Calvin was messing around with the camera last weekend. Here are a few of my favorites (the rest of the set is here).


Calvin has been trying for a few weeks now to get a good shot of this P-51 Mustang that flies out of nearby Stellar Airpark. We always have interesting aircraft flying over, which negates the annoyance at the noise.


Handsome Gadget! Big boy is getting old, he'll be nine on Valentine's Day.


Portia, racing around in the back yard. It is DAMNED hard to get a still picture of this dog.


Smiling Portia, with Marie to hold her still.


Calvin and the kids are convinced that there is a ghost or some paranormal entity haunting the stairs. They've claimed to have heard strange and unexplainable noises from the area ever since they moved in back in '98. Here Calvin is trying to catch them on film, ala Ghost Hunters. I inverted the picture to see if we could catch anything. The only thing I see that I can't figure out is a weird shape below and to the right of the pie-shaped window along the stairs, just above the railing. It looks like an amoeba.

Labels: Calvin, photography

Posted by Laura at 10:23 AM | Permalink | Comments

We're enjoying cocktails (orange juice and vodka, here) this evening while Calvin prepares to cook breakfast for dinner - steak and eggs with homefries and yummy goodness.

Calvin's playing DJ and I'm doing this entry while Marie is getting ready to go over to her maternal aunt's for the evening. Michael may or may not show up this evening - we warned him to call ahead, heh.

Calvin cleaned the kitchen - twice - while I wrapped presents and did laundry and got the grocery shopping list together. Then he and I went to Home Depot to pick up a thingamabobby to fix Marie's shower, then to Pet's Inc. for Kali's Christmas rat, then to the grocery store. He has been hugely helpful today AND he's cooking dinner. I just love him to little bitty bits.

It's a quiet evening, which will be followed by a day of furious cooking and present opening, and probably mimosas. Cuz that's just how we roll.

If I'm not around to say it tomorrow, I wish all of my friends, my readers (who are yet more friends!), my family, and any and all strangers that happen to stumble upon this modest little website a very Merry Christmas.

Labels: booze, Calvin, holiday, home

Posted by Laura at 5:44 PM | Permalink | Comments

Today is the last day that I physically have to be in the office until January 8th. I "work from home" (picture air quotes on purpose) tomorrow, which really means I will be logged into the network and will periodically check for new e-mails or IM's, but really I'm going to be cooking, waiting for the FedEx guy to deliver the lobsters (de liver de lobsters de sooner de better de later de lobsters de madder I getter!), and wrapping presents. All without getting dressed. Because that's just how I roll. Then I'm on vacation for two glorious weeks. Weeks which will be filled with, well, glory. At least, they better be.

Yesterday was a Very Bad Day. I was Stressy McStresserson at work and had to work until 6:00 when all I wanted to do was get busy on the stuff piling up to be done at HOME. Calvin was not having a good day either, so what prompted him to go Christmas shopping for me at the MALL at 5:00 on the Wednesday before Christmas is beyond me. He rode off on his motorcycle while I was on a teleconference (having come home in time to take it in my jammies). I finished up and was in the process of making Walnut Chews in the kitchen when he came exploding back into the house. And I do mean EXPLODING.

While trying to pay for my gift, his card was declined at the counter -- in front of everybody. Now, nobody enjoys this particular experience, but for Calvin it's just about the worst, most embarrassing thing that can possibly happen. The card was declined because the bank detected fraudulent charges against his debit card number, so they shut off the card. Without informing us.

How rude. I mean, I appreciate them putting the brakes on after a whole three dollars and seventy-four cents got charged against our account from someplace in Maryland. But they could have at least called us to let us know. Especially since its, you know, Christmas, and the use of our primary method of, you know, paying for shit, should be, you know, accessible.

So Calvin comes busting into the kitchen, grabs the phone and dials up the bank. He gets the automated "press or say x" fuckbot nonsense that for some reason automated telephone system developers think actually makes things easier. More convenient. Faster. Except that all of that? Not.

He goes through several machinations, loud repeats, and cursing which confuses the automated phone fuckbot. He finally gets a representative. Who tells him to repeat all of the information that he already told the fuckbot. What followed was not pretty. Calvin kind of went off on the customer service chickie. Or maybe it was a guy? I'm not sure. When he was asked to confirm a bunch of charges and continue to repeat himself, he said, "This is bullshit."

The customer service chickie hung up on him. Calvin held the phone away from his ear, looked at it, looked at me. He turned red. He turned white. He started breathing in huge heaves. I could hear the dial tone from where I was standing on the opposite end of the kitchen.

Calvin very, very carefully put the phone down on the receiver. He turned around, walked across to the patio door, and exited the building. I have no idea what he did out there in the back yard to calm down, but five minutes later he came back in. Breathing normally.

Duuuuuuuude. I thought his head was going to pop right off his shoulders.

We have both decided that we hate Christmas, more and more with every year that goes by. This whole year has been a pisser, and we feel like we're just going through the motions of the holidays for the kids, who take turns between being deserving and being not particularly so. Next year we are going to be COMPLETELY OUT OF THE STATE when December 25th rolls around.

Fuck this noise.

Labels: Calvin, holiday, home, journal, wtf

Posted by Laura at 9:00 AM | Permalink | Comments

It has been a wonderful couple of days, weather-wise. Most would not consider two straight days of raining to be all that wonderful, but this country girl stuck in the desert sees the blessing in the blah. We attempted to open up all the doors and windows today, but the rain showers were precipitated (no pun intended) by a gusty insistent wind that, at one point, simultaneously SLAMMED shut the front door, the living room door leading to the patio, and the bedroom door also leading to the patio. Calvin in the bedroom, myself in the living room, did a simultaneous (we discovered) painful start of a jump. I went seeking him out afterward for a heart-slowing hug.

Last night we were invited to a party at the home of a gentleman that I've worked with since I started at Acronymco 12 years ago. I think he'd be an outside-of-work bud to Calvin and me if we hung out. Anyway, the rain didn't figure into the plans of an outdoor house party in Arizona (the benefit to living in the desert is that you can pretty much guarantee at most times to have excellent weather for any planned outdoor activities, even if such activities are planned months in advance), but luck wasn't with him and last night proved to be the first rainstorm we've had in months. Not to be deterred, he put up a 40-foot tent in his back yard, that extended to the overhang of the patio.

Open bar, catered food, a dance floor in the back yard, a hired DJ, and a basement boasting a pool table and pinball machines. I can't even begin to estimate how much all this cost him and his wife - there were at least a hundred people there (including the neighbors - smart of them). MAN, did we have a good time, though. We brought Calvin's sister (middle, not youngest, for those of you keeping track at home). I dragged her out to the dance floor once (I think it was KC and the Sunshine Band), she dragged me out once (that line dance song where you "stomp one time... stomp two times... sliiiide to the left... sliiiide to the right... now cha-cha..."). The rain (well, humidity, really) destroyed all the ladies' hairdos, but at a not-too-far-into-the-night point, nobody cared. I danced with a gent from work that until this point had been very staid and proper in my mind... but he can jitterbug, so how stiff can he be? Calvin became fast friends with a couple that he'd never met before (I do appreciate his ability to jump into a party). Calvin and his sister traded jibes and shots at each other throughout.

We left near midnight and parted ways with Calvin's sister. The drive home is a little vague to me. What happened when we GOT home is not. Heh.

We've been slouching around the house all day today (no, we're not hungover, thanks for your concern), watching TV, reading, surfing, munching, napping. The ASU/UofA game is on right now - ASU has the better team (I think) but UofA is currently ahead. I watched a little of the Army/Navy game earlier, too. Funny to see all the dress uniforms in the stands. Ozzy is snoozing next to me, I have a shot of tequila awaiting consumption at my side, and a cool breeze is coming in through the window next to me.

Life doesn't suck right now.

