Monday, April 30, 2007
Cowboys
America misunderstands herself. She is founded on many things but some of the important and difficult ones--like scalps and slavery--are often left off the list of building blocks of liberty and opportunity.
Liberty and Justice. That's all. Here you are free and the scales will be balanced. There is no conscience to this system of law and there never has been.
When Hulk was little he dug eating in Chinese restaurants with Cap'n, Pete and Momma who, sadly, has since passed on. The thing about Chinese restaurants (the good ones with tablecloths, no take-out joints, here) that was so cool was the Pu-Pu platter. Apart from being a great deal of fun to say, what could be better for a little kid in a pair of cowboy boots than a li'l ol' fire of his own to play with and a rack of various meat things to munch on? (Hulk is now a Vegetarian who eats fish...because he needs protein and the fish, they are dim-witted - Ed.) Plus being given permission to play with the fire and roast said snacks right there at the table. Life is good when you're a kid with a Pu-Pu platter. And as Hulk's mother used to remind him, the other thing he used to say he dug about eating this way was that it was how he imagined the cowboys ate. At the time Li'l Hulk didn't know anything about oppression, indentured servitude or how the railroads were built across the American west. Maybe Pu-Pu platters around the campfire while the dogies snooze to the tune of a heartbroken harmonica wasn't so far off the mark. Starvation wages and armed crew bosses change the picture a little bit, though. But, lucky for Hulk, there is no tragic reality and no bitter moment of injustice unmasked that is quite large enough to outwit the imagination of a precocious eight-year-old with a license to play with fire.
Cowboys have always been important to Hulk. Maybe this is a function of having a mother from the Southwest. Maybe it is a function of being born with a bit of a chip on his shoulder. Hard to say.
For a long time Hulk forgot about cowboys but then he got the opportunity to take a class at TheBigScarySchoolhouse all about cowboy movies!! They call this "College".
But America, she misunderstands herself. I suppose that's however much forgivable owing simply to scale. This country imagines itself to be unbounded, which (apart from being an odd conclusion to reach considering an Ocean on each side. And what could possibly be more grand and limiting to humans than a bloody ocean?) has a lot to do with the difficulty its inhabitants have sharing and respecting space around the globe, generally. But it makes it hard for the land to know herself, as well. Alaska and suburban New Jersey are not on speaking terms. Kind of like having an elbow and a pancreas that refuse to get along.
Romantics cling to westerns. American Romantics became intimidated at the prospect of writing about the sea after Melville gave us Moby Dick. On finishing the manuscript he pushed back his chair, raised his eyebrows, threw his arms open wide and, like a gangster said to the world at large "now whassup?" "Y'all g'head and write somethin' about the ocean now....punks" And so we haven't. Instead we have the mountains and the mountain men, the desert and the desperado.
The land has forgotten to locate its own limits and mistakes grandeur for absolutism. Cowboy movies forget to recognize the limits of the masculine (mountains, phallic symbols, no oceans in sight) and err further in generally only including the feminine to the extent to which it more clearly defines the dudes.
Make some popcorn and watch some Cowboy movies. Top of the list: Unforgiven, Shane, The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance and Brokeback Mountain. Yes, I mean it. Buggery disclosed doesn't change all that much. And Jake Gyllenhall and Heath Ledger aren't so many turns of the knob off of Butch and Sundance. But they seem to know a little bit about their own limitations, as they sit there holding hands under the shadow of that bloody great mountain that is so very much larger than they are.
If Clint Eastwood was a chick there would have been no war in Vietnam.
What that means to Jane Fonda I am not sure.
That's what's up.
If Baby wrote this post it would be more cogent. But she gave me a title and some sweet words on the phone across miles and miles and miles, and she scooted off into those same Western Mountains (North of the border but not so different) to swim in a big ol' pool. So tonight it's just Hulk and the Cowboys.
Cheers to our limitations. They are where we find ourselves.
-n&c-
Saturday, April 28, 2007
Being Together, Apart
In a very few hours Baby begins her journey West. In a few more hours, Hulk will have a giant breakfast and then prepare to race his Velo again. Baby will fly and Hulk will pedal and they will be connected by home, which is inside and which they share.
Baby will have the rocket, of course, for getting to the mountains quickly. Hulk will be getting bottles passed to him during his race by Happen, the owl (ably assisted by Pete, of the exceptionally long arms and dutiful disposition). Happen makes a useful guardian critter for a bike racer. She's flyable and bold and able to scare away bad guys and sometimes create the perfect opening in the bunch for Hulk to start his sprint. Let's hope tomorrow is one of those days.
-n&c-
Those Patio Lanterns
I hitched to Peterborough, Ontario this afternoon: a town I'll always associate with the infamous song about patio lanterns because of the summers I spent there, Kim Mitchell's voice broadcasting from every porch.Earlier today, I visited a good friend I've managed to keep for over a decade, despite our years of living in different cities/countries/continents. He got married a couple of months ago in a spontaneous sort of way...so I figured I needed to bring him a string of cans to tie to the back of his future car...or maybe to his belt loop so that he could ceremoniously piggy-back his wife around the town.
