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Archive for February, 2009

March 1st

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J flies home tomorrow for two weeks.

We’re expecting some wintry mix and the girls and I plan to drive to Boston in the Subaru to pick him up in baggage claim. I don’t know the last time I’ve actually driven to the airport, parked and gone inside to wait for someone. But this will be fun. If we make it that is.

If the weather is so-so or he is delayed, we’ll get him from a local shuttle place that brings him half way home for pennies. And we’ll meet him there.

If the weather is really bad, he’ll be hailing a $75 cab and come straight here.

Regardless, he’s coming home to three girls who love and adore him. And family up north who are just as excited.

I remember the day he left at the end of November, when he called and told me he felt loved by us.

It’s still true. And I know he still feels it.

I’ll not be thinking about his next departure come March 14th.

I’ll be living in the moment, if I have never before been able to do it, I will be doing it now.

My house is cleaned and tomorrow morning I am stocking up on food for cooking this week. 

His birthday is this week too.

There will be lobster and sour cream fudge cake and nakedness (while the girls are in school). 

Two weeks of immersion. Me. J. The girls.

A good kind of sigh.

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I am going to break from my trip posts to post something very special.

I’ve known Paul since I was a kid, our grandparents were friends. I have photos of us from when I was about 5 years old and consider him a very good friend, even though I haven’t seen him for a few years. We keep in touch.

He’s inspiring and funny and witty and talented and you can check it out here.

Bad Cop, by Paul Bacon is being released on March 17th and can be found on Amazon.com.

And there was this written up in the New York Post.

I pre-ordered mine a few months ago. Can’t wait to read it!

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The Knock-off Speedo

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Yes, I said it. And yes, he did it.

We bought J a knock-off Speedo at this shop on the island because he liked the idea of no tanlines on his already Italian/darkish skin that everyone else would lust after.

So we go to a cheap shop and pick one up for him.

It turns out to be so cheap, it doesn’t have alot of “stretch” to it, nor does the size “XL” mean anything accurate. 

The purpose wasn’t to walk up and down the beach in it, and flaunt the junk, the way most of the men  I see wearing Speedos, do.

The purpose was to put them on under his trunks and expose only when lying down and/or swimming.

So, we did just that.

We were lying there on a chaise, I had taken my top off and J took off his trunks for the first time, exposing his new knock-off Speedo.

I am going to backtrack a week or so, we were on Skype and somehow the mention of “scrotum” came up. Out of my mouth came the question, “which part is ACTUALLY the scrotum?”

Seriously, I never really thought about it, but think that I always thought that the scrotum was the whole ball package, inside and out.

Turns out, I was wrong.

J set me straight, with a look of disbelief on his face.

I quickly reminded him that I grew up in a religion that enabled me an excuse note to get out of the human anatomy part of biology as well as Health class. I’m pretty sure it was a disservice to me.  It was left up to my looking things up in the library and putting two and two together from other random places. And honestly, “scrotum” doesn’t exactly come up very often in conversation.

So, we’re lying on the chaise and he keeps messing with the knock-off Speedo, down in between his legs. His legs were spread wide, “to get some sun in there”. But he kept pulling at the knock-off Speedo, yanking it around until with a sigh, he seemed to have adjusted things just right. He settled back with a smile of  contentment.

At this point, there were little stray threads poking out all over the place since he was over-stretching the un-stretchable cheapo bathing suit, to get it to fit properly. (silent vow to pick him up a REAL Speedo back in the United States)

I sat up and looked in between his legs and started laughing.

“Your scrotum is hanging out,” I pointed out, proud that I knew the correct term to use.

Indeed, his scrotum was showing a bit on the side, and when I made a move (yes, I actually did) to fix it for him, push it back in, he shot me a disgruntled look and said, “leave it, I’m finally comfortable.”

Oh, how far we’ve come with our comfort level with each other.

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Landing

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When I landed, it was 8pm on Valentine’s Day and J had arranged for the bartender to come and get me from the airport. I got off the plane and went through a very quick customs process and went outside (this was a very tiny airport) and waited on the sidewalk for a few minutes, looking around for someone who looked like the man picking me up. I figured he’d find me.  I was tired from the early wake-up and long day of flights and layover. But I was breathing in warm balmy air.

I didn’t hear any  voices in my own language. It was all foreign.  I loved it already.

So, I stood there and spaced out a little, looking around at folks who were waiting for friends and family to come through security.

I felt someone next to me and picked up my bag to move away a little, feeling my space being invaded a little. I mean, there was a WHOLE sidewalk empty.

“Hey, Baby.”

I turned and looked out of the corner of my eye and there was J, standing right next to me.