Labels: Calvin, home, journal

Posted by Laura at 8:55 PM | Permalink | Comments

He slammed his hands over the keyboard just as I got done typing the title, which inadvertantly published just the title, and thus he was thwarted despite his own efforts at hiding his true nature. Good has once again conquored over evil. And you all have another small insight into just what I deal with, on a minute-by-minute basis, in being married to him.

The man can be a supreme pest. Cute, but a pest. With all the post-nap energy.

Back to work tomorrow, which thrills me about -->this<-- much. Back to being on the computer every day - I actually managed to stay off-line for three whole days during my vacation. Back to taking my vitamins, working out, eating right, drinking water, trying to get at least ten minutes or so of sunlight a day, hauling out the lotion since it's bone dry in the state now that the cool weather has finally hit. Back to taking conscious care of myself, instead of just lounging about in my PJ's and convincing myself that this much rest is healthy, really.

It could be worse. I only have, like, three weeks until my next vacation. More than two weeks off with that one. Still, I can find it in myself to whine just a little bit that it's back to the grind tomorrow.

Labels: Calvin, journal, vacation, work

Posted by Laura at 7:45 PM | Permalink | Comments

Calvin is playing DJ, I am downloading songs and e-books from LimeWire, we got back from good food and a few beers, having a few more and some vodka shots in the living room on the couch.

Why can't every night be Friday night?

p.s. - I suck at air guitar.


_{Momentary Thought: I HATE the neighbor's diesel truck. It sounds like an airplane is taking off in our neighborhood.
High: It's Friday.
Low: Calvin just got called on his on-call phone.
Obsession: Debt reduction.
Grin: I just downloaded Rocky Burnette's "Tired of Towing the Line".
Playing: Roxette: "Listen to Your Heart"
Location: Living room.}

Labels: best things, Calvin, home

Posted by Laura at 9:12 PM | Permalink | Comments

Dear Husband and Dear Wife proceed to the bedroom at the end of the evening. In bed, lights out, DW proceeds to snuggle against DH's back. DH squirms, ticklish. DH then proceeds to tickle DW back. Tickling turns to poking, poking turns to playful punches and pinches, which in turn degrades into wrestling and teasing. At first, DW laughs and plays along. As the teasing progresses, DW kindly asks DH to be gentler. The teasing persists. DW again laughs, gives back as good as she's got, and again requests that the teasing desist. DH does not cease. DW begins to get frustrated with having to defend herself. DW's voice becomes firm, then shrill, until she is shrieking at DH to just CUT IT OUT ALREADY.

DH rolls over in a huff, all butt-hurt, and pronounces DW a bitch.

I KNOW I'm not the only one.

Labels: Calvin

Posted by Laura at 8:42 AM | Permalink | Comments

Happy Birthday, Calvin!!!

Labels: Calvin

Posted by Laura at 9:51 AM | Permalink | Comments

New pictures, none of which are of the lizards having sex.

Labels: Calvin, home, pets, photography

Posted by Laura at 10:59 AM | Permalink | Comments

I am in the mood this morning to write about my husband. I frequently have these rather random warm-fuzzy fits but I don't always write about them at the time. I think I used to write a lot more "Oh I love him so" entries about Calvin, back in the days of the full-fledged journal. I guess I started figuring that it's all been said already. How my heart still patters when I look at his picture or hear him come through the front door. How I love to hear him laughing from somewhere in the house. How he calls me a bunch of times each day just because he feels the same need that I do to touch base when we're not physically together. How I just need to have my hands on him - anywhere on him - because his skin just calls to me.

You know, the stuff that bears repeating.

I don't know how many married couples are still in love, years into their marriage. They love one another, yes, but being in love is somewhat different. After five years of marriage and coming up on ten years of togetherness, the fact that I still enjoy his company every bit, if not more, than I did in the first months of our relationship; well, I think that's a pretty fantastic thing to be able to say. Calvin is absolutely and unequivocally my best friend, and there is no one else on the planet with whom I'd rather spend all of my time.

I've said it a bunch of times already, but I continue to marvel at his work ethic. He has a hard, sometimes physically demanding, always mentally challenging job. He has become the go-to guy at every company he's worked for, to solve and achieve and fix and figure out and negotiate and soothe ruffled customers. His sense of responsibility is staggering - so much so that I wish he'd shift some of that onto me, because he is NOT the ultimate provider of happiness and security, but he feels like he is. He carries that sense of responsibility with him to work, and is never one to say, "It's not my job." I LOVE that about him, because I hate that deflection of responsibility by certain people that I have and do work with.

Being married to Calvin is also a great responsibility, because he expects the same 110% effort that he gives. Sometimes I make it, sometimes I don't. I do try my best to take care of all the "wifely" things - I'm not offended by gender-defined "roles" in marriage and in the household. He's the "man" so he does the fixing and the building (and the painting and the wiring and the plumbing and the installation of ceiling fans). I'm the "woman" so I do most of the cooking, cleaning (though lately we've been back on the Friday/Saturday cleaning routine that we do together), bill paying, and life administration. The next time I feel like complaining about our division of labor, I would do well to remind myself of this:



This is a photograph taken back when we were remodeling the house in '00. Calvin refinished all of the kitchen cabinets, all by himself. He also did all of the interior and exterior painting, all of the fixture/light/ceiling fan installations, replaced/installed cabinets/toilets/sinks/faucets/fixtures in three bathrooms, and about fifty other labor-intensive tasks. Since the major remodel, he has also finished the garage, epoxied the patio, installed and wired the hot tub, and done a huge number of repair projects, both minor and major.

He is also the designated Bee Fucker Upper Mother Fucker.

So if I fuss because I don't feel like doing the laundry, I just remind myself that it could be much, much worse.

There are very few things that I don't love about Calvin. Which is not to say that we don't have our moments of strife. Those moments rarely rise above general annoyance or nit-picking. I think I can count on one hand the number of (figurative) knock-down drag-out fights we've had. And I know I can't recall the cause for most of those. The areas in which Calvin and I are the same (morals, sense of right and wrong, humor, values) more than compensates for the areas in which we are different. And even there, usually the differences work to smooth the way for our relationship. He's impatient, I'm patient. He's impulsive, I'm a planner. He's got a temper, I'm not easily provoked at all. He's complicated, I'm pretty simple. He stands on principle, I don't do that often enough. He stands up for me (or gets me to stand up for myself) when I would let someones treatment of me slide.

He's my perfect puzzle piece, and I like to think that I'm his. I couldn't and don't want to imagine my life without him. I'm more me with him than I am without him. He doesn't alter or change my identity, he enhances it.

Plus, he's really, really HOT.



I don't know, do you think I've adequately expressed how I feel about this man? I'll keep trying, regardless.

Labels: Calvin

Posted by Laura at 9:22 AM | Permalink | Comments

Yesterday I slept until 11:00, read in bed until 1:30 (thanks again for the books, Jen!), received clothes shipped from Old Navy, tried on said clothes and discovered that all but one item fit perfectly, took a VERY long bubble bath, went to the grocery store with Calvin, watched Calvin bake not one, but TWO cakes (yellow with chocolate frosting, and devils food with caramel frosting), hung out with Marie and her boyfriend, consumed the steak dinner that Calvin also cooked, and had two pieces of cake.

I also received a card from Dawn, a phone call from my sister, a phone call from Ann Marie, and an e-mail from Heather.

It was a very nice birthday.

(Today I am going to pick up the veggies from the co-op, then sit patiently and await the delivery of Harry Potter from Amazon.)

