I found more of Marcie's written materials last night, from this year's birthday, but I appear to have mislaid it. There were also more notes from her from the Humboldt visit and other occasions. I am quite distraught. On top of that, Christi's computer lost a lot of information during the storm in Northern California. Jane thinks some pictures went with it.
I did not bring my own camera because, though I was on almost a tour the last night, I was hosting them and wanted to focus on sharing before my visit ended. We'll see if Christi has those images on camera still (via memory card) and I'll post some other time if so.
I can't do this stuff today, too much is on my mind. I feel as if I have lost a part of Marcie, but I have decided to let it find me. Besides, I have already torn the trash apart looking for it... crap.
On a more positive note, I have a new reader. Teej, the commenter below, has a blog, too... I will be linking and tracking back, maybe.
See you Monday, folks.
F.
Sunday, January 6, 2008
Saturday, January 5, 2008
The San Francisco Moment
The blog may seem to have turned into a logbbook, but I have a point in sharing my San Francisco adventure. I will fully flesh it out in the book, but the trip has been multilayered and revelatory. The voyage, the stay and the departure were all one big moment of Marcie.
As I have shared with Jane and Christi, and which Jane already knew, the world Marcie lived in was divided into realms. Work people only rarely met family. Family and friends mixed sparingly or not at all. Lastly, the spouse was not to get to close to, or to interact too much with, the girlfriends.
There were some exceptions, to be true. I occasionally got to spend limited amounts of time with Tom and Chrissy Patterson before they moved to the Midwest, Jane was a common and welcome guest (though I was often shooed away by Marcie) and Lisa and I often enjoyed long calls. Tanya was persistent and had known us both as neighbors, so Marcie was occasionally willing to interact with me in tow. But, when it came down to it, I was generally cut out of girlfriends' lives. I took an interest in their activities, but she kept the wall there.
That changed as Marcie became ill. I met Walt, Lisa's boyfriend, now husband, and we went sailing with them and had dinner, something I greatly enjoyed. Calls and visits with her girlfriends became longer, more personal and connective.
But Jane remained largely a mystery, as did Christi, a person I met once and heard of several times and had even heard a story or two about (when I was not told to go out and surf or to leave Marcie with Jane in peace). Jane was the near-sister who occasionally summoned Marcie to her side for joy and merryment, support and indulgence.
But I started to really discover Jane and Christi before the memorial, then at it, then after it as we cleaned up the wake. I knew I wanted to visit them in San Francisco when they offered to have me up. Then I truly began to understand a little about why Marcie loved them so.
Jane, Jason, Christi and their whole world unfolded before me, and with it, a special corner of Marcie's life, that "magic trip" that always lifted her spirits. So, I may call Christi and Jane angels, but it may be because they showed me just what Marcie's heaven could look, feel, taste and sound a lot like. The experience was at least in part due to Marcie herself. Not simply because she was such a friend to Jane, though.
In Marcie's world and in any given realm within it, everything was always planned, usually thoughtfully so. When Marcie summoned me from my exile (for their girl time) to see Jane to her car, she told Jane and I before we left that she wanted us to stay in touch and support each other, no matter what happened to her. It was a devastating thing to hear, as we both still expected a good outcome, and it meant she felt her way of living and separating her social groups was no longer serving any good purpose. It was a tough walk to the car.
In that little dictate, she gave me the greatest inheritance she had, the last of her friends. In so doing, she let me out of my box and then told me where to find more of her to love, in San Francisco.
F.
As I have shared with Jane and Christi, and which Jane already knew, the world Marcie lived in was divided into realms. Work people only rarely met family. Family and friends mixed sparingly or not at all. Lastly, the spouse was not to get to close to, or to interact too much with, the girlfriends.
There were some exceptions, to be true. I occasionally got to spend limited amounts of time with Tom and Chrissy Patterson before they moved to the Midwest, Jane was a common and welcome guest (though I was often shooed away by Marcie) and Lisa and I often enjoyed long calls. Tanya was persistent and had known us both as neighbors, so Marcie was occasionally willing to interact with me in tow. But, when it came down to it, I was generally cut out of girlfriends' lives. I took an interest in their activities, but she kept the wall there.
That changed as Marcie became ill. I met Walt, Lisa's boyfriend, now husband, and we went sailing with them and had dinner, something I greatly enjoyed. Calls and visits with her girlfriends became longer, more personal and connective.
But Jane remained largely a mystery, as did Christi, a person I met once and heard of several times and had even heard a story or two about (when I was not told to go out and surf or to leave Marcie with Jane in peace). Jane was the near-sister who occasionally summoned Marcie to her side for joy and merryment, support and indulgence.
But I started to really discover Jane and Christi before the memorial, then at it, then after it as we cleaned up the wake. I knew I wanted to visit them in San Francisco when they offered to have me up. Then I truly began to understand a little about why Marcie loved them so.
Jane, Jason, Christi and their whole world unfolded before me, and with it, a special corner of Marcie's life, that "magic trip" that always lifted her spirits. So, I may call Christi and Jane angels, but it may be because they showed me just what Marcie's heaven could look, feel, taste and sound a lot like. The experience was at least in part due to Marcie herself. Not simply because she was such a friend to Jane, though.
In Marcie's world and in any given realm within it, everything was always planned, usually thoughtfully so. When Marcie summoned me from my exile (for their girl time) to see Jane to her car, she told Jane and I before we left that she wanted us to stay in touch and support each other, no matter what happened to her. It was a devastating thing to hear, as we both still expected a good outcome, and it meant she felt her way of living and separating her social groups was no longer serving any good purpose. It was a tough walk to the car.
In that little dictate, she gave me the greatest inheritance she had, the last of her friends. In so doing, she let me out of my box and then told me where to find more of her to love, in San Francisco.
F.
The Big Chair
I realized that I never posted my picture from the big chair... Thank you, Christi, for sending it. This is from the last night of the visit. That's another wonderful day to share sometime... Here's the last thing we did before we dropped Christi off via taxi and headed to Jane's:
Friday, January 4, 2008
The San Francisco Angels
So, I have finally gotten together my permission to post some pictures of my hostesses from our day and two nights of grand debauch. I may also post unmentioned photos that I feel express something revelatory... as long as they are flattering, that is.
I cannot fully express how good this trip was. I enjoyed the journey, to be sure, but I was absolutely spoiled the whole time after I arrived, and I feel elevated, and more than a little lighter of heart. As much as I speak of a grand debauch, nothing was excessive, but the luxurious and rather rococo setting made it feel as if just a few drinks was a long, languid party. And we had that a few times.
I have chosen not to describe this trip in multiple long posts. I would rather share it in little bits and sprinkle the trip across several posts over time, and just refer back to some of the special moments when I am not still relishing them stingily. They seem pretty private right now.
But here are some pictures, as approved by my San Francisco Angels, Ms Christina Cavallaro and Mrs. Jane Steele. First up, a shot which I think shows off the coziness of Christi's cocoon-nest:
Next up is a shot of pure animal love. Here are Christi and Samsara, a shot chosen by Jane. I have two, and they are both very sweet. I was lucky to get clear shots:
A doting kitty mother
Samsara cuddled in and beyond all escape
We did quite a bit of walking after we left Christi's cozy little nest. We ended up at the high point of Fillmore after a while. I did not choose to frame in Alcatraz, as it is an image I find pretty depressing, though I will likely tour it someday. I still like this shot, though.
