Jakandy Bennu

See, I was going to write this big thing about how I can’t ever keep a pair of sunglasses longer than about 2 months, but then I lost interest when I was digging all over the place to find pictures of the dozen or so glasses I’ve had in the past year, all of which suffered some sort of degrading injury because I’m not careful with them.

Like the pair I lost at Bonnaroo.

Or the pair I closed in the car door not 5 MINUTES after buying them on my way to my first date with Bell.

Or the pair that I sat on.

And the other pair that I sat on.

The one that I stepped on.

The one that fell off in the ocean while wavesurfing.

The one I rescued from falling off in the lake (had to borrow Juicebox’s spiderman underwater goggles for that particular save)

The one that fell apart in my pocket after being crushed and repaired too many times,

And the replacement that I bought last month, which now has an arm taped to it with electrical tape, after I, well, sat on it.

Yeah. I was going to write that, but damned if it just wasn’t too much trouble to find the pictures.

So, instead, I’ll get political for a minute:

Politics suck.

Thank you,
Jake

I’m the oldest of 4 children. And I’m the only girl. My mom and I were always outnumber, but because of that, we are pretty tough cookies. We have to be.

Especially, except on days like today. The tears got me. And I’m thinking that they probably got my mom, too. I can almost guarantee that they did. She trained me.

Right now, my oldest, little brother is on a plane to Italy. He got a job through the Dept of Defense teaching 2nd-4th graders at a military camp in Livorno.

He’ll have a normal size classroom full of American children that travel the world with their military-employeed parents. He’ll be over there for at least 1-2 years. I know he’s excited. 

It’s taken him a few years, and he’s had some “lost” spells…..we all do….but he’s finally found something in life that he absolutely LOVES. Teaching. And he’s great at it. It fills him up and makes him the happiest I’ve seen him in…well, a long damn time. I’m happy that he’s found his “thing.”

He’s going to get to see parts of the world that most of us only dream of seeing. None of my family have lived out of the US for long. (My next brother (down the line) spent some time in Iraq, but I’m quite certain he wasn’t really “enjoying” his over-seas trip.) I wonder what it would be like to live among such an old, rich culture?  I’m looking forward to hearing his stories and seeing the life he builds for himself. Part of me is a bit jealous. But I’m channelling the green bug into my pure, excitement and admiration for him. It’s awesome.

 We had a party for him a couple weekends ago at our family’s lakehouse. It’s very hard to get everyone in one place on short notice…and we knew when he got his “ok” from the Italian Embassy…he’d be on the next plane (classes start on Monday) It was good to get everyone together. It was good to celebrate such a happy event in his life…together. We’re all going to miss him.

I am going to miss him.

I’m so proud of him.

Ti amo, piccolo fratello.

When its March, you think of the heat in August and say “yeah. I can take that.”

Sucker.

For me, August and February are both trials. Its like an endurance race, where you’re determined not to stay in the house, but prolonged exposure to the persistent August Tennessee heat is a bad thing too. You get the hot headaches, and the sweat streaming down your face makes your eyes burn and your temper flare.

Sucks. Sucks indeed.

Cuz man, I freaking hate the hot. I’m not a hot person.

Yeah. January won’t be that bad. I could use some cold right about now

<insert trackback from January 2009 dealing with what a dumbass I am and how the heat is totally better than the cold>

So, OK, I’ve been on a brief haitus from internetting.

See, I used to do a lot of writing, and reading, and all sorts of stuff on the internet.  Some of you may remember my involvement in certain ventures online, where a relatively prolific and verbose Jake wrote all sorts of crap.

Then stopped.

Its not that I lost the internet’s phone number, or owed gambling money to it, or had some sort of beef with it, its just that, well, we sorta lost contact.

It happens, y’know, things get in the way, you get married, you build a bar, you send your kids to school, and then one day you bump into the internet in the grocery store, and, y’know…

…awkward…

Theres the small talk, you usually say something like “you look good, seems like you’ve been working out or something” and it says “no, not really, but thanks” and you try as hard as you can to keep your buggy moving, because, lord knows, if you stop in the aisle its a genuine CONVERSATION, and you’re not going to get out of it no matter how much you look for an out.

