2012 Slice-of-Life Story Challenge | 29

That night, the amphitheater's grassy hill was covered with a rainbow of blankets and the summer sky's tapestry transitioned from amaranth to star-kissed indigo.  That night, the band's harmonies enveloped us like the cool, comfortable breeze.  Sitting there, cozy, between Mom and Dad, I noticed my family looked like so many others spread across the moonlit space.  Twenty-something kid sandwiched by fifty-something parents. 

What was it about this show that made it a family affair?  This is what we were brought up on: late-sixties/early-seventies rock full of honest, poetic lyrics.  This is what we were here to experience.  Together.  The sound of our homes, our lives.  To reconnect and remember.  To celebrate. 

Just as Graham Nash struck a familiar chord on his keyboard, the crowd stilled in reverent recognition.  In appreciation.  In delight.  "I'll light the fire.  You place the flowers in the vase that you bought today."  He sang; we listened as if this were the very moment we'd waited a lifetime to experience.  Everything else dulled, dimmed, dismissed.

"Staring at the fire, for hours and hours, as I listen to you play your love songs all night long for me.  Only for me," his iconic voice and clear, crisp piano accompaniment enriched the splendor of our surroundings.  The hum of the audience grew to a crescendo as he launched into the first song I would ever teach my little one a few years later.  Everyone sang, almost involuntarily; family by family.

"Come to me now, and rest your head for just five minutes.  Everything is done."  Bandmates David Crosby and Stephen Stills swept in with harmonies, magical and pure, anchoring my memories of family car trips and my dad singing for me.  Only for me.  "Such a cozy room, the windows are illuminated by the evening sunshine through them, fiery gems for you.  Only for you."  Everyone sang louder, uniting for what was to come...

"Our house is a very, very fine house.  With two cats in the yard, life used to be so hard.  Now everything is easy 'cause of you.  In our house..."  With heart, Crosby, Stills, and Nash sang, the parents sang, the kids sang, all holding back tears for the changing times since this tune's birth in storied Laurel Canyon in 1970.   (This is where Graham lived in a little craftsman bungalow with his then-girlfriend, Joni Mitchell, who played her love songs all night long.  For him.  Only for him.).  

"La, la, la-la-la-la, la, la-la-la, la, la-la-la-la, la, la-la, la, la, la, la, la, la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la, la, la, la-la-la-la, la-la-la, la-la-la-la-la, la, la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la," the music center, turned choir loft, resounded its makeshift chorus. 

"Our house, is a very, very, very fine house.  With two cats in the yard, life used to be so hard.  Now everything is easy 'cause of you.  In our..."  Clunky chords signaled the song's close.  "I'll light the fire.  While you place the flowers in the vase that you bought today."

I blinked with eyes glassy and wet.  It was then that I knew these three minutes would take deep roots and sustain me for a lifetime.  That even years later, my mind and heart would hear the spontaneous chorus of parents and their kids "la, la, la-la-la-la"-ing together in uniform time.  That someday, even when my fingers are too arthritic to play this tune on my own piano, I will remember how I once sat on a summery, star-kissed indigo night in the middle of my parents enjoying this song by one of their favorite groups that had grown into my favorite too.

(And this has nothing to do with that fact that now we have two cats in the yard...)

Write on,

b

2012 Slice-of-Life Story Challenge | 28

It's been three years.

When I wrote about the parallels between my son's "Thomas and Friends" obsession and my little "Grey's Anatom" crush fetish a few weeks back, I didn't mention this small detail.  I haven't watched even one episode in as many seasons.  Before Reid was born, I made the command decision to stop.  I felt like I cared too much...like I was personally invested in each of the main characters' lives...like I was completely unavailable for one whole hour each Thursday night because any interruption was uber annoying.  In short, I wasn't my best self by allowing conviction and compulsion to cohabitate. 