After we turned back toward Christi's end of Fillmore, I snagged a couple of shots outside a bookstore of the two hostesses. I actually pulled of a surprise shot:
Cooperation with the camera handler began to break down after I took the first shot from behind the window display. I still managed to get a few more, though. First, I took pictures of a cute little pup to push their guards down. This is Little Kim, who soon also decided she was not happy being photographed and trotted off:
We moved on and eventually landed at the O Izakaya Lounge, featured in the video posted earlier on the blog. Here, I actually snagged quite a few shots, most of which were too dark and grainy. However, the angels found one or two that were acceptable, but looking down means many things, so both seem good to me:
Considering their apparently plentiful and "Gorgeous" options (see video in post below...)
Preparing to admonish me (again) for taking more photos
Eventually, we landed for real dinner at Benihana's, where we finished the night out. I like this picture from there, dark or not:
We hiked back to Christi's, happy, full and no, not drunk. It was a feeling I hadn't had in a long time. Sooo many good conversations... in confidence until they can be in context. Night, folks. As soon as Christi gives me more shots from the second, wilder night, I will post about it. We didn't start at the big chair!
I cannot fully express how good this trip was. I enjoyed the journey, to be sure, but I was absolutely spoiled the whole time after I arrived, and I feel elevated, and more than a little lighter of heart. As much as I speak of a grand debauch, nothing was excessive, but the luxurious and rather rococo setting made it feel as if just a few drinks was a long, languid party. And we had that a few times.
I have chosen not to describe this trip in multiple long posts. I would rather share it in little bits and sprinkle the trip across several posts over time, and just refer back to some of the special moments when I am not still relishing them stingily. They seem pretty private right now.
But here are some pictures, as approved by my San Francisco Angels, Ms Christina Cavallaro and Mrs. Jane Steele. First up, a shot which I think shows off the coziness of Christi's cocoon-nest:
Next up is a shot of pure animal love. Here are Christi and Samsara, a shot chosen by Jane. I have two, and they are both very sweet. I was lucky to get clear shots:
A doting kitty mother
Samsara cuddled in and beyond all escapeWe did quite a bit of walking after we left Christi's cozy little nest. We ended up at the high point of Fillmore after a while. I did not choose to frame in Alcatraz, as it is an image I find pretty depressing, though I will likely tour it someday. I still like this shot, though.
After we turned back toward Christi's end of Fillmore, I snagged a couple of shots outside a bookstore of the two hostesses. I actually pulled of a surprise shot:
Cooperation with the camera handler began to break down after I took the first shot from behind the window display. I still managed to get a few more, though. First, I took pictures of a cute little pup to push their guards down. This is Little Kim, who soon also decided she was not happy being photographed and trotted off:
After one shot, Little Kim deployed her "Dog Smears Window with nose" defense.
We moved on and eventually landed at the O Izakaya Lounge, featured in the video posted earlier on the blog. Here, I actually snagged quite a few shots, most of which were too dark and grainy. However, the angels found one or two that were acceptable, but looking down means many things, so both seem good to me:
Considering their apparently plentiful and "Gorgeous" options (see video in post below...)
Preparing to admonish me (again) for taking more photosEventually, we landed for real dinner at Benihana's, where we finished the night out. I like this picture from there, dark or not:
We hiked back to Christi's, happy, full and no, not drunk. It was a feeling I hadn't had in a long time. Sooo many good conversations... in confidence until they can be in context. Night, folks. As soon as Christi gives me more shots from the second, wilder night, I will post about it. We didn't start at the big chair!
So much to post, but first... a request
We had a good time at O Izakaya lounge in Japantown. Our waiter was quite fun to watch and to film. There is one adjective which seems overused. Thesaurus, anyone? This is actually posted more for Jane and Christi than general use... They're cute as buttons, no?
Jane just cannot deal with the filming of it after a while... you'll hear her at the end. Stick around for the credits...
Jane just cannot deal with the filming of it after a while... you'll hear her at the end. Stick around for the credits...
Wednesday, January 2, 2008
Catching up on my Vacation/Scouting - Mission Days 1-3 in the Bay Area
I have had a wonderful few days in San Francisco, and because of that I have been quite remiss in my blogging... but all for a good cause. I have MORE pictures, and I get to introduce friends in pictures who have not been featured visually but have made their respective debuts before.
First off are Jane and Jason, whose home has been mine as well since I arrived on the 30th, and who will be featured in their own "plus bunnies" post when I get home. However, for now... here is a wonderful picture of the two of them overlooking the Pacific:
Setting Sun For a Couple
Jason was a champ. He may have even turned me on to watching football and finding some intellectual stimulation from it to override my disinterest. The sociological angle is just what I needed. I'm not saying I'll watch every week, but I will read the sports news more often. Thanks, Jason.
My first day up here was spent walking around the neighborhood Jane and Jason are privileged to live in. Wow. What a beautiful neighborhood, amazingly only one block from Golden Gate Park and a scant few more than that from the beach, which is where the above shot was grabbed. Yes, that's a bird in the middle, but an accidental one....
The tour of Golden Gate Park was quite nice. It has enough country to appeal to that part of my soul, and enough city to make it feel urbane as well. Some of the highlights to perhaps pause and look at include the horse we visited at the stables, the bison, and a raven. I also fooled around with catching a fishing line in mid-cast, which Jason actually was doing first but I had to try.
After a long trip through the park, including a little free entertainment (a reggae concert which was quite well done) and a visit for batteries, we headed to the coast. Wonderful, wonderful, wonderful:
As if to end our day on mystical note, a beautiful dog kept flying down the beach and into the water, drawing my shutterbug out and challenging me not to take a picture When I saw he picture on a computer screen afterwards, I was very pleased. What an effect. It's a dog leaving a trail of fire in his or her wake:
The Trail of the Fire Hound
After our dog-frolic encounter, it was time to head back for a delicious and hearty cornbread and turkey-chili dinner, which was a very good thing to have in my belly. Talk about a long and sound sleep! I did not know it, but it would be a needed rest...
The next day dawned, the 31st, and it was off to a hiking trip. Jane and I went alone on this one, to Tamalpais, above Sausalito. But first... first a trip to a delicious and deliciously underpriced, diner. Marcie would have gobbled it up, and I certainly did. Traditional breakfast served fast and sweetly by an Asian family. Yummage.
Then, we were off! Just a 20-minute trip from her home, a jaunt over the Golden Gate bridge, Jane has the countryside and a fullon forest in her backyard. Actually, several, but let's focus on this trip's destination, hmm? Agreed? Yes! What can I say? Nothing. It was better to take pictures and a film. The pictures first:
Jane claimed she was prone to getting lost, but she was an excellent guide. Much talk of my baby here... Marcie would have marched us for the whole round trip, but we turned back for a night on the town... New Year's Eve! But first, a waterfall film. Turn on your sound...
