Scullery Maid

Marcie was particular about her house. She might let things, say dusting the bookshelf, go. But others, like the kiycjen floor, she had to have clean.

She did not wear her sweats to do her housework. "Too hot," she said when I asked.

She wore her older long skirts, her worn out tank tops and her tight t-shirts that had faded or were stained. She looked very domestic, in a cute way. To add to the effect, she often tied her hair up in a mass on her head to keep it out of her way,

This was intriguing to me. She looked awfully cute down there, scrubbing the floor.

Apparently, though, she didn't feel cute. And as important as cleaning was, she didn't like humor to be injected into her routine.

So when I stood behind her and growled, "Yar, ye fine scullery wench, I've come for your booty," it is not surprising that she took some small offense.

She turned and looked at me from the kitchen floor, slowly, her face beet red and covered in sweat, the little sponge she insisted in using in place of a mop in her hand. She looked at me incredulously, then bit her lower lip and narrowed her eyes.

I suddenly understood very clearly that this might not end well.

"Scull-a what?" she asked, tossing the sponge onto the ground and standing up. "What did you just call me? And you've for my BOOTY? My sweaty, unhappy, housecleaning, mad at you for not helping booty?"

I nodded and tried the cheeky approach. "Yar, I jave."

She gritted her teeth and pointed. "Get out. Now. Out, Frank."

She took my arm by the bicep and led me to the door, practically shoving me out. I stepped on the porch and she closed the door.

Then she locked it, and latched it, and then she bolted the window closed, too.

From inside I heard her say, "Why don't you go play pirate with your friends at the coffee shop and come back when you want to help out around here?"

I looked down at my jockeys and socks. No shoes, no pants, and a Soft Cell t-shirt. I knocked.

Twenty minutes later, we started the Domestic Duties and Roles war.

Marcie's kind of weather

As the days have finally begun to cool down here, i have reflected on Marcie's favorite weather. It isn't a simple matter to pin that down, really.

Marcie liked it sunny or partly cloudt, but avoided the sun. She liked it warm but hated when it was dry. Finally, she loved the rain, but only for a little while at a time, and then she preferred it to remain partly cloudy. She hated overcast days.

If you could give her all those conditions in a given week, she would be content.

She preferred her warmth, but there was one thing she looked forward to. Just enough coolness in the air to curl into or next to me, laying on the couch or in bed, napping or sleeping, draped on me comfortably.

It was a nice reason to hope for rain and a chill in the air. I always did.

First New Years

I half-carried her up the stairs as she laughed and giggled. She smiled and flopped back dramatically, arms out as her tequila-laced, Midori-sweetened breath rolled out at me.

"Oh yeah, I am so drunk," she said, closing her eyes a second.

She opened her eyes and grabbed my neck, nearly pulling me off balance as I negotiated the doorway.

"Bathroom," she said. "Bathroom!"

I helped her in and she looked at me ruefully as I waited to assist. I regretted being so sober but was glad to get her home safely.

"Go away," she said, closing the door and kneeling before the porcelain god and preparing for her purgative purgatory.

I heard her leave the bathroom about 20 minutes later and helped her to the bed, slipping her brown boots off and getting her safely set up on the edge of the bed.

"I love you," she said. "I'm so drunk."

Sometimes I was, too, and for all the same reasons.

Editorial Update

I'll be posting short sequences and a little story about Marcie, travel, and me being at home when she did this week. I will also tell you more about Marcie's image of RiverMannonite and the history she built for him.

Pictures will be coming soon, of a little phenomenon we experience in our yard every year. I think you'll enjoy, even if the shots do not encompass the whole...

Preparing to move

Well, it is time. I have begun snapping shots of products and items we own that can be sold online, and soon will start posting craigslist ads to rid myself of some of the heavier items. I expect the move and settling in in San Francisco to be a bit expensive, but for my mind's sake, I have to get to it.

Of course, I still have to get to Hong Kong for a potential business deal, so we'll see how that pans out. I'll let you all know. After that, it will be all preparation for the actual act of moving.

I'm keeping the time line short, but open. However, I cannot stand looking at all the gigs in San Francisco, as compared to here in San Diego. If it doesn't work out?

Hah. It will work out. I have layered backup plans already in place and opened a few doors while I wa sup last time.

In the mean time, I will be posting more on Marcie and I later today. But for the next week I intend to enjoy being unemployed but look for work in optimal conditions...