Labels: best things, Calvin, home, journal

Posted by Laura at 8:17 AM | Permalink | Comments

"Lullaby"
Dixie Chicks

They didn't have you where I come from
Never knew the best was yet to come
Life began when I saw your face
And I hear your laugh like a serenade

How long do you want to be loved
Is forever enough, is forever enough
How long do you want to be loved
Is forever enough
Cause I'm never, never giving you up

I slip in bed when you're asleep
To hold you close and feel your breath on me
Tomorrow there'll be so much to do
So tonight I'll drift in a dream with you

How long do you want to be loved
Is forever enough, is forever enough
How long do you want to be loved
Is forever enough
Cause I'm never, never giving you up

As you wander through this troubled world
In search of all things beautiful
You can close your eyes when you're miles away
And hear my voice like a serenade

How long do you want to be loved
Is forever enough, is forever enough
How long do you want to be loved
Is forever enough
Cause I'm never, never giving you up

Forever is not nearly enough.

Labels: best things, Calvin

Posted by Laura at 3:20 PM | Permalink | Comments

Yesterday I dropped Calvin off at the airport, went to Trader Joe's and stocked up on salads for my lunches and dinners for this week (I do NOT cook for myself if I don't have to - this behavior hearkens back to when I was single and eating plates of asparagus for dinner), got home, folded/hung up/otherwise put away five loads of clean laundry, got the call from the company in Maine for me to fly out and interview with them next week, freaked out a little bit, did some work-work, washed and dried the sheets and put them back on the bed, talked to Calvin when he landed in Texas, did some more work-work, dusted and de-cluttered the bedroom, talked to Calvin as he was driving from the airport to his hotel, cleaned the kitchen for an HOUR (even though that is MICHAEL'S JOB but I was sick of seeing the mess after three days of not getting done and apparently the "talk" that Calvin had with him last week did LOADS of good), talked to Calvin when he got to his hotel room, worked out, fed the dogs, fed the cat, fed the lizards, fed myself, talked to Calvin while he was at a restaurant eating his dinner, read off and on, got the coffee ready for the morning, packed my lunch for the next day, read some more, talked to Calvin before he went to bed, then went to bed myself at about 9:30.

When Calvin is away I tend to keep myself busy. Tonight I plan on giving the dogs a bath, moving Lucy to her own tank because Cheeto keeps picking on her, watching the next disc in season two of Battlestar Galactica, and probably reading some more.

As of yesterday, Marie is officially moved out. I say officially, even though she's been pretty much living with her boyfriend for a couple of months, because she removed all of her clothing, her stereo, and her snake. She and her boyfriend are sharing a house with another friend of theirs (they were staying at his mom's house before), about two minutes away from our house. She doesn't want me to come over and see their place until "everything is put away and set up and CLEAN". Heh. They went shopping for towels and linens and bedding yesterday. Heh again. I remember when that kind of stuff used to be sooooo coooool. Playing house is fun, in the beginning.

I haven't seen much of Michael since he got his motorcycle back up and running on Sunday night. I'm kind of annoyed at him right now, for the whole not-doing-the-kitchen thing, among other things. Calvin's talking-to should have had him stepping up and doing his chores and LOOKING for other things to do around the house, just to please us. I also researched and printed up a LOOOONG list of potential jobs that he could be applying to, since he doesn't make enough at his current job to enable him to move out, and he didn't seem inclined to do the research himself. To my knowledge, he hasn't followed up on any of those. Calvin told Michael that he had to be out by August 31st, and that we needed to see a plan from him on how he's going to be out by then. So far, not a peep of what he's done or what he's doing or what he's going to do. When he is around, he's either asleep or upstairs with his girlfriend. When he isn't around, he's either at work or hanging out elsewhere with his girlfriend.

So, I am frustrated. It got to the point a long time ago where I am just as civil to him as the situation warrants, but I don't go out of my way to talk or be nice or much of anything. My shoulders creep up to my ears and my neck ceases up when I hear him come home, and I pretty much just want to close myself in my bedroom and avoid dealing with him altogether. I feel guilty for feeling this way, until I remind myself that his behavior has eroded away my good regard of him until there is not much left but this feeling I have right now.

Michael is the type of person where you can have a "talk" with him, and even yell at him, and even maybe have an argument, and the next day (sometimes that very same day) he will expect everything to be just dandy. As if to say, "What, you're still mad at me? But that was yesterday." He's been eroding away my good regard for a long time, so it's going to take the same amount of time on good behavior to get my good regard back. I don't think he understands this.

And according to my estimation, "good behavior" hasn't even started yet. The issues I've mentioned here are not an all-inclusive list, to be sure.

I haven't been writing about this because I don't want him to read it and get his feelings hurt. But dammit, MY feelings are hurt - have been GETTING hurt for months now - and this is my journal, and I'm not saying anything OF him that hasn't been said TO him, so here I am.

I feel a little bit better now.

Labels: blogthings, Calvin, headspace, journal, kids, misc

Posted by Laura at 1:57 PM | Permalink | Comments

The thing I couldn't recall about Wednesday of our vacation day is taking a stroll with Calvin along the Eastern Promenade in Portland, after doing laundry but before pub crawling.


Thursday (5/10 for those of you following along at home):

Thursday we spent the entire day driving up (and then down, natch) the coast of Maine, following Route One (murder during tourist season, but we were early by a few weeks). First we hit Waldo's ("Hey, I found him!"), a convenience store/gas station/ice cream shop/hair salon/small engine repair (I kid - but there are actually a lot of combo places of bidness like that in Maine) in Falmouth, to stock up on road-trip munchies and beverages ("All Dressed" Humpty Dumpty potato chips are THE BOMB). "Up the road a piece", we stopped at the Muddy Rudder in Yarmouth for brunch (MORE SEAFOOD, PLEASE), getting there a few minutes before they opened but not having to cool our heels long at all.

Our waiter was very, very swishy.

From there we drove north (and then south - peninsulas are weird that way) to Boothbay Harbor. Now this is definitely a town that's only awake during tourist season - nearly every place we checked was closed until the next week. We wandered into a gift shop (hello walnut sized bladder), where Calvin picked out a really pretty little starfish necklace for me. I love it when he does that. We bought a couple of little souvenirs and wandered around looking at the ketch that can only be found in these little hole in the wall places in Maine.

We discovered that McSeagull's was open, and we stopped for a couple of beers and tuna tartar.




We listened to the conversation of a trio of chimney workers just back from their morning stint over on Squirrel Island (man, you can find ANYTHING on Wikipedia). We conversed with them a little as we all enjoyed our beers out on the patio - that was one thing Calvin was exclaiming over during the trip, how friendly the people are and how often they just want to gab.

That's where I get it from.

Upon leaving McSeagull's we wandered around a little more, but not much was open. I got some ice cream (black raspberry! yes!), Calvin got a couple of cigars, and we got back on the road heading south. We detoured at around the Bath area to ooh and ahh at the destroyers in the shipyard at Bath Iron Works, where my uncle used to work. You can see the HUMONGOUS cranes stationed there from miles away; certainly a major fixture in my childhood memories.

We then went down along another one of the "fingers" protruding along the coast, to check out the town of Phippsburg and Fort Popham. I'd directed Calvin and the kids to Popham Beach back in '99 when the four of us were in Maine, but we never made it to the fort.

Our attention was immediately caught by the pod of seals just off-shore. They and the loons were having a merry old time fishing; there must have been a large school of fish in the area to keep them there as long as they were. We took picture after picture (after picture - 19 made it through Photoshop and onto Flickr, but there were many more), getting our feet and pants wet in the process as we failed to notice the incoming ("INCOMING!") tide.


We then wandered around the fort, taking another bazillion-and-three pictures (36 made the cut). I think the best one is this one, with Calvin peering into the pitch-black cell ("I am NOT going in there...") and me lighting it up with the flash behind him.







We drove back to Portland with the top down, adding to our wicked scalp sunburns. When taking a road trip in Maine, I highly recommend picking up one of these. Not only does it show every single nook and cranny of Maine's craggy coast (plus the rest of the state, of course), it has a ton of information on recreation and activities.