I will be getting New Year's photos from Jason and Jane later. For now, just know that the debauchery was kept to a relative minimum but that we found a cute little place to eat with a kickass host, drank at a Beat spot, crashed a party at Bimbo's and loved us up some North Beach. But I was restless, which was a poorly timed state...
Day Three was a meandering joy. The first order of business was to decide on what. Both of us suffering from stiff calves, Jane and I agreed that a trip to another out-of-doors location might be "uncalled for." Another trip, and perhaps a lighthouse then...
But for the third day, we would meet with newly minted co-conspirator and Marcie-sanctioned, long-time Jane pal Christi. The other wonderful hostess and helper at Marcie's memorial, Christi is a true gem and a multi-talented maven.
Since my little trip is a mix of memorial, vacation and thank-you for their help, I had brought a collection of items which I felt were appropriate as gifts for Marcie's friends. Candles, candies, drink (high-end vodkas) and some more personal items were brought and given (to a great reception). We had some long discussions and champagne, food and candy.
It was a little memorial for my baby, and every gift had in it something I knew of her or the two of them. The gifts did not go unanswered. The answer, a field trip, took all day and much of the night and was thoroughly enjoyable as much for watching my two lovely companions interact as it was for sharing little bits of my Marcie's person with each other.
Hmm... I have too many pictures to share here, but I need to clear them with Jane and Christi. Women love their images only when they meet their own standards. For now, I have been admonished for not putting myself and my picture on the blog, so I will share a picture of all of us at the Japantown Benihana's.
We'll talk more of the debauch (post, talk, whatever) after I go home and have time to digest it. Suffice to say it was awesome! Benihana's was the last stop before we all paraded back to Christi's, but there is way too much before that to share for me to keep typing now...
First off are Jane and Jason, whose home has been mine as well since I arrived on the 30th, and who will be featured in their own "plus bunnies" post when I get home. However, for now... here is a wonderful picture of the two of them overlooking the Pacific:
Setting Sun For a CoupleJason was a champ. He may have even turned me on to watching football and finding some intellectual stimulation from it to override my disinterest. The sociological angle is just what I needed. I'm not saying I'll watch every week, but I will read the sports news more often. Thanks, Jason.
My first day up here was spent walking around the neighborhood Jane and Jason are privileged to live in. Wow. What a beautiful neighborhood, amazingly only one block from Golden Gate Park and a scant few more than that from the beach, which is where the above shot was grabbed. Yes, that's a bird in the middle, but an accidental one....
The tour of Golden Gate Park was quite nice. It has enough country to appeal to that part of my soul, and enough city to make it feel urbane as well. Some of the highlights to perhaps pause and look at include the horse we visited at the stables, the bison, and a raven. I also fooled around with catching a fishing line in mid-cast, which Jason actually was doing first but I had to try.
After a long trip through the park, including a little free entertainment (a reggae concert which was quite well done) and a visit for batteries, we headed to the coast. Wonderful, wonderful, wonderful:
As if to end our day on mystical note, a beautiful dog kept flying down the beach and into the water, drawing my shutterbug out and challenging me not to take a picture When I saw he picture on a computer screen afterwards, I was very pleased. What an effect. It's a dog leaving a trail of fire in his or her wake:
The Trail of the Fire HoundAfter our dog-frolic encounter, it was time to head back for a delicious and hearty cornbread and turkey-chili dinner, which was a very good thing to have in my belly. Talk about a long and sound sleep! I did not know it, but it would be a needed rest...
Tamalpais and New Year's Eve-Day Two
The next day dawned, the 31st, and it was off to a hiking trip. Jane and I went alone on this one, to Tamalpais, above Sausalito. But first... first a trip to a delicious and deliciously underpriced, diner. Marcie would have gobbled it up, and I certainly did. Traditional breakfast served fast and sweetly by an Asian family. Yummage.
Then, we were off! Just a 20-minute trip from her home, a jaunt over the Golden Gate bridge, Jane has the countryside and a fullon forest in her backyard. Actually, several, but let's focus on this trip's destination, hmm? Agreed? Yes! What can I say? Nothing. It was better to take pictures and a film. The pictures first:
Jane claimed she was prone to getting lost, but she was an excellent guide. Much talk of my baby here... Marcie would have marched us for the whole round trip, but we turned back for a night on the town... New Year's Eve! But first, a waterfall film. Turn on your sound...
I will be getting New Year's photos from Jason and Jane later. For now, just know that the debauchery was kept to a relative minimum but that we found a cute little place to eat with a kickass host, drank at a Beat spot, crashed a party at Bimbo's and loved us up some North Beach. But I was restless, which was a poorly timed state...
The Debauch-Day 3
Day Three was a meandering joy. The first order of business was to decide on what. Both of us suffering from stiff calves, Jane and I agreed that a trip to another out-of-doors location might be "uncalled for." Another trip, and perhaps a lighthouse then...
But for the third day, we would meet with newly minted co-conspirator and Marcie-sanctioned, long-time Jane pal Christi. The other wonderful hostess and helper at Marcie's memorial, Christi is a true gem and a multi-talented maven.
Since my little trip is a mix of memorial, vacation and thank-you for their help, I had brought a collection of items which I felt were appropriate as gifts for Marcie's friends. Candles, candies, drink (high-end vodkas) and some more personal items were brought and given (to a great reception). We had some long discussions and champagne, food and candy.
It was a little memorial for my baby, and every gift had in it something I knew of her or the two of them. The gifts did not go unanswered. The answer, a field trip, took all day and much of the night and was thoroughly enjoyable as much for watching my two lovely companions interact as it was for sharing little bits of my Marcie's person with each other.
Hmm... I have too many pictures to share here, but I need to clear them with Jane and Christi. Women love their images only when they meet their own standards. For now, I have been admonished for not putting myself and my picture on the blog, so I will share a picture of all of us at the Japantown Benihana's.
We'll talk more of the debauch (post, talk, whatever) after I go home and have time to digest it. Suffice to say it was awesome! Benihana's was the last stop before we all paraded back to Christi's, but there is way too much before that to share for me to keep typing now...
Tuesday, January 1, 2008
More from Big Sur
I have been running the shutter on my camera's CCD like wild. I am posting some leftovers from Big Sur in this slide show and then later some pictures I have taken since I arrived in San Francisco. For now, enjoy these:
More later today, I promise.
F.
More later today, I promise.
F.
Saturday, December 29, 2007
On The Big Sur Route
The first day of the mission is under my belt. It felt very lonely, I must admit. Toward the end of State Highway 46, I was hit by an urge to pull over, much in the same sudden way that I would be told to stop someplace when Marcie was driving with me. This, a few miles from the southern end of Big Sur, was what I saw, a panorama from Morro Bay northward:
I did not get as much time in Big Sur as I wanted which means I will pass back through on the way home. I did get a few good snaps, though.
The Elephant Seals! Jane told me to stop and check them out, and I am glad I did. The first thing I saw was the wee babies. This little guy hammed it up for the camera:
Is he flipping me off?
