Parry, Riposte

i’ve probably posted this before but i like it and it’s my blog. so there! (matty gilroy, 2009)

So…

I had my last beginning fencing class this week. I was the only one that showed up so I got to bout with both the teacher and some random British dude that was there.

I don’t know why I’m surprised, but I did very well. It’s a very logical sport… yes, it’s physical, but it’s also very logical. I’ve seen it referred to as “physical chess” and I guess that’s kind of right. There’s a beauty to it and there’s also a nice bit of violence to it. Not like punching violence (hockey), but the fact that fencing has its roots in combat. It’s very stabby. I like stabby.

I’ve got a month to kill (HA!) before I start the intermediate class and I’m going nuts. I’ve got to teach J how to fence so he can practice with me!

Anyhoo, last weekend was LEGEND - wait for it - DARY!

I always have a good time when I head up to Albany. Black Mountain Symphony is made up of some of the most talented musicians I know, and some of the sweetest people I’ve ever met. I am never disappointed when I get to spend time with them. The music’s rocking and the atmosphere - I don’t even know where to start. I can’t even… there are just no words.

Best non-musical moment of the night: hanging out back with the band, Orion spitting lemon seeds at Bill. Bill gets pissed and says, “I will end you, Lollipop Guild!” Rollz says “It’s true because he’s small!” (I love Rollz. The more I get to know him, the more I like him.)

I woke up early Saturday and headed to Connecticut. I ended up taking a detour and wound up at WEBS in Northampton, MA. Eh. I don’t get the hype. Patternworks in Center Harbor, NH is much better. Didn’t stop me from spending too much, though. I almost laugh until I cried when I overheard two women talking. The first one asked if her friend was buying any yarn. The second one replied with “I have more than enough yarn to last me my entire life, OF COURSE I’m buying more!” Ah, women and SEX. There’s just something about going on Stash Enrichment eXpeditions that’s so much fun. Plus, I found a Latvian Mitten pattern book written in Latvian and English. How cool is that?!?! I had to get that. And there was a lot of sock yarn on sale… yeah. I can run my own yarn store off my stash. It’s part and parcel of being a knitter, I guess.

Once I got done at WEBS, I headed to Wickham Park. It used to be one of my most favorite spots in Manchester when I was growing up. It still has a lot of it’s original charm. I have a picture of my parents in the Oriental Garden area and just walking through there made me cry. I wasn’t expecting that. I spent a lot of time, and a lot of money (sense a theme?!) feeding the ducks and squirrels at the duck pond. It was healing and heartbreaking - just the way it should be.

I’m finding that most of my trips to CT now have the power to make me feel so good and so shitty at the same time. I guess it’s just part of coming to terms with everything that’s gone on, has been going on, will go on in my life. There’s a reason I don’t live in Connecticut. Why I will never live there. I thought I was over the worst of it, but Connecticut, and its ghosts, aren’t done with me yet.

Further proof of that was my surprise guest to the All Crazy show Saturday night.

My ex, the high school honey, texted me to see if I was still going to the show. I had a major foot-in-mouth moment when I asked him, good naturedly, how the wife was. Yeah. They broke up. WHOOPS! Other than that, he has moved out of his mom’s place, gotten a great job, and is doing well. Like me, he needed a little musical therapy. Like me, he had a blast. (I LOVE WHEN I’M RIGHT!)

Soup and Skinny hung out with us for a bit. I taught Josh about “SPARKLEHORSE \nn/” and it seemed that the evening’s refrain was “See? They’re not douchebags.” There were very few hookers in attendance which made me kind of sad - he didn’t get the full Up or On the Rocks experience. I got a very nice shout out from the stage (“My friend, Tam, in the pigtails…”) and the music was insane. THEY were insane. I couldn’t stand still and Josh kept up with me all night.  I was amazed by his stamina (insert dirty joke here). Seriously, it was like 100 degrees in there. I don’t know how I kept going and I was riding a pretty good manic high. Better living through chemistry? Ha. Body beats science. Again.

It’s weird being with him. Even after all this time, I still feel a certain connection with him. I shouldn’t be surprised. We were together a while and well… there was a reason we were together. There was a reason we got back together after we broke up. And there was a reason we broke up. Twice. Of course, he’s not that person anymore. I’m not either. But what’s happened has happened and the people we are now still get along very well.