Anyway, that happened to me, figuratively speaking, this morning.  I was watching Bell play around on her facebook, and damned if I didn’t start making an account myself.

And I’m sucked right back in.

So, here I am, internet.  You know where I live now, and that little “write a post today” voice started popping back up in my head.

Guess it beats working…

So, over the weekend we managed to acquire, on top of a slight sunburn and a nice relaxed glow, a vintage RCA turntable cabinet stereo system.

This thing is sweet, internet. Check this junk out:

Damn right. Thats solid wood. Its got little knobs or pulleys or something like that on it, and its looking sharp. Good hefty weight. But you open up the top of it, and damned if you aren’t looking at TECHNOLOGY

Well hells yes. Thats a damn turntable, internet. Its gonna play you a record, and let it be known here and now that I’m a man who’ll sit when a record is played. If its any good.

I mean, not like, I dunno, Dokken or something.

Not that I’m saying that Dokken ain’t Rokken. But thats been said by better people than I.

I digress.

Wait, do I digress on this site? I don’t think thats been done here yet. What kind of weird time loop do we find ourselves in if that happens? One where vintage electronics are sheathed in stately cherry stained wood?

Indeed.

So, anyway, its bad ass. Bad. Ass.

But like Jack Palance (rest his soul) before it, Bad Ass doesn’t mean that old ain’t got problems. There is no needle in place in the little record playing arm, so as much as it wants to lay down on my CCR record, or even something more upbeat like some Hot Chip or Gnarls Barkley (whom we will be sampling live down in Austin in another month, but thats another post) it just ain’t gonna happen without that needle.

So, what would you do, internet, in a situation where you need to get some information about something thats out of your zone of immediate knowledge?

You’d look it up.

Where theres a bit of a problem. Despite Bell and my combined superior (1337) internet sleuthing skillz, we were unable to find jack for an RCA model VLT29-L.

Not a damn thing.

Which leads me to wonder, internet, what the hell? Why do you have no bounty to share on our little wooden friend here? Wheres the beef? Was this the only one made? Is it some sort of prototype, too secret and unique to fall under your eternal watchful eye?

Was there some unknown Nixon era purge of these things, leading VLT29-L to hide in an attic or something, constantly afraid of the boots at the door which would bring it down to some basement, to be turned into a stately hutch, or a tacky sofa?

Or have I just been putting in the wrong search words?

Hell, who knows.

But dammit, internet, I’m disappointed with you.

We’re at the lakehouse this weekend. No kids. Just us and the pups. Today was overcast. We had coffee, napped, sat on the porch, pressure washed the porch swing that’s in the yard…. and did you know doberman’s really can swim? Xander figured out the water today. He LOVES it. Crazy. Never would have guessed it? Anyway..back to relaxing.. music, steaks, movies and screwdrivers are on the plan. After this week…I sure needed this.

A year ago today began our year of firsts.
I can’t wait for the rest.

Excepts from emails Aug 8-9 2007

JAKE> SO, I think we may be onto something for Saturday… wanna go drink and shoot pool somewhere? I SUCK at pool, so you’ll just whip my sorry ass all up and down the road.
I was thinking either Baileys, or maybe Barleys in the old city. It doesn’t have as many pool tables, but has pizza, and I bet if we’re there long enough some band’ll start playing, and that’d be cool.

BELL> I like Bailey’s. I kick butt at pool (or at least after a few drinks, I think I do). Barley’s is cool. If the tables are full, we can chat upstairs. Can’t hear crap downstairs if there is a band. Pool isn’t a “have to do” thing. I don’t wanna kick your butt on the first date. Not cool at all.

JAKE> Is kicking my butt at pool like a second or third date thing? I’m never sure how these protocols work… Yes, Barleys, and I can totally take losing to a girl on our first date. What time you want me to pick you up?

BELL> What time you want to go?

JAKE> Well, you said you had stuff happening until like 5 ish, and it’ll probably take me that long to drop the kids off at their grandparents and head back to OR, so maybe around 6?