This momma has her hands full. Four of the fat little pinniped burritolings to feed! And yet, fat they were. One of them has already been nibbled on, though, and lays on his side to keep pressure off the wound. He'll be okay. Or, sadly, he'll be lunch. I'll try to check in on him on the way home:
Speaking of lunch, the family bull was about to he handed his but he seemed to ward off the three suitors who came calling for mom. Some of my shots were too blurry, but here is one high-drama moment as two bulls square off. The big one is the daddy:
Daddy swings his head down and knocks back the interloper, who subsequently leaves:
Now, I try not to bother marine mammals, but when they call me out to challenge me, I admit I stop and take pictures while I talk back to them. Is that a felony? Probably is... but it makes for good candids:
Yes, those last two were sunsets. I have more scenshots, which I will post when I am not at a location with crap connectivty.
Night, Folks.
F.
I did not get as much time in Big Sur as I wanted which means I will pass back through on the way home. I did get a few good snaps, though.
The Elephant Seals! Jane told me to stop and check them out, and I am glad I did. The first thing I saw was the wee babies. This little guy hammed it up for the camera:
This momma has her hands full. Four of the fat little pinniped burritolings to feed! And yet, fat they were. One of them has already been nibbled on, though, and lays on his side to keep pressure off the wound. He'll be okay. Or, sadly, he'll be lunch. I'll try to check in on him on the way home:
Speaking of lunch, the family bull was about to he handed his but he seemed to ward off the three suitors who came calling for mom. Some of my shots were too blurry, but here is one high-drama moment as two bulls square off. The big one is the daddy:
Daddy swings his head down and knocks back the interloper, who subsequently leaves:
Now, I try not to bother marine mammals, but when they call me out to challenge me, I admit I stop and take pictures while I talk back to them. Is that a felony? Probably is... but it makes for good candids:
Yes, those last two were sunsets. I have more scenshots, which I will post when I am not at a location with crap connectivty.
Night, Folks.
F.
Thursday, December 27, 2007
A note and then Note #3
Hi Folks,
I will share with you about my dreams when I finish the notes. This is the last of them, but it lets you in one where we were in our relationship in that summer fugue of 2004. Sent just before my return, Marcie alludes to our passion and our bliss. I was almost done at school and was more than ready for home and wife.
I think it's safe to say that everything she wrote here, in 2004, translates to now, 2007. Considering my dreams, the picture certainly does convey and her words as well. I miss all those things about her, too. Again.
Night, folks.
F.
I will share with you about my dreams when I finish the notes. This is the last of them, but it lets you in one where we were in our relationship in that summer fugue of 2004. Sent just before my return, Marcie alludes to our passion and our bliss. I was almost done at school and was more than ready for home and wife.
I think it's safe to say that everything she wrote here, in 2004, translates to now, 2007. Considering my dreams, the picture certainly does convey and her words as well. I miss all those things about her, too. Again.
Night, folks.
F.
Wednesday, December 26, 2007
A special treat on Christmas Eve
Christmas was a big holiday for Marcie. Every year, she plotted and planned with her family and her friends to get together the perfect bundle of thoughtful gifts for her loved ones. She started the day after Christmas each year and bought little bits throughout the year, collecting little perfect thoughts that would count for the next December.
So, it has been difficult, missing and remembering how we would spend the few days of peace before the big day and how we would savor the extra time off with drives and little trips or dates. I was thinking of what Marcie and I would have done this year when I went to bed Christmas Eve.
I generally find I am awake and aware of my surroundings when I am in the first stage of sleep or falling into it. As I nodded off in the front room a bit after midnight Christmas morning, I could feel Seamus' fur under my hand as he laid in his little wool bed.
I thought of how Marcie and I, after a good night and while we were in bed pillow-talking, would sometimes end up with Seamus between us, being petted into a stuporous overload of pleasure before wandering, staggering, down the bed and onto one or the other of our feet. I enjoyed the memory and almost caught a whiff of her as I did, deciding it was a pleasant dream effect, even if I was somewhat still awake.
I progressed toward dreamland wakeful in my mind. I felt her hand on mine as I drifted on the lake at the edge of the waking world and felt myself begin to flow down into deeper sleep. But there was something less phantasmal to me which diverted me and as the gentle down slope became a free fall, I startled out of my sleep.
I kept my eyes shut, moving my hand a bit and making sure my other hand was not the cause of the odd feeling of having a hand laid over mine, but it was behind me as I laid on my side, under me, really. I stroked gently at Seamus's fur to see if I had startled him. I hadn't but he groggily motored his purr a bit to signal he was aware of my touch in his slumber.
I waited for the odd sensation of the hand on mine to pass. It didn't at first, so I moved my hand and shook it. It seemed to go away. "It must have been my blood circulating a certain way," I thought. "Maybe it's related to parasomnias or dyssomnias."
I gulped sadly a little after I opened my eyes and saw no visage, not a presence. Just the cold contours of the couch in the front room, beyond Seamus, under my hand in his little wool bed, and nothing more. I sighed and whispered my love for Marcie and settled back in.
I was not asleep when the sensation returned, and I did not move my hand except to pet Seamus. I seemed to feel a little pressure, but I just let myself fall asleep, keeping Marcie and my memories of her favorite season foremost in my mind.
My dreams were extraordinary.
There were seven of them, and I am at a loss of where to begin. I am writing them down. Be it wish fulfillment, my grieving process operating at the near-unconscious, or simple but extraordinary dreaming, her presence was very strong.
My dreams seemed themed, and touched on the thoughtfulness, preparation, generosity, love, enterprise, passion and wisdom Marcie expressed through this special season in her life. They were my Christmas gifts, and I will be proud to share them... Soon.
Thank you, Marcie, if not directly for the dreams and the sensation of my hand being held, then for the memories which shaped them. I love you.
F.
So, it has been difficult, missing and remembering how we would spend the few days of peace before the big day and how we would savor the extra time off with drives and little trips or dates. I was thinking of what Marcie and I would have done this year when I went to bed Christmas Eve.
I generally find I am awake and aware of my surroundings when I am in the first stage of sleep or falling into it. As I nodded off in the front room a bit after midnight Christmas morning, I could feel Seamus' fur under my hand as he laid in his little wool bed.
I thought of how Marcie and I, after a good night and while we were in bed pillow-talking, would sometimes end up with Seamus between us, being petted into a stuporous overload of pleasure before wandering, staggering, down the bed and onto one or the other of our feet. I enjoyed the memory and almost caught a whiff of her as I did, deciding it was a pleasant dream effect, even if I was somewhat still awake.
I progressed toward dreamland wakeful in my mind. I felt her hand on mine as I drifted on the lake at the edge of the waking world and felt myself begin to flow down into deeper sleep. But there was something less phantasmal to me which diverted me and as the gentle down slope became a free fall, I startled out of my sleep.
I kept my eyes shut, moving my hand a bit and making sure my other hand was not the cause of the odd feeling of having a hand laid over mine, but it was behind me as I laid on my side, under me, really. I stroked gently at Seamus's fur to see if I had startled him. I hadn't but he groggily motored his purr a bit to signal he was aware of my touch in his slumber.
