How do You Stay Hot?

Or maybe, how did you stay warm this winter?

I have three favorite coats. Number one is a light-weight, honey brown, unlined suede jacket that I wear almost all the time. When the temps are below 20' I will wear a sweater under it. I'm a snow person so this is plenty warm for me.

When it gets really cold, in the teens and down to zero, I put on my mother's boot length down coat. It is an old coat--maybe 20 years old?--but a classic, beautifully detailed thing. My mom was a high-end dresser, being a former runway model and this is probably the most expensive coat I own. Mostly, I wear it because I got it when my mom passed away in '99 and wearing this coat is like having her arms around me again. It is just so comforting as well as warm.

When it is seriously cold, like 20 to 30 below I put on my grandmother's beaverskin coat. Grandma must have been way shorter than me. The sleeves are too short for me, and what was probably full length for her is about mid calf on me. Still, it is freakin' warm! I have walked around in that coat when it was -35' with a stiff wind, and not felt cold! At all! Beaverskin is truly amazing. Plus I get the giggles a little that I never knew my grandmother but I know what her beaver feels like.

I have other coats. Every other year I buy a new one, usually a stylin' ski jacket of some kind, and I wear it now and then. But the first three coats? are the ones I wear. They're my coats!

What did you wear this winter?

Winter Wonderland. Again.

Scenes from my yard during a lull in the storm. And yes, these are color photos, lol!


My "sunny" spot.


From the deck.


Out the kitchen window.

Don't Try This At Home

Saturday I almost backed out of my garage without opening the garage door. Pretty stupid, huh? The sad thing is that I did this once before and put a crack in our old, wood garage door. Now we have brand-new, fancy-schmancy, poly-carbon-coated (or something) doors, with stained glass panels. I love those doors!

The funny thing is, last time I did it I never did 'fess up. One day DH noticed the crack and I played dumb. Baffled, even. How did that happen!

Mr. Swami is So confused

He finally figured out that he could open comments by clicking on them. He assumed, quite reasonably, that Bob was a guy. So he was very confused when Bob talked about missing Mr. Bob (in some comments to my first post.) He thought Bob was talking about about his, you know, "little Bob" and didn't understand the comment.

So when I explained that Bob didn't have a "little Bob" because Bob was a girl, he got all confused and stuff. Now he's skeerd of blog world.

Meet Story – Part Final. And They Lived Happily Ever After

Tom and I, once we get over our early miscues, settle into such a sweet and easy relationship. We just get along, you know? My yin fits his yang and we form a solid, stable circle. All that is left is to meet the relatives and pick a date! Piece of cake! *snorffle*

Meet The Parents

Tom is a local boy, so I meet his family first. The family farm is a two hour drive away and we go there as a couple for the first time about five months after we start dating. On the way there (and for days before) Tom tries to explain his parents. They are rigidly, resolutely Roman Catholic. (What I call rigor mortis Catholics—their religion paralyzes them as much as it grounds them.) They did not want his first marriage to end. They were very hard on his first wife. They were a big part of the reason why his marriage broke up. They are extremely and parochially Catholic! Tom says if I don’t like it at The Farm we never have to go there again and I never have to see his parents again! So I have no idea what to expect.

We are scheduled to arrive for lunch on Saturday. Dinner at noon is sacred and we arrive about 12:03. So as soon as we walk in the door we have to sit at the table with his Dad, Mom, a younger brother and someone else—I forget who. As soon as we sit, we have to say Grace. Everyone crosses themselves. Except me. I just sit quietly and bow my head respectfully. I see eyes flick at me during the cross-yourself maneuver. The second the prayer is over Tom’s mom turns to me and says “I see you didn’t cross yourself. Aren’t you Catholic?”

I answer “No.”

Then she jumps up, runs to the kitchen sink (we are eating in the farm kitchen), bangs some pots and exclaims “Why can’t these boys find nice Catholic girls!?! What’s wrong with them?”

Everyone at the table snaps their eyes resolutely onto their plates and starts eating, just shoveling the food down. In total silence. It is very uncomfortable and kind of funny at the same time. After two or three minutes Tom makes some comment about how good his mom’s food always is, and conversation slowly begins to flow. The folks start that “interview” thing that makes meeting parents such a treat. I would term this one a ‘hostile interview’, lol.