He’d been tracking my flight, which landed early and he apparently figured that he could run and get me and get back to the club in time to start work, where before, he’d have been a half an hour late.

We even had time to stop and his apartment so I could wash my feet (seriously, 12 hours of traveling) and change out of my jeans and into a skirt, tank top and flip flops, before heading to the club for the night.

On the table when we walked in, I had a second to smell the dozen roses he had sitting on the table for me. The crystal vase, he had borrowed from his 70 something year old landlord.

The club is on the waterfront, with the greatest vibe I’ve felt in any club. It opened up to the outside, with tables and umbrellas and his music faces the openings, drawing in people who walked by.

I sat near the piano at the bar, sipping Jack, watching my man, listening to my man, and soaking in the atmosphere of a foreign land. By the end of the night, I’d been up for 24 hours and the euphoric adrenaline kept me awake, despite feeling like I was in a surreal stupor. 

When we’re apart, I miss sleeping next to him at night. When we’re together, I think nothing of it other than that it feels so good. 

He’d mastered the stovetop percolator, so in the mornings, made me my coffee.

It all felt quite normal, as always.

On the second day, he called his employer at his summer gig, here in our town and confirmed his dates, commenting to me afterwards that he’d need to sub out his first few weeks at the piano bar because he’d still be on his Europe gig in May. 

Later that day, he got an email from his agent, basically giving him the option of opting out of the last part of May and being able to come home early.

His eyes lit up and after a few exchanges of emails, he tore up the contract for the last gig, shortening his Spring away by a few weeks.

Instead of June, he’ll be home mid-May. He also figured out that by coming home, he’d be making more money by starting his gig here over Memorial Day weekend instead of staying on in Europe.

“I just want to be home” he said. “I want to be home so badly with you.”

Needless to say, I am home here, cleaning out things and making room for some of his clothes in my closet and drawers.

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Flown In

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I’ve just flown in from the most amazing island ever. (random pic of people I don’t know, on one of the beaches we hung out on this week)

I’ve been to islands all over the place, including Hawaii, but this one, rocked my world.

J rocks my world.

I’m in a euphoria, a very tired one, after staying up with J at the club last night until 2 and then sleeping for a few hours before leaving for the airport at 6 for my 8am flight. Needless to say it’s been a very long day, but I got home 12 1/2 hours later and ran right out to the market for $116 worth of groceries since the cupboards were bare and the girls come home tomorrow.

I am not sure what possessed me to buy and make and eat hotdogs for dinner for myself, but it might have been the lack of caffeine all day (to enable me to sleep on the plane a little, despite my 5 hour layover (there was a delay) and it might have been because I haven’t had a real meal since last night with J, on the waterfront, having dinner as tugboats and barges and ships came in. And today, pretzels and Peanut M&Ms and Cliff bars just don’t cut it as a meal.

Gosh darnit, it made me crave hotdogs for some reason.

I’ve since unpacked and have laundry running through but am now going to sleep.

J will be home for a few weeks, in 8 days.

I have plenty more to share, some good news, some funny stuff of course.

But for now, I gotta lay this head down and sleep.

I promise, lots more soon.

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Heading out again…

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These were my bags coming home from my last trip to see J.  Tomorrow morning (yes, Valentine’s Day, I know, it just worked out that way), I am going to where he is  (a new place than from before) to spend a week with him again.

Somehow I lost more weight without realizing it and it isn’t really a good thing. 

My boobs are gonna be swimming in my bikini. Yeah, J has been searching for a good topless beach on this island but apparently topless isn’t AS usual on this new island. It should be, but he hasn’t found the beach yet. Plus, he knows I don’t like crowded beaches.

Sooooo….bikini is likely. Topless would be a gem if we could find a proper place.

But who needs the beach when you can be inside naked? Eating naked? And, um, all that stuff.

This island is alot more foreign than the last one. There is a language barrier for J at the club but it’s working out for him and the bartenders translate. But now, I am a little alarmed, because if you didn’t know I am hard of hearing and wear hearing aids on occasion. It depends on the situation, the acoustics in a place and how soft spoken a conversation may be.

(you can read posts about it here and here)

Due to my hearing loss, I also have trouble with folks who have a thick accent. My audiologist was Iranian with an incredibly thick accent and I couldn’t understand a word he said until I actually got the hearing aids. Not long ago, I was in the market and a man came up to me and asked me something in a very strange tongue. I kept asking him to repeat himself and finally got what he was asking…and then I apologized. You know what came out of my mouth? 

“I’m sorry, I have a really hard time with accents, I am hard of hearing.”