I waited for the odd sensation of the hand on mine to pass. It didn't at first, so I moved my hand and shook it. It seemed to go away. "It must have been my blood circulating a certain way," I thought. "Maybe it's related to parasomnias or dyssomnias."
I gulped sadly a little after I opened my eyes and saw no visage, not a presence. Just the cold contours of the couch in the front room, beyond Seamus, under my hand in his little wool bed, and nothing more. I sighed and whispered my love for Marcie and settled back in.
I was not asleep when the sensation returned, and I did not move my hand except to pet Seamus. I seemed to feel a little pressure, but I just let myself fall asleep, keeping Marcie and my memories of her favorite season foremost in my mind.
My dreams were extraordinary.
There were seven of them, and I am at a loss of where to begin. I am writing them down. Be it wish fulfillment, my grieving process operating at the near-unconscious, or simple but extraordinary dreaming, her presence was very strong.
My dreams seemed themed, and touched on the thoughtfulness, preparation, generosity, love, enterprise, passion and wisdom Marcie expressed through this special season in her life. They were my Christmas gifts, and I will be proud to share them... Soon.
Thank you, Marcie, if not directly for the dreams and the sensation of my hand being held, then for the memories which shaped them. I love you.
F.
Tuesday, December 25, 2007
Merry Christmas
I am missing Marcie more than ever this morning, of course. Christmas was a favorite time for her, save for the obligations to be social with either throngs of people (my family) or to sit "in audience" whilst certain characters held court and regaled us with tales of the wondrous "before" (hers). But we managed to enjoy every one of the ones we had together, thank you.
Here's hoping that the tales you listen to are gifts themselves, that the throngs bring you a festive spirit, and that the day and its activities go by at the pace you would most prefer it to. Merry Christmas, folks.
F.
Here's hoping that the tales you listen to are gifts themselves, that the throngs bring you a festive spirit, and that the day and its activities go by at the pace you would most prefer it to. Merry Christmas, folks.
F.
Sunday, December 23, 2007
Letters from Marcie: Note #2
Here's the second of the series she sent me. I am still looking for some of the letters i sent back, but they may be among the many missing letters and her journals still lost. I have not been able to make myself open every box...
That first week, after I got her initial letter, I wrote Marcie about seeing old pals, getting my studies wired and on wheels and just the natural beauty of the place. I had a deer for my neighbor in the dorms and somewhere I still have images of her. I had also called every few nights and was leaving messages between classes with my phone card.
It felt as if I were back in the Navy in some ways, but without the 6-months-or-more madness a cruise means. But the analogy falls apart at most unpleasant points, like hot racks (having to sleep in a rack someone else just left), steam-or-ice-or-both showers, constant loud noise and a plethora of retarded shenanigans going on all around oneself. Furthermore, there was a phone available at less than the price of a whole paycheck and an ass-kissing session with the ship communications sleazeballs.
My roommate, and his girlfriend, by the way, always sat and waited for me to share these notes and the longer letters, and I was proud to. Of course, that meant roommate demanded notes from his love, too, despite their proximity.
There was much mirth in that dorm because of Marcie. People who never met her loved her. The phenomenon continues. Someone told me that her personality comes out in what I write and they love Marcie's spirit. I'm glad I am expressing her well enough to show that part of her. She was my doting spitfire.
At any rate, this one was just a little pick-me-up note from my baby with yet another cute cat scene... it's nice. The letter is somewhere else:
That first week, after I got her initial letter, I wrote Marcie about seeing old pals, getting my studies wired and on wheels and just the natural beauty of the place. I had a deer for my neighbor in the dorms and somewhere I still have images of her. I had also called every few nights and was leaving messages between classes with my phone card.
It felt as if I were back in the Navy in some ways, but without the 6-months-or-more madness a cruise means. But the analogy falls apart at most unpleasant points, like hot racks (having to sleep in a rack someone else just left), steam-or-ice-or-both showers, constant loud noise and a plethora of retarded shenanigans going on all around oneself. Furthermore, there was a phone available at less than the price of a whole paycheck and an ass-kissing session with the ship communications sleazeballs.
My roommate, and his girlfriend, by the way, always sat and waited for me to share these notes and the longer letters, and I was proud to. Of course, that meant roommate demanded notes from his love, too, despite their proximity.
There was much mirth in that dorm because of Marcie. People who never met her loved her. The phenomenon continues. Someone told me that her personality comes out in what I write and they love Marcie's spirit. I'm glad I am expressing her well enough to show that part of her. She was my doting spitfire.
At any rate, this one was just a little pick-me-up note from my baby with yet another cute cat scene... it's nice. The letter is somewhere else:
Saturday, December 22, 2007
Note #1- Letters from Marcie
Here is one of the notes I wrote about in this week's earlier, heavier post. It relays some of the love, as do all of them. More importantly, it illustrates the kind of wife and lover Marcie was, romantically speaking. Perhaps most importantly, her notes, letters and communications always told me what was on her heart, not just her mind.
The picture she sent me is the one of her in the green tank top at City College, viewable in the memorial book gallery widget/slideshow. She had not changed much at all, and I told her so. So beautiful...
Seamus was always sensitive to missing people in his life, and he still has a very good memory for people he has liked. He is quick to get close with long-absent pals and slow to take in unknowns. When Marcie or I would leave for extended periods, he would take up the habit of sleeping in the front kitchen window, overlooking the driveway all day and night for a few weeks. This was one of those periods, as she mentions.
Please enjoy. Reading these lately has made me feel at once both very loved and very forlorn.
I know she knows I love her, but I still have to declare it. God I love you, honey. I missed and miss you, too, and more all the time. I could use another note, too.
The picture she sent me is the one of her in the green tank top at City College, viewable in the memorial book gallery widget/slideshow. She had not changed much at all, and I told her so. So beautiful...
Seamus was always sensitive to missing people in his life, and he still has a very good memory for people he has liked. He is quick to get close with long-absent pals and slow to take in unknowns. When Marcie or I would leave for extended periods, he would take up the habit of sleeping in the front kitchen window, overlooking the driveway all day and night for a few weeks. This was one of those periods, as she mentions.
Please enjoy. Reading these lately has made me feel at once both very loved and very forlorn.
I know she knows I love her, but I still have to declare it. God I love you, honey. I missed and miss you, too, and more all the time. I could use another note, too.
Thursday, December 20, 2007
A little respite
A week from tomorrow I will take be on my way to San Francisco. My trip will meander up the 101 and the 1, including stops to see sights and take pictures of spots like this:
The above image is the lovely postcard I received from Jane today when I got home from work. Thank you, Jane. I love it, and I can't wait to pass through Morro Bay and Big Sur on the way up.
People are chipping in on this one and I want to thank them. Seamus will have a few caretakers. Dean and Joey and Tanya and Shawn have volunteered to watch him, pet him, love him and feed him while I am gone. I am glad I do not have to board my buddy. He's not one for the hospitality scene himself.
Walt and Lisa are at it again, reaching out and offering to share a good spot to stop at. A library of some sort. Lisa got a new gig (good job, Lisa!) and she's pretty busy, but she's very conscientious and loves to share her travel tips, be it Hawaii or little jaunts up the coast, which is nice.