Then (and in the first few years of our marriage) his parents are very manipulative. They have no idea that Tom has not been a practicing Catholic since about 2 weeks after he left home for College. Tom just fakes out like he is still going to church. I find this very strange. But Tom says they would never-ever understand or respect his dropping out, so he just avoids the confrontation. Again, I am baffled but whatever kind of relationship Tom wants to have with his folks is fine with me. We are not going to live in the same town and Tom tries to protect me from too much contact with them—so I have no worries. I am a fairly grounded person and I don’t get upset or insulted too easily.

I meet his brothers who all live within a few hours drive. Three of them are seriously dating someone. All will be married within the year, only one to a nice Catholic girl, lol! I think this is what comes of force-feeding your kids religion.

Road Trip!

My relatives and the rest of Tom’s siblings all live out-of-town so to meet them we have to do a Road Trip! Our first Road Trip! We will drive from Minneapolis to Boston and back. We will meet my mother, brother & sister, and Tom’s sisters who all live as far from home as they possibly can. (One sister, in fact, doesn’t even visit The Farm for about 15 years after she first leaves.) We will have my daughter with us for the first couple of meets—then drop her off in Hamilton, Ontario with my mom while we continue on to New England and the rest of the meets.

One sister lives just North of Chicago. As we drive up to her house Tom remarks that this is probably his strangest relative and if I survive meeting her, the rest of the trip should be fine. I have no idea what to expect!

Turns out, she is totally normal. I like her immediately and she remains my favorite of all Tom’s siblings. Her husband is a certified manic-depressive, but he is in his manic phase during our visit and so very charming and entertaining.

Next we meet my brother, who lives East of Chicago. He (like me) is an agnostic, but is married to very devout Christian Scientist. His wife is at some weekend religious retreat when we first arrive on a Saturday. Tom and my bro hit it off pretty well, we have a fun visit. Tom, my daughter and I wind up spending the night on the living room floor. My brother has 6 kids in a very small house—it’s the only space available.

Monday morning my brother’s wife arrives home; we have lunch and get ready to leave. At some point during lunch my SIL finds out that we all slept on the living room floor and she goes a bit berserk. We slept together while unmarried! With my daughter in the same room! And her kids in the same house! Oh, the immorality! She throws us out of the house. Which is okay with me since we are leaving anyway. My brother is embarrassed but Tom is very entertained. I have religious nuts in my family too!

Next we visit my Mom in Canada. Mom loves Tom right away. She says my late dad would have really liked Tom—that means a lot to me. While there we also meet my sister Carole and one of her husbands. (Number two, I think.) We drop my daughter off at Grandma’s and head for New England. But first? We make a stop at my Alma Mater, Cornell University.

Cornell

I have booked a room at Willard Straight Hall, which is the Student Union building and also, legally, a hotel since this is how they can get their liquor license. When I was a student they had about a dozen rooms so I have no idea when I book a room that they now have only ONE guest room, just to keep their liquor license. So as we register they give us a room key and a building key. When The Straight closes at 10 p.m. we are all alone. In my old Student Union!

Oh, the fun we have running all over four floors of building! The main lobby, the cafeterias, the reading rooms, the lounges—me in my yellow baby-doll nightie and Tom in his pj bottoms. Yes! We are loose and free to roam the Student Union in our pajamas! It is like a fantasy come true! We are a bit naughty. Okay, we are a lot naughty—it is just too much fun!!! We consider running around naked, but decide to keep the pj’s on because of the large windows here and there. We are just deciding to have sex on one of the cafeteria tables when we hear footsteps. Oops—there is a night watchman!

He gives us an amused look and announces that he patrols the building every hour or so. Oops, and darn!!! We are not alone in the building after all. Giggling. we go sit on the leather couches in the Faculty Room, worry about the night watchman and decide to not get frisky any more except in our own room.

I’ll bet that night watchman has seen a lot of hanky-panky in his day. I mean seriously, who wouldn’t go nuts left all alone in their Student Union building!?!

And More Family

On to Boston. Tom says his Boston sister is the most normal member of his family. Which means that in true Bizarro World form I find her to be the strangest. She even has a bizarre dog! Tom finally agrees with me—sister is a bit strange. I guess what gives her the reputation for normalcy is the fact that she had a nice Catholic wedding to a nice Catholic boy and she’s still nicely married and still devoutly Catholic.

