More jumping around in the boring past
Thanx 4 the luv, Anon. :)
April,Aw, Mike. What a mean, brutal kid U were. What xxactly were U planning 2 do w/the poor bird once U caught it, NEway?
Formerly little sis. After spending time with my mother and her dogs, my children were pestering me about getting birds for a new pet, since they have grown tired of their rabbit and the rabbit has learned how to hide where my kids can't find it. However, I had to refuse them. When they asked why, I said to them, "After I tell you this story, you will completely understand why." My children groaned and moaned about it, but eventually they relented by listening to my story. This is what it was:
Years ago, I and my friend Lawrence Poirier used to spend hours together outside, playing in the grass with no shoes on. On one of these days, I decided to make a bird trap. Lawrence was confused by this and I said, "Whatsa matter? You never seen a bird trap, before?”
I explained, “To make a good bird trap, Lawrence…ya start with a lasso and then ya disguise it with dirt…” and as I was saying this, I took the lasso I had made and started uprooting dirt from the ground to cover the lasso. This way, instead of looking like a lasso on the ground, it looked like an intoxicated mole had been in the area. This was a common problem in Milborough and so the birds would find it completely normal.
Then I said, “For bait, you get a bunch of ol’ bread crumbs an’ a couple a defunct worms…” I pointed to the bait I had gotten from mom’s kitchen when she made bread that time, and a couple of worms ate it and almost immediately died. As I was showing this part of the presentation, Lawrence’s eyes got very big. I think it had something to do with the fact that my mom had given his mom some of that bread.
I got on the other side of that lasso, holding it in my hand, and hiding behind a tree. I said, “—Now we just wait.” Lawrence on the other side of the tree, also hiding out, and he said, “Do we have to wait long?” Already his patience has been waning and we just started.
We waited and waited and waited and waited, until the sun started to go down and put shadows on the other side of the tree where we were waiting. Lawrence said, “We’ve been waitin’—an’ waiting an’ waiting, Michael…when are we gonna catch something?” My initial thought was to let Lawrence know it had been 4 waits and not the 3 he mentioned. Clearly he missed a wait. However, I decided not to respond.
It grew dark and still I waited. Lawrence started to fall asleep. Then his mother got him and said, “Lawrence Poirier. Where have you been?” Then Lawrence told his mom about the bird trap. She said, “Why would you ever want to trap a wild bird in a bird trap?” Lawrence didn’t have a good answer for that one. His mom took him home, leaving me alone with the bird trap.
It grew even darker, and finally I cried out to the birds, DUMB BIRDS!” to express my angst over the whole situation. And that, I said to my children, is why we will not be getting any birds for pets.
After hearing my plaintive story of my past with birds, my kids said, “Where’s mommy?” And they went off to talk to her about something.
These kids today don’t have the stamina that Lawrence and I did.
April,Then he also had this to add on:
Formerly little sis. After a fun evening of wrestling with Josef Weeder, while my wife Deanna and Josef’s significant other Carleen Stein watched, we finally had to head back to our home in Milborough. I think Deanna got a little excited, seeing manly men like me and Weed wrestle. Her eyes were all perked up and she said, “It’s been an exciting day, hasn’t it.” I had the feeling she might have gotten a little aroused about seeing my wrestling skills, and might want to put me in a few wrestling holds of her own. To stave this off, I simply said, “Yes…I’m exhausted!” That usually works when Deanna says it to me.
I think that Deanna sensed what I was saying, and she began to try to convince me otherwise. She leaned over to my side of our car causing a shift in weight which made the wheels on our vehicle to actually touch the road. Deanna moved in close to me. I could feel her hot breath so close to mine. She nibbled on my ear and then engaged me in one of my favourite topics of conversation, which almost always turns me on: My mother. Deanna said, “We’re lucky that your mom takes the kids for us. She makes life so much easier.” Then when she said, “easier” she gave me a sultry look telling me she had just made a pun on the word “easier”. As you know, April, a pun is the way to man’s heart. I was beginning to warm to the idea of wrestling with Deanna. I responded with “She really is a godsend!”