So I stopped.  Cold turkey.  No Derek and Meredith drama.  No modern, introspective songs.  No more of Izzie's cancer scare.  And no weekly catch-up chats with my mom who still watched... 

It's been three years.

But today, I allowed myself a couch afternoon while the little slept peacefully in the next room.  Today, when I flipped away from HGTV accidentally, an episode of Grey's was just beginning.  I watched it (and that's probably a misstatement).  I drank it in.  I felt the residents' sorrow over George's recent passing.  I nearly cried with Meredith at the episode's end when she finally allowed herself a moment of grief.  I cheered for Izzie as she gave the business to the girl whose life George died trying to save.  I melted when Karev admitted that he's nothing without Izzie and that her cancer had evicted his heart from their relationship --- he was just too scared. 

So, just like that old friend you hold onto fondly and see every once in awhile but when you do everything is the same as always...that's Grey's Anatomy to me. 

Write on,

b

 

2012 Slice-of-Life Story Challenge | 27

Hot Dish?!?

As a child, my round tummy and chubby cheeks served as a barometer for what my mom had most recently cooked.   Big tummy; the new chocolate chip cookies in the freezer.  Chubby cheeks; the ooey-gooey-cream-soup-based tater tot casserole we enjoyed two nights ago and then polished off as leftovers for two consecutive lunches.  Yep; I was that kid.  And even now, if I'm honest at parties and in social circles, I still love the same foods (and they still have the same effect!).  My comfort foods.  Foods that remind me of happy times growing up.  Foods that feed my soul first and my stomach second.  Foods that just plain sound good whatever the weather.

My husband and I have food in common; not the same foods mind you (that would be too easy)...but the love of food.  As Food Network junkies, we commingle our desires for the unhealthiest of unhealthy (cheesy, fried delights) and cooking acumen.  Mostly though, I think we watch to live vicariously through others because rarely do we really eat in this covetous, throw-caution-to-the-wind-kind-of-way.

As fate would have it though, a recent show surveying a variety of State Fair offerings from across the country made my heart race, my pulse quicken, and my memories of my mom's cooking leap forward.  It all started with the introduction of HOT DISH at Wisconsin's annual event one year.  (Hot Dish?  Seriously?  Could a meal's title get any more generic?)  To let the rest of the U.S. in on their geographic verbiage, Hot Dish refers to a ground beef casserole that is cream of chicken-soup based and covered with tater tots.

Ah!!!  THEY CALL TATER TOT CASSEROLE HOT DISH???!!!  So, it must be a German-Swiss thing since central European immigrants are scattered all over the Midwest...?

But, to kick things up a notch and State-Fair-ify this properly traditional offering, one quick-thinking concession stand transformed his favorite entree into a forkless, plateless wonder. (Obvious answer: Stick it, batter it, fry it.)

My favorite casserole, unctuous and savory, is now a fair food.  My favorite casserole, topped with tater tots, is portable.  My favorite casserole, with creamy ground beef, is probably available for the bargain price of $7.00 for a portion less than my bulging tummy would seek.

Should this spectacle arrive at my state's fair next season, I think I'd have to protest.  A casserole, such as this, involves an oven, a Pyrex, a table, a family, and a complement of applesauce.  It is not fast food; it is soul-feeding food.  It's my childhood.  It's my comfort.  It's the leftovers I can't wait to finish because sometimes they're even better the next day.  And, to save everyone the suspense, it's even worth the chubby cheeks.

Write on,

b

Carol's Tater Tot Casserole (For Wisconsinites: Hot Dish :))

• 1 pound ground beef, browned with 1 diced onion.  Drain.
• Add 1 can cream of chicken soup to meat, spread into a greased Pyrex    (Your call on pan size---thin or thick casserole?)
• Layer frozen peas on top, salt a smidgeon for taste
• Arrange tater tots over peas, covering entire dish
• Bake for 1 hour at 375 degrees until browned, bubbly, and gooey
• Serve with applesauce. 
• Enjoy :)   

2012 Slice-of-Life Story Challenge | 26

A Wal-Mart sits conveniently a few miles from our house; but, we don't always go there.  We have a love-hate relationship with it. 