Upon our return to our room, we got cleaned up and then went right back out again for another meal at J's Oysters. Calvin got a double order of crab legs - MAN were we moo-ing that night.

Friday:

We slept in a bit on Friday morning, and I once again ordered us a bit of room service so I wouldn't have to stumble down to the Map Room for their complimentary coffee. We left at around noon to head back to New Gloucester to visit with my uncle, and also my old neighbors the Marshalls (Brad's parents). My uncle and his girlfriend hosted us to a "little lunch" - fresh shrimp cocktail, baked asparagus spears wrapped in filo pastry, softball-sized steaks, and baked potatoes.

Moo. Again. Seems I was stuffed to bursting for the entire vacation.

It was so nice to be home, in the house that I grew up in. Absolutely nothing has changed, other than a little paint and updated decorating ala my uncle's girlfriend. The years just peeled away from me as Calvin and I walked up the Marshall's driveway, the way I used to so often, so long ago. We sat in their kitchen and talked for about an hour. They're such good people, and I got to see Brad's sister Christine for the first time in years, too. And a bunny! And their black lab, who is a clone of Brandy.

And they still have the swing in the barn.

It is such a relief to know that nothing changes about home. I can go home whenever I have the opportunity, and other than a few new houses and a few new stores (and a few closed businesses - the Burger King I used to work at when I was first married to X(m) is closed, and good riddance), everything stays the same. Thank God for that.

We stopped back at my uncle's (it's weird to say it's his place now, rather than Grandma's) for a few more minutes, and I went through some of my old belongings to weed out what I wanted to keep and what I wanted to throw away. Calvin was cracking up at my old school papers (a two-foot tall stack of them dating from kindergarten all the way through high school), and I pointed out to him the multiple A's and 100's. I laughed at my old high school yearbook and some attempts at artwork (I was never artistically inclined), and my uncle and I discussed how best to ship my mother's sterling silver flatware.

Though maybe he should hold onto it, in case we end up moving to Maine in the near future.

We intended that night to meet my sister and her husband in the Old Port for one final pub crawl on our last night there, but she never returned my multiple voicemail messages. Nor has she returned the messages I have left since my return to Arizona. I'm kind of pissed off at my sister right now.

I was feeling kind of crappy come Friday night anyway, coming down with the cold that is still lingering as I type this, two weeks later. Calvin and I went to back to Gritty's and back to 51 Wharf, but I was wilting fast, so we called it a night at around 10:30.

Saturday:

More room service, and I packed us up fairly quickly. We took one last stroll through the Old Port to secure a couple more souvenirs - including T-shirts for Calvin, Michael, and Marie's boyfriend that feature a black dog in what I will call the "pooping pose" emblazoned on the back. It's that Maine humor.

We ate lunch at Mim's (decent, but not thrilling - here is one person's take on it), then checked our car out of valet for the last time. Back on I-295/95, we drove south and detoured over to Kennebunkport to check out the sights. We had some time to kill before we had to make our 5:30 flight out of Manchester, so we drove slowly through the back roads checking out the village and the million-dollar houses.

In Wells we stopped at the House of Pizza for some wicked good three-way (a three-item pizza, for you flatlandahs).

Another hour on the road saw us at the Manchester airport. By this time my cold had really set in and I was miserable. To make matters worse, by the time we finally meandered to our gate (after killing a couple of hours in the airport bar and gift shop), we discovered that our plane was delayed due to bad weather in Philadelphia (our connection).

Thus began the terrible saga of our journey home.

Calvin was in fine fettle, as you can imagine, by the time we finally boarded our flight to Philly, nearly two hours late. We arrived at around 9:00, a half-hour late for our connecting flight to Arizona. Mayhem ensued as we tried to find a US Airways rep to get us booked for the next flight out.

The following morning.

10 hours spent overnight in an airport terminal. Because weather delays are not the airline's fault, and no reimbursement would be given for hotel or airfare.

Did I mention I was sick?

Calvin and I got some truly mediocre pizza at the two-minutes-to-closing S'Barro's. Yeee-uck. Then we found our terminal and moved two blocks of chairs together, because they all had arms so we couldn't stretch out without combining two sets and lying down the middle. It was freezing, blazingly bright with the nearby TV at full volume, and I was miserable. I bundled into all the clothes I had - a hoodie AND a sweatshirt which Calvin described as my "baglady look". A couple of airport employees stopped by to give us scratchy airline pillows and paper-thin "blankets", and we huddled in a miserable pile from 11:00 at night until 5:00 in the morning.

GOD what a suck night that was.

Sunday (12 hours after we should have been home already):

The plane from Philly to Arizona left at 7:30, and Calvin and I had the very back, non-reclining row. Of course. We leaned, layed, and scrunched (fortunately, no one else had the third seat), and slept the best we could.

We waited for EVER for our luggage (which fortunately made it on the same flight we were on), then grabbed the first ride out of the airport that we could. We were finally home by about 11:00 in the morning.

I'll tell you what, I am NEVER flying US Air again, and I am NEVER taking a connection through Philly. The airport was in chaos, with terminals that could only be accessed between one another via shuttle bus. ONE shuttle bus, with fifteen other perfectly functional shuttle buses just sitting idle on the tarmac. US Air employees are indifferent at best, rude at worst, and remarkably disinterested in being helpful or kind or polite AT ALL. Fuckers.

So, it was a homecoming suitable to our mood, since we were huffed that vacation was over and we didn't at all miss Arizona one minute, not one little bit.

Labels: best things, Calvin, food, journal, Maine, photography, vacation

Posted by Laura at 3:41 PM | Permalink | Comments

Wednesday:

Let's see. Just a week since we've been home and things are already starting to get fuzzy in my memory. Wednesday morning I ordered us some fruit, pastry, and coffee from room service and spent the morning reading, photoshopping, and relaxing while Calvin did the same with the paper and the TV. Around noon we took the car to get some gas, then drove to Dimillo's (a short walk from our hotel but we didn't want to put the car in valet again) to have lunch with my uncle, his girlfriend, my cousin and her husband. We were there for over two hours, enjoying fillet (Calvin) and baked stuffed haddock (me), drinks, and conversation.

My uncle presented me with my mother's class ring, which had been lost at one point and then rediscovered and kept for me. I got caught up with my cousin, whom I hadn't seen since my Grandmother passed away. I don't know why, but it continues to startle me how well I get along with my uncle, when I was so fearful of him (out of respect and the threat of his righteous anger to get me to behave) when I was little. My sister doesn't get along with him at all - she has a different history with him than I do. But more on all of that in a different entry.

Anyway, we all parted company at a little after 3:00, and secured an invitation for lunch at my uncle's (my Grandmother's, where I grew up) on Friday.

Calvin was out of clean jeans, so we looked up the nearest laundromat and spent an hour or so futzing around with the more mundane aspects of living out of a suitcase. We may or may not have taken a nap after getting back to the hotel, I don't really recall.

What I DO recall is the BEST evening spent with my favorite person (that'd be Calvin), doing a pub crawl all over the Old Port. We went back to Bull Feeney's for a quick beer, then wandered down toward the wharf so I could show Calvin the spot that I took pictures from Sunday evening, while he was napping.


After rave recommendations from my uncle, we had dinner at J's Oyster Bar (the link is to another blogger who reviewed the place and took the pictures of the outside that I did not). The place is, like, three square feet and when I say it's an Old Port "institution", I mean that in the truest and most respectful sense. We went there more than once in our short stay. They had the best crab legs Calvin and I have ever experienced. Plus I got my much-craved steamed clams (and my yearly recommended allowance of sand). It's dim and crowded and shabby and fantastic. Real food with real people running the place, and the most unpretentious sort of clientele.


God, we loved that place.

Breathing deeply of the crisp night air, we set out with no particular destination in mind, and no plans other than to crawl our way through some pubs. We hit Gritty's and sampled some of their great house brew. I just have to say that I love the bars in the Old Port - all housed in old, old buildings with exposed brickwork and wooden beams, funny crannies and architecture that screams "converted".