Deanna did not react well to this. Deanna said, “A godsend? Oh good grief, Mike. If she were a godsend, she would have come to our house to sit the kids, so they could go to sleep in their own beds, instead of insisting that we bring the kids to her house. When we have April baby-sit us, she bathes the kids and puts them to bed in their own beds. I’ll bet we are going to find our children wallowing in their own filth.” I did not like the way this was going. I was getting out of the wrestling mood. I said, “Let’s stop and get the flowers.” Deanna said, “Yes. I suppose we are going to have to get them from now on, ever since you forgot your mother on Mother’s Day.
As we approached mom’s house, Deanna was still fuming. I tried to placate Deanna’s anger by saying, “I can’t imagine what we’d do without her.” Deanna sighed and said, “A lot less, that’s for sure.”
Mom was there in her night robe and her hair was down. Deanna looked briefly perplexed. I said, “It’s mom. She just has her hair down.” Deanna said, “She wears it down?” Mom sensed her indecision and said, “For me?!!” as she took the flowers out of Deanna’s hands.
We got the children, and I for one was grateful for the extreme care mom had given my children. I mentioned this to Deanna and she said, “You know, Mike. When I picked up Robin and felt his very full diaper, it brought a smile to my face.” I wasn’t sure why, but at least Deanna didn’t make me change the diaper.
That’s all I have for this week, April. Perhaps I will regale your readers again next week.
April,Mike, I really doubt Dee was punning when she used the word "easier." Seriously, U R going way overboard looking 4 puns. Oh, and abt Robin's diaper. I overheard Mom talking 2 Connie the next day, saying, "I could have changed that diaper, but really, he'll never learn to use the po' if he doesn't experience discomfort." Can U believe that? Hm, that reminds me--I think I might need to increase my babysitting fee.
Formerly little sis. Mom read my writeup and wanted me to point out that as we left, she thought the thought, "Grandchildren: The Gifts that Keep on Giving." I said to her, "Is that supposed to make sense?" Mom said, "It will make the perfect design for the side of a marketable coffee cup one day." It was difficult to argue with that logic.
April,Uh, ew. And it was closer 2 14 yrs ago. Fall of 1994.
Formerly little sis. Ah the good old days of university. I remember them well. Just the other day, when my lovely wife Deanna and I went to Toronto to our old apartment building to visit with Josef Weeder and his significant other, Carleen Stein; I was sitting in front of a coffee table which held some snacks, and I felt the rush of memories from days gone by. I said to Josef, “We’ve been friends for a long time, Weed.” Weed had his hand in the snack bowl and said, “I’m guessing it’s like 13 years.” Weed is not particularly good with exact dates and times because of all his years when Weed was not just a nickname but a way of life for him. However, 13 years seemed about right to me too.
I looked down at his hand in the snack bowl, and it brought forth another rush of memories. I said, “Remember? We were so broke!...Living in that dingy apartment…” I was about to mention our old landlady Mrs. Dingle but whenever I do that, I have to call and make sure she hasn’t had another stroke, I mean heart attack, no stroke. Anyway, Weed continued by saying, “Begging for laundry money…eating beans!” instead of eating fine snacks.
Suddenly it went dark and being in the dark with Josef brought forth another rush of memories of times when Weed and I were in university in the dark. Weed said, “And now we’re doing OK!” and he “WHAK”ed me in the head. I said, “Yeah! We’re doing OK!” and I “BOOT!”ed him in the knee. Then we were wrestling, just the way we had done in university. I grabbed Weed’s right arm while his left arm had me in a headlock. So, I put his left knee between my thighs and oh my…just a moment….I need to step back a little.
OK, I am back now. Just needed a little rest. Where was I? Yes, Weed and I were wrestling and I grabbed him from behind so his back was resting against my chest. His right arm was reaching back for my head, as he attempted to buck me off him. We were starting to get sweaty, as our bodies writhed against each other and…oh goodness…I need to take another brief rest.
Well, I feel much better now. I am certainly glad I got that out of my system. Unlike when I was in university rooming with Josef, this wrestling ended with my lovely wife Deanna and Carleen Stein walking into the room as Deanna said, “Isn’t it nice to see guys hug.” It was embarrassing, I must say. One of my biggest nightmares is the idea that my wife would walk in on me and Josef doing the types of things we used to do when we were young and foolish and living together in university. It is certainly not the kind of behavour she would expect out of her husband and the father of her children.
