I fought my way to the bleachers beyond the steel, yellow gate and the guard which protected it to sit with the girl I'd know years before. While the game went on below, we had some idle chit chat. She was there with a girl she knew, Sunshine, who was the sister of a friend of Darth Vader's, The Puerto Rican (can you guess where he's from?), to provide some moral support for Sunshine as she tried to find a guy to help her get over being fond of Darth. Confusing?
The deal there was that once upon a time (heh.), Darth was so stuck on himself that he felt he was only worthy of being dated by the popular cheerleader girls and was too high on the totem pole for someone as lowly as Sunshine. She had the hots for him, but since he blew her off, The Queen had gone with her to this game to find her a guy. We found it ironic that neither of us actually planned on coming, but came with someone else.
My thought during the game was that I was too chicken to call her, but I could definitely e-mail her, so I got her e-mail address. I inquired as to how often she checked it and found out that she only checked from college, which she no longer attended, so it wasn't checked that often (and that's putting it mildly). I kept this in mind for the remainder of the evening.
After the game, she found out that The Engineer and I had walked to the game, so she offered to give us a ride home. We accepted, since it was a half mile back and dark after the game. Once there, she said they were going to Burger King for a post game burger, and wanted to know if I wanted to come along. I accepted, and The Engineer was dropped at home.
Following the burger, I did something that ensured that we would have a future together. Before I got out of her car, at the last minute, I summed up the courage to ask for her phone number. I was afraid I would never see her again if she went away, and knowing how often that e-mail addy would be checked, I couldn't risk her not getting any e-mail for a month or more. She happily gave it to me, and so ended that first evening.
Finally, I had her digits in my cell phone (a brick by today's standard, but fairly modern back then; it had caller ID). I waited till the next day and called her. Her mother answered, and I chose not to leave a message. I called back less than five minutes later and her father answered. I said I changed my mind and did want to leave a message. Would you believe they still laugh at me over this?
The reason she wasn't home is because she'd gone out with her friends. Remember, the guy standard is to wait a week, so she didn't expect me to call for some time, if I called at all. That I called the next day was a surprise to her. She called me back, and we were going to get together the following day for ice cream, and unlike Burger King, it would be just us.
And this time, I was determined to keep her.
Friday, February 15, 2008
Thursday, February 14, 2008
Valentine's Day
This morning, the Queen surprised me with a horse from Build A Bear. She said her knight in shining armor needed a horse to ride in on. But what really choked me was that she'd put a T-shirt on the horse containing the planets of the solar system. If you'll recall, this has a meaning between that stretches back to high school and her shirt that she got from the Smithsonian containing the planets as well. It also signifies her position as Queen of the Universe. It was perfect.
She also fed my desire to collect Star Wars figures by giving me a Padme Amidala figure wearing the dress she had during the tense love scene with Anakin from Episode II. The collecting of Star Wars figures is an addicition. I try to avoid it myself, but I always enjoy getting figures from her to add to my collection.
She had also done some shopping for the Princesses of the house. Each received a Webkin frog that is pink with hearts all over it. We delivered them when we woke them up this morning. Sassy Pants was immediately up and chanting "boing, boing, boing" as she bounced the frog around the house. The others were just beside themselves over these frogs, and they were sure to get them online to get their Valentine's gifts today from Webkinz.com. Even the Queen likes playing on that site (for Sassy Pants, of course).
What could I do to top this? In my typical wisdom, even though I'd gone out last night to swap some stuff at Blockbuster, I failed to get the flowers I always get her. Now, I'm at work and powerless to go anywhere because she has the car. I'm going to be the bad guy if I don't do something. She will still smile and be understanding, but that's not good enough for me. She shouldn't have to "be understanding." That's a bunch of crap.
I was looking out the window of the building where I work and saw a strip mall across the street. Surely, thought I, they would have a flower shop. I can't go out empty-handed, and asking her stop somewhere so I could pick something up is nothing short of tacky. So I decided for the first time in months, I would take a quick break and run across the street. I hit a couple stores until I ended up in a gift shop that also did not sell flowers and asked. She pointed me over to a place called KaBlooms on the far side of the center (of course).