It's big.

      It's well-stocked.

It's busy.

      It's cheap.

It's dangerous after dark. 

      It's close. 

Sometimes I'd rather drive an additional 15 minutes to enjoy a Super Target shopping experience; today, however, I just didn't feel like making the commitment.  Besides, I've come to find out my Wal-Mart has a well-kept secret... 

I discovered it by happenstance a few years ago.  On one of those afternoons when I needed something specific and was under a tremendous time crunch.  I had no other choice but to hit up the store I hate any evening of the week and twice on Sunday.  It was Wal-Mart or nothing...and nothing wasn't a suitable option in our situation.  I drove the few minutes, fuming the whole way that we didn't live nearer a store I love.  But, arriving in the parking lot around 1:30, the clouds parted and the shine shone brightly.  This just couldn't be; so few cars.  What a coup from the typical Tuesday-after-work-trip on which my schema is based.  It was a cake walk to find a cart, make my way through the aisles, and score my necessities.  The patrons were kind and the employees weren't yet burned out from the post-work-harried-shopper sort 5:00 brings.  It was incredibly pleasant by this store's standards.

My Wal-Mart is full of retirees and stay-at-home moms while I'm usually at school.  I was reminded of this again today as Reid and I started off our spring break by traipsing through the store to pick up a few beauty items before launching into the gaggle of groceries.  The time was 2:00.  Ladies smiled at us; stay-at-home moms shared the secret-code-gaze all mothers offer up when in GROCERY LAND with a persnickety toddler; shoppers said "Excuse me," when meandering past in tight aisles.  In fact while in line, an elderly gentleman behind us struck up a conversation when he noticed Reid scoping out the, oh, 23 different types of yogurt he added to the conveyor belt while our order marched to check-out.

"Does he like yogurt?"

"Yes," I smiled politely from the other end of our lane, "he does.  Do you?"

Self-evident, b.  My mind wandered as I attempted to figure out how much time 

it actually took him to pick out his flavors and organize them in the cart...

"Yes, I sure do," he smiled, "Does wonders for the digestive system."

Sure that I heard him incorrectly, I smiled politely and offered a friendly chuckle. You know the kind.

You see, our Wal-Mart is close, dangerous at dark, cheap, and well-stocked.  But, the most important thing about our Wal-Mart is that it is not busy while everyone else is at work

Write on,

b

2012 Slice-of-Life Story Challenge | 25

Part 3: And, the pieces connected...

This is the third, and final, installment in my "Bridget Jones"-like singleton tale.  If you missed the preceding two, please check out:
http://www.livewriteteach.blogspot.com/2012/03/2012-slice-of-life-story-challenge-23.html
http://www.livewriteteach.blogspot.com/2012/03/2012-slice-of-life-story-challenge-24.html

I had on my favorite outfit at that time --- a red turtleneck sweater, Gap Long and Leans, a warm chocolate brown coat, and my soft red, brown, and cream scarf.  I was comfy.  In my outfit.  In my own skin.  I knew tonight's coffee date was just another blip on my relational radar.  At least I knew I was guaranteed to completely love my chai latte. 

Parking, I mentally replayed our planning conversations.  "Meet me by the front door.  I'm reading a bright pink book right now, so that's what I'll be carrying with me if you're not sure who to pick out of the coffee shop's evening crowd."  I looked at the clock, fidgeting with my purse, my scarf...well, anything that was still long enough for me to mess around with it.  I wasn't late, but later than I wanted to be.  I wanted to avoid the whole awkward ordering sitch by arriving first and taking care of my own drink.

Through Starbucks steamy windows I could see someone waiting just inside.  Yes.  The guy in the picture.