It just goes to show that when you have a good friend like Josef Weeder is to me, there is always that sense of playfulness about us, no matter how successful we may each become.
April,Yes, Mike, it was me watching yr kids. U're welcome. And I think U R so pun-obsessed, U R forcibly C-ing them where they weren't even intended. But NEway, whatev I achieve will B from working super-hard. In spite of Mom.
Formerly little sis. I remember back to February 14, 2007, Valentine’s Day, a day when one spends time with your beloved. I remember it in particularly because I had gone to Toronto to get Josef Weeder to check out the contract for my book deal, when he revealed that he and Carleen were buying Lovey Saltzman’s apartments using a loan from Jo’s dad. Josef and I drove over to see the burnt out apartments where we used to live and Lovey was there. Then Jo described his plans for the apartments which looked like nothing but silhouettes back in 2007. It was a magical time and made especially magical getting to share it with Jo…and Lovey, and listening to him as he described his plans for the future.
Well, my lovely wife Deanna and I went to visit Carleen and Josef in those apartments after all their renovations. Let me tell you April, what a difference a year and 3 months make. They look like apartments again and not like silhouettes of apartments. Also, Josef and Carleen have moved into the downstairs landlord spot previously occupied by Lovey and her husband, the never-seen and practically invisible Morrie. I think someone was taking care of our kids while we went there. Hum! Was that you? I forget.
In any case, since this was shortly after my book had been published, most of the conversation naturally revolved around that, as it was the social event of the Milborough season. Carleen was there, and she looked more like the Carleen I remembered from years gone by, except for that bulge in her pants. At least her face was almost back to normal. She said to me, “You’re gonna be famous, Mike!” This was, of course, another tip-off it was not really Carleen, who almost never says things like “gonna”. However, I did not want this fake Carleen to know I was on to her / it; so I responded the only way a Patterson could respond, which was, “I don’t want to be famous, Carleen…I just want to make a decent living.” I am sure you know the kind about which I am talking, formerly little sis, i.e. just like mom and dad make a decent living.
Josef Weeder pointed out that “If this book sells like the last one, you’ll be sailing!” This is what I love about the man. He can come up with a pun, and it isn’t even the end of the conversation. “sailing” is a reference to the storyline of Blood Cargo, about a young sailor on a sailing boat in 1874. Josef was handing out champagne flutes as he said this and when I realized it was Josef handing out refreshments instead of Carleen, who usually does it, I had another confirmation for my suspicions. I reached for the champage to have one, while saying, “You’re not doing so badly!” It was subtle….probably too subtle… to let him know I was onto this fake Carleen.
By the time Josef handed out champagne flutes to all 4 of us, he responded with “Yeah, we’re paying down 2 mortgages and putting some in the bank!” Deanna said, “Life is good!” because she loves getting to drink alcohol. I think she missed the part of Josef paying down 2 mortgages, which is not exactly a model of life being good. The 2 mortgages are the one on his photography studio and the one on those apartments he bought from Lovey.
Suddenly it went dark. Josef said, “Damn it. I have to go get a ladder and climb up to the attic to fix that.” And he said in yet another spectacular pun / toast, “To climbing the ladder!” Which we repeated back to him. You see, April, Josef had to get a ladder and climb it, but the phrase also means becoming more successful, so it works as a pun with the conversational topic.
Then I raised up my champagne flute and said, “And, here’s to those who helped us onto the first rung!!” Those champagne flutes were awfully skinny and I noticed my hand practically had to mangle itself to hold it. Deanna said, “Mike. Hold it normally, or you are going to spill it all over…Sheesh, Mike. What is it with your family and deformed hands?” Josef said, “What do you mean? Are you saying I should raise a toast to my father, who loaned us money for this property? I pay him interest, man, and he makes a big stink about how flaky photographers are when we are even the least, little bit late.” Carleen said, “Now, Josef. Don’t exaggerate. You and your father are getting along better than you ever have. Now that he’s seen you’re with a nice Jewish girl and not chasing after Shiksa models and you are willing to make investments, I am sure he will put you back in his will.” Deanna said, “I am sure Mike is just talking about me. After I got the job as the pharmacy manager, I started making enough money so that Mike could quit his job at Portrait Magazine and work full-time on his writing.” And of course I pointed out that although those were excellent guesses, I was really making a toast to our mom. Without her help and those fabulous editing skills, I would have never done as well as I have done. Deanna was in a foul mood the rest of the night. It was a mistake to let her drink. She cannot handle her alcohol.