I walked in and asked how the roses were. They gave me the dozen price...yeah, I couldn't get a dozen. I pondered for sometime how many singles I should get. In the past, I'd gotten one for every year, but we're up to our eleventh Valentine's day, and why the heck are specialty stores so over-priced anyway? At Wal-Mart, I could afford a dozen. I decided I would go for three.
Why three? Yes, our three girls is one thought that fits, but three for us is more significant than that. One song that we share in part is Meat Loaf's "Two Out Of Three Ain't Bad," but we use it to say 3 out of 3: I Want You, I Need You, I Love You. Yeah, Elvis has a song of that title, but I like Meat Loaf more. We're approaching our ninth anniversary (a multiple of three), we're up to our third car together, our youngest children are three years apart, we collectively have three siblings (she has one and I have two), and I'm sure if I continued to think of stuff, I could keep going (ok, that's kind of obvious, sorry).
So I have the flowers, and I need to do something else. I sent an ecard to show I was thinking of her during the day and that I wasn't forgetting what day it was (I know she thinks I forget about her during the day). Even added a cool little message at the end to further personalize it and give more warm fuzzies.
At the end of this, our eleventh Valentine's Day together, I feel better than I did this morning. She deserves everything I can do for her, and I don't do nearly enough.
To my Queen: I love you more than any words or gifts could possibly express. I'm the luckiest geek ever to have you to spend my life with. Here's to an awesome Valentine's Day and many more to follow.
She also fed my desire to collect Star Wars figures by giving me a Padme Amidala figure wearing the dress she had during the tense love scene with Anakin from Episode II. The collecting of Star Wars figures is an addicition. I try to avoid it myself, but I always enjoy getting figures from her to add to my collection.
She had also done some shopping for the Princesses of the house. Each received a Webkin frog that is pink with hearts all over it. We delivered them when we woke them up this morning. Sassy Pants was immediately up and chanting "boing, boing, boing" as she bounced the frog around the house. The others were just beside themselves over these frogs, and they were sure to get them online to get their Valentine's gifts today from Webkinz.com. Even the Queen likes playing on that site (for Sassy Pants, of course).
What could I do to top this? In my typical wisdom, even though I'd gone out last night to swap some stuff at Blockbuster, I failed to get the flowers I always get her. Now, I'm at work and powerless to go anywhere because she has the car. I'm going to be the bad guy if I don't do something. She will still smile and be understanding, but that's not good enough for me. She shouldn't have to "be understanding." That's a bunch of crap.
I was looking out the window of the building where I work and saw a strip mall across the street. Surely, thought I, they would have a flower shop. I can't go out empty-handed, and asking her stop somewhere so I could pick something up is nothing short of tacky. So I decided for the first time in months, I would take a quick break and run across the street. I hit a couple stores until I ended up in a gift shop that also did not sell flowers and asked. She pointed me over to a place called KaBlooms on the far side of the center (of course).
I walked in and asked how the roses were. They gave me the dozen price...yeah, I couldn't get a dozen. I pondered for sometime how many singles I should get. In the past, I'd gotten one for every year, but we're up to our eleventh Valentine's day, and why the heck are specialty stores so over-priced anyway? At Wal-Mart, I could afford a dozen. I decided I would go for three.
Why three? Yes, our three girls is one thought that fits, but three for us is more significant than that. One song that we share in part is Meat Loaf's "Two Out Of Three Ain't Bad," but we use it to say 3 out of 3: I Want You, I Need You, I Love You. Yeah, Elvis has a song of that title, but I like Meat Loaf more. We're approaching our ninth anniversary (a multiple of three), we're up to our third car together, our youngest children are three years apart, we collectively have three siblings (she has one and I have two), and I'm sure if I continued to think of stuff, I could keep going (ok, that's kind of obvious, sorry).