I pulled out my smile, my hand, and my name.  "You must be Tom," I said matter-of-factly while taking the surface detail survey every single girl completes when meeting a guy for the first time.  Shoes and belt match, check.  Well groomed, check.  Warm smile, check.  Nice eyes, check.  Athletic, check.

We ordered, each committing to a grande, but were foiled.  The small crackerbox of a shop was cramped beyond capacity so we ended up at a bake house down the street for the second part of our date.  Like a duck to water, our conversation smoothly transitioned from pleasantries to deeper topics and back again.  We laughed, inquired, created, reminisced.  Well, until the bake house closed.  "Do you think we should try Starbucks again?" he asked.  My eyes grew big...as big as my heart had grown over the past few hours.  He's not done with me yet.  "Sure," I sweetly supplied.  And, we did.  

This time, a  round table in the back our little java haven served as the perfect space for us to continue connecting the dots.  And, little by little the pieces in my heart's puzzle began to match.

I used to love that Jake designed buildings around our city; Tom does that too.

I used to love that Tom 1 was musical; this Tom is too.

I used to love that Rob had dark, beautiful hair; Tom has it too.

I used to love that Paul was funny; Tom is too.

My epiphany: this Tom is the complete package.  If I would take every little thing I loved about every other guy I dated in years past, this guy has it.  He's not perfect, but neither am I.  What I began to see was that we could be perfect for each other.

"It's late.  It's a school night.  My mom's a teacher and she never likes to stay up late, so maybe we should go.  Can I call you again sometime soon  Maybe we could go out for dinner?"

"Yes, I'd like that," I blushed with weak knees and a warm heart.

And, that's where our whirlwind courtship began.  Right then, right there.  A couple hours past my tall; a couple prayers answered at the corner of 62nd and Guilford.  I never looked back to singledom and neither did he. I never grocery-shopped at Wal-Mart on a Friday night thereafter.  

Epilogue:

Exclusively dating for five months, we became engaged and were married  in a holiday ceremony downtown four months later.

Yes, I was 29 when I said "I do" but 29 is better than 30, right?  I was sure it was...

Two-and-a-half years later we had our first child.

We just celebrated our five-year anniversary, and yes, every fourth week of March we try to fit in a coffee date, at Starbucks, to remember the night we met :).

Write on,

b

2012 Slice-of-Life Story Challenge | 24

Part 2...  I'm still pretty sure I won't like this one.
If you missed out on Part 1, check out my slice from March 23 before reading! :)
http://livewriteteach.blogspot.com/2012/03/2012-slice-of-life-story-challenge-23.html

He was cute.  With warm brown eyes, the olive complexion I covet, and thick chocolaty hair, the guy’s picture in my inbox looked inviting.  Beside him, an adorable niece…which (any girl would admit) is a nice touch.  After all, I’m a teacher.  I like kids.  They stood by a pool…which made me think this is a family who enjoys playing together.  His athletic physique reminded me of my brother’s. 

But, I’m pretty sure I won’t really end up liking him. 

Not reeeeeeally.  Here are some captivating reasons why... 

Before, there was Jake.  He was beautiful, like James Denton on “Desperate Housewives.”  He was smart, creative, successful, and athletic.  He liked to have a good time.  (I should’ve put that in all caps).  And after a few months of trying, he said I wasn’t someone he could fall in love with.

Maybe this one won’t think so either…

There was Rob (also known as 'Airport Guy' because I met him in Denver while waiting for a flight back to the Midwest).  He was dark, handsome, educated (a PhD and MDiv), and a real go-getter.  Oh, and did I mention he worked a prestigious medical center in Minnesota?  M-i-n-n-o-s-o-t-a.  First problem right there.  But, despite several sporadic visits, he didn’t make my knees weak.  Ultimately, I had to be the heartbreaker.  (And, I had to be the recipient of his mother’s hate mail.  Yes; it's true.)

Maybe this one won’t make my knees weak either…

Then, there was the bevy of guys I met and dated after being paired up on eHarmony.  I resorted to e-love after the string of relational train wrecks I’d engineered. 

