Tell stories. Use words if necessary.

Once upon a time, I ran out of stories.  So I had to borrow other people's stories.  Some are better than others.  Some help me start story-ing again.

Once upon a time, all my stories had no beginnings or endings, just middles.  It's because I forgot about the beginning and couldn't imagine an ending.

Once upon a time, these things happen every day.  Thank God for imagination, for memory, and for the shared collective of human stories.

We can do this.

a little bit ticklish

What kind of man is he, this friend of yours, that we may admire him?

Well, he's a story-teller, first and foremost.

He's a learner, so he's a teacher.
And he's a little bit ticklish.
I keep trying to avoid it, but he's made of the stuff.

He is funny and silly and serious.
He is quiet and merciful and brave.
He surprises me with what comes out of his mouth.
That is, when I am listening long enough.

An excellent game player, and that's a fact.
Careful and precise and mindful.
More competitive than he lets on.
Learning is as important as winning, and more.

He texted me this morning asking if we could be pirates.
Of course my answer was yes, and when.
What do we need, did I have to lose an eye or leg?
He suggested we start tonight, which settled it.

One of the handiest men I know.
Like an un-flanneled Al Borland, with glasses.
Fixed the light switch box in my parents' basement,
Eradicated a mouse from my kitchen drawer.

Unsentimentally, I can tell you that he cries.
He cries for himself, for his own pain, and for others.
He cries in real time, and when it matters.
I believe in his connection to life and death, and the other.

I guess it's a little bit ticklish.

miss january

Hanging on your wall, downstairs in your basement room, or perhaps still in your backpack, or on your desk, in a pile and a flurry of other things, is the calendar that my dad made for you for Christmas 2013.  

I wonder if you will hang it up, or if you will keep it someplace private and quiet.  I wonder how often you will look at it, and how you will feel when you see the pictures.  I wonder who else you will tell about it.  

*(My dad gave my boyfriend a calendar full of pictures from me.  As he opened it, he wouldn't show it to me at first, and I assumed the worst-- embarrassing childhood photos. But no, it was nicely done, with pretty quotations and recent photographs.  What a sweet gesture.)

Is it not good news?  Is not all good news so personal, a father saying, "Look, this is my daughter.  Is she not lovely?"  

I told you that it felt like a twelve-month lease.  You laughed because you couldn't help it, you were shocked into explosion.  I always like it when that happens.  I like seeing your insides out, a truth you can't help telling.  

Long hair is companionable.
When I look down at my shoulder, there it is.
I imagine right now that it is a nice animal to pet.
I imagine that this kind animal has volunteered to keep me warm this winter.
I bathe it and dry it and try to keep it from embarrassing me too much.
But it is not, as they say, a tame animal.
It will be misbehaving!
Nevertheless, I am thankful for its presence in my life.
Wild though it be.

magic

The leaves have fallen
There's magic in the dry branch
Thick inside the veins
  
Magia gruesa, espesa.

Dentist update

I received two cards in the mail yesterday (along with birthday presents from Auntie Judy!).  One card was from my mom and had a cut out picture of a broccoli birthday cake (yes, stems of broccoli with candles on top of some kind of white sauce) and had back health stretching exercises inside.

The second card was, I assumed, also a birthday card, but no!  I couldn't have been more wronger.  It was a handwritten note in a card from my new BFF, the dentist's office, wherein they thanked me for my patronage and literally congratulated me on my excellent teeth and good checkup.

I'll assume by all that, they really meant, "Happy birthday!"

dentist

So, I went to the dentist today.  Yup, no longer have those coffee stains on my two bottom front teeth.  Let's pretend, for now, that coffee was the only thing staining those off-white pearls. Um...

I have never had a date to the dentist until today.  I have never had a date for many things until this year.  Weddings, for example.  Weddings were hard and dateless.  Wedding dates are your sister, if you have one, or a mutual friend to carpool, if you're lucky.  But I have had a wedding date for the past three-four weddings, courtesy of the man-cub.  Yes, that's what someone at the first wedding we went to together called him.  Seriously, it became a thing.  We laugh about it now.  It's okay.  And today, my first dentist date!  Interested?  Of course you are!  Read on!

We found the place (it is a new dentist for me) and he sat and read patiently while they x-rayed every portion of my mouth and even took photographs.  I assume it's because I'm so good looking.  But it's probably because they really like my teeth.   No, it's probably protocol, but they really, really like my teeth.  They said, "We don't see teeth this good in this area.  I'm jealous.  I wish I had your teeth."  The dentist said it, the hygienist said it, everyone.  Apparently I come from good stock in the bone department, and, you know, we rinsed with fluoride in grade school.  I credit my no-cavity smile with having had orthodontic work for years at a point when most kids eat sugar and chew gum and wreck their faces.  I brushed my teeth after everything I ate or drank (once famously refusing a snack in sixth grade because I wouldn't have time to brush my teeth before we took the hour long bus ride back home), and I stayed away from the bad food list.  My mom was a nurse, so no soda for us (hardly), just four to six glasses of milk a day.  You think I kid, but I do not.  And I still hate eating sticky food that I avoided back then.  It's just so hard to clean, and I worry that my teeth will get ripped out.  Or just my little protective dental caps on my molars for avoiding cavities, or whatever they're really called.  On the downside, I was severely reprimanded by the hygienist for not flossing, and I told her in my last ditch effort that I had bought those single-use dental picks, and she was slightly pacified.  Still, concerned.

I got done with the cleaning after such bloody gums you wouldn't want to be me except unless you were in a horror flick and it was byob (bring your own blood).  Boyfriend had finished reading the TIME Abraham Lincoln special (boring, he knew it all, the smartie) and much of his cheesy detective novel, so he was ready to hit the pavement and find some food with me.  Brunch.  So we went to IHOP after some deliberation, and were well rewarded.  Twins!  My favorites!  Working together!  And cute!  So, that basically made our collective day.  Also, boyfriend and I have an ongoing joke about sloth fingers, and pretended to steal the leftover tip money at our table, very slowly.  Rob laughed inordinately.  So did our cute server.  She's the best.  Really.  So much sweetness.  We also joked about having an in-depth conversation about fluoride, which was punctuated intentionally by holding hands and leaning in across the table, and sometimes giving worried looks.  It was fun. 

We tipped, paid the other cutest twin ever, and left full of breakfast.  Boyfriend dropped me off, 'cuz duh, who's going to take two cars to something so far away?  So he's picking me up in an hour and I'm already stoked to hang out with him because he's my favorite.  Also because he shaved his neck beard.  And while that may not win points, it certainly stops taking them away.  It's like he has a scarf, made of fur, that goes all the way around his neck. 

You will, perhaps, recall the controversy surrounding the "restoration" of the painting Ecco Homo, or Cecelia Jimenez's version of it, Beast Jesus, and perhaps, the SNL skit based on her fame: "He had beautiful hair that became a scarf. It was a scarf made of hair that wrapped around his little, brown, expressionless face. And then he look at me with his dead black eyes...I say Jesus, why you look like a shark?"

And with that, I leave you to do something REALLY important.  No, really.  It's important.