So I have the flowers, and I need to do something else. I sent an ecard to show I was thinking of her during the day and that I wasn't forgetting what day it was (I know she thinks I forget about her during the day). Even added a cool little message at the end to further personalize it and give more warm fuzzies.
At the end of this, our eleventh Valentine's Day together, I feel better than I did this morning. She deserves everything I can do for her, and I don't do nearly enough.
To my Queen: I love you more than any words or gifts could possibly express. I'm the luckiest geek ever to have you to spend my life with. Here's to an awesome Valentine's Day and many more to follow.
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
Into the Military
What would have been our biggest hurdle had we actually ended up together in high school? The Army. I signed up for the military because I didn't know what else to do. I had no real direction, despite my skills in music and computing, and I had taken the recruiter up on his offer to go into the Army, find myself, and walk out with $30,000 for college. What did the geeky music guy go in for? Inventory Control Specialist? Seriously. That was my original Military Occupational Specialty (MOS -- you might want to get used to the acronyms). Yup, I was going to be an Inventory Control Specialist (a job phased out within a couple years after I went in).
But wait, anyone who knows me knows full well I never did that job. No, I asked the recruiter once about going into the band. I was very skilled. I made first chair, top band at All District. I was in the All-State jazz band. I was quite good. He allowed me to audition, and when I made it, he said what they would do is place my original paperwork in with those who failed to graduate and start me over at the beginning of the process, since that would be far easier than trying to change MOS's. I was okay with that.
So, immediately after high school, two days before my eighteenth birthday, I left home and went to Basic training at Fort Leonardwood, MO. At the time, it felt like hell, but in retrospect, it was really cool. Climbing all over everything, playing with more gadgets and tools than you can imagine, and firing and handling all kinds of different weapons. I got Sharpshooter on the M16, expert on M60, and sharpshooter on grenades (geeks don't throw well). I despised Physical Training (PT), and I only barely passed the 2 mile run since I had a tendency to wear myself out too fast instead of pacing myself. (the Queen probably just giggled).
What was the most interesting thing I learned at Basic? Well, they had us drinking water all the time. It was summer and hot, so that's understandable. They wanted us to drink a quart an hour to make sure we didn't get dehydrated. Got ourselves some basic medical info on identifying dehydration and everything. Well, one guy said he was going through Basic for the second time, and the last time he'd had so much water over the course of the day, that when he'd been peeing clear for some time. At one juncture, he decided to pee into his canteen and taste it. (queue the "eeewwwsss!" -- done? ok.) He said it was water. He'd had so much to drink that his body was no longer processing the liquid and passing it straight through. It's a little sick, but when you think about it, very interesting. Moving on...
It was eight weeks at Leonardwood, and following that graduation, I went to the School of Music at the Littlecreek Naval Amphibious Base in Norfolk, VA. What's that, you say? Back the truck up? What's an Army guy doing at a Naval Base? Really? Stop typing what I think you're saying? Fine.
Yes, the School of Music which provides some advanced instruction for those people who are entering the military bands in a one stop shop for the Navy, Army, and Marine Corps. I don't know where the Air Force goes. So that experience required me to learn the rank and customs of the Navy and Marines as well as furthering my knowledge of the Army. It was interesting, to say the least, and really, Navy chow is not as bad as people say it is. Had me a ham and cheese omelette every morning and it was good.
Really, this training period went too fast. After a few weeks, we were allowed to wear civilian clothes off duty for the first time since Basic. My bag was actually stolen while I was at Basic, so I was literally starting completely fresh with new stuff all around. Ok, it probably wasn't exactly stolen; not everyone made it through Basic training, and the bag that was left over after everyone got theirs back belonged to a guy who left early and undoubtedly took my bag by mistake.