Next stop was a bar on Wharf Street called "Cake" (can't find a link to it). It's newly opened and the bar tender (and part owner?) was eager to please. We sat on the whiskey bar side - the dance club side was empty in early evening awaiting clientele. We grabbed a couple of beers and ordered steak tartar and some crackers with cheese and caviar (very fancy schmancy are we on vacation!).


From Cake we crossed Wharf Street and went to 51 Wharf, a contemporary bar that was offering salsa classes that night, of all things. We declined the lessons and had a couple of Jamesons at the bar (after he tried to serve us SOCO. Yeesh.). The bartender was fantastically inattentive but we're low maintenance customers so after we got our drinks straightened around it wasn't much of a problem.


By the time we stumbled out of 51 Wharf it was quite late, and I honestly don't remember us getting back to the hotel room. Which means we had a GOOD night.

Labels: best things, booze, Calvin, food, journal, Maine, photography, vacation

Posted by Laura at 6:08 PM | Permalink | Comments

Monday:

We couldn't have asked for better weather for just about the entire week we were in Maine - a fact that the "natives" were more than happy to inform us on a number of occasions. After having the Patriot's Day Storm just a couple of weeks before our arrival, the nice weather we experienced was considered to be "freak".

Calvin and I went to Eggspectations for breakfast on Monday morning. This was the place that I took Marie and her friend a few times when we were in Maine during my Sabbatical in '03. I believe they were more enamored of the waiters than the food. Suffice to say, the food was acceptable but no more. A strange occurrence when you consider the RHAPSODIES we generally had over our meals during vacation. Ih, what can you expect from a chain restaurant. The ONLY chain establishment we ate at the entire vacation, by the way.

After breakfast we drove through Portland's West End, which is occupied by many stately manors and old Victorian and Colonial architecture. We had to stop at the State Street Church for about a thousand pictures (okay, ten that I posted, but a bunch more that didn't make the cut).


Driving on we took the Casco Bay Bridge over to Cape Elizabeth for the traditional and required visit to the Portland Head Light and Fort Williams (here is an interesting article on the Forts of Maine). We lingered for several hours at the light, exploring the tidal pools among the rocks below. I just sat and breathed for a long, long time. It felt so good to be there, and when it came time to leave I kept stopping and looking around to try to infuse my spirit and mind with the peace I felt there. The whole trip was filled with moments like this, as I tried to take away as much of Maine as I could, not knowing the next time I would be able to be there again.


We spend a couple of hours after leaving the light, exploring around Cape Elizabeth and gawking at the OH MY GOD houses there. Multi-million dollar properties perched along the rocky cliffs, owned by old money and old people who probably have rat bastard children who don't deserve to inherit the properties.

Hmm. Moving on.

Our next stop was The Lobster Shack, situated on the edge of Two Lights Park in Cape Elizabeth. Some adjectives: "cozy", "quaint", "teeny", "delicious"... and very, very typical of a Mom and Pop establishment in Maine. Complete with attack seagulls that whisk away your popcorn shrimp if you so much as glance in another direction, if you happen to be sitting outside on the picnic tables. Which we did not, but were vastly amused by a shrieking woman who did. Damn flatlandah didn't know bettah.


Leaving Cape Elizabeth, we headed back to Portland for a drive around Bayside and Back Bay/Back Cove, then north a bit to Falmouth Foreside for some more gawking at some more houses that we would never in our lifetime be able to afford. I guess any homes right on the ocean are going to be like that, no matter where they are.

We had a lot of fun with our little Audi A4 (and Calvin was devastated to learn how far outside of our financial reach its big brother the R8 is). We both got some pretty wicked sunburns on the top of our heads from buzzing around with the top down. Who remembers to put sunblock on their HEAD, for godsakes? But the weather was glorious, the roads beautiful with the trees just starting to bud their leaves, the ocean everywhere you looked, and the smell of the crisp salt air tinged with green, growing things. The best smell on the planet.

We went back to the hotel in the early evening for a shower, dinner, and then bed at a reasonable hour for us old folks.

Tuesday:

Tuesday was another early starter for us - who wants to sleep when they're on vacation? Except for the times when that is the point exactly. Anyway, we again grabbed breakfast at 20 Milk Street before driving south a little ways to Old Orchard Beach. We were early enough (in the day and in the season, come to find out), that very few shops and restaurants were open. We were okay with that, though, as we were mainly there to walk along the sandy beach. I love the fact that Maine has rocky coastlines to explore and sandy beaches to walk along. I took my shoes off to stroll barefoot in the FUCKING COLD sand dampened by the FUCKING COLD ocean. And there were actually people SWIMMING. Or, well, running in, shrieking, running out, then running back in again. Whatever, weirdos. Our stay was fairly brief (I had to GO, SO BAD, and no restrooms were around and/or open), and Calvin and I were suddenly struck with weariness, so we decided to go back to the hotel for a nap.



A couple of hours later we were awakened by the hotel front desk. Apparently there was a leak (we didn't do it, SWEAR) in the room below us, and in order to get to it they had to go in from above the leak, and would we mind terribly moving to a different room for the rest of our stay? Well, since it meant a free upgrade to a suite (we were in a standard king room), we said "Hell, yeah," and packed in record time. We left for a hour or so for lunch at Sebago Brewing Company, and when we returned they had moved all of our belongings to our new room. We ooh'ed at the flat panel TV and the skylight in the bathroom and the general increased roomyness, then unpacked and made ourselves at home again.

Departing the hotel once again (and the valet guys made a killing off us that week, I swear), we set off to see if I could remember the location of "that really old cemetery off of Stevens Avenue". I must say that Calvin gave me some rather strange looks when I told him where we were going. I believe his exact words were, "You're going to take pictures? Of graves??? That's just creepy, Laura. Why the hell would anybody think to go to a cemetery for FUN??? Oh, wait, this is YOU we're talking about..."

Huff.

I've always liked the Evergreen Cemetery - it's enormous and just seems to keep on going and going. And it's way old, with graves from the late 1600's and early 1700's, all the way up through present day. I find it very interesting to read the inscriptions and look for family associations - mother to child, sisters, brothers, husbands lauded with fancy inscriptions while their wives get just a name and "wife of...". Lots of babies dying in their first year, lots of mothers dying in childbirth, many people in general dying at an age we would consider to be young today. Evergreen also contains a lot of monuments to historic people - Samuel Wilde, Henry Goddard Thomas, and the Wadsworth Longfellow's are some of the more commonly known.


The inscription portion of the photo contest still has yet to be won, by the way.

We left the cemetery after taking fifty million pictures (34 of which made the cut) and drove north to my old stomping grounds of Gray/New Gloucester. We had some time to kill and stopped at Cole Farms to satisfy another one of my, "When I'm in Maine I have to eat HERE," cravings. My mother worked at Cole's up until she passed away, and I spent a lot of time there when I was little. Plus it was a popular employer of the local high school students, and one of the few restaurants close enough to where I lived to warrant a mid-week visit if the craving struck. Calvin got himself a burger, and I ordered fried clams with french fries and a side of their house dressing. Dipping fries in this dressing (when I was little I called it "doodle sauce") is something I used to get cravings for when I lived there. Calvin ordered dessert just because he knew I wanted a slice of their chocolate cream pie (to. die. for.) but was going to deny myself because I was, once again and perpetually during this trip, full.

We moo'ed our way back to the car and drove "out Poland way" to visit my sister and her husband and four kids. Their driveway was inaccessible without a four-wheel-drive vehicle (which we DEFINITELY weren't driving), so we agreed to meet them all at her neighbor's, who kindly opened up the use of his garage (heh, a Maine thing) for us to congregate, drink, and be merry. It's a distinctly Maine trait to fix up one's garage/barn/shop before "finishing" the actual home.