Someday, April, when you are a famous veterinarian, you can look back on that moment when you realized that if it weren’t for mom, you wouldn’t be climbing the ladder of veterinary success.
April,Aw, Mike, U're already someone most of us normally dislike. I wonder if becoming someone U wd normally dislike wd make U more likable to the rest of us?
Formerly little sis. I don’t think I mentioned yesterday why I was at Josef Weeder’s photography studio. You may have thought it was so I could show him my new book, but actually I was there posing for publicity shots. For some reason I am not quite sure about, my publisher Reiner and Browne did not have me do publicity shots for my first novel Stone Season; but they said that the quality of my second novel Blood Cargo was of such a level that they wanted people to be able to recognize my face and associate it with my writing. Naturally, I recommended my old friend Josef Weeder for the job, since he is the best photographer in all of Toronto, and also because he would be willing to do the job for what Reiner and Browne was willing to pay.
When I approached Josef about it he said, “Mike. For this kind of money, all you’re going to get is a handheld camera, no backgrounds, one light and you seated in front of a posing table with Carleen handling only one reflector.” That sounded like a lot to me so I naturally reacted with a “Wow!” As we started, I sat at the table with my arms crossed and I said, “I never thought I’d be posing for publicity shots, Weed!” Weed was ever the professional and said, “Head up a bit?” and he pointed his finger up to show me which direction that was. Unfortunately, he shot the picture with his hand still in that position, so he got a nice picture of me with his hand in front of my face. I told him that picture probably wouldn’t work. He said, “I know, Mike. Now stop talking.”
But I couldn’t help myself, I was so excited. I said, “I don’t want to change, you know? I don’t want to become someone I’d normally dislike!” I sensed Carleen was behind me adjusting the reflective screen. She was muttering something like, “As if it that were possible.” I said it was such a kind thing to mutter, how I couldn’t possibly become someone icky. Josef said, “There’s a shadow, Carleen. Shut up, Mike. All we are getting are pictures of your jaw moving.”
I held a copy of my book in front of me so the picture could take in the title Blood Cargo. Josef said, “Mike, man. I know you are working hard to set up some kind of bad pun; but can’t you stop talking and wait until after we finish taking your picture? All these pictures are going to be blurry.” I said I would; but then I realized I wanted to point out something and I said, “I want to stay grounded and true to myself and to everyone around me. I don’t want this bit of success to go to my head.” I saw a “Poof” go off in front of me.
I said, “Was that the camera going off, or did someone cut the cheese? Carleen was that you?” Carleen said, “No, Mike. ‘Poof’ symbolizes the longevity of your career as an author.” I thanked Carleen again for yet another compliment and I noticed that Josef had all the photographs he had taken up on his computer screen. I said, “That’s an awful lot of pictures for one ‘Poof’.” For some reason, Carleen started laughing when I said that.
I rushed over to Josef and gave him as much affection as I could with Carleen there. I touched him gingerly and lovingly on the shoulder and said, “…are you leaving enough space for my autograph?” Josef grimaced and said, “Sure Mike. You can sign right over the blur that is your mouth in every single one of these pictures.” He was in a bad mood for some reason. Artists, even photographic artists, can be quite moody sometimes.
That’s it for today, April. More tomorrow. I know your readers can’t wait.
April,Hey, Mike, sum ppl just radically change in appearance 4 no known reason. Like my friend Eva Abuya. She used to have darker skin and a wider, more prominent nose. But then one day she showed up pale and petite-nosed, and swears she didn't have surgery or have her skin bleached. And Liz sez that Warren looks different each time she sees him. And as U know, Connie has taken 2 resembling Gramps. I'm guessing Carleen's changes Rn't as drastic as sum of the examples I listed, eh?
Formerly little sis. Do you remember Carleen Stein, Josef Weeder’s assistant? I certainly thought I did until I went by Josef Weeder’s studio to show him my second book Blood Cargo. Josef was there setting up a screen for his studio and there was a sort of mannish woman there in a short skirt motioning for me to sit by her on the chesterfield. I said to Josef, “Who’s this?” and he said, “Mike, man. Don’t be an idiot. That’s Carleen.” It was very confusing to me; but I sat down on the chesterfield anyway.