Nothing of real significance happened while I was at the School of Music when applied to the big picture. I did develop a love of musicals while there to the point that I wanted to use my skill at writing music and skill of writing stories and combine them to writing a musical. Trouble was, I had no lyrical skill at the time, though bless my little heart, I tried. I expressed an attraction for one girl while there, who turned from me to marry someone about twice her age who was also going there in the Army. I expressed an attraction for someone else, who said she was engaged at the time, but subsequently broke off the engagement to date a black soldier she'd met there. I suppose I wasn't worth breaking up for, and besides, the School of Music had four rules that they recommend:
1. Don't buy a radio
2. Don't buy a car
3. Don't fall in love
4. Don't get married
Apparently, these things were prevalent at the SOM to the point that newcomers are often treated to these rules unofficially while hanging around the barracks. We were on a Navy base, and I know they called them something different, but I don't care. I broke rule 1, but obviously, none of the others.
I saved those (well, all but 4) for my permanent duty station at Fort Carson, CO, where my life actually changed, and I began to find people that fit parts of what I truly looked for in a person. I say parts because only the Queen satisfied what I was looking for. Everyone else just served to show me something I wanted to find, but never everything in one neat package.
(and the Queen just giggled again...)
But wait, anyone who knows me knows full well I never did that job. No, I asked the recruiter once about going into the band. I was very skilled. I made first chair, top band at All District. I was in the All-State jazz band. I was quite good. He allowed me to audition, and when I made it, he said what they would do is place my original paperwork in with those who failed to graduate and start me over at the beginning of the process, since that would be far easier than trying to change MOS's. I was okay with that.
So, immediately after high school, two days before my eighteenth birthday, I left home and went to Basic training at Fort Leonardwood, MO. At the time, it felt like hell, but in retrospect, it was really cool. Climbing all over everything, playing with more gadgets and tools than you can imagine, and firing and handling all kinds of different weapons. I got Sharpshooter on the M16, expert on M60, and sharpshooter on grenades (geeks don't throw well). I despised Physical Training (PT), and I only barely passed the 2 mile run since I had a tendency to wear myself out too fast instead of pacing myself. (the Queen probably just giggled).
What was the most interesting thing I learned at Basic? Well, they had us drinking water all the time. It was summer and hot, so that's understandable. They wanted us to drink a quart an hour to make sure we didn't get dehydrated. Got ourselves some basic medical info on identifying dehydration and everything. Well, one guy said he was going through Basic for the second time, and the last time he'd had so much water over the course of the day, that when he'd been peeing clear for some time. At one juncture, he decided to pee into his canteen and taste it. (queue the "eeewwwsss!" -- done? ok.) He said it was water. He'd had so much to drink that his body was no longer processing the liquid and passing it straight through. It's a little sick, but when you think about it, very interesting. Moving on...
It was eight weeks at Leonardwood, and following that graduation, I went to the School of Music at the Littlecreek Naval Amphibious Base in Norfolk, VA. What's that, you say? Back the truck up? What's an Army guy doing at a Naval Base? Really? Stop typing what I think you're saying? Fine.
Yes, the School of Music which provides some advanced instruction for those people who are entering the military bands in a one stop shop for the Navy, Army, and Marine Corps. I don't know where the Air Force goes. So that experience required me to learn the rank and customs of the Navy and Marines as well as furthering my knowledge of the Army. It was interesting, to say the least, and really, Navy chow is not as bad as people say it is. Had me a ham and cheese omelette every morning and it was good.
Really, this training period went too fast. After a few weeks, we were allowed to wear civilian clothes off duty for the first time since Basic. My bag was actually stolen while I was at Basic, so I was literally starting completely fresh with new stuff all around. Ok, it probably wasn't exactly stolen; not everyone made it through Basic training, and the bag that was left over after everyone got theirs back belonged to a guy who left early and undoubtedly took my bag by mistake.