Tokens exchanged, formalities over with very quickly, we caught up at an old haunt in the city we first met in however long ago.
The thing about catching up--or thinking that you'll catch up--is that it always raises more questions than it answers. We've put the friendship in a trunk for a while, both doing our things, and go to shake it out today only to notice that while it's still there, it's a little moth-eaten. There are holes. Like: I don't know what his favourite color is, where he's liked living the most, the details about the day he met his now-wife. Lots of mysteries.
The good thing about catching up, though, is we sort of patched up the old friendship: stitched on newer, mismatched bits of ourselves to the ol' thing. Made it different. Brighter, almost. Stronger.
Friday, April 27, 2007
Population
We are all cast and crew, really. And you can think of this as a family tree, but it's more like a tumbleweed. As you know, we're all tangled up.
Piggie: The Child. 8 years old, daughter of Hulk. Witty, silly, irreverent, artsy, not hung up on hygiene.
Cap'n: Hulk's Dad. Maker of adventures, reassurer, shower-up-when-it-counts, maker of music, storyteller extraordinaire, and championship-caliber granddad and babysitter.
Pete: Hulk's brother. The real hulk. Unreasonably large, faithful, super coach and athlete, entrepreneur and mental rockstar.
Lyssa (AKA Sissa): Pete's Wife, Hulk's Sis-n-law, magical talker to animals, super athlete, pancake maker extraordinaire.
The Bears: Baby's 'rents. Keepers of pies, hugs, birdseed, a rootin'-tootin' high fallutin' rickety car, stories, home. Makers of holidays and restful stays.
Bro: Baby's only and older brother. Attentive, caring, thoughtful giver of gifts and writer of postcards, knows things about space and numbers.
The Pickles: Baby's friends. Baby lived with Mrs. Pickle once-upon-a-time. She is an outstanding writer of letters, and cooker of wholesome foods that are hard to pronounce. Big of heart and of smile, mistakable for a 19th century heroine (especially when she's parloring on a piano and singing away).
Rob&Zenu: Hulk's buddy and companion in all things related to emotionally-available manhood. Bicycles, big ideas, loafing and--perhaps most importantly--Hulk's companion on the quest for the perfect espresso. Zenu, Zenu database Queen. South Asian mama, unreasonably bright, companion to Rob.
Mr. Fish: Baby's pal. Can make a mean cup of coffee out of cigar butts and loam (if need be), best host this side of the equator thanks to his generosity. Understands the blues, and sees the funny side of just about everything.
D is for______: Baby's roommate. D is for many things, like delightful, dallying, and darting around in sneaks and spandex.
Ms. Wendi: Hulk's downstairs neighbor and a teacher of the literary studies to the unappreciative engineering students at the SuperSpookySchoolOfScience. Maker of Huuumus, good at laughing.
Jamie: Ancient friend of Hulk. Hulk and Jamie got into bikes together back when Hulk was fat. Super drummer, handyman, and soon to be Dad.
Edwin Oliver: Hulk's old pal. Of the beatniks and the Dewey decimal system. Peculiar and loveable in all the right ways.
Mr. Pal: Hulk's friend and mentor at the BigScarySchoolhouse. A true teacher and a good friend.
The Department (aka BigScarySchoolhouse): Where Hulk&Baby make of the Literary Studies. Home of beautiful people and scary mountain book-trolls.
Sledgehammer: Hulk's kitchen mouse.
&: Hulk&Baby's imaginary cat. Hulk had a moment of knowing for certain he was big-n-always in love with Baby when, about two weeks into their relationship, she asked if they could have an imaginary cat named &. Because "&" is better than "but".
Sophisto Cat: &'s imaginary friend, bespeckled and often found looking into the Dove and Hudson bookstore window. Has read Anna Karenina only four times.
Happen: Hulk&Baby's owl.
Thank you all for being part of our lives. We love you. (Edits, comments, complaints and additional biographical information welcome.)
-n&c-
Adventures in Baby Sitting (on buses and in depots)
She managed to barter 1 crunchy chippy thing she bought in Montreal for 1 red delicious apple, sit beside 2 girls for 3 hours who were rewriting Abba lyrics en Francais et avec chagrin, make all 2 of her connections, read 193 pages, edit 19 pages of writing, and sleep for an undisclosed number of minutes, probably mouth agape since she largely had an aisle seat. That's today's math.
The other stuff that isn't so easily quantifiable, and so you may choose to argue with me: she is certain the molecules of her body feel different when she crosses the border and an at-homeness takes over her. She loves seeing Canadian license plates, funny money, 401 signage. She loves hearing French, and practicing her own.