Carleen(?) said to me, “Book two, Mike! I’m so impressed!” Then Jo said, “Great read, man. A real thriller.” This told me that Josef had read my book and this so-called Carleen was just trying to make conversation. She continued, “How do you think of this stuff? I mean, you look like a normal guy—but you come up with all these ideas!” I did not like what she was saying. It was almost as if she were saying that a normal guy would not come up with an idea to write a thriller about life on a windjammer. Or perhaps she was saying that normal guys don’t have any ideas. I am not sure which one, but either way it was a little insulting. It’s hard to answer a question that’s also an insult, so I said, “I dunno, Carleen.”
Then she prattled on, “You must go nuts with all this material, all these images, all this dialogue pounding around inside your mind!” Again, this Carleen was yammering about my mental instability. I think it was around then that I thought about all the other times I had heard Carleen talk, and I realized she had never said so much to me ever before as she said right there on the chesterfield.
It was then I knew it wasn’t really Carleen. The only things that were the same were her two dimples which move around her face, her hair colour, and her gender. Now that I think about it, I am not so sure on the gender part. It was disturbing. All I could do was to say, “Yeah…” and tried to think of a way to answer her question; but all I could think was “and sometimes it’s totally empty” as I imagined myself sitting in front of my computer with sweat running down my face. Everyone knows that when a writer can’t come up with ideas, he sweats profusely. OK. Writers don’t really sweat like that, except for the really fat ones, and they are sweaty all the time, regardless of writer’s block. I like to imagine myself sitting in front of a black computer, even though mine is white, with a big white empty thought balloon beside me for colour contrast. It is a very satisfying experience, and oftentimes can help me forget very stressful things like why Carleen Stein doesn’t look even remotely the same as she used to.
That’s all for now on my novel and this bizarre person trying to pass for Carleen Stein. Maybe more tomorrow.
April,Mike, what a horrible, awful, depressing story! I don't know how U can share the story, including how terrified Mom made U and Lizzie feel, and then get all warm and glowy about this being a good way 2 treat children. I M so glad Dee doesn't let this kind of thing happen w/Merrie and Robin (in case U R blanking on those names, Mike, they're yr kids!).
Formerly little sis. Just the other day, my wife, the lovely Deanna and I were discussing the role of parents in disciplining our children. My daughter and son were not paying attention to their mother as they often do, and Deanna turned to me and said, “Why don’t you get off your bottom and help?” We have had this discussion before and I had to say again, “But, honey, mom showed you exactly what you had to do to keep children in line. This is a good opportunity for you to practise that good advice.” Deanna just glared at me and went back to her usual, ineffective method, no doubt taught to her by her imbecilic mother.
The method mom used, as you are no doubt well aware from having the same mother, is the fine art of raising your voice to that level which is above the level of stern, above the level of threatening, above the level of angry, and right to the point where a young child might think that their mother is on the verge of having a nervous breakdown. As a young child, I learned to ignore stern, threatening, and angry; because mom was never very good at any of those kinds of emotions. However, I never got used to nervous breakdown mom, where you weren’t quite sure if she was going to pull out a wire hangar as a disciplining tool and not stop beating you until the police pried you out of her hands. Needless to say, when mom put on this voice, Elizabeth and I obeyed mom immediately.
I remember one occasion in particular, and if you ask Elizabeth she will remember it too. Mom had asked me to pick up my toys. And I asked mom why I had to pick them up, since I was just going to put them on the floor again the next day. Mom was holding Elizabeth and she put on that nervous breakdown tone of voice and said, “Because I SAID to pick up your toys THAT’S why!” I know that when Elizabeth heard the voice, she was probably panic-stricken to actually be in mom’s arms at that moment. Elizabeth told me she was in fear for her life, but fortunately for her, mom used a one-handed toss to throw her in her crib and said, “Then you get into your pyjamas OR ELSE!” I believe Elizabeth was quite grateful it was only a one-handed toss, and she said to mom, “Mama?” However, mom replied back to her, “Be quiet and go to sleep, Lizzie!” Needless to say, that is what Lizzie tried to do. Most children the age of Lizzie when she was in a crib, have a long drawn-out bed time routine before they can go to sleep. I know that my kids did, and there were many nights when I wondered what my mother would think if she saw me rocking my son or my daughter to sleep, instead of slinging them into their beds and giving them a good night bellow. However, sometimes as a parent you have to do the things your wife tells you to do and if she says, “Don’t scream your children to sleep,” then you don’t, even if you want to.