I’d been “single” for awhile. Dated a little. Mostly just trying to fill time, have stuff to do and such. The dating world sucks. Met a few nice guys, but none that were really anything to tell Mom about.

I was excited to see Jake in my store. I knew him and remembered that we had some good talks at Realtorchick’s New Years party. I remember being intrigued by him..his journey..his soul.

I’m pretty sure I ignored the on-goings at the store the entire time he was there. He had all my attention. We talked a long time about life and stuff. Moving on and healing. Weird for a casual conversation with someone you barely know, but it felt ok with him.

And then he said, “maybe we can go out sometime?”

(hee) I’m sure I blushed. Red hair and fair skin don’t do much for hiding that sort of thing. He told me a “flittered” over to the register to write down my number and email. Honestly? I don’t remember how I moved. I’m quite certain I blacked-out.

Saturday moved slowly at work. I left a little early to go home and get ready for our “date.” I was nervous as hell. I called my sister-in-law and freaked out to her for a minute. Why was I nervous? I’d been on dates…this wasn’t my first rodeo. It was so weird. I remember changing outfits at least 3 times before settling on one. I was jittery, frazzled… she laughed at me and said I’d be fine. It was pure excitement.

Jake called and told me he was home early from dropping the kids off and had just finished mowing the lawn…..asking if maybe he could bring a bottle of wine so we could have a glass before we headed to K-town.

Yes. That’s be a great idea. CALM THE NERVES. Hope it’s a big bottle.

I looked at my clock. 5:50… oh jeez. My stomach had a knot. I watched out my kitchen window for a few minutes (cuz I can see all the way down the street from there)…after about 5 minutes I saw his car zoom-zooming toward my house.

Then I remembered that I didn’t tell Jake which door to come to at my house (I have 3…I know, it’s confusing) I sent him a txt msg that said, “come to the side door when you get here.”

I went and checked my hair and my clothes one more time, so he wouldn’t see me starting at him out the window. I’d like to think I was sneaky about it, but I doubt it.

When I came back into the kitchen, he was walking to the side door, from the front door…eek. Evidently just got the txt as he was walking up… he smiled..I opened the door. We laughed.

OH MY GOD! NERVES! STOP!!

I’m sure we babbled about all the awkward stuff you babble about at the beginning of the first date.

I poured the wine. We went out on the backporch and talked.

We finished two glasses apiece before we left for Barleys.

Whew! (Score 1- Jake!! Yay for wine!)

All we ate was cheesesticks. And talked…

Drank beer… And talked..

And talked…
And talked…
And talked…

Played some pool. Introduced some friends that happened by… I stole his hat… played some more pool. At some point, it was my turn to shoot. I spun around to get my pool cue and… he landed a big ol’ kiss right on my lips.

Whoa.

I didn’t shoot worth a crap on that shot. (hee)

It was a wonderful night. I don’t remember how long we were out, but it felt like time was still. I felt like I had just re-connected with someone that I had know for years. We clicked. I was tickled. He was almost instantly my new best friend. We had a blast.

And I did kick his butt at pool — so much for “first date” rules, right?

OK, so it goes like this.

Me and the boys went into the pet store sometime on Wednesday, August 8. 2007.

The stated purpose was to maybe shop for a few new fishys for my little 10 gallon tank.  We had a ropefish (George), a catfishy thing (Mr. Pootytater), and a little yellow algae eater (Spaldy).  We had been in the petshop a few times before, when I bought these guys (and the fishtank), and left each time with fish, but without the primary purpose achieved.

Which was talking to the manager.

See, I’d met her a while back, in what was the end of a different life entirely for both of us, and we’d gotten along well.  Wildcat had led her around the party by the finger for 4 hours, while everybody else was loud and drinking.  I was a little reserved, due to stresses on my life, but had managed to squeeze in a few talks with her out in the breezeway, and wouldn’t have minded more.  Except Wildcat had dibs.