Best of all, she loves her family. She gets to spend a couple of days with her parents doing the usual sort of things: drinking tea, crossword puzzling, country driving, bargain hunting, and, best of all, catching up. And at the end of it all, she gets to see her brother, in his neck of the woods, and she's never made it down before.
She thinks of all the houses she's lived in (at least 11), and misses Hulk and The Hub, grateful that more than one place feels like home.
Thursday, April 26, 2007
Scooters
Zooooommmmm!!!!!!!!
-n&c-
Wednesday, April 25, 2007
Disappearances
-Baby leaves a trail of hair bands everywhere from when she used to have a ponytail, and the ponytail used to go SPROING! Hulk will find these, and remember Baby tiptoeing around Albany.
-Hulk gave Baby a rocket that she's taken with her (along with some bits of clothing, an angel, and twine).
-Hulk will walk by places he's been with Baby and think ahhhhhh. Baby will walk by places she's never been and wish she was sharing them with Hulk. Ahhhhhh.
-Baby built a nest for Hulk out of cozy, soft bits of things, and seeds which will soon turn into flowers...or at least sprouts.
-Hulk gave Baby a sack of jellies, but knowing her she'll gobble them up before even getting off the bus!
-They will write letters to each other, and play tag through the post.
- What Hulk&Baby have amassed mountains of, though, and what they have with them as they sit here typing, and will carry on their respective journeys over the course of the next several weeks, is memories.
-Memories of a girl in the snow, coming late to visit a boy of uncertain moral fiber; tiptoeing in his hallway, trying to decide whether to find the right door or run away home. Boy, inside, worked all day, cooked all evening, hoping...not sure for what, mostly just to listen to her laugh and watch her runaway bangs tell secrets to her dimples.
-Memories of road trips and campus errands, good coffee and bad sleep, crrrfee shop dates and misty-evening walks. Chasing Piggie in the mud and pedaling bikes in the cold.
- Baby wonders if her geographic center--her binnacle of the dirt and soul--may have shifted. Hulk says maybe so, and that's a happy thing, but he had to make her put back a baseball she was trying to buy the other day and make her buy a hockey puck instead. It was only going to be used for a doorstop, anyway, but still: roots is roots.
That's the best thing about being accidentally, entirely in love: One doesn't ask any change of one's intended or attempt some misguided plan of partner-improvement. Arrival--being for each other--is enough, and all.
-n&c-
Tuesday, April 24, 2007
Investment
Today Hulk&Baby went to the bank, where some investments happen. Neither of them wore vests, but both had vested interests.
The banker was kind, and gave Hulk Mickey Mouse checks. No, really. He did.
Arabic: | إسْتِثْمار، تَوظيف مال |
Czech: | investování |
Danish: | investering |
Dutch: | het investeren |
Estonian: | investeerimine |
Finnish: | sijoittaminen |
French: | investissement, placement |
German: | die Investierung |
Greek: | επένδυση |
Hungarian: | beruházás |
Icelandic: | fjárfesting |
Indonesian: | penanaman modal |
Italian: | investimento |
Japanese: | 投資 |
Korean: | 투자 |
Latvian: | investēšana, ieguldīšana |
Lithuanian: | įdėjimas, investavimas |
Norwegian: | investering, (penge)plassering |
Polish: | inwestowanie |
Portuguese (Brazil): | investimento |
Portuguese (Portugal): | investimento |
Romanian: | investiţie, plasament |
Russian: | инвестирование |
Slovak: | investovanie |
Slovenian: | vlaganje, naložba |
Spanish: | inversión |
Swedish: | investering |
Turkish: | yatırım yapma |
-n&c-
Monday, April 23, 2007
Hrrrrrpy Day Weekend
She talked funny about how happy she is, too and Hulk talked back.
How to build a perfect weekend (We have very, very full days):
- Fight on Friday. Had to happen so we could properly appreciate Saturday when it came. Baby is going away, away, away soon so we were a bit fussy and sat in opposite caves being estranged for an hour until we got bored. Late night with ice cream after.
- Super Saturday: Slept late, had tea downstairs with Ms. Wendi, our very best neighbor friend, packed the wagon with many toys and bikes and books and music makers and headed east toward fun. Baby wore a little red travellin' dress. Hulk spent the day feeling like he had won the lottery.
Quality time at The Best Little Bike Shop In The East in Haydenville, MA where Baby was properly fitted to her unusually yellow bicycle. Then we headed up into the hills and enjoyed the perfect spring evening bike ride.
Dinner with Hulk's sister-n-law, Sissa, and her friend who likes to complain. After dinner the very best store ever was located and jrrrrrly beans were purchased and consumed. Along with a copy of Lou Reed's New York. To bed and cuddles, a quiet end to an idyllic day. The sort of day that made us feel privileged to have each other.
- Sunday was in the car. Except when Hulk played a gig at a folk festival for a bunch of happy dancers. Baby's knee hurt so no dancing for her. Lunch, car, car, car, car.... Car. Home. Work. Hulk went for a longish bicycle ride and Baby had dinner and candles on when he got home. Life is good, good, good.
