~Wednesday~ The first thing I did this morning was take my temperature. It was 97.1. A de-fever, I guess. The next thing I did was… well, let’s just say that I’m “regular” again and leave it at that.
This morning there was a man on the bus with dreadlocks (Yes, dreadlocks yet again!) and a thick, black, bushy beard. His locks were long, and there were four main ones—two that hung down onto his chest and two that hung down his back.
On the seats beside him—he took up all three front, center-facing seats—there was a very large white bag, which I assumed had clothes in it, but I don’t know that for sure. Over the seat between him and the bag, he held a yellow-orange blanket, which he was stooped over and picking at. On his lap, laid a notebook with a blue plastic cover, which housed about 25-30 sheets of paper each of which were inserted into a plastic sleeve. The notebook had two of those bungee-type cords around it binding it shut.
For 15 solid minutes, the man picked things off the blanket—I assume it was lint, as he kept moving it around and then grabbing at something with the fingernails of his thumb and pointer finger. Then he’d move his hand out in front of him and rub his fingers to release whatever it was onto the bus floor. I looked very hard to see if I could see lint—or anything—on the floor, but I couldn’t.
About two minutes before my stop, he turned and lifted the blanket such that I saw that it wasn’t a blanket at all, but a t-shirt. He spread it on his lap, spread out a white t-shirt on top of it, and then meticulously folded them both together.
<singing>Goin’ to the chap-el, and I’m, gonna get ma-a-aried. Goin’ to the chapel of love.</singing>
Thirty-one years ago tonight (at 7PM), I said I do. And I did. Faithfully. For 16 years. I had this most cherished exchange with my ex-wife today. I’m in blue, she’s in pink, although I’m not sure why.
| Subject: Just checking in…
And what were YOU doing 31 years ago today? 🙂 How are those mealworms working out? Do bluebirds in FACT like them? Did you ever receive anything (such as a welcome letter) from the North American Bluebird Society? PWA |
| Subject: re: Just checking in…
Mmmm, 31 years ago, I vividly remember a fellow worried that “HELP ME” was written on the soles of his shoes as he knelt at the alter1, roses for Moms2, a traditional Bobiak3 (Polish/Ukrainian) reception with dancing, cornish hens, and shots to those who danced with the bride, and Fred Stalnaker following us all the way back to Greenville in the middle of the night4. Some things you never forget … 🙂 The birds love the mealworms …. Care5 said she caught up with you on Facebook and learned about them … funny, funny. And the welcome letter did come from the Bluebird Society …. and guess what? I can get 1000 more mealworms FREE by sending in some form …. I think I have the happiest birds around! Hope all is well with you. PWA 2. Donna |
1 I rented tuxedo shoes, and we had heard that it was a common prank to write “HELP” on the bottom of the left shoe, and “ME” on the bottom of the right shoe, so that especially at Catholic weddings, when the bride and groom were sure to kneel down, everyone in the congregation could have a good laugh.
2 During our wedding ceremony, we each presented a rose to our mother.
3 Bobiak is a family name on her mother’s side.
4 My wife worked at Hardees and I worked at Burger King during college. Fred was her manager at the time. And since we went back to Greenville (where we lived) to spend our wedding night before leaving on our honeymoon the next day, and that’s where Fred lived, he followed us home!
5 Nickname for her sister Carolyn.
| Subject: re: Just checking in…
This warms my heart. Thanks for being the same great lady who married me 31 years ago today! And I’m glad you’re getting more mealworms. A girl can’t have enough mealworms. 🙂 xxoo |
I had a great day at work, in spite of having three meetings on my calendar—one in the morning and two in the afternoon. The two afternoon ones were with another group in another building on campus, and it turned out to be a lot of fun. Work should always be fun.
Before leaving for the day, I received a professional affirmation—a colleague of mine asked me to edit an article that is going to be published on the Web soon, and he didn’t have to ask me to look at it. Affirmations always mean so much more when people aren’t coerced into giving them to you. 
Dancing was fun and well-attended again this week. Joe J. brought his cousin and his sister, and I had a two-step with his cousin, who was an adorable little blond from South Africa. She danced surprisingly well for only having danced three times before. She was a little taken aback though when I asked her if she preferred to lead or follow. Straight people are so cute with their self-imposed gender roles.