My neighborhood has my back like I have theirs. When I am gone, my neighbor Bobby will be playing a cat backup role and general eye on the place while I am gone. The "dawg pound" will remain on patrol, too. "There'll be no perpetration" when I am absent, or so they tell me.
I'll talk about more specific plans and some back story closer to departure time. I just wanted to share the pretty postcard and clue people in on the plans. Thanks for all the support, folks.
Love,
F.
The above image is the lovely postcard I received from Jane today when I got home from work. Thank you, Jane. I love it, and I can't wait to pass through Morro Bay and Big Sur on the way up.
People are chipping in on this one and I want to thank them. Seamus will have a few caretakers. Dean and Joey and Tanya and Shawn have volunteered to watch him, pet him, love him and feed him while I am gone. I am glad I do not have to board my buddy. He's not one for the hospitality scene himself.
Walt and Lisa are at it again, reaching out and offering to share a good spot to stop at. A library of some sort. Lisa got a new gig (good job, Lisa!) and she's pretty busy, but she's very conscientious and loves to share her travel tips, be it Hawaii or little jaunts up the coast, which is nice.
My neighborhood has my back like I have theirs. When I am gone, my neighbor Bobby will be playing a cat backup role and general eye on the place while I am gone. The "dawg pound" will remain on patrol, too. "There'll be no perpetration" when I am absent, or so they tell me.
I'll talk about more specific plans and some back story closer to departure time. I just wanted to share the pretty postcard and clue people in on the plans. Thanks for all the support, folks.
Love,
F.
Wednesday, December 19, 2007
A very special gift
Walt and Lisa Soto, our dear friends in San Clemente, told me about this gift, but I was so deep in my grief that it just kind of faded from my mind until the package arrived today. Treepeople is an organization which is helping nature heal our cities.
Now, Marcie will be a part of that effort. A grove has been donated and will be planted in her honor. I will attend a planting and, in my own mind, dedicate the trees I will later visit when I want to do something related to her memory.
Thank you so much, Walt and Lisa.
Much love,
F.
There are others to thank. I will get to them as I can. Tomorow I will share my little cache of notes from my sweetie, dating back to my "second coming" to Humboldt, as she called it. G'night folks.
Now, Marcie will be a part of that effort. A grove has been donated and will be planted in her honor. I will attend a planting and, in my own mind, dedicate the trees I will later visit when I want to do something related to her memory.
Thank you so much, Walt and Lisa.
Much love,
F.
There are others to thank. I will get to them as I can. Tomorow I will share my little cache of notes from my sweetie, dating back to my "second coming" to Humboldt, as she called it. G'night folks.
Tuesday, December 18, 2007
The Tide's Turn
So this is the latter half of the story. NOT FAMILY FRIENDLY!
The Summer of Lust (2)
I first thought of how strongly connected Marcie and I were when I was up in Humboldt alone and relishing those phone calls and letters between my studies. I eventually figured it out to my satisfaction.
The key to making our lust last in our love was in drawing it out, but also in leaving the other one guessing as to who wanted the other one more. We treated lulls like opportunities, building anticipation up with teasing and flirting.
On a more animalistic level, we also both tried to be the most demanding, randiest in the relationship. Lust is a good drug, pastors, practicality and prudes be damned. It is also the only one that seems to get stronger the more you are exposed to it.
But more than all of that high-tension sexuality was the idea that we were a team, we were together, and we stood alone against everything and everyone we had to. We might have setbacks or misfortune, disagreements and uncertainty, but eventually we made it through.
And when it came to handling our opponents, there was a special connecting bond that saw us scheming to conquer or to thwart. Of course, it helped that, whether victory was assured or not, we'd have sex to celebrate its inevitability.
We only lost once.
Marcie was her usual amorous self when I returned from Humboldt State. We were in a good place in many ways. Except one. Seamus was sick. Wherever he went, he would lie on the ground and cough little, pathetic kitty coughs.
We tried everything to get him to feel better, and the veterinarian was stumped. When we were told that he would likely die, it dampened our mood. We worried but he ate, he drank, everything seemed fine save for a cough.
That the veterinarian tried to convince us he may have cancer was not terrible. But that she would not try asthma medication was. After an expensive set of scans and lots of gouging, she finally determined that he had asthma.
The vet got her money, we just had to do three heartbreaking months thinking of our cat as a dying cancer patient. In the mean time, Marcie and I were confronted with moving to a new home as our apartments converted into quite crappy condos.
Our lusty ways subsided for a while as we wrestled with the upcoming move, getting me a job which drew on my shiny "new" degree, and getting Seamus on his feet again. Nothing puts out the fires of lust like a coughing kitty climbing onto the bed.
But our latest sexual renaissance still smoldered nicely in the background. Then, in a new house and after things were on track, Marcie called me into the room. I was expecting a new lingerie set. She had stopped at the hosiery.
"Does this feel different to you?" she asked, looking very afraid as she gestured to her breast.
It did. There was no lump, just an overall firmness I did not remember from before, which was just a couple days earlier. I nodded.
"Honey, you may have an infection," I said. "Was there a lump before this?"
"No, honey," she said, sniffling and biting her lower lip. "I'm very scared."
And so we went to bed but we did not indulge in each other. Later, Marcie called Kaiser while I went to pick up Chinese food. We ate silently and held hands across the table.
Cancer was unthinkable. Marcie told me years earlier that she'd had a fibroma removed from her right breast in her twenties. It was quite a scare for her and the doctor had believed that she was looking at breast cancer. Marcie religiously checked her breasts.
The sexual side of our relationship slowed more that week as I awaited her appointment, which never seemed to come. When I finally asked her why, she told me Kaiser had put her off. I called them up and threatened massive mayhem. They saw her the next day.
The nurse practitioner who saw Marcie performed multiple small biopsies and told Marcie she would be in touch. Marcie was relieved that the practitioner suspected an infection.
Three days later, the phone rang as we tried our best to break our new king-size bed. We ignored it at first.
"Hello Marcie, this is your nurse practitioner at Kaiser," the voice said, not neutral. "Could you please call me at (619) 57..."
She did not have time to answer. Marcie ripped the receiver off the hook.
"Hello," she said, her hand on my chest as she sat back up, steadying herself on me. I held her hips and massaged them.
"Yes, I'm Marcie," she said, biting her lip afterward and listening. "It did? That was fast. what did it say?"
She dropped the phone and draped herself on me, her nose buried in my neck as she sobbed and shook. I heard a faint voice on the phone as I stroked her back now and tried to keep my composure, comfort her somehow.
"It's cancer, honey," she said. "Oh, my God, what are we going to do?"
"We're going to get you treatment," I said, noting the faint voice's apology as the receiver clicked. "We're going to get you fixed up."
I held her there for a long time and whispered my love in her ear, soothed her and stroked her magnificent body, her soft red hair and kissed her tears away. "We'll beat it, honey."
And for a while, it would certainly look as if I were right.
The Summer of Lust (2)
I first thought of how strongly connected Marcie and I were when I was up in Humboldt alone and relishing those phone calls and letters between my studies. I eventually figured it out to my satisfaction.