Propane tank behind the garage - left side's ladies room, right side's mens.

Calvin and I took turns taking all of my sister's kids out for rides in the convertible, and I got to have a little bonding time with my niece, who is 14 and taller than I am. My sister is fond of accusing her of being, "just like your AUNT LAURA." As if that could possibly be a bad thing. She is a lot like me, though - same sense of humor, same sarcastic mouth, same inability to NOT make little zinging comments about everything in general. I love the hell out of her.

We hung out for a few hours just gabbing, reintroducing my sister and her husband to tequila, greeting my sister's friends who have known me since I was born (she used to drag me to her parties if she was stuck babysitting me), and gawking at the stars (which are SUPREMELY visible in Maine and nonexistent in Arizona). It being a Tuesday, though, we didn't want to keep everyone up when they all had to work the next day, so we excused ourselves at around 10:30 and made plans with my sister to go partying in the Old Port on Friday night.


Okay! Next part will be up sometime this weekend. And I have a TON more I could have written about this trip so far.

Labels: best things, Calvin, food, journal, Maine, photography, vacation

Posted by Laura at 11:55 AM | Permalink | Comments

I didn't provide too much detail during the week Calvin and I were in Maine, because, well, I wanted to be OUT DOING instead of IN WRITING. So you got your little drabs and your BIG amounts of pictures, which I hope helped to tide you over. That is, if you needed tiding. Perhaps you were completely and entirely disinterested. Who knows what goes on it that brain of yours, anyway?

Moving on.

The problem with going home is that at least two days out of every vacation are fully occupied with travelling. We left Arizona at 7:30 in the morning Arizona time on Saturday, and got to our hotel in Maine at 7:30 in the evening Maine time. That's flights, layovers, and the drive from Manchester NH to Portland ME. Coast to coast travel is a bitch, people.

Saturday, The Remainder:

The hotel (The Portland Regency, and I doubt we'll ever stay anywhere else, the place was AWESOME) was a MUCH WELCOME sight when we finally rolled in, even though we only paused long enough to shower up and change clothes, then we were out prowling the Old Port.


We stopped in the Armory Lounge, the hotel's bar, for some alcohol soaking food (Chicken Gorgonzola for Calvin, lobster salad on a croissant for me), and then went down the street and around the corner to Bull Feeney's, an Irish Pub that was packed and happenin' (and did YOU know that lobsters love Guinness? I didn't.).

I already mentioned the oddity that is Cinco de Mayo in Maine, with the Irish drinking songs and the VERY WHITE GUYS sporting very black fake moustaches and sombreros. There was "Fred", who loved everybody, and told everybody that fact repeatedly. There were these two guys that were wasted and standing, weaving, calling catcalls and encouragements to the live entertainment, and trying with little success to sing along. Calvin and I enjoyed ourselves hugely, drank tequila (which is per our standard, but the folks in the bar thought that was Very Authentic of us), got hugged by Fred about twelve times (who, it turned out, was just back from Iraq), and finally stumbled our way back to our hotel a little after 1:00 a.m.

Sunday:

Tequila = ow.

I already described how I woke up ridiculously early and how Calvin was forced to get out of bed against his will. How he could sleep through the constant calls of the seagulls was beyond me - they woke us up pretty much every morning. If I lived there I'd probably get sick of it, but at week's end it was still novel to me. The hotel is one street up from the harbor, and with all of the fishing boats coming and going, there was a lot of seagull conversating going on.

"Mine? Mine? Mine?"

We ate breakfast at Twenty Milk Street, the restaurant in the hotel. They had a very fancy-schmancy Sunday Brunch going on, but we ordered more standard fare. Calvin had corned beef hash made with actual corned beef (not those weird little Dinty Moore cubes) and poached eggs Benedict, and I had eggs over medium with bacon and toast. Good LORD people, can I just rhapsody a moment over the bacon? I don't know what they do to the pigs in Maine, but whatever it is makes the bacon taste like meaty strips of heaven.


You do know that this entry is going to be primarily about food, don't you? Maine is very VERY big on producing and selling locally grown produce, dairy, meats, and of course seafood. Very little (if any) of the food we ate was from "away". Except for the tequila (and some guy randomly told us in Bull Feeney's that there's a tequila manufacturer in Maine. I'm not sure I believe him. A cactus would never survive the Maine winters, even indoors.).

Anyway. We took the car out (valet parking at ten bucks a day plus a fiver tip every time you take it out) and drove "out New Gloucester way", taking the drive I used to commute every day to and from work (and whoever thought I ever would have wanted to do that for fun??). From there we drove the back roads to Freeport, stopped briefly at LL Bean for the required souvenier gifts for the gang back home, then wandered back toward the Old Port. Lunchtime rolled around and, utilizing the directions we got from the bartender at The Armory the night before, we went to the Amato's on India Street for my Mecca Moment. I tell you what, we had to wait for over a half an hour for those darned sandwiches - the folks behind the counter couldn't get their acts together and misplaced our VERY SIMPLE ORDER (one large regular, one small roast beef, guess which one was mine), like, three times. But we finally made it back to the hotel room with the Italians and the Humpty Dumpty salt-n-vinegar chips (an institution, and what an awesome website MaineGoodies.com is!!!), and the Sam Adams.

I think I ate that entire foot-long sandwich in three bites. Oh, the pickles! Ohhh, the bread. Ohhhhhh, the fact that I'm three thousand miles and God knows how many months away from having another one...

Ahem.

After lunch we went looking for a sports bar with a TV that would sport the Suns game ("The who? What game are you looking for?" ("Basket. Ball.") "Uhhh... the Red Sox are playing...") We walked into one place and turned around and went back out almost immediately, having assessed their TV-less-ness. A (rather drunk) guy standing just outside the door looked at us funny and said, "What'd you do that for?" Calvin bristled, still operating on Arizona Standard Defense mode, and said, "What do you mean?" So the guy slurred, "Why would you wanna walk into a bar, then walk right out again? Oh, you have a camera. You're trying to (hic) capture something..." I just laughed and pulled Calvin away, reminding him that in Maine, any questionable circumstance would most likely turn out to be well meaning but weird, instead of violent and confrontational.

We finally settled in the Old Port Tavern. There was absolutely nobody there (it being Sunday afternoon), and the more beer I drank, the sleepier I got.


Calvin got a little annoyed that I would want to take a nap (don't worry, the irony kicks in later). After about an hour of fighting it, I finally gave in and we went back to the hotel. I crashed in the room for ONE HOUR AND TWENTY MINUTES, that's it. He hung out in The Armory to watch the game (and have two more beers, and a PORT, of all things). He came back up to the room at about 5:20, at which point I woke up and got up to get myself ready for another evening of prowling around the Old Port. As I was in the process of dressing and grooming my hot self, he FELL ASLEEP. Fully clothed. Watching the game.

So. I figured, okay. I'll let him rest. I needed a nap too, after all. I grabbed the camera and went down toward the wharf to take a bunch of pictures.


I was gone for probably an hour or so, taking my time and enjoying the evening and the weather and the light. I wandered back up to the room at about 6:30. Tried to wake Calvin up. Got a grunt and a snore. So I sat at the computer and photoshopped the pictures. Tried to wake Calvin up once every half an hour or so. Finally gave up at 8:30 and let Calvin sleep. For the rest of the night.

Ahem.

I went down to The Armory with my book (The Dreamhunter by Sherrilyn Kenyon, and I have to say I didn't particularly like the book), grabbed a burger and gabbed with the bar guys while they ROARED over The Family Guy. I don't get that show At. All. There was a random 10-minute sequence where the dad on the show battled it out 007-style with a man-sized chicken. For no apparent reason. And then just stopped. Again, for no apparent reason. Something was lost in translation for me, that's for sure.