On this particular occasion with mom, I heard her yelling at Lizzie and I leapt into bed with my Super Teddy and tried to get to sleep as quickly as possible, Unfortunately, mom SLAMmed the door, and it woke me up. Then mom pointed a finger and me and said (as if the SLAM was the first part of her sentence) “…and I don’t want to hear a peep from you all night, understand?”
Nights after mom shrieked me and Elizabeth to bed were difficult. I had nightmares, terrible nightmares. I would dream that mom would go to the kitchen, and drink a hot beverage out of a wine glass and think, “SIGH” with the letters melting off. I dreamt she would go into Lizzie’s bedroom with a wild and crazed look on her face, and sometimes in mine the same way. I dreamt she would lean over Lizzie’s crib and look at her sleeping with her bunny and her pillow and her sheets pulled over her, like she had been put to bed by an actual parent, and mom’s face would somehow be able to occupy the same space as the crib railing, as mom would think, “You and Michael are such beautiful kids, Elizabeth…” and then she would say out loud, while crying, “How did you end up with a mother like me?” Those were frightening dreams, and Elizabeth tells me sometimes, she had the same nightmares.
However, I know they were just dreams. After all, there is no correlation between the beauty of a child and their mother’s near nervous breakdown. Not only that, I am sure you know that the mom who raised us has no regrets about her shrieking and screaming method of discipline. Otherwise she would have changed over the last 30 years she has had kids in the house. No, formerly little sis, mom loves her screaming style. One of these days, she is going to convince Deanna we should go to yelling at our kids. It may be soon. I can hardly wait.
April,Oh, Liz. I guess you had all those thoughts to convince the peeps who have been pointing out that you and Anthony have not been saying anything about "love." But those same ppl are bound 2 pt out that neither one of you has sed it out loud 2 the other. Maybe that will B next wk's story, eh?
Warren turned into a silhouette right before he got into his car. His car was parked far away enough that his silhouette looked tiny, but not so far that he was on the other side of my street. I had no idea I had so much space between my place and the curb. But where was I? Oh, yes. Silhouette-Warren was standing by his not-silhouette car, waving, and I waved back. At least I think he was waving. His hand was so tiny, I had to make a guess.
After he left, I gazed adoringly at my engagement ring. I was thinking, "I thought I was in love with Warren once, but it wasn't love." Then I leaned against the side of house, gazed into the distance, and thought, "I thought I was in love with Paul and with Eric--but that wasn't love either." I went back to gazing at my ring, while continuing to think: "I do love Anthony. Oh, yes. It's love..." As I went back into my apartment door, I thought, "I don't even have to think about it."
Once I was inside, I thought, "But didn't I just think all that? And I thought that I don't have to think about it. But I did just think about it." And I got worried, thinking I'd messed up, thinking about something I don't have to think about. And I got so panicky I called Mom. And after I told her all that, she said, "Oh, my dear, sweet, dumb Elizabeth. Have some warm milk, go to sleep, and stop worrying your pretty head about such things. Focus on setting a wedding date instead." And I went, "Mo-om! Anthony and I are NOT in a rush to set a date!" And Mom said, "Is that something you also don't have to think about that you're thinking about?" And I went, "Yes!" And I had to hang up because Mom filled me with more doubt. But I took her advice about the warm milk. It really does help you sleep.
April,Ugh, poor, obsessed Warren. Why is he so fixated on Liz? I hope if he marries Marjee Mahaha, and then suddenly hears from the "bush telegraph" that Liz and Anthony have split, he doesn't suddenly dump poor Marjee. Dang, flyboy, get U 2 a therapist quick. And stop trying 2 pun!
For your Friday entry, I'm already up to the part where Warren leaves my apartment! Can you believe how quick and snappy I am this week?