The key to making our lust last in our love was in drawing it out, but also in leaving the other one guessing as to who wanted the other one more. We treated lulls like opportunities, building anticipation up with teasing and flirting.
On a more animalistic level, we also both tried to be the most demanding, randiest in the relationship. Lust is a good drug, pastors, practicality and prudes be damned. It is also the only one that seems to get stronger the more you are exposed to it.
But more than all of that high-tension sexuality was the idea that we were a team, we were together, and we stood alone against everything and everyone we had to. We might have setbacks or misfortune, disagreements and uncertainty, but eventually we made it through.
And when it came to handling our opponents, there was a special connecting bond that saw us scheming to conquer or to thwart. Of course, it helped that, whether victory was assured or not, we'd have sex to celebrate its inevitability.
We only lost once.
Marcie was her usual amorous self when I returned from Humboldt State. We were in a good place in many ways. Except one. Seamus was sick. Wherever he went, he would lie on the ground and cough little, pathetic kitty coughs.
We tried everything to get him to feel better, and the veterinarian was stumped. When we were told that he would likely die, it dampened our mood. We worried but he ate, he drank, everything seemed fine save for a cough.
That the veterinarian tried to convince us he may have cancer was not terrible. But that she would not try asthma medication was. After an expensive set of scans and lots of gouging, she finally determined that he had asthma.
The vet got her money, we just had to do three heartbreaking months thinking of our cat as a dying cancer patient. In the mean time, Marcie and I were confronted with moving to a new home as our apartments converted into quite crappy condos.
Our lusty ways subsided for a while as we wrestled with the upcoming move, getting me a job which drew on my shiny "new" degree, and getting Seamus on his feet again. Nothing puts out the fires of lust like a coughing kitty climbing onto the bed.
But our latest sexual renaissance still smoldered nicely in the background. Then, in a new house and after things were on track, Marcie called me into the room. I was expecting a new lingerie set. She had stopped at the hosiery.
"Does this feel different to you?" she asked, looking very afraid as she gestured to her breast.
It did. There was no lump, just an overall firmness I did not remember from before, which was just a couple days earlier. I nodded.
"Honey, you may have an infection," I said. "Was there a lump before this?"
"No, honey," she said, sniffling and biting her lower lip. "I'm very scared."
And so we went to bed but we did not indulge in each other. Later, Marcie called Kaiser while I went to pick up Chinese food. We ate silently and held hands across the table.
Cancer was unthinkable. Marcie told me years earlier that she'd had a fibroma removed from her right breast in her twenties. It was quite a scare for her and the doctor had believed that she was looking at breast cancer. Marcie religiously checked her breasts.
The sexual side of our relationship slowed more that week as I awaited her appointment, which never seemed to come. When I finally asked her why, she told me Kaiser had put her off. I called them up and threatened massive mayhem. They saw her the next day.
The nurse practitioner who saw Marcie performed multiple small biopsies and told Marcie she would be in touch. Marcie was relieved that the practitioner suspected an infection.
Three days later, the phone rang as we tried our best to break our new king-size bed. We ignored it at first.
"Hello Marcie, this is your nurse practitioner at Kaiser," the voice said, not neutral. "Could you please call me at (619) 57..."
She did not have time to answer. Marcie ripped the receiver off the hook.
"Hello," she said, her hand on my chest as she sat back up, steadying herself on me. I held her hips and massaged them.
"Yes, I'm Marcie," she said, biting her lip afterward and listening. "It did? That was fast. what did it say?"
She dropped the phone and draped herself on me, her nose buried in my neck as she sobbed and shook. I heard a faint voice on the phone as I stroked her back now and tried to keep my composure, comfort her somehow.
"It's cancer, honey," she said. "Oh, my God, what are we going to do?"
"We're going to get you treatment," I said, noting the faint voice's apology as the receiver clicked. "We're going to get you fixed up."
I held her there for a long time and whispered my love in her ear, soothed her and stroked her magnificent body, her soft red hair and kissed her tears away. "We'll beat it, honey."
And for a while, it would certainly look as if I were right.
Notes from the Rising Tide
When discussing Marcie, I have been accused of being overly airy or romantic about our relationship by those who I can only consider must have far more concrete and firmly grounded ones in their own lives. That is not an indictment, but I am glad that Marcie and I had what we had.
Our relationship was, to me, always new and exciting, at once both comforting and familiar, yet unpredictable and volatile. I liked a little struggle, deciding in an argument whether to "win" a bitter victory or "suffer" a delicious defeat. Marcie did, too. It all worked out between the lines and the sheets.
But how does one relay that the strength and fire of a relationship over a decade old was not just my own take to the more jaded? By making everyone sick, of course. I know no way of doing that more adroitly than sharing Marcie's and my notes and letters.
I will save the cards and notes she sent me for another post. Instead, I will share an excerpt from my planned book. It's raw, but it's completely honest and puts across where we were and how we were feeling back then.
Not fit for family, folks.
The Summer of Lust (1)
The long days at The Learning Annex in the dark back room, and the ever quieter and increasingly demoralized office could not dampen my ardor for my wife. I blew out of the office every day and flew home.
She told me I was a menace, and I was and knew that to be so, but I could not get enough of Marcie that summer. I was wild, and she was gleefully willing. But Marcie had her limits, if not in principle.
"Look!" she demanded, motioning at the pile of sheets on the floor. "Look at this! Honey, this is ridiculous. I cannot do this much laundry every week. This is one week. One!"
She glared and kept her finger pointed down at the pile of sheets. Two sets in three days, and last week's to boot. I smiled, and I imagine impishly so. "Maybe we can try the floor again?"
No sooner had I asked than I was dodging the pillow she threw at me from the room.
"And that's ruined, too," she said. "Honey, that was a feather pillow, they're expensive. I don’t know why you shoved that under me. You don’t care, though! You just don’t think about these things."
Her eyes narrowed and she put her hands on her hips as she responded to me, a little frustrated, "Oh, the floor, huh? Yeah, so we can enjoy rug burns again? I don't think so. Maybe I'll just cut you off for a while."
She smiled and nodded her head, biting her lower lip. Her protests amused me. I read them as her way of saying, "You have been home 10 minutes. Why are you not all over me?"
I decided that what she needed was what caused the problem in the first place. “Cut me off?” I asked, standing up and slowly sauntering her way. “Cut me off and do what? Hmm?”
She squealed a little as I caught her around the waist when she turned to run into the room. She didn't put up a fight unless you count play wrestling. But she did make me do the laundry that night. It was worth it, all four loads of sheets.
They came and went, these long spells of satyriasis. And at the time, I needed the release, love and lust aside. I had made the mistake of not being attracted to a vain girl.
Having no desire for my rather snotty boss's hipless, assless, breastless and thoroughly unwomanly form offended her, I know. I took that to be her frustration speaking. It's hard to manipulate people who don't want the only thing you're good at selling.
But marital fidelity and indifference to a manipulative alpha bitch's charms had its price. There was grumbling and lying to my supervisor, who did not believe a word of what she said, but he still acted on her feelings. He was a besotted fool.