When I was done eating I went to the Map Room (which I never actually took a picture of, but it's a lovely sitting room with leather and mahogany furniture and model ships and maps everywhere) and read for about an hour. Then I went back up to the room, didn't take too much particular care to not disturb Calvin (not that it would have made a difference because I would have needed a marching band AND an earthquake), and went to sleep.

Aaaaand obviously I can't "summarize" to save my life, so I'm going to post this stuff in chunks. More tomorrow! I'm sure your riveted.

Labels: best things, booze, Calvin, food, journal, Maine, photography, vacation

Posted by Laura at 3:16 PM | Permalink | Comments

A couple of nights ago Calvin and I went to the mall to pick up a few new shirts and a pair of jeans for him, in prep for our trip to Maine. Then we went to BJ's Brewery ("Where you can give me a BJ! Seriously! It's okay because the restaurant is named after it! People must do it all the time!") so we could have beers and I could have a salad because I was STARVING, it being 5:00 and I hadn't eaten yet that day.

ANYway. "Chasing Cars" by Snow Patrol was playing in the restaurant.

Calvin: "Huh! This is the second time I've heard this song today."

Me: "I love this song."

Calvin: "It makes me think of you. And, it makes me a little sad."

Me: "Why?"

Calvin: "Well, because you love all things Grey's Anatomy..."

Me, interrupting, because Calvin thinks Grey's is stoopid: "WAIT! You knew this was from Grey's Anatomy?!?"

Calvin, "Well, yeah. And it makes me a little sad because it was playing during that scene where Izzy was laying with Denny after he died..."

Me: "You are SO turning me on right now."

Labels: Calvin, crack, TV

Posted by Laura at 12:20 PM | Permalink | Comments

The doctor called Calvin back yesterday afternoon. They said they didn't know what the lump was but that we "shouldn't be concerned", and to come back for a follow-up visit in three months.

Hello????

They don't know what it IS, they don't know what it ISN'T, and yet they know that it's nothing to be concerned about and we can just go on our merry way for another three months??? They don't want to do any more tests or scans or ultrasounds or the thousand other things they could be doing to figure out what this thing is???

Fucking doctors. After we get back from vacation, I believe I shall insist that Calvin get a second opinion.

Labels: Calvin, health

Posted by Laura at 3:31 PM | Permalink | Comments

Heh. I just asked Calvin, "Is it okay if I write about what's been going on with you? With your neck meat and stuff?" He said, "Yeah," and I said, "That's going to be the title. 'Neck Meat.'"

I haven't been writing about this since it all started because a) we didn't know what we were dealing with; b) Calvin didn't want to freak out our family and friends; and c) we didn't know how freaked out we should be.

About six weeks ago Calvin was bothered by a lump along the right side of his neck (which he refers to as his "neck meat", hence the title). He figured it was a swollen gland, went to our General Practitioner, and was handed a prescription for antibiotics. Two weeks later, the lump was still there, had grown bigger, and was beginning to hurt. The GP referred Calvin to a specialist, who stuck a scope up Calvin's nose and down into his throat (yarg), didn't really see anything, and ordered a CT scan of the area. The specialist thought there was something going on with Calvin's carotid artery (which Calvin calls his "cartoid", also hence the title) but couldn't determine what without more tests.

Of course, we exercised our Google MD's, and started researching what could possibly be wrong. We found information on carotidynia, and of course cancer and other scary things. I don't know how doctors do it - the same symptoms can be caused by so many different things.

So. Calvin went and got a CT scan. On Thursday of last week he got a call back from the doctor who said that there is "definitely something there" and that they wanted to get some labs done and do a neck biopsy "right away". The doctor was rather urgent about it all and said it couldn't wait until we got back from vacation (then a little more than a week away). Calvin called me at work from his truck, on his way home. He was upset and worried and was going home a bit early. So of course I was upset and worried (and after I hung up with him I went and freaked out a little bit in the bathroom), so I went home early too.

Commence with the freaking out.

To have the medical unknown happen to you is a fucked experience. Calvin and I were both approaching panic, and we started having those conversations. The heavy ones with the life insurance and the will and the "what if" and the "holy fuck". Conversations that make you assess how you've been living your life and the stuff that you've taken for granted, and the changes you're going to make and the light that has been shed upon your blessings.

Any unknown mass automatically makes you think "cancer". Plus it is in Calvin's neck and they wanted to do a "fine needle biopsy". In his neck. With a needle. GACK, much?

We took Friday off for labs, and the biopsy was scheduled for today. We prepared ourselves for a stressful weekend. Waiting is hell, the unknown is worse, plus NECK. And NEEDLE.

Friday morning we went and got his labs done. Then in the late afternoon we got a call from the review radiologist nurse, representing the radiologist who had examined Calvin's CT scan. She said that the radiologist said a biopsy couldn't be performed on the area, and that the procedure for Monday was cancelled. She said we'd have to take "a different approach".

Since she was just the messenger, Calvin didn't freak out at her. But he very pointedly said that he wanted to talk to the actual radiologist. What does "different approach" mean? Could we stop worrying, or did we need to worry more? What the hell, really, was going on?

More phone calls back and forth. The radiologist tried to get ahold of the specialist working with Calvin, but couldn't. They discovered what we had been dealing with for the past month - the specialist's office turns on their phones late in the morning (like, 8:30 instead of the 8:00 that their message claims) and turns off their phones early in the evening (as in, 4:30 instead of 5:00). This particular day (Friday), the specialist just decided to take a day off, and was "on call". So we, and the radiologist, tried to deal with the specialist's answering service. To no avail. No call back, no new information, and now we are in further limbo than we had been before.

You can be sure that we're telling the GP not to recommend this guy to anyone anymore.

We were assured that we would receive more information, and the results of the labs taken on Friday, today. The radiologist was to confer with the specialist, who was to call us and arrange that "different approach" so that we could finalize any procedures that need to happen this week before we leave for Maine on Saturday.

We haven't heard back from anyone. Calvin has called and left messages. We are owed calls back and assurances and MORE GODDAMNED SOLID INFORMATION. It is complete bullshit that doctors can be this cavalier about communicating with their patients. Patients who are worried, with families who are worried, who just want to know what the fuck is going on. We want to know what we're dealing with. We want to know if this upcoming vacation should be used for celebration, or used to prepare ourselves.

I want to know what is wrong with my husband.

At this point, a lot of the panic has been replaced with exasperation. We're still very worried, but hopeful and optimistic and just damned irritated at most medical professionals in general. I will be sure to keep everyone appraised of what's going on. It's tough not to write about something that is so primarily on my mind.

Labels: Calvin, health, journal

Posted by Laura at 12:56 PM | Permalink | Comments

My day is NOT starting off well. I slept like crap last night because my back is killing me, and when the alarm went off the first thought that entered my mind was, "Oh, this is bullshit." So I got up to get situated on the couch with my laptop, and when I went to look for the ice pack in the freezer to help alleviate my back pain, it was gone. Which doesn't surprise me, since lately it seems like every time I go to look for something to end some sort of misery I'm in, it's been taken. Last week it was my allergy medication, a couple of weeks ago it was cookies, this morning it's the ice pack.

I really, REALLY can't wait until the occupancy of this household is decreased. It is one child in particular that is ALWAYS taking things, and I'm really sick of it. That's all I'm saying.

Every morning my boss meets with the folks from manufacturing and then sends an e-mail to the folks in my group with all of the help needed for the day. Invariably my name is always all over the thing. Because I'm special that way. Well, he did say during my review that he wants me to become the "go-to" person. Guess he got his wish... not exactly mine, though. There's nothing like a half-dozen or more "gotta have it NOW" things shot at you first thing in the morning to get your day started off right!

Then Calvin just called me, and the guy that was responsible for hiring him into his company just resigned. It doesn't mean that much will change for Calvin's job, but this was one of the "good guys" and things will just be a little more of the suck now that he's leaving. Which got us talking along the lines of what we want to do and how we want to make our lives happier, which THEN got us down the conversational thread of how much we don't like what we're doing with our lives right now.