As Warren was putting his coffee cup on the counter in my kitchen, I cuddled up to his left arm affectionately and said, "You can't give up flying, Warren. And I can't change who I am." Then we silently went to the staircase that leads to my apartment entrance, climbed up the stairs, and went outside.
Warren said, "It sure was nice knowing you." And I answered, "Yeah... it was nice knowing you, too." Even though I was confused. Because I still knew him. Was I about to not know him anymore?
As I was thinking about that, Warren held my chin with one hand and said, "And if this guy you're going to marry turns out to be the wrong one.... Let me know, OK?" Then he put his hands in his pockets, started to walk way, and looking over his shoulder, added, "'Cause I'll always be in the wings." I think I was mildly gobsmacked.
April,Liz, there U go, getting yrself all worked up. Oh, well, maybe U can get Anthony to console U w/his stories abt lusting after U during his engagement with and marriage to Thérèse. That usually cheers U up.
I am sure your readers are all sitting on the edges of their seats, waiting to hear what I have to say next. Whenever I have stories to tell, they are so riveting!
After I'd changed my clothes from spilling coffee all over myself, into an identical outfit, I set down a bowl of chips. Then Warren and I went back to our conversation at the coffee table.
Warren said, "I've been offered a job at another outfit. They want me to go overseas and fly for an oil company. It's a better position and higher pay. I wanted to talk to you before I accepted." He put a chip in his mouth and said, "But I guess there's nothing to talk about, now that you're engaged." I told him, "Warren, you would have taken that job even if I was free." He replied, "I'd have asked you to come with me!" I came back with "And, I'd have said 'No.' And... You'd have gone anyway."
When I told him that last part, I held up my head with one hand and looked deeply at him with my beautiful, languid blue eyes. Boys love my big, blue eyes. That was something Eric praised me for, before I caught him cheating with Tina. Oh, no, I had to go and remind myself about that. My big, blue eyes are crying now!
April,Poor Warren, this will seal the opinion of those who say he's too "flighty" (bad pun) to settle down with anyone.
I like this story I'm about to tell you because I think it shows what a good, caring person I am. Did you know I'm not only good-looking, but cheerful, funny and bright? Well, it's true, and that's what drew Warren to me almost six yrs ago!
So, where was I? Oh, yeah, what happened next the last time Warren came by. So, we were having our coffee (it's barbaric to have a conversation without hot beverages!) and sitting across the coffee table from each other. I told Warren, "You're a really nice person. We had fun together--but it never really happened for us--did it." I made that a statement, to show how serious I was being. Warren answered anyway, saying "I guess not." Then I told him, "You could never stay in one place long enough to make a commitment. You were always on the move!" Warren said, "I know." He was sipping his coffee as he said that, but somehow didn't dribble all over himself. Next, I said, "Well, now that you've decided to stay here and get a regular job, --You'll meet someone, get married, buy a house, have a family...." He interrupted me by saying, "Sounds nice, Liz... But it would really tie me down."
I was so flabbergasted by that, I let go of my coffee mug, which I'd been holding with both hands. Lucky for me, the coffee had gotten kind of cold by then, but still I got it all over my cozy turtleneck sweater and jeans. Luckily, I had an identical outfit to change into so we could continue our conversation without any confusion about me having a different outfit.
Anyway, that's it for now. You'll have to wait for my next e-mail to find out what happened after that.
April,Whatevs, Liz. This still doesn't answer Y U acted like U did B4. Especially when it was pretty clear that Warren thought you were dating and then his going to Yellowknife made U all pissy, so U decided 2 ask out Anthony. And U never bothered to tell Warren.
Not that it's any of your business, but I know you need something to blog about other than how Dad used to get depressed about being a dentist. So I'll tell you some more about what happened the last time Warren dropped by my apartment. Some people are saying that I shouldn't have encouraged his stalkerish behaviour by letting him into my apartment, but they don't know what they're talking about. I know Warren, they don't, so I know how to handle him in my own way.
Warren was holding my left hand and looking at the shine rays coming out of my ring. He said, "Wow. Engaged." I told him, "I'm going to marry Anthony Caine." Then neither of us said anything for the amount of time it took for me to make coffee, pour it into two mugs, with cream and sugar, and bring the mugs over to the coffee table, as Warren settled onto a seat.