So, I was usually caged all day and separated from free air by the malice of the vapid bit of fluff in the front office and the dissolute nature of my also-married supervisor. Unless she was home playing sick, as she did about 40 percent of the time, I recall.
I was a menace to anything in Marcie’s social calendar that took place when she was not at work. This would be intolerable to Marcie, except this all involved the one thing she enjoyed even more than being organized and punctual.
Marcie and I were on a major roll in our relationship in 2004. I was working two jobs, but sometimes I had time off to relax and plan for graduate school, and I was taking an occasional course at San Diego City College.
I could tolerate the vain coworker’s borderline personality disorder gone wild, and I could cope with the hectic schedule. But I decided to make a move.
But when I applied for a graduate school slot in the UCSD Communications Ph.D. program, there was a problem. My Summa Cum Laude Journalism and Mass Communications degree from Humboldt was simply not there.
By way of a failed petition for credit, lack of proper documentation and changing general education requirements, I had graduated with a diploma that had no value.
“Honey, you need to go back and finish your degree,” Marcie said in the afterglow of yet another stress-relieving sheet wrecker.
“We can’t afford it,” I said. “I would have to stop working and enroll full-time, and then I would have to spend two semesters at state or UCSD getting enough units to graduate.”
“Honey,” she said, holding my hand under the sheets, “You need to just go back to Humboldt and take the two classes there, and turn in your portfolio. I am sure they will honor your credit from the transcripts if you petition.”
I put it on the back burner until cuts came down to the Learning Annex office. My boss initially chose to cut across the board, but after some wrangling, the bitch got her way. I
knew days before he told me. He had left the document on the public share on our server.
“I’m sorry, I have to lay you off,” he said.
“That’s okay,” I replied. “I have some prospects.”
Shortly after that, I received unemployment benefits. The vapid ex-boss almost boned herself by trying to claim I was fired, nearly committing perjury in the face of contrary documentation, before she backed down.
Marcie set me straight when I started to plan lots of regulatory and detail-oriented awfulness for the company. "Honey, they did not deserve to have you working there, and they treated you like shit. Let them eat shit."
The company tried to hire me back part-time, so I applied for and received underemployment. They eventually gave up, so I suddenly had time to finish my degree, and an income to do it with.
Marcie set me straight when I started to plan lots of regulatory and detail-oriented awfulness for the company. "Honey, they did not deserve to have you working there, and they treated you like shit. Let them eat shit."
Shortly after that, The Learning Annex signed Donald Trump for $1.5 million. "The Donald" lied about the value of the contract, hyping it, but his television show gave the company initial success.
After a year or so of selling Trump the Chump as a motivational speaker to real estate conventions, the bottom fell out of both the convention business and the real estate market. My former supervisor lost his job. The fluff is still there, older, more wrinkled.
I found out that my makeup would only take a single intersession summer “minisemester” to complete. I was enthused. But there was a problem. Marcie had hated Humboldt the first time, and she was not going to entertain seeing that place again as a vacation.
“I am not going to Humboldt with you!” she screamed, leaning forward, face red as her hair. “Jesus, you can’t handle five weeks away? You were in the Navy for Christ’s sake, what did you do then? Cry?”
“Well, I thought you could come up for a week or two and…”
“NO! No, I am not using my fucking vacation time to go hang out with the fucking hippies and those fucking redneck lumberjacks!” Marcie said. “Are you fucking crazy?”
So the plan was in place. I packed for a week, planning every minute and step along the way north for maximum efficiency. I also stocked up on Marcie.
When she came home from work, I had a little Marcie. Before the alarm went off, after the alarm went off “accidentally early,” and after her shower, I had a little more Marcie. And the morning before I left, at 4 a.m., I had a little more.
She saw me out, looking a little tired but happy as I kissed her goodbye. “Honey, I am glad you are getting this out of the way. Look at it this way, you’ll be able to move on,” she said.
Graduate school, a job in the media or perhaps in public relations, continuing on my work at the Annex, it all seemed pretty good, even if I had thought I was already set for that months before. “Okay, honey. I’ll miss you,” I said.
“Oh, I’ll miss you, but it will be nice to get some sleep,” she said. “You just call me when you feel it coming on, mister. I trust you.”
I smiled. Five weeks would pass slowly but make her very hot for me, I knew. The trip to Humboldt was finished before the sun set later that long summer day. I called her from
the motel pay phone to avoid the outrageous in-room fees.
“Honey, where are you?” she asked.
“Arcata,” I said.
“What? Really? You didn’t speed, did you?” she asked.
“No,” I replied. I hadn’t, but I also had only stopped three times, all for gas.
“Well, how was it? Was the drive nice?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” I said, spying the statue of McKinley in Arcata square through the trees as I looked down the block.
“Well, I love you,” she said.
“I love you, too,” I said. “Which is kind of why I called. Call me back, okay? I am in room 114 at the Days Inn, (707) 822-2036. Call me in like two minutes.”
And she did. I had just gotten comfortable and smiled as I answered the phone. “Now, you hussy,” I said. “Tell me what you’re wearing.”
And so the madness continued for five weeks in absentia, with lust on the phone at night and classes by day. I moved to the dorms, wearing long coats and memorizing her dirty telephone tales before slipping into my room, keeping the home fires burning.
But all was not lust. I got to experience a little taste of long-distance love from my baby, in the form of a long exchange of letters and notes via email. What we did not exhaust in our titillating tête-à-tête conversations came out there. It was a time of joy.
More from this little excerpt tomorrow and the notes themselves by Wednesday... or Thursday.
F.
Monday, December 17, 2007
To my anonymous benefactors
What a sweet and wonderful holiday gift. I put up the donation links on my page after I began to explore how to raise funds for my trip to honor Marcie. You have been very kind, and I did not even know it. I received this message in my email today:
Dear frank.pruett(at)cox.net,
Greetings from the Amazon Honor System.
We wanted to let you know that we have initiated transfer of the
balance of your Amazon Honor System account to your checking account.
It may take your bank several business days to record the transfer.
$120.47
Here is the receipt for the transfer:
------------------------------------------
Date: 17-Dec-2007
Amount: $120.47
Last 5 Digits: 27179
------------------------------------------
There were several transactions, two of $50. Thank you very much. I know that you likely chose not to reveal your names to me, as it would otherwise send me an email with contact informations, but if you did not choose to do this, let me know who you are so I can thank you in private.
We both thank you. I am deeply touched.
F.
We both thank you. I am deeply touched.
F.
Sunday, December 16, 2007
About the notes
The notes I found yesterday are very sweet and come from a time right before Marcie fell ill. If there are any relics which illustrate the bliss we were experiencing at that time, these are they. For now, I am cherishing them. Additionally, I am having some tech issues wit the system and need to just not post tonight. I promise what I eventually post will be worth the wait. Thanks for understanding, folks.
F.
F.
Saturday, December 15, 2007
Some More Notes And Memories
So today I was cleaning out the older car for its sale to my sister when I stumbled across my briefcase. Inside were some letters from my revisit to Humboldt State in 2004. Total treasure. I will share some of those times tomorrow.
F.
F.