Nothing of real significance happened while I was at the School of Music when applied to the big picture. I did develop a love of musicals while there to the point that I wanted to use my skill at writing music and skill of writing stories and combine them to writing a musical. Trouble was, I had no lyrical skill at the time, though bless my little heart, I tried. I expressed an attraction for one girl while there, who turned from me to marry someone about twice her age who was also going there in the Army. I expressed an attraction for someone else, who said she was engaged at the time, but subsequently broke off the engagement to date a black soldier she'd met there. I suppose I wasn't worth breaking up for, and besides, the School of Music had four rules that they recommend:
1. Don't buy a radio
2. Don't buy a car
3. Don't fall in love
4. Don't get married
Apparently, these things were prevalent at the SOM to the point that newcomers are often treated to these rules unofficially while hanging around the barracks. We were on a Navy base, and I know they called them something different, but I don't care. I broke rule 1, but obviously, none of the others.
I saved those (well, all but 4) for my permanent duty station at Fort Carson, CO, where my life actually changed, and I began to find people that fit parts of what I truly looked for in a person. I say parts because only the Queen satisfied what I was looking for. Everyone else just served to show me something I wanted to find, but never everything in one neat package.
(and the Queen just giggled again...)
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
A Homecoming
A little over four years passed after high school, and I had not seen the Queen in all that time. Many things happened that will be covered in more detail on other blog entries, so we'll cover the important stuff that plays into the re-meeting. I had gone out with this girl we'll call Allison, for reasons that will be apparent at another time, on and off for about a year with considerable time within. It was on and off because she enjoyed making up (albeit convincing) stories about going out with other people, just to avoid getting any closer than "just friends" to me.
Well, one day she called and asked if I would come over so she could try and explain some things and apologize for her actions while we were closer. I had nothing better to do, so I went over there. She talked for awhile about things that happened between her and the other people in her life (way too long a story for right now), and following that story, hinted at wanting to go to a Halloween party at some point and wanted to know if I would consider going. I didn't want to commit, so I said, "Ok." Roughly translated, that means, "I understood everything you just said to me, and I don't want to either commit or say 'no' so I'm saying 'ok' just to acknowledge you and make you think I said 'yes' when I really didn't specify."
And so that night ended without any real fanfare or anything. She was stand-offish, which for her means she was acting completely normal. She said she would call me "tomorrow."
Tomorrow came, and I was off. I hung around the house not doing any particularly interesting. Part of me wanted to wait by the phone (yes, I can be that pathetic sometimes), but another wanted to blow her off, since she never lives up to her promises anyway. Enter my brother: The Engineer. This guy can build stuff. He's an elecrician by trade, but "electrician" hardly measures up to his eclectic and talented nature by which he does everything. He currently "lives" in a loft above a gymnasium floor at his church. He sleeps at our parents' house, but he lives there. Follow?
Anyway, before he lived there, he spent time at home where I lived prior to the Queen taking me away to her planet. The Engineer was all of 2 years out of high school at the time, and he wanted to go to the Homecoming game. He actually still enjoys going, but I digress. I felt that was the perfect opportunity to blow off Allison and get out of the house. She was never going to call, anyway (and she never did, by the way -- of course).
We walked to the stadium, which at the time, was only a half mile from our house. Once we got there, we saw an interesting change to the stadium we grew up with when we went to school. You see, the week before there was a big fight, or something, between the opposing sides at the football game, so the geniuses in charge thought it would be a great idea to place these big, yellow, steel gates between the home and visitor's sides.
There were several problems with this idea. Mainly, the one concession stand sat directly behind bleachers for the home side, and they made the fence bisect these bleachers. This means that some of the home team viewers were on the wrong side of the fence. Same thing on the other end of the field. Though there was no concession stand, there were two sets of visitor side bleachers -- one on each side of the fence. The fence was guarded, but the guard was willing to let people pass form one side to the other through the gate.
This was the only week they had this in place. I'd gone on a subsequent week and the gates were wide open with no guard at all.
The Engineer saw someone he knew after we arrived and I just hung around for the game part, standing near the band that I'd been in once. Halftime came, and they allowed alumni of the band to sit in the bleachers where the band sat to watch the halftime show. The show rolled on and I turned to the left.
And there she was.