And that's our weekend. Full days, happiness and harmlessly inadequate impulse control. Hope yours was beautiful, too.
-n&c-
Friday, April 20, 2007
Nothing but blue skies
This weekend, Baby will be curled up in a fort of books. Hulk will ride for many, many hours on his bike and play music.
In other words, it's the same sort of weekend they have (or plan to have) all of the time. Only this time, the backdrop is a sunny, warm sky, and bits of things (like grass and crocuses) finding the colors they forgot they had over the winter.
Baby finds herself to be rather orange and leafy today: a heliotrope, looking up at the sky rather than down at the book on her desk.
Tuesday, April 17, 2007
Hard to believe, but true
Hard to believe because they eat SO MUCH ICE CREAM AND JELLYBEANS..... like a couple of six year olds at a birthday party that never ended. Poorly supervised adults with no bedtimes and access to credit cards and automobiles can be easily mistaken for wee folk. Faeries, too. Giggles, magical glint in the eye, that sort of thing.
It's a good thing Hulk&Baby are endurance athletes because otherwise they would be huge.
There are a few things about Hulk&Baby that are hard to believe, yet true all the same:
Hard to believe they were (are) :
- So easily entertained by each other. They chortle to the point of teary-eyed-ness an awful lot.
- Preoccupied with one another for some months across a spacial-temporal divide that never seemed to grow or shrink. Same thoughts, same hopes, same doubts, same wondering if it was crazy...Knowledge is different from fantasy. Fantasy worries and wonders but knowledge sleeps soundly until its moment arrives.
- Dressed like grown-ups for a whole weekend once for almost no reason.
- Able to get any work done at all during the past week between the perpetual alternate intensities of tweetle-beetle battling and appreciating the hell out of each other.
- Equally excited about Westerns and high art, Hip-Hop and Stan Rogers.
- Able to share clothes.
- Going to be apart for 6 whole weeks starting next Tuesday. Yes, it's true. Baby has to go to Poet Camp away across the great divide in the faraway land of rock and thin air to finish her Big Important Book (TM) (no pictures...Hulk protests and offers to color some...).
But that's another post.
And man, they eat a whole heap of Ice Cream and Jellybeans. That's the main thing.
-n&c-
Sunday, April 15, 2007
Falling head-over-heels
Once in a blue moon, Baby sees Hulk ride his bike quickly. Mostly, she's seen him ride alongside her: not quickly, but adoringly.
On Saturday, he was fast. And strong. She was proud.
But then something went horribly wrong. A banshee grabbed a hold of Hulk's wheel and started wailing. The sound she made: worse than fingernails on a chalkboard, worse than visceral responses to Steve Urkel's voice. Worse than the garbage truck rolling down the street on a morning you want to sleep in. An awful, awful sound.
Hulk stopped racing for a few minutes to investigate his wheel, but being who he is, he didn't quit. He got back in the race, only for something else to go wrong.
He got taken out by another rider, and F
...........................E
.......................................................L
...................................................................L
A sprawling mess. A broken bike. A smashed helmet. Rips and tears in skin and clothes.
Don't worry. All is well. Hulk is fine now. He'll be busy fixing up his bike for a couple of days, but other than that, he's in good spirits. It's good he has a few dedicated fans, like Baby and Papa and his brother.
The lessons (because sometimes these stories are didactic, and it's Sunday so Baby says I can put my preachin' voice on):
1. Don't pick up a comb off the street. It may belong to a banshee. And she may look for revenge when it's not convenient for you.
2. Don't give up part way through a race. Be like Hulk: a good sport. (Part of this means cheering on the people that do finish the race because they weren't hindered by banshees or Friday the 13th mojo).
3. Learn how to fall. In love. Headlong into things that matter to you. Falling is a cousin of Risk and Letting Loose, and sometimes is misread as failure. It's not.
-n&c-
Mortal Combat Love, Snowfall & Jellybeans
Speaking of ice cream, today, in the snow, Hulk&Baby encourage everyone to think of jellybeans as power food.
-n&c-
Friday, April 13, 2007
Mystery #492, Docket 16AL-V
My cave is a little out of control. I love critters, love sharing, love easy-livin'...but this week I'm failing at reclaiming my space.
See, Hulk has roaches. [Hulk's building is old, scary and poorly tended by the Queen Mother of the Russian Mafia. - Ed.] They're curious, crunchy, and committed to sticking around.
I have ants. They've stopped spelling love letters, and have started bellowing war songs (their favourite is the tune from Peter Brook's "Lord of the Flies").
Hulk's mouse, Sledgehammer, hasn't dashed across my foot lately on his way to better things, like, say, the pantry.
My mouse, Harem, recently moved out of her hiding place under my sink.
Here's where the mystery begins: the ants were getting out of control to the point where my roommate set out some baits. 4 of them. Every day this week, another bait has 'gone missing'.
