There are a few things in life upon which you can count. Death, taxes, and having a rough time of it in junior high.
Krissa and I sat on the Great Lawn yesterday afternoon, ignoring the New York Times that was spread out around us in the grass, talking about, among other things, love (which looks so good on her), and awkward stages (which look good on no one).
There were the junior high years with their nicknames. We shared ours. Mine, started by my brother and Brian Petersen (who used the word ‘reckon’ with astonishing frequency), had enough variations to keep the boys amused on many levels. Heather sounded like heifer… you see where I’m going with this. And thus passed seventh grade. At dances, I was the dancing cow. In French class, after culture day turned them on to the phrase, la vache qui rie, I was the cow who laughed.
In the eighth grade, when Brian slipped a note onto my desk asking me to the Halloween dance, I returned it signed, Moo, and went to the dance with Randy Seely.
My hang-ups about junior high ended with junior high. For Krissa, it was the same. Over salty pretzels and lukewarm bottled water, we admitted our insecurities, our tendencies to be hypercritical, and that the pursuit of physical perfection, while a fair enough hobby, just sorta distracts a girl from what’s really important.
And whereas, in the past, I may have wasted plenty of time being jealous of Krissa’s skin tone, or the multi-lingual compliments she got from strangers about her legs, decked out in tiny gingham shorts, I really had to admire our differences. And two things were agreed upon there, the both of us, propped up on elbows, bare toes flicking against the sun:
What we are attracted to in others may be the same thing that we consider a flaw in ourselves. And criticism is a waste of time. Self-criticism or otherwise.
Not that I’ll ever be able to give it up completely. I just think it’s a nice change, to be able to sit back with a truly fabulous friend, and think that you’re not so bad yourself.
Truly.
okay, i'll totally stop coveting your PERFECT STRAIGHT HAIR AND WELL PLACED FRECKLES then.
Posted by: k at May 17, 2004 10:27 AMBEAUTIFUL! You have a true gift for turning everyday life into poetry ... THANK YOU for your continued insights.
Posted by: Rose at May 17, 2004 11:51 AMAll I can say is: AMEN sister!
Posted by: Mz Ouiser at May 17, 2004 01:20 PMwhat a lovely afternoon spent together! makes me miss central park, and makes me crave some good gal pal conversation!
Posted by: sassylittlepunkin at May 17, 2004 01:40 PMi'm craving that, too. all i get now is snark around here.
Posted by: mingaling at May 17, 2004 02:23 PMVery nice and poignantly evocative to a skinny, gangly kid with glasses who did not date until he was 18. The Fish is all grown up, and our work is almost done. Now if we could just get her to give up late nights, bad bars, and tobacco, we'd have a trifecta.
Posted by: Michael at May 17, 2004 03:27 PMyo, mother michael theresa. a girl's gotta have some sin in her life, you know? it's either this or running guns. you pick.
Posted by: k at May 17, 2004 03:30 PMPhew. At least he didn't mention making out in bar bathrooms. 'Cause, no one's touching that one.
Or the late nights, bad bars, and occassional tobacco, for that matter.
Or tourists.
Actually, I'd like to keep all my sins, thank you very much.
Posted by: Fish at May 17, 2004 03:36 PMOK, let's see if I have it right: running guns or making out in a public restroom with alcohol and smoking materials within easy reach (afterward)? Hmm ... this is a tough one. Well, I have to admit, smoking, drinking, and sex were once activities of mine, but they sort of fell by the wayside one by one; sin became expensive and time-consuming as family obligations and work took over. (Of course if H. REALLY has perfectly straight hair and freckles, I'm willing to get back in the sin game. Especially for freckles.)
Posted by: Michael at May 17, 2004 03:56 PMall i hear is "blah blah blah blah sin".
Posted by: k at May 17, 2004 04:04 PMAnd all I'm saying is, if H. is hotter than hot (which everyone seems to think she is), I'm willing to believe that sobriety and chastity need not be a permanent lifestyle choice for the formerly dorky. :>)
But no fear, I will not go a' stalking.
Posted by: Michael at May 17, 2004 04:23 PMOh dear.
Hotter than hot?!
I'm average at best, my friend. Average height, average build, brown hair... you get the picture. Stalking would be such a disappointment. Except if you caught one of my shadow puppet shows. Those rule.
Maybe you should post a Fishfoto and end all debate. As for the shadow puppets, oh, woooooooowwwwww ... baby!
Posted by: Michael at May 17, 2004 04:31 PMThere are two separate entries from this year that have photos of me. Go diggin'.
Posted by: Fish at May 17, 2004 04:38 PMH. -- So I dug. And I dig. I must reply quickly as the PC screen is BURNING hot. Your office picture may melt my electrodes. So I'm hardly disappointed. Some final questions: do you believe in long engagements? Will your mother like me?
But still no stalking. Bad back, you know, and the shrapnel from the war ... hard to move quickly...I use the wheelchair in emergencies only, however.
And try to get home early one night, OK, love?
Posted by: Michael at May 17, 2004 04:51 PMIn that case... I have a few questions of my own:
will you die very soon and leave me loads of money?
;)
Posted by: Fish at May 17, 2004 04:54 PMOh, God, yes. I'll leave you heaps and heaps of money for just one stolen kiss in some grungy Upper West Side drinking spa. I'll be gone very soon, but I will have my memories, after all. Should I send you my living will, the one where you get to tell the docs when to pull the plug from the ventilator? Would it be a conflict of interest?
Posted by: Michael at May 17, 2004 04:59 PMWhoa.
Posted by: Gopi at May 17, 2004 05:49 PMmm hmm.
funny, but... creepy.
you're more than welcome to try your hand at stalking, michael. so long as you know i'm more than welcome to try my hand at, oh, swinging my trademarked Pink Baseball Bat of Style and Doom.
Posted by: k at May 17, 2004 06:31 PMbeautiful.
Posted by: julia at May 17, 2004 06:33 PM(especially the Pink Baseball Bat of Style and Doom™)
Posted by: julia at May 17, 2004 06:35 PMseriously, julia, if that bat could actually jump out of computer screens, there'd be a lot of black eyes across the blog world.
Posted by: k at May 17, 2004 06:44 PMI quite liked this entry, as I quite like all of your entries.
I think this Michael character needs a blog.
Posted by: whitney at May 18, 2004 12:40 AMAs long as it's not along the lines of;
'I thought about H a lot today. The ventilator is standing by and everything. No news.'
Posted by: Stuart at May 18, 2004 09:16 AMyou with the wit, me with the bat. we're unstoppable, stuart.
Posted by: k at May 18, 2004 10:10 AMWell, I'm not the one who wanted to know if I would kick off soon enough for the Widow H to collect my estate. Really, people!