At any rate, it was a successful weekend on so many levels.

I do so much better when I take the time to keep myself happy…

I thought I lost you somewhere, but you were never really ever there at all…

goo goo dolls :: casino ballroom, hampton beach, nh :: april 14, 2010

The beautiful thing about blogging is that, no matter what you write, you can reach people.

The shitty thing about blogging is that, no matter what you write, you can reach people.

Unless you specifically call someone out and say, “X, you blah blah blah turnip an octopus”, everyone will think they’re “X”. Shit, everyone will think they’re “X” anyway, like “X” is a code name for them. Even if they’ve never turniped an octopus. Having the entire world think they were “X” never bothered me before. I used to be brave. Fearless. Stupid. Reckless. Back in those days, blogging was awesome. I felt like I was doing some of my best writing.

Whatever it was - good, bad, ugly, riot inducing - it was real.

Now, I’m tiptoeing around.  I’m afraid to say what’s on my mind because I know someone will take it wrong.

I don’t know when I started to care, but it’s gotten old.

There was a blog entry I wanted to post, badly. I needed the closure that putting it out for the world to see would give me. (Nothing’s real unless it’s on teh intarweb, right?) But, I can’t. Too many people would think it’s about them. Some of them would be right… and I don’t need that level of drama.

I’m not working nearly as much as I had been and I’ve found that the fencing is great mental and physical exercise. I’m spending less time on the computer after work and I don’t find myself missing it nearly as much as I thought I would. All around me, things are changing…

I’m

changing.

I’m happy with who I am and where I am right now. 

I’m - dare I say it? - enjoying my life.

I’ve been bouncing around for the last two weeks after I realized that I can do s00per d00per wicked FUN things this weekend. Tomorrow, I’m off to Albany to hang out with Annie, Bear, Bill, Chris, and Orion (aka Black Mountain Symphony). Saturday, I’m CT bound- I’ll spend the day lounging around and visiting some of my favorite haunts before heading into the Insurance Capital of the World to hang out with Soup and Skinny.

Two days, two of my favorite bands, and a whole lotta highway.

I couldn’t ask for anything more.

Just another night around here…

apache :: da brook :: october 2008

The husband just said this to Apache:
“You are our number one, behind our number one. Which makes you number two, and that’s why we call you The Poo.”

Truer words were never spoken.

 

It’s a girl!

charlie :: da ‘brook :: june 5, 2010

...and so, the hiccuping uterus has STFU.

J and I went to the Cocheco Valley Humane Society today to “look”. I’ve wanted a baby for a while, and as I discovered, death makes me want a new baby. (In order: some rabbits when mom died, Apache after dad died and now Charlie. Charlie is named after her grandfather, of course.) As soon as J said we’d look, I knew we were coming home with a cat.

We almost came home with Dino, a 4 year old tabby who has lived with dogs. The only problem was Dino was a “house soiler”. I guess after his owners had a baby, Dino decided to stop using the litter box. We’ve already had a cat that didn’t like to use the box. Pumpkin was scraped, given antibiotics, anti-depressants, and even Rescue Remedy. Nothing worked. I really didn’t want to go through that with another cat. Cat pee STINKS worse than dog pee. So, we gave up on Dino, even though I was finally warming to the idea that not all older cats are damaged goods. (Should have talked to the shelter volunteer first!)

It came down to three kittens - Spidey, Chase and Tootsie. Chase and Spidey didn’t like me very much, but Tootsie seemed to like both of us, so Tootsie it was. Of course, the name was the first to go. I couldn’t do Tootsie. It would have driven me nuts. After a lot of trial and error (dude, I totally would have named the cat “Bruce”, but J said it wasn’t right for a girl.), we came up with Charlie.

I know, most of my friends will be all “Charlie the Unicorn!”, and while that’s not why I chose the name, I have found myself saying “chaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrrlllllllllliiiiiiiiiiieeeeeeeeee” a lot.

Adding a third furry member of the family was not something as spur of the moment as it probably looks… I knew Arsey would do well with the kitten. Arsey LOVES all other animals. (As long as they’re not near her food.) Apache, on the other hand, takes some time to get warmed up to new people, so I knew it wouldn’t be that easy with a kitten. We’re a little further on the first day than I thought I’d be, but we’re far from being a happy family. All things in time. Introducing him to Arsey wasn’t all that easy either.