AND the cat is about to get murdered because he's just PISSING ME OFF. If I don't feed him as soon as my feet hit the floor when I get up in the morning, he starts looking for things to that will get him in trouble. His hope is that since I'm up to chase him away from whatever badness he's doing (because yelling at him SO doesn't work), I'll just go ahead and feed him since I'm up already. And the fucker is right. I've had to yell at him (again, ineffectually) for jumping up at the water dragon, trying to paw a soda can down off of the half-wall, messing with the wiring behind the TV, scuffling around under the couch, and jumping up on the kitchen counter. The little asshole.

I've got an MRI scheduled for 11:30, then a girly-doctor appointment for 3:30. Since going to the doctors has now become my least favorite thing to do, this double-appointment day is not helping things.

Feh. It's just going to be a bad day. At 9:30, I can just tell.

Labels: Calvin, headspace, health, journal, kids, pets, work

Posted by Laura at 8:42 AM | Permalink | Comments

Crystal interviewed ME because she loves ME and only ME and no one ELSE but ME except maybe her dog Moose.

1. I’ve read your goddess journal with regard to your illness (btw, update it more, I am so sure!) and want to know: how are you feeling? How are things with your health?

I am feeling much, much better. The proton pump flux capacitor photon torpedo inhibitors (aka: Protonix) seem to be doing the trick with the ol' pancreatitis. I haven't had any caffeine or alcohol since April 1st. Or jalapenos, or raw onions, or really anything else that encourages the pancreatitis to flare up. I shall continue to behave myself until the end of July, at which time a) the doctor says I should be fine to re-introduce the "no-no" items in moderate quantities; and b) Calvin and I are going to the Oregon Brewer's Festival and all non-drinking bets will be off.

On Monday I'm getting the much-delayed MRI, just to make sure it's just ("just"! Hah!) pancreatitis, and not something else like stones in the bile ducts and whatnot.

2. How did you meet your loving man?

Calvin and I met at work, and the sheer odds that we met at all are staggering. I had just moved 3000 miles to Arizona. I got a temp job working at AcronymCo, for a construction company building one of their office buildings. Calvin worked in Facilities for AcronymCo itself, and was one of the folks assigned to the new building project. My boss very randomly assigned me to go out to the newly constructed Mechanical Support Building and monitor the building controls alarms coming in as the systems were set up. Calvin was the go-to guy on AcronymCo's behalf for these systems. So I sat in the MSB office and called back alarms via the walkie talkie, and he came in and sat down at another workstation. We chatted and flirted, he typed "696969" on the calculator I was using and slid it over in front of me (SUCH a Calvin move you have no idea), I laughed at his dorky audacity, and it was all over but the cryin' at that point.

For those of you following along at home, yes I met him very soon after moving to Arizona, and yes that means that I was still married at the time to X(m), and Calvin was still married to X(f). But this is indeed how we met.

3. Which is better, America’s Next Top Model or Project Runway, and why? Answer wisely.

Oh geez. There's going to be trouble in our innernet lesbian marriage now. Crystal is NOT going to be happy to find out that I don't watch either one of these. Reality shows just pretty much drive me crazy. I can't see the point to them at all.

4. Is Oprah Winfrey Jesus or the Devil, and why?

Well, Crystal, since you said your own self that you and Jesus are one and the everlovin same, that must make Oprah the Devil by default. Do you see? I PAY ATTENTION.

5. Name the last three books you read that really impressed you---NON-FICTION.

A Year in the Maine Woods by Bernd Heinrich. I really enjoyed this book for multiple reasons. First, of course, is because it's about Maine. As I grew up in the Maine woods, the subject matter resonated with me. The second appeal the book had for me is that I have always wanted to take a hiatus from life and just escape to a simple place and live a simple life. Heinrich immerses himself in the natural world, the simple culture, and the rhythms of the forest for an entire year. Reading about it made me jealous of his opportunity, to be honest.

America - The Book by John Stewart. This counts as non-fiction, right? Even though Stewart pretty much bastardizes historic fact? This thing had me laughing my ass off throughout. I mean, just the fact that the layout, dimensions, and even the paper it's printed on is EXACTLY like a high-school history book, was hysterical. Then there's all these little asides (i.e.: "see fig. 1") about the personal (and questionable) life and motivations of historic people... well, not everyone will "get" this book, but it appeals to my sense of humor. And John Stewart is damnsexy.

River Town: Two Years on the Yangtze by Peter Hessler. I bought this book because I was doing a paper on the Yangtze River for my college class on Pacific Rim culture. I really didn't expect to like this book as much as I did. It's about two young men in the Peace Corps that went to Fuling, China (along the Yangtze River) who stayed for two years as teachers at the local college. They were very American and foreign (the first foreigners to be in that area of China for 50 years), and hijinx ensued as they tried to fit into the local culture.

And you all thought I only read trashy romance novels. Shame on you.

Okay! If anybody would like me to interview them, leave me a comment or shoot me an e-mail!

Labels: blogthings, Calvin, journal, misc, Op:Goddess

Posted by Laura at 11:24 AM | Permalink | Comments

Calvin and I were pretty down (dooby doo) over the weekend. Nothing specific was bad, it's just that nothing specific was good either. Other than the old standby of being in (relatively) good health (Calvin's got some throat thing going on), having a nice home and food to eat and clothes to wear, and having each other. All very good things to be happy about.

But, not enough to keep us out of the doldrums. Perfectly normal, to have a nice life and yet feel down sometimes. And apparently I should NOT put the pressure on myself of expecting myself to be in a good mood all the time, just because I've gotten my depression and anxiety under control.

It seemed that all we wanted to do was sleep. We both took a long nap late Friday afternoon, slept in on Saturday, took a nap Saturday afternoon, slept in Sunday, AND took a nap Sunday afternoon.

Today? I am awake.

It concerns me when our down moods coincide like that. Neither of us can lift the other out of the blues, and so we sink and wallow and sleeeeeep. We need a positive life change in a BIG way. The more we think about it, the more we want to move away from AZ, and change careers, and do something that involves the both of us together. I think we're one of those lucky couples that would not kill each other if we had to work together.

Maine in May. And probably Oregon around September-ish. Anyone live there? Anyone been there? Anyone want to recommend some sights? We're taking a long weekend to check out the area and see if it's where we want to relocate.

In the meantime, we keep on with the keeping on. No more weekends like last weekend, though. I hope.

Labels: Calvin, headspace, journal

Posted by Laura at 2:37 PM | Permalink | Comments

Occasionally Calvin has a romantical fit and suggests activites (not those activities... well, yes, those activities, but other activities as well...) for us to do together which aid in the whole relationship-foundation-cementy thing (and the get-away-from-home-and-have-hotel-sex thing). Such as his suggestion to go to Sedona on Friday afternoon. Long time readers will recall that this was the location of our wedding, so Sedona holds a place near to and dear to and slightly to the left of our hearts.

Anyway, we made the decision to leave at 1:00, and by 2:30 had made hotel reservations, packed, loaded up the truck, and was pulling out of the driveway. Calvin wanted to ride the motorcycle up, so I followed behind him in the truck. My iPod got a lot of use on the way up and on the way back, since I had no one to converse with and nothing to do but drive and stare at Calvin's backside for two and a half hours (not a bad passtime, that). I have an iPod transmitter that would allow me to listen to my iPod through the stereo speakers... if it worked well. But it doesn't. It's all crackly and the sound is distorted. It's a curiously isolated feeling to drive with noise-cancelling headphones on. For the first twenty minutes I was paranoid that I wouldn't hear a cop or a fire truck screaming up behind me, and I checked my rear-view mirror obsessively. I got over that in short order, though, and broke t