"Some things never change," I said to MB this morning, as we reminisced in bed.
Like the fact that MB, though currently beetle-less, still has an absurd obsession with the (dare I say) novelty car of the year 2000. Yes, MB and female mid-level professionals ranging from 47-52 years of age everywhere.
On our recent roadie he caught one in his rear view mirror.
"Wait for it...wait for it..." he said, a gleeful twinkle in his eye. And then as the spiky-haired driver came up to pass us on his left, he cursed.
On our recent roadie he caught one in his rear view mirror.
"Wait for it...wait for it..." he said, a gleeful twinkle in his eye. And then as the spiky-haired driver came up to pass us on his left, he cursed.
"Dammit!" He cried. "It was a lesbian!"
I shook my head. "Even had a flower in the vase," I clucked. "Should've known better."
"It's not a vase!" He protested.
"It is dear. It's a beautiful vase," I say.
And we drive in silence for a while.
(To be fair, MB kept a manly looking broken stick in his vase vs. a sunflower or daisy.)
But anyway, some things do change.
About an hour ago I dragged myself up off the couch, put on a suitable public outfit (one that hides the fact that I've stopped wearing proper underwear) and trudged (internally - externally I'd say I was clipping at a good pace) to the 'local' arts and office supplies store.
Five months ago I was at this same store buying paintbrushes, acrylic paint and a canvas. It was a spring evening. I felt like painting. Because why not? It's my joie-de-vivre (read - excuse for doing anything you like, talent or no talent.)
Tonight I bought mechanical pencils, graph paper, a "4 piece math set" (read - protractors) and a scientific calculator. My heart felt heavy as the cashier rang it in.
I bet he thinks I'm some kind of math nerd, I'm thinking. Should I explain? Should I attempt some kind of joke? No, that might make it worse (read - I couldn't think of a joke in time). Just act cool. It's a Friday night & you're out on the town, buying school supplies.
Today is my last day of 'holidays'. That math course I have to take, so whatever, starts Monday.
Ugh.
When a certain date stands out in your mind, like being romanced by a then 28-yr old man mature enough to
a) take a vacation day to spend time with a girl
b) plan a day trip to a quaint lakeside town with impeccable hole-in-the-wall restaurants
c) get his (hilarious) car cleaned before picking up said girl
it's easy to compare the 'now' and 'then.' I've been lucky enough to have had an incredible time since August 12, 2010. Despite the fact that Tall Megan, in my absence, has been driven to name this fellow after me. (It sits with her in her studio while she draws.)
As I unpack my graphing paper I'm skeptical of the next 12 months.
But fuck, I'll give it my best shot.
After all, 365 days ago I did the same with a 28-year old man driving a silver Volkswagen Beetle.
And look how that turned out.
I shook my head. "Even had a flower in the vase," I clucked. "Should've known better."
"It's not a vase!" He protested.
"It is dear. It's a beautiful vase," I say.
And we drive in silence for a while.
(To be fair, MB kept a manly looking broken stick in his vase vs. a sunflower or daisy.)
But anyway, some things do change.
About an hour ago I dragged myself up off the couch, put on a suitable public outfit (one that hides the fact that I've stopped wearing proper underwear) and trudged (internally - externally I'd say I was clipping at a good pace) to the 'local' arts and office supplies store.
Five months ago I was at this same store buying paintbrushes, acrylic paint and a canvas. It was a spring evening. I felt like painting. Because why not? It's my joie-de-vivre (read - excuse for doing anything you like, talent or no talent.)
Tonight I bought mechanical pencils, graph paper, a "4 piece math set" (read - protractors) and a scientific calculator. My heart felt heavy as the cashier rang it in.
I bet he thinks I'm some kind of math nerd, I'm thinking. Should I explain? Should I attempt some kind of joke? No, that might make it worse (read - I couldn't think of a joke in time). Just act cool. It's a Friday night & you're out on the town, buying school supplies.
Today is my last day of 'holidays'. That math course I have to take, so whatever, starts Monday.
Ugh.
When a certain date stands out in your mind, like being romanced by a then 28-yr old man mature enough to
a) take a vacation day to spend time with a girl
b) plan a day trip to a quaint lakeside town with impeccable hole-in-the-wall restaurants
c) get his (hilarious) car cleaned before picking up said girl
it's easy to compare the 'now' and 'then.' I've been lucky enough to have had an incredible time since August 12, 2010. Despite the fact that Tall Megan, in my absence, has been driven to name this fellow after me. (It sits with her in her studio while she draws.)
As I unpack my graphing paper I'm skeptical of the next 12 months.
But fuck, I'll give it my best shot.
After all, 365 days ago I did the same with a 28-year old man driving a silver Volkswagen Beetle.
And look how that turned out.
 |
| MB & I, Day 359. |
No comments:
Post a Comment