She recognized me and smiled and waved. I bounded over to the fence so quickly that the band parent guarding the stands apparently thought I was going after someone (remember, they'd had a fight the week before). I got called down, and I had to convince the person that I saw someone on the other side I knew. They made me stay away from the fence! Seriously, those people were watching the same team I was. They're on the home bleachers. Silly idea...
Anyway, we gestured to meet down by the fence at the concession stand, since there was a way through. I went down and around and met the rent-a-cop guarding the fence. Here's how that conversation went:
"Hey, I want to get through."
"Why?"
"I want to talk to someone on the other side."
"You can't come back if I let you through."
"Fine."
With considerable reluctance, the guard opened the gate, and with a sort of poetic irony, I crossed over from one side to the other to be with her. And you know what?
I never came back.
Well, one day she called and asked if I would come over so she could try and explain some things and apologize for her actions while we were closer. I had nothing better to do, so I went over there. She talked for awhile about things that happened between her and the other people in her life (way too long a story for right now), and following that story, hinted at wanting to go to a Halloween party at some point and wanted to know if I would consider going. I didn't want to commit, so I said, "Ok." Roughly translated, that means, "I understood everything you just said to me, and I don't want to either commit or say 'no' so I'm saying 'ok' just to acknowledge you and make you think I said 'yes' when I really didn't specify."
And so that night ended without any real fanfare or anything. She was stand-offish, which for her means she was acting completely normal. She said she would call me "tomorrow."
Tomorrow came, and I was off. I hung around the house not doing any particularly interesting. Part of me wanted to wait by the phone (yes, I can be that pathetic sometimes), but another wanted to blow her off, since she never lives up to her promises anyway. Enter my brother: The Engineer. This guy can build stuff. He's an elecrician by trade, but "electrician" hardly measures up to his eclectic and talented nature by which he does everything. He currently "lives" in a loft above a gymnasium floor at his church. He sleeps at our parents' house, but he lives there. Follow?
Anyway, before he lived there, he spent time at home where I lived prior to the Queen taking me away to her planet. The Engineer was all of 2 years out of high school at the time, and he wanted to go to the Homecoming game. He actually still enjoys going, but I digress. I felt that was the perfect opportunity to blow off Allison and get out of the house. She was never going to call, anyway (and she never did, by the way -- of course).
We walked to the stadium, which at the time, was only a half mile from our house. Once we got there, we saw an interesting change to the stadium we grew up with when we went to school. You see, the week before there was a big fight, or something, between the opposing sides at the football game, so the geniuses in charge thought it would be a great idea to place these big, yellow, steel gates between the home and visitor's sides.
There were several problems with this idea. Mainly, the one concession stand sat directly behind bleachers for the home side, and they made the fence bisect these bleachers. This means that some of the home team viewers were on the wrong side of the fence. Same thing on the other end of the field. Though there was no concession stand, there were two sets of visitor side bleachers -- one on each side of the fence. The fence was guarded, but the guard was willing to let people pass form one side to the other through the gate.
This was the only week they had this in place. I'd gone on a subsequent week and the gates were wide open with no guard at all.
The Engineer saw someone he knew after we arrived and I just hung around for the game part, standing near the band that I'd been in once. Halftime came, and they allowed alumni of the band to sit in the bleachers where the band sat to watch the halftime show. The show rolled on and I turned to the left.
And there she was.
She recognized me and smiled and waved. I bounded over to the fence so quickly that the band parent guarding the stands apparently thought I was going after someone (remember, they'd had a fight the week before). I got called down, and I had to convince the person that I saw someone on the other side I knew. They made me stay away from the fence! Seriously, those people were watching the same team I was. They're on the home bleachers. Silly idea...
Anyway, we gestured to meet down by the fence at the concession stand, since there was a way through. I went down and around and met the rent-a-cop guarding the fence. Here's how that conversation went:
"Hey, I want to get through."
"Why?"
"I want to talk to someone on the other side."
"You can't come back if I let you through."
"Fine."
With considerable reluctance, the guard opened the gate, and with a sort of poetic irony, I crossed over from one side to the other to be with her. And you know what?
I never came back.
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