There are three possibilities:
1. Harem is taking the baits and putting them somewhere.
2. The dog is eating them. (Peanut butter is often used in ant baits).
3. The unusual suspects: spontaneous combustion, UFOs, and/or evolution in the form of growing limbs and walking away.
Thursday, April 12, 2007
Piggie's Groovy Little Mind
At first, Piggie was annoyed about this. One morning not too long ago, Hulk woke up and found that Piggie had been out in the world gathering bits of wood and bark and filth to play with. She had taken over the front part of the eastern cave and had made a little hieroglyph to share.
The folks in the picture are Piggie and Hulk, and Piggie says that the "H" on the flag is for Honesty but Hulk likes to think his little darling Piggie is flying his standard and that the H is for him, King Hulk.
Fatherhood involves no small amount of managing grandiosity. In both directions...
-n&c-
Hearts Of Clay
A Slushy Day In The Wagon
Washing the furniture with stinkuh-stinkuh bleachy water. Oi....
Watching Piggie hunkered down at her new Kitchen Table/Fort/Command center, a-scribblin' on the cool washable white board = all worth it.
-n&c-
Tuesday, April 10, 2007
Hulk Can't Draw So Well
It's like his duct tape and bailing wire, his band-aids and crutches, his quill and ink, his fiddle and bow. Mostly that's good, certainly isn't bad.
But just now Hulk is awfully tired, see. The bike pedaling contest practice was good and Hulk even roared and gritted his teeth some and had a Machismo Moment (TM). This resulted in considerable shrinking of the number of bike pedalers pedaling their bikes in the front group of the bike pedaling contest practice. Hulk is sort of relieved because there is a big-n-scary fer serious bike pedaling contest on Saturday and sometimes that sort of thing is a little nervous making.
And Hulk has recently come to appreciate the value of fewer words, at times.
So tonight, Hulk wants to draw a picture. Baby suggested this but she isn't sharing crayons just now. Well to be fair, she isn't here just now either. If she was, Hulk would make her do it. He would also make her a sandwich. That's how we 11, see? No, tonight Baby is at the Southwest cave and Hulk and Piggie are downtown keeping the Eastern borders of our world secure.
Anyway (or anyways, as the kiddies like to say it) Baby says picture tonight and fewer words. So, here goes: (Invisible Harold And The Purple Crayon style)
Imagine a place you love and a person you would love to share it with. Now slap a sunset on that sucker, and make it still and quiet. Maybe a lake in a pine forest, maybe a special boulder on a remote beach somewhere. Got it? OK, now just dig it for a minute. Good.
Now look at your special person, poke them once softly on the nose, giggle, do it again.
Look at each other and say "1, 2, 3!! why?! why not?!" stand up, run around in a lollipop loop, sit down, hold hands and figure out what to have for supper.
It's just like that. That's what we do, all of us. When tensions run high and we forget to love like we ought to, then sometimes we find ourselves poking too hard, maybe poking in the eye if it gets real bad. Tonight we'll keep it right-sized and chuckle ourselves to sleep at the sort of silly animals we are. Silly and privileged to have joy in our lives and folks to share it with. Local and worldwide.
I draw this picture for y'all in purple crayon. Big ups to Harold.
Northeasters among you get out and appreciate your day tomorrow. Snow and slop is a-comin'. Baby&Hulk will be snuggled in front of the laptop watching a documentary, eating popcorn and greasing the bearings of the Li'l Red Wagon for errands on Thursday. Flower pots and a kitchen table are to arrive in the eastern cave this week. Surely there will be stories to tell.
Be the happy kid you wish to see in the world tonight.
-n&c-
Average Joes: Choose Our Woes
And she often tries to convince Hulk that an average cup o' joe ain't so bad (especially if it's Tim Horton's, or, okay, Stewart's, or flavored somethingorother for that matter).
But today's entry is a bit of a tribute to average joes, since Hulk&Baby are average folks like me, and maybe like you, too.
Hulk&Baby struggle with deadlines, and lifelines, grocery store lines, phone lines, and when to toe the line or draw the line. On that last one, Hulk&Baby fight sometimes. In fact, they fought a couple of days ago...
I suspect they're not fighting about anything important, and it will all blow over soon. Good thing it's a windy day.
-n&c-
Saturday, April 7, 2007
Boring Waiting & Barefoot Love
Waiting to find out where this entry will take you is not boring. It is like a day and it's about a day. Come in and have a day that only takes a few minutes. By the end, you'll remember things you had forgotten about yourself and the people you love.
1. Waiting is anticipation
All week, I was looking forward to going into the BIG CITY with Hulk. "Looking forward to" can be a twitchy, restless sort of waiting we do that makes the present moment a little less interesting. This is not an endorsement, more of an admission. (Most of the time I'm pretty patient).
