The very first official girlfriend I ever had broke up with me midway through a regular 5th Grade day. We were sitting on the carpet, the room was dark and she wanted to hold hands and own my gaze. I know this because she aggressively whispered so to me. She could not understand why I couldn’t tear my attention away from the boy with the ticket, the river of chocolate, the monotone Oompas or the candy that turned you into a balloon. More important I was mesmerized by the funny man with knowing smile who could make a difference in a poor 11 year old’s life (if the kid was worthy). The relationship was brief but the movie-man made an impression.

Fare-thee-well Gene!

Date Nite

Dating ain’t easy! You want her to have fun. You tell your best jokes. Ya watch your drinks so as not to make a fool of yourself. Oh darn I hope the outfit I chose doesn’t let my belly show too much! No lie but you are checking her out but trying to be sly about it! That top she’s wearing is something else though! 
Then you get her back at your place. Well her place. Actually our place…the kids hug you both and you’re back to the “everyday”. 
But you both know the date was fun and if your lucky the little people will go to bed early and then……….

Perfect Imperfection

There are quiet morning moments when I look about my house and pout. I see the half-way finished projects, or the older carpets, the clothes the kids didn’t put away, the drought affected front yard or the dilapidated garage door. I despair a little. Then I walk a few feet, turn a corner and see the notches measuring how tall my ramblers are getting. I see dogs basking in the sun in spots where other past dog-friends made their own. I see the hand-chosen colour on the walls that she made me apply alone because the paint smell made her sick. As I move across the hallway I remember that fun night Nic and I (oh that’s a post for a different day).
There are perfect stories woven into the four corners of this imperfect home. It’s why we work so hard to keep it.

Disco Hugo

Along my career there were a few that didn’t appreciate my special talents and for one reason or another we couldn’t work together anymore. 
At first I was afraid. Heck I was even petrified. 
Just to think of not toiling with them side by side. 
Then I spend a lot of time thinking of how they were wrong. 
And I grew strong…somehow learned again to go get along. 
Now thinking back about that hectic pace. 
I remember coming home a lot with a foochi-grumpy face. 
Perhaps I had a mental block that wouldn’t allow me to be free 
but there were bills to pay and quitting just ain’t me! 
But then I went, stepped out the door. 
Never looked back now ’cause sorrow is a chore. 
So many good people and I had a few beers & a cry. 
Sure I had a tumble but I would not let myself just lie. 
Oh no not I……

Shell Shocked

Somewhere just off the sea my father would walk along the sands and hunt for interesting rocks and shells. He’d then put his collection in a bucket and we’d haul them back to our home in Boyle Heights. I paid him no mind. 
Today I tripped on a pail my youngest has in the garage. There are so many keepsakes from beach trips that I had a hard time counting them. 
Across time & space these two share that common bond. Just had to stub my toe to realize it.