The man threw his head back and laughed and said, “Oh darling, I’m only ENGLISH!” (I finally figured out he was asking what kind of cheese to use for lasagna)

So this new foreign land, I am flying into on Saturday night while J is playing in the club. I worry a little bit about hopping in any old cab and telling them where I needed to go because, a) it’s nighttime and b) this island remotely resembles the one where Natalie Holloway went missing. (but it’s not that island, just so you know). But still, I know, I may be scared of being kidnapped, I am a girl who has now been out of the United States only twice in her life. So that is how I justify it.

I’ve kind of gotten over it, though. Especially when J called me on Skype a few weeks ago and had the club manager there next to him on the computer. The manager laughed and said, “this is one of the safest places you could possibly come to.”

But still, J emailed me after work the last night and told me he arranged for one of the bartenders was going to come pick me up.

Sigh.

But then he told me the guy’s name. Which is foreign. 

The next question out of my mouth was, “How thick is his accent and how long of a drive will it be?”

Because for me, without my hearing aids, the accent thing will be unbearable, I know. I’ll turn in my seat so I can read his lips and I’ll keep saying, “can you repeat that?”

I do know I’ll have my hearing aids with me, so perhaps off the plane will just pop them in.

The girls are healthy now and both back in school. They head on their February vacation with their dad starting tonight and I feel good knowing they are on track, health-wise. Red tested negative for strep and suddenly was feeling well again. Blue is on her medication for her strep and behaving and feeling normal again. I feel great due to all the Airborne, Green Tea, soup and all of the sleep I’ve been getting. 

A little sad about leaving the girls. They know I am going to see J. The love him. They are excited about their week with their dad. They love him too. But a week without them is tough, and for some reason, it is tougher this time around. 

Last night I gave them little Valentine goodie bags. I knew I wouldn’t be able to spend the time with them to give them to them before school today or after school, in the transition between my house and their dad’s. So I did it last night.

I painted them each two little canvases with hearts on them, with acrylic paints. The girls loved them. On the back of each canvas I wrote: “To Blue, Love Mommy” and “To Red, Love Mommy”. The greatest thing is that when Blue took hers upstairs, she put it next to her bed on the table with the heart painting facing the wall. The side that faced out was the back of the canvas that said “To Blue, Love Mommy”. 

I’m packed and waxed. I regretted not painting my toenails on the last trip so I did that too. I’m ready to meet the gecko in his living room. And the ants along the floor. At least there aren’t roosters, like the last place. Geckos and ants are at least quiet.

I packed a Valentine’s gift…should I tell you? Ah yes, I will, of course I will…. 

That is some FUN stuff.

Paranoid, since I am taking my laptop with me, that if something were to happen to it (and I should do this ANYWAY, even if I were staying home), I ran to the Apple store today and drifted around in the Macintosh fog of “i”-everything, and bought an external hard drive to back it all up.

I have trillions of photos of my children, a gazillion pages of writing from when I was about 16, and every single photo of every single piece of artwork I have produced since the early 90s.  I’ve now successfully backed up everything on the laptop. Which sometimes feels like MY ENTIRE LIFE.

So, I’ll be gone, ya know? But I’ll be back.

And  one last thing. 

Thank you, Tom.

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Sick in the house

I haven’t felt like writing much.

Blue has strep, I found out on Monday. She was home Monday and Tuesday.

Red is overly tired but doesn’t have any symptoms. I am tired but no symptoms. 

In three days I leave for the island. I am packed aside from toiletries and such.

I still need to wax.

The girls are going with their dad on Friday night for ten days and if I don’t take Red to the doc today, I fear she may get sick with him and he won’t take her to the doctor because he delays on that, due to being a Christian Scientist. And I will never forgive myself if she gets sick while I am out of the country and he doesn’t take her to the doctor. 

So I am contemplating a doctor’s appointment today and keeping her home, while her sister finally goes back to school. 

I feel conflicted because she seems fine, but I worry because she is so tired and strep is so contagious.

Plus, tomorrow is the 100th day celebration at school. And Friday is Valentine’s Day party. I don’t want them to miss those.

As for me, I should get tested because I would want antibiotics so I don’t get J sick when I go down there. The drawback for that is that birth control is compromised by antibiotics. And after six week of not seeing the man, that ain’t no fun.

Seriously. I think about these things.

As my friend C just said in an email: “Oooooo, a little piano player.”

Heh heh. 

NOT.

UPDATE: Not strep so far, the initial test came back negative. They send it to the lab to be sure (let  the culture grow) but she thinks nothing points to it, but you never know. Just a little flu thing that is also going around she thinks. But temperature was good on Red.

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