There are a lot of things worth waiting for. Some things we wait for happen, sometimes quickly, and then we figure out if that's what we wanted after all. Some other things we wait for never happen, and this, too, can be delightful or icky.
A lot of the time, it seems, people who are in Love, Love, Beautiful Love (TM), spend chunks of their time waiting for the other shoe to drop. Someone in the world is in charge of dropping shoes. This is not usually happy news; the news from these shoes, that are known as not whose. Hulk drops his telephone and often books; I have been known to drop dishes in the soapy, soapy sink (Hulk, too...) but neither of us has heard the other shoe dropping, and we are too Dreaminated and Angelsonged most of the time to listen for it.
2. Waiting is a family activity
Waiting for Hulk to clean himself up, and pack the wagon's sidecar on Friday is another sort of waiting. I twiddled and smiled and thought about mornings while Hulk ran around feeling like he had fallen behind (which is waiting in reverse). Hulk's Papa waited with me, which made it all the more pleasant.
3. Waiting is not our fault
Hulk was eventually ready, and we took turns pulling each other in the wagon up the highway until we found traffic, so were able to rest our arms. We waited it out by talking about ideas: what is friendship? what have you outgrown recently? why road rage? We mulled, chewing it all over.
One wrong-turn later, we both fell behind schedule. We had plans to meet Baby's friends, Mr. and Mrs. Pickles, but instead waited and waited and waited on steps of an church in the cold, BIG CITY. To pass the time and stay warm, we waltzed and spun around, raising the eyebrows of nuns and businessmen on their way home. We were late, so in fact the Pickles had left and we were waiting for nothing but the sense to move along.
4. The reunion is stalled, and so...
Hulk took me to a bad hotel, a coffee shop, a second hotel. We discovered that the Pickles had made reservations for dinner (so we wouldn't have to wait for a table) and we had two hours to kill (killing hours is a violent way of waiting for the next best thing).
To pass the time, Hulk and I went to a hair salon. Well, we went to three hair salons. The first one was too hot. The second one was too cold. The third one was just right, even though it was run by a pirate with spurs and a mustache.
We don't really like salons that much.
I waited for Hulk while he was tamed, and then we went off to meet the Pickles for the second time.
5. Waiting areas
At the restaurant, we asked to be seated (to be waited on because by now had quite rumbly stomachs), but were told to wait by the doors until our party arrived. Eventually, we were allowed to wait for the Pickles in the dining room.
They came. We ate. We walked around the park and the BIG CITY together, waiting for our dinners to digest so we could munch on sweet things.
Leaving the Pickles is hard, especially because I feel like I can't wait to see them again. But wait we will. Good thing it's so easy to pick up where we leave off.
6. Mr. Fish waits with baited breath
We had to start pulling the wagon north to visit Mr. Fish for the night. Of course lost, of course nearly out of gas...
Mr. Fish is patient, has a sense of humor, and is familiar with my tangled, messy (but well-meaning) plans. I was sorry to keep him waiting, but glad to catch up.
Once situated, clothes changed (Hulk&Baby wore church clothes ALL DAY) and settled, we realized we were all done waiting and that freed us up for the much better act of being.
Scooted back into the moment of now, it started to seem like there had been a lot of being all along: in the car, with Hulk's poor hair, with the Pickles, with each other in the cold.
This is the sort of love that is barefoot, where no shoe can drop because there are no shoes; no covering and no hiding. The now is fluid and slides from one moment to the next and we are awfully, awfully good at the now. We live and love in it, barefoot. Always.
We hope you can, too.
Peace and Happy Easter.
-n&c-
Wednesday, April 4, 2007
April Showers
Hulk & Baby slept till noon.
The world, she is rainy today.
The grand gift of bad weather is that it relieves us all of the burden of having to align our emotional state, and motivation with the outside world.
Today was for noon sleeping. Not a bad day for a spontaneous, imaginary vacation to neverland, or Iceland, or the Faulklands or...somewhere. Baby wants to hitchhike to somewhere across the ocean. Hulk is trying to figure out how.
In the meantime, both of them have to shuffle papers and make familiar with Good Grand Ideas (TM) for making educated the brains and making satisfied the professoriate.
Oh no..Baby just got stuck in her sweater and had a fight with it. Sweater is in time out now, thinking about what it did. Hulk makes lunch.
-n&c-
Tuesday, April 3, 2007
Hunting
Both have objections to the Easter Bunny, mostly because they don't agree on the important facts (where he lives, how to julienne a carrot, if he should wear his fur up or down), AND both claim to have insider's information.
I don't know who to believe.
What I do know is that Hulk takes great joy in finding things, like a plum parking space for the Love Rocket (TM), a forgotten-about old dollar bill in his pocket, and accouterments on trash night for the secret office he's building for Baby.
Baby, on the other hand, loves eggs. She likes them scrambled, she likes the shape, she likes the colors, she likes how they spin/crack/vandalize on Hallowe'en. She likes watching songbirds slyly clear their nests of bits of shell this time of year as their chicks hatch. She even likes things that look vaguely like eggs, like purple jellybeans. (I can't give too much away, though).
