my husband I intended to surprise his dad last weekend. Maybe I didn’t want to tell him in advance in case I didn’t follow through or maybe I didn’t want to hear him say, “Honey, you’re doing the right thing. Good job.” I don’t need that. I already felt guilty enough.

I let my father-in-law tell him the following day. My husband gave me a simple, knowing smile after he hung up the telephone. I knew I made him happy.

I’m thankful I went. I’m grateful to have shared a few quiet moments with him all by myself. I love him more now than I ever have despite everything that’s transpired over a quarter century.

And before I left, my father-in-law hugged me longer and hard than he ever has. He told me he missed me and he uttered those three words for only the third time ever but the timing was perfect.

I sense an ending and it makes me intensely sad but I have those words tucked safely away.

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The Sense of an Ending is the title of a wonderful book I read recently and it has inspired me to think about things a little differently. Hence, I used it for my title.

Head over to Yeah Write. Awesome writers, a fantastic community, way too much fun on a weekday!!!

Trifecta: Organic Produce

It was a nippy fall night in the early 80’s at a big college in Illinois. Knowing I wouldn’t make time the rest of the weekend to study for midterms, I told my friends to head to the party without me. I’d show at some point; I always did.

Arriving just before midnight, I found her sitting on the driveway crying convulsively. Mascara streaked her pale cheeks. Her beautiful golden hair looked like a rat's nest and deciphering her words was nearly impossible. She said she’d been waiting for me all night.

“Shouldn’t have…don’t know what to do…it was his idea…”

I knelt down to get a better look at her in the dark as my own eyes began welling up.

“What happened?”

She continued to sob.

As I lifted her up by the armpits, I remember thinking she felt like a life-sized Raggedy Anne doll. Dragging her inside through the crowded room, I quickly locked both of us in a bathroom.

“Now tell me what's going on? Did someone hurt you? Do I need to call the police?”

Spinning around with flailing arms, she lost her balance. Grabbing hold of my sweater and the shower curtain at the same time, she pulled us backwards into the bathtub. We hit our heads hard on the ceramic tile. 

It was then I realized she wasn’t sobbing anymore. In fact, she was laughing hysterically.

“I ate mushrooms. Then there were too many people here and you weren’t. And I was alone and I freaked out.”

“You are kidding me! That’s the stupidest thing you've done.”

“You’re mad at me?”

“I thought you’d been raped. I was scared. Now I’m just pissed.”

Trying to juggle school and our friendship, as fun as it was at times, wasn’t working for me anymore. I was exhausted and it was only freshman year.

It was always the same old shit.

 Over and over and over again.

And I needed my own life.

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33-333 words for the third definition of:

JUGGLE (transitive verb)

3: to handle or deal with usually several things (as obligations) at one time so as to satisfy often competing requirements <juggle the responsibilities of family life and full-time job — Jane S. Gould>

Trifextra: His Secrets

Asking him to look through his wallet, and surprised he said “yes”, I combed through piece-by-piece, paper-by-paper. It felt strangely exciting, intensely personal, bordering on inappropriate. Like he trusted me with his secrets. 

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33 words in the first person for Trifecta's weekend challenge.

(Yes, I changed my entry)

Guess Her Weight

“Midge” (she's teensy) has allowed me to weigh her every single Friday for years. Neither remembers how it started, why she lets me or why I want to. Funny, I wouldn't let her!

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33 words in the first person for Trifextra this weekend.

The Curious Incident of P!NK

Big things and small things, important and trivial things. Most things in my life go missing at some point so I liberally employ the theory “Patience. It will turn up.” Yet slip into internal panic mode when my misplacements (see lost) affect someone else. My usual M.O. is to keep it on the down low.

And so it was recently with P!NK tickets having ordered them for three girlfriends and myself back in September. Costing a small fortune then but now replaceable for over $1,000/per., the fact that they hadn’t arrived put me on high alert.

“Your tickets were delivered by UPS on 10/4/12. Left on your porch.

Regards,

Jeremy, TicketsNow”

“I never received them! What do we do?” I frantically typed back but vaguely remember an October email referencing such.

(Repeat one hundred times: Don’t sweat the small stuff. It’s only a concert.)

Though when you’re trying to avoid something, it seemingly becomes what everyone wants to talk about. That was happening. P!NK, P!NK, P!NK. Can’t wait for P!NK!!!!!

It wasn’t until UPS and my stupid Blue Tooth compatible car out-ed me while driving with one of the friends. The phone conversation was broadcast for her ears too.

“We’ve tracked the package containing your tickets. It was delivered and we have a satellite picture of the truck in front of your house.”

“There was nothing on my porch. Why didn’t I have to sign for something so valuable?”

“I don’t know but to move forward with a claim, you have to file a police report.”

I was forced to explain the whole story to my friend.

“It’s only a concert but I’m finding it pretty creepy they have a satellite photo of your house. What if you answered the door in your pajamas? I think I remember you mentioning that the tickets came.  ”

“Crap. They didn’t say I signed for them but what if I did? Do you think they are trying to set me up?”

Did I have a memory of this or not? Didn’t matter. I didn’t have them.

Marching into the podunk police department in our sleepy little village, I told my story to Officer Fife (Laird) and I became just another porch burglary incident during a two-week period in October. Apparently, we give “good” porch!

“There’s nothing we can do. They were probably sold immediately for quick cash. If you get them reprinted, your only problem will be getting security at the venue to remove them from your seats.”

The saga continues because I have reprints but 8 people with be showing up for only four seats to the hottest ticket in town…

To me, the scariest part is "Big Brother” watched the whole thing. What else have they seen? And why didn’t anyone catch the creep swiping stuff off my porch?

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Residential Burglary Reported: Police Blotter

TUESDAY, FEB. 19

Pricey Pink Tickets Stolen

Police said four tickets to a March 9 Pink concert worth a combined $1,180 were stolen from a resident in the 0-100 block of Blodgett Avenue by an unknown person in October, after UPS delivered the tickets but before the resident picked them up.

The resident recently called UPS to check on the status of the tickets, police said, after wondering why it was taking so long for them to be delivered. UPS told the resident the package had indeed been delivered in the fall.

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Head over to Yeah Write. We are celebrating Flood’s birthday with all kinds of awesome reading for you.