So, I bought fish.  Sure, I like the fish, I was proud of my little fishtank.  Before the fishtank, I had cats, and that was ugly, so I figured I’d move down the evolutionary chart to see if I could comfortably co-habitate with any living creatures (other than children, which hold a tenuous place on that chart).  Fish and I were getting along fine.

Damned, tho, if that manager was off every time I went in there.

I was just wanting to chat.  Wildcat had a good time with her, and she offered to show him lizards next time she saw him at the store, so he liked the idea.  Dragon, well, he just wanted something to do, which provided all of us with individual ulterior motives, if she ever, y’know, showed up to work when I deigned to visit.

So, on this hot ass day in August 2007, we swung by the petstore.  I had gotten off of work, so it was probably after 3 PM, and was wandering around the fish aisle with the boys, looking at the little “No Fishing” signs and pirate skulls to decorate your tank, and theres the manager.

She was cute as hell.

She recognized me, which I’d love to be surprised about, but hell, I’m a recognizable person.  Still, she put off her managerial duties for a good hour or so while we chatted, about fish, about her lousy employees who told me that George will eat flakes (he doesn’t), about kids, about life, about all sorts of things.

The kids were beyond bored after that hour.  I deflected the first “I’m ready to go” whinings with the good ol’ “in a minute”, and had even gotten to the point of the big eyes and the snarled “soon” when I worked up the nerve to say what I came to say.

I asked her, and her blue eyes got wide.  I’ve later found all sorts of things in those eyes, over a year of looking in them.  They’re blue, flecked with gold that swirls and moves, that sparkles.  Those eyes entranced me for the first time that moment.  She broke the eye contact to turn around and bounce over to the cash register, where she pulled out some paper and wrote down a phone number and an email address.

My heart was thumping, but my knees were steady.  She bounced back over to me with those blue eyes and a grin, and handed me the paper.  She told me that she has to open the store that Saturday, but that Sunday she’d be off, so that’d be a great day to go out.

I took the paper.  We went out that Saturday (the 11th).

My heart still thumps thinking about this, as I sit in the room that we’ve made, in the house that those boys and I moved into to join her. I look at that fishtank (now a big 55 gallon monster, although without Pootytater, RIP), I look at the kids shoes, next to the wooden elephant I’ve had for years, next to her heirloom chest furniture thing, I look at all the things in this house and this life that we’ve built over this year and feel glee.  Pure, total, happiness.

I love you, little Bell.  Its been an awesome year!

There is a toad living in our backyard. I didn’t see too much detail on the little guy. But it’s either a Fowler’s toad or an Eastern American toad.

Xander met him the other night. He decided that the toad needed to be in his mouth (because everything has to go in his mouth at some point). It wasn’t pretty. He dropped the toad and a flood of foam and slobber came pouring out.

Xander learned that:

The warty skin contains many glands that produce a poisonous milky fluid, providing these toads with excellent protection from many of their predators. The secretions serve as a defense mechanism for the toad; the potential irritation reduces the likelihood of the toad being handled by people and produces a bitter taste to the animals that might prey on the toad. A dog which picks up a toad will drop it and foam at the mouth but will not be hurt.

heh heh…

Luckily, SuperT was here. And she knew that he’d be ok. Cuz she’s smart like that. Xander went to see her today to get neutered. He’s not going to be happy when he gets home.

Speaking of THOSE…

Last night, we were tucking Wildcat into bed. I put some neosporin on a little cut on his foot. While I was doing that, Wildcat made a sour face.
Jake said, “Did that hurt that bad?”
With clinched teeth, Wildcat said…
“XANDER IS STANDING ON MY TWEEZLES!!!”

Tweezles?

I was wrecked.

Here’s what I know about “tweezles.” I’m dating myself. But I’ve had fun with the new use of this word. Enjoy.

From “Teddy Ruxpin: Tweeg Gets the Tweezles”

Tweeg wakes up with discolored skin, and becomes convinced he’s ill with the “Tweezles”. LB asks the Trio to help his boss, and they head for the Tower. After each of them puts forth their remedy for Tweeg, Gimmick realizes that Jack is suffering from pigmentation caused by drinking water from Rainbow Falls.