Then, he picked up our conversation where we'd left off: "He's the guy with the kid, right?" It took me a second to realize he was responding to my telling him I was marrying Anthony. I answered, "Anthony has a daughter. Her name Françoise. " April, aren't you proud of me for saying "Françoise" instead of "Frenchy"? Anyway, I continued with "He and I have cared for each other for a long time. It was a friendship that grew into.... a lot more." Notice I never mentioned the part about dating in middle school and high school and breaking up after our first year of university. I didn't want to confuse him. Warren said, "So. It's over between us." And I looked at him all wide-eyed and said, "Warren--it never began!"
Ha! There! That'll answer all those mean people who keep saying I act as if Warren and I have had some big relationship when we barely had off-and-on dating, yet I was always expecting him to fly in to Mtig when I lived there. But anyway, I said it. "It never began!" Criticism deflected!
April,Liz, Y is it that U and Mike won't listen? Let me tell you slowly. I. AM. NEVER. GOING. TO. MARRY. GERALD. So step the heck off already!
I'm so glad I'm finally engaged! I can't even tell you what a relief it is to have the token that says "I'm taken." Unless a lady has that token, there is no way she can keep other interested men at bay. If she tries, she runs the risk of having those men point out, "Well, I don't see a RING on your finger!" And nobody wants to risk that kind of humiliation!
But now I have my "token." Here's why it's so important. You might want to take notes. Recently, I was opening my apartment door after returning from the grocery store with two bags of food. When I was asked "paper or plastic," I got so confused that I said,"Give me one of each!" So they did. They really shouldn't spring those kinds of decisions on a girl! Where was I? Oh, yeah. So, I was about to unlock my door when I heard, "Elizabeth?" I looked over my shoulder, and there was a silhouette, but I recognized the silhouette, and said, "Warren!"
Warren took my paper bag from me while I still held the plastic one, and he said, "Here. Let me help you with that stuff." And I told him, "OK, but...." We started to go down the staircase that leads into my apartment, and he interrupted me with "Sorry I showed up here so late the other night... I just wanted to see you." Then we were both quiet until we had gotten to the kitchen and I started to put away my groceries. Then he continued with his talking. He said, "Look, I know I was never the most thoughtful or reliable..." And I told him, Warren, ...I'm engaged."
Now, April, I know from years of girl-experience that this isn't the sort of thing a guy will take your word for. You need proof. So I held up my left hand, to show him my engagement ring (token!) and the ring let off a magic shininess all around my hand! And the magic shininess must have scared Warren, and he went, "AAAAHHH!"
And that's why these tokens of takenness are so important for a girl. If I hadn't had that ring, I would have been forced to have a lengthy discussion with Warren where I didn't let on how serious my relationship with Anthony is. Because without a ring, no one would believe it's that serious! So April, when you are finally ready to get engaged to Gerald Delaney-Forsythe, make sure you tell him what a ringless young lady goes through!
Hi, Auntie April! It's Merrie. Do you need a story for your blog? I have a story. Attic Guy/Daddy was typing at his computer. I said, "...Daddy?" He said, "Hi!" Then I said, "Daddy!" And he said, "Mm!" He was not really listening. I can tell. I asked, "Daddy? Can I have a cookie?" He didn't say anything. He just shut his eyes and typed so loud all his TAP TAP TICK TAP TAP TAP TA-TAP TICK TAPPITA TAPPITA TICK TIK TICK TAP noises fillled up the air. I tried again. I asked, "Daddy?" He scrunched his eyes like something hurt and went, "Mmm?" I tried again. I went, "Can I have some cookies? Can I get down a box of cookies an' eat them? ...All of them?" He didn't say anything. He was staring at his screen like I wasn't there. I said, "Dad?" Then I asked, "Daddy? Are you listening to me?" Daddy said, "Uh-huh.. Yes. Sure!"U got him there, didn't U, Merrie? Well played. Try listening next time, Mike.
I ran over to Robin. He was waiting to hear about what Daddy would say about the cookies. I told him about the "yes" and we ran to the kitchen. I got a chair and climbed on the counter and got the cookies from the cabinet. Two boxes. One for me and one for Robin. Then we both sat on the counter and ate cookies right out of our boxes. Then when Mommy came in and got that look you call "gobsmacked," I told her, "Daddy said 'yes.'" He did, you know!