Welcome to our world, Charlie. I do think you’ll like it here.

 

Life is too damn short

boat rigging :: grand cayman :: november 14, 2008

We went up to the Nubble Lighthouse and then to The Goldenrod this morning.

How can something simultaneously break your heart into a zillion pieces and at the same time give you so much hope? That’s what the Short Sands Beach region of York, Maine does to me. I think I’ve said it before—it was my father’s favorite place on the earth. We used to stay at the Sands Hotel (as it used to be known) for one week every summer and every morning, without fail, he’d wake me up doing this version of reveille that sounded like it was being performed by a rooster. We’d hike up to the lighthouse, watch the sun rise, and then we’d head to The Goldenrod for breakfast. Until I went to college, it was our yearly ritual.

I suppose it goes without saying that that’s the only place in the world where I truly feel as if my father is right beside me. I feel his presence in other places, in other ways, but it’s that area between Sohier Park and The Goldenrod where I feel him the strongest. I really needed to be with him today. Thankfully, J understood it and we hopped in the car, no questions asked.

I’ve had a rough couple of weeks… J left for Ohio two weeks ago to spend time with his mom before she passed away. He got almost an entire week with her before the cancer finally claimed a long overdue victory. I joined him last Sunday, for what would become one of the longest weeks of my life. I had limited access to the outside world - no cell service and definitely no internet access (thank you, AT&T). I suppose I could have used my sister-in-law’s laptop, but I didn’t want to do personal stuff on her computer. No email (business or personal), and definitely no Twitter or Facebook. I didn’t want to run the risk of forgetting to log out. My iPhone is probably less secure, but at least this way, I know she can’t log into one of my accounts accidentally.

I don’t “do” family. I don’t know how. My own family had disappointed me so many times that I just shut them all out. Except my father, and when he died, well… It was weird to be around all these people and not know a single one of them except on the most basic level. I worry a lot about the concept of “love”:  Is it possible to love people I don’t even know, and to be honest, don’t really have any need or desire to know? (That sound? Every single in-law’s jaw dropping, I’m sure.) I’m too damn independent for my own good. I know this. I’ve surrounded myself with the people I want to call my family. I don’t need, or want, a “family” that’s forced on me just because I married one of them.

That said, I DID enjoy their company. I DID enjoy letting them into my world, albeit on MY terms. I’d apologize for shutting them out, but I’m not going to. It’s who I am and I don’t plan on tearing down my walls any time soon.  As I’ve said before, I refuse to apologize for anything I’ve done in the name of protecting myself. They don’t know, and can’t possibly truly understand, the events that caused me to build those walls as big as they are.

At any rate, I spent a good chunk of today’s trip wondering if the people who lived in those oceanfront houses knew how lucky they are. How much I’ve coveted them - the older ones, not the new McMansions which lack all the charm. I saw the house my father always wanted to buy. The house I want to buy. I know it’s been in the family (or was) for several generations and that the guy my dad talked to had no plans of ever selling it. I know I’ll never be able to afford it. Not unless I change a lot of things about the way I live and spend money…

I think the same thing - do they know how lucky they are to live there - when we go to our land. We recently discovered that we’ve had trespassers on the property, and that got me fired up to build sooner rather than later, but instead of tightening up the budget, reevaluating our investments, putting more towards the debt snowball, etc., I just let it fall by the wayside.

Not anymore. I’m building that damn house. I will be ready to break ground in five years. FIVE. Do you hear me universe? Stay out of my way. I’m on a mission… by then I’ll be 40. I don’t know what my expiration date is. No one does. But you can bet your ass I don’t want to wait any longer than necessary to get that house built. Life is just too damn short. My mother died at 46, my father at 55, J’s mother at 59.  Those numbers are hitting a little too close to home as I’m in my mid-30s. My mid-30s… it seems so odd to write that, but that’s where I am. That’s eleven years until I’m as old as my mother was when she died. If I’m due to kick the bucket that early, I want some time in my lake house. The one I should have inherited from my father had he lived another couple of years.

I’m done thinking “do they know…” and I’m ready to start thinking “I’m so lucky…”

It’s probably a good thing I’m such an Excel Ninja…