This year, Baby takes notes from Hulk. She is less interested in eggs, and more interested in Discovery. On that, Baby offers up an Easter challenge: this year, it's not about hiding things and finding things that usually aren't there. It's about finding things that are always present but tend not to be seen. Like Opportunity. Like Fresh Starts. Like someone who needs help. Like the stuff that's easy to overlook because it's just under your nose: the moustaches of our lives. (She made me type that).
Hulk, for his part, intends to find, among other things, the bow that Baby tied to her tail this morning. She has a tail, yes, it's true. It is only visible some of the time, usually when her upper lip purses in that Cheshire Cat sort of way. Both of these kids are rather critterish, you see. And Baby well, she has a tail.
This weekend, Hulk&Baby will scavenge, mooch, and glean. They'll find newold / oldnew things to appreciate, and hope that you do, too.
On a wing and a prayer
It's probably fair to say that Hulk's mother more than loved owls; she knew them. She was a knower, generally, and one of the things she knew was owls. Her sense of humor was sly, like the owl, and her sight was far reaching and broad. A lifetime of spiritual practice, talking to angels and seeing ghosts likely gave her respect and a feeling of kinship for these magical, winged beasts with 360 degree rotational sight. The implications of the limitless capacities of the eye (to say nothing of the capacities of the I) would surely have made Hulk's Momma smile. Why, exactly they became her guides, though, Hulk isn't sure. Cap'n probably knows...
Today's story is about what "Operation: Freedom" should look like in the papers, according to Hulk&Baby and their comrades on the city bus.
Today, Hulk&Baby freed an owl from a dusty, ol' bookstore. Then they took the owl to lunch in a vegetarian restaurant. Hulk wasn't sure, but he thought he saw the owl rolling its eyes, looking a bit peeved. Baby tried to feed the owl some seaweed salad but, no go. Hulk fed the owl a can of tuna when they all got home and that seemed to be an improvement. Hulk&Baby's kitchen mouse, Sledgehammer, ought to be worried right about now
This all began when Hulk&Baby accidentally-on-purpose visited the owl about a month ago, and the owl had something to say. It cooed--didn't hoot--it cooed "Take me with you."
The problem was the keeper of the store had designs of his own. He wasn't there at first visit but store-lady said it was not likely he would release Owl to others. Hulk mentioned all of this to Cap'n one time and Cap'n reminded him that Momma had known the book keeper folks and this fact might prove persuasive. It did.
Today, the owl was waiting, wearing its Sunday feathers, as though it knew today was The Day.
Owl had been perched in the bookstore since immigrating from Thailand, and the owner was almost as attached as Hulk&Baby. After big smiles and a Momma story that was genuinely disarming, Bookman had to let go. He teared up a bit, though, and Hulk&Baby promised to be good owl keepers and to send pictures and keep Owl in touch.
But what to do with an owl? After lunch, that is. Well, name it, of course. The owl cooed "Call me Happen." They will, knowing that when Happen becomes a teenager (which in owl years will come who-knows-when) , she may want to change her name. But for now, she's Happen.
Happen, because she does, see. And things do, generally, happen, when we all keep our eyes open to the miracles. Right now the miracles look like a might-as-well-be-full, yellow moon looming low over the skyline, speaking possibility, change and wonder to everyone paying attention.
Today was a good day, the only day, for a magic owl named Happen to wander into Hulk&Baby's life and remind them to keep one eye upturned toward heaven. Momma was always good for that reminder, she would be a happy lady tonight.
-n&c-
Passing notes
She does this today, the drawing, the scratching, the anting. The ants added the word 'scruffy' to her description as a joke, and Baby laughed because it's kind of true. Just goes to show that even small things are sometimes observant.
The rest of it says: watchful, fervent, rare. Also true.
Today's secret: Baby has been eyeing the wagon, and is thinking of taking it for a joyride.
Instead, she works, turning pages. Hulk works, too. PlinktaptapPlink.
c&n
Monday, April 2, 2007
2 Month Anniversary Partay
Old souls congregate around new beginnings; it's just where we can find each other. So new from used-to can be understood more deeply as permanent from ever-was, see?
We took turns pulling each other in our wagon today on our way to celebrate and we went to our favorite coffeeshop to get some groovy, warm, complicated drinks. Lucky for Hulk&Baby there were no trolls (AKA professoriate) in there today. There are pretty things and birds and books and smilers that dwell on university campuses. But the frowner trolls are saddening and for kids with squishy hearts it can just be too much sometimes. But not today. Today we had a wagon ride and shared chocolate and sometimes we were crazy and didn't know why.