• Ryan lived in Seattle.  Too far.  Too rigid.  Too many months invested in an esoteric pursuit.  Note to self: implement mileage restrictions; small search radius = higher chance of success. 
• Tom lived here in my city and worked as a high school band director.  Too many extra-curricular activities.  Too little prioritization.  Too many family issues.  Note to self: When people date, they should want to spend time together. 
• Paul lived in Kentucky.  Too silly.  Too irresponsible.  Too far.  Note to self: only date one guy at a time...two is too confusing.  ("Did I already tell you that?" shouldn't be a conversational staple.) 

Maybe this one won’t be right either…  Yes.  I’m pretty sure I won’t like him.

Until we talked on the phone the first time.  He actually called like he said he would.  His friendly voice shared and asked.  We connected.  We planned to meet --- not for dinner though; just for coffee.  (Make mine a tall...drink's gone; date's over..) 

In my mind, a running film strip of dating disasters.  In my heart, a perpetually hopeful being.  Someone.  Somewhere.  Sometime.  I just knew it.  Theoretically faith trumps experience, but humanly that’s a little more difficult.    

Starbucks, 7:00, Tuesday night. 

Write on,
b

2012 Slice-of-Life Story Challenge | 23

In my former life, I was perpetually single.  And, I completely felt like it with an army of married friends just starting to have families.  Here's part one of my tale...


Out of the blue one day, my girlfriend called.  Expectantly and with intention, I could tell.  "Will you meet my dental hygienist's brother?" she pushed after pleasantries.

"Really?"  I kept driving, mystified by the common mathematical equation individuals follow when 'looking out for the unattached's best interests' --- one single guy + one single girl surely = a marriage.  "Do you know him?  Have you seen him?" I prepared to dig.  After all, this routine was becoming all too familiar.  28.  Single.  Nice.  "Why aren't you married by now, Honey?" acquaintances would badger. 

"No, but each time I get my teeth cleaned his sister is so nice.  She talks about her big family and how great they are.  I know family is important to you," she reasoned commonsensically. 

In my mind a film reel of past set-ups shuttered, slide by slide.

There was Pete. 
Sales pitch from real estate coworker: "Pete is a nice guy. Everyone loves him.  You'll love him too." 
My remarks: I didn't.  He was ten years my senior.  I found this out at the restaurant where we met for the first time.  And no, it wasn't the lighting...  We struggled through dinner.  Note to self: a whole meal is too much.  Coffee dates are shorter; less painful. 

There was Glen. 
Sales pitch from family doctor: "Glen's an anesthesiologist.  He's smart, funny, and has a great job.  You should really meet him.  You'll think he's great." 
My remarks: I didn't.  He was vain, conceited, and stuffy.  We went out a few times; it was a few times too many.  I was bored and I certainly didn't need any help with that.  Bored is grocery shopping by myself at Wal-Mart on a Friday night.  Check.

There was Chicago Architect (I totally don't remember his name!). 
Sales pitch from portfolio adviser: "He's the nicest guy.  You'll think he's definitely the marrying type.  He's so sweet.  I've known his family my whole life --- they're the best." 
My remarks: He was nice.  He was sweet.  But, both traits in overabundance are unattractive...and potentially insincere.  We met.  We talked.  We ate.  I left.  The end.

And, then there were all the other guys I'd somehow met....who were good for a string of texts, a periodic phone call (I began learning this was just too difficult for some people), a smile, a noncommittal coffee date, or perhaps the full-blown dinner and a movie date.  A roller-coaster ride more like it --- a fast, fun start; a hill or two; then a quick return trip to the station.  My biggest lesson: not to expect too much.  Guys, in my experience, were just flakes.

"Well, Andrea...I don't know.  This fix-up just doesn't seem like something that will work.  You know my past experiences.  But, send me his picture.  Then, maybe we'll talk."

Write on,
b