Later Hulk's Pop, Cap'n, came over and everybody took Piggie out for a walk. Piggie rollerskates 'most everywhere. Good times. Then Baby played a game for awhile where she laughs and cries at the same time. Now she's gone and Hulk misses her. He is going to watch a cowboy movie and fall asleep, which is fine because it makes him happy to think that Baby is getting lots of writing done. Tomorrow, they'll go for a long wagon ride and rescue a MagicOwlGhost so there should be good reporting to come on that one.
The day is over so the explanation about the tractor beams in Baby's eyes will wait for another day. And Hulk's eyes just itch. This time of year he has to fill the wagon with berries and acorns and stuff and the dust and mold and soon-coming pollen get him all itchy. Sometimes when his eyes get puffy he bumps into stuff and falls down on the way home. Other times, he is surprisingly graceful...all depends on how low the clouds are flying and whether his head is stuck in them or not.
The thing to remember about magical people--people like us who talk to angels and hear them talking back--is that we're grow- ups, kids and ghosts of a sort, all at once.
Happy short anniversary, Baby. Tomorrow I am going to make you some jewelry out of rust and bones.
-n&c-
Sometimes Love...
Sometimes it's gritty and animal and sweaty, sometimes it laughs, sometimes it rolls its eyes. It always shows up, that's the main thing.
Baby had a bit of a hard night last night. Hulk and Baby have two caves, see, but one gets shared with D-is-for Difficult and she's messy. Yup. So Baby has a lot of gear and a lot of bags and sometimes the cave where Hulk and Piggie are all the time is hard to work in so Baby, well....Baby has a hard time.
See, Baby has been trying to write a book. She does this. Writing two now, really, but one gets poked at by the trolls from the spooky tribe in the big paved circle we don't like. The other one is going to be grand and mostly born in big, snowy mountains. The trolls, though, they pick on Baby something awful sometimes so one family project right now is to make Baby an office. Hulk tried once but he was using old tires and rubber cement and he got a series of really bad headaches. Plus he ran out of tires and then he realized Baby didn't want a tire office anyway. Duh...So now Hulk has several old skateboards and some filing cabinets and he is thinking man, it sure would be good if Baby's office could be mobile. And it needs a freezer for Ice Cream.
-n&c-
Welcome To Our Funny Little World
Welcome To Our Blog
The thing is we're both a bit soft hearted and the world is hard. So, we might steal a flower from the coffeeshop table to bring to Hulk's daughter, Piggie, after school. But only because there is so much love all around us that we sniff and share and have. Just have to share. So the important take-away from the beginning of Hulk and Baby's delightful story of love and happiness and circumnavigating the world in our Love Rocket (TM)--yes we actually have a Love Rocket--is that we are super nice folks. A bit fragile, maybe, but full of love. We both possess a rather caustic wit as well as goofy senses of humor. That's just how we roll.
So where to start? Statistics I suppose.
Eleven Facts about Hulk & Baby:
1) Hulk & Baby are 29.
2) Baby is Canadian. This is important.
3) Hulk is American. This is not important.
4) Baby & Hulk have been acquainted since around June 26th, 2006.
5) Baby & Hulk have been ludicrously, enormously, sloppily, ecstatically, stars-in-our-eyes, flying our Love Rocket around the world in love with each other since February 2nd, 2007.
6) Our favorite number is eleven (11) because it reproduces itself and creates balance and symmetry everywhere it goes. Like when we fell in love on 2/2.
7) Hulk has a daughter. She is eight years old and joyful, she loves Baby. Her name is Piggie.
8) Hulk & Baby are of Literature. We study it. Baby is particularly adept in this capacity. She has written books. Hulk marvels...
9) Baby & Hulk are also of the bicycles and the bicycle racing. Hulk does not suck at this.
10) Hulk & Baby have an imaginary cat named & (Ampersand).
11) Baby & Hulk love, love, LOVE ice cream.
Ancillary facts that don't get numbered because numbering them would flub the 11ing.
- We make up our own verbs.
- Baby is an uncommonly good Poet. She also flutes.
- Hulk plays stringed instruments (Guitar and Mando) rather well. He plays well with words, too, but doesn't always behave himself.
Today Hulk & Baby made friends with a little bird on the hood of Hulk's crumbly van. Then the bird took off. It didn't really want to be pals, it seems, it just wanted a morsel tucked in down by the windshield wipers. The funny thing is that both Baby and Hulk each took this a bit personally though neither said anything.
Now we are at our favorite Coffeeshop up near our University. Baby is working while Hulk is blogging. Baby is wearing one of Hulk's baseball caps and to Hulk she looks like some dream creation combination of Lara Croft, Scout Finch, a Kitten, and a mysterious Parisian girl who might be found wandering alone down by the Seine looking for a magic word to make her fly or to create a potion out of.
It's time to pick up Piggie now so off we go.
Many more stories to come. Adventures, laughs, tears, bike races and Lenny Bruce cartoons.
So whatever you're up to today, be conscious of the love you bring into the world. This is what Hulk & Baby do.
-n&c-