We meet the Vermont sister, the one who never visits home and is married to a Methodist (or something). She is very sweet. We picnic by a lake and have a fun time before heading back.

So we’re done. Each of us has met the other’s relatives (except for my sister in Hawaii) and survived. All we have to do now is plan a wedding!

Happily Ever After

Oh, wait. First we have to buy a house together! While cruising around the Lake of the Isles we stumble on an Open House in a lovely Victorian house, in a fairly exclusive neighborhood. On the spur of the moment, we make an offer. It is probably more money than we can afford, but what the heck we go for it. And get it.

The house is gorgeous, but now all our money is sunk into real estate, so we pare down our wedding plans and go on a strict budget. We will spend $1,200.00 on the wedding—no more.

I find a gorgeous white Gunne Sax dress in a little boutique in Rosedale. It will be a perfect wedding dress. We plan to a simple wedding in a beautiful Unitarian Church. And we pick the most Romantic day we can think of –Valentines Day! We decide to invite only about 50 people, and have our reception in the church’s lower level all-purpose room. We pick a fairly simple meal—I don’t even remember what it was any more—some chicken thing.

I carry red roses, Tom wears his best suit. My daughter is our only attendant. My mom and Tom’s brother are our witnesses. Tom’s mom and dad do not come to the wedding because they only go to Catholic weddings—too bad, but it was their loss! It is a simple and very sweet ceremony. I am totally, completely and over-the-moon happy.

With our limited budget we did not have formal wedding pictures (for which I am still kicking myself!) but here is a snapshot of Tom and me on The Day Of.



One funny thing—after eating our reception dinner and on the way out of the church we passed by another couple who was arriving for their wedding. The guy was in a nice tux and the other guy was in an elaborate white dress. Yes, even back in the 80s Unitarian churches were conducting Gay Weddings! We wished them happiness and Tom shook hands with and congratulated the tuxed guy. Then it was fun to watch our two families as they exited the church past the in-coming gay couple!

My mom wished them future happiness. My good friend from the lab had met the guy before, so she stopped to chat for a minute. And Tom’s brothers all walked by hugging the opposite wall and looking kind of scared. It was too funny.

Ow. Ow. Ow. I hate this!

Okay, before I post the end of my Meet story I think I should post a photo of myself as I am today. You know, so I don't seem to be living in a world of illusion or delusion or something.

So here I am, a couple of decades older and not a few pounds heavier. What I dislike most about myself these days is the damn jowliness I have developed. See, I never expected that and it looks worse in photos than IRL (or so I tell myself.) Some day soon I will get a facelift--but not for a few more years. A full facelift is one of the few things for which I am still considered too young!




Okay. Stop looking now and go read the rest of my Meet story!

Janet's Story

Okay, here we go. Several of you asked about Janet. (That is not her real name, by the way.)

I first meet Janet a few weeks after she starts working for a Department Head in my medical school. Word of a real beauty on the floor spreads like wildfire among all the men. I remember making a point of walking by Dr. Brown’s office and glancing in at her, just to see. Yup. She is gorgeous.

Actually, we meet & became friends in the bathroom. She and I happen to enter at the same time and go into neighboring stalls. You know how you can always hear what is going on in the next stall? Well, we both really have to pee, and we both start and stop at the exact same microsecond. It is pretty funny. So we make eye-contact while washing up. She says “Tab?” and I answer “Diet Pepsi!” So we have a little laugh about our twin bladders and how volume in and equal volume out are related.

Turns out I had been given bad information. Janet is not a secretary but a Statistician. She has a double major in Computer Science and Statistics. (In the late 70s and early 80s, the women’s equality movement was really just getting going. All the male scientists saw that she worked at a keyboard with papers in an office, and categorized her as a “mere” secretary.) Janet? Has the body of a model, the sharp mind of a geek, and a lovely personality. Really, she has everything—the famous Total Package.

Anyway, Janet and I now have a speaking relationship and we just hit it off at once. She is smart & funny and not at all hung up on herself. She has trouble making friends at work because all the guys just wanted to date her (translation: eff her) and most of the women, for whatever reason, back away. Or they try to set her up with their friend/brother/boss/whatever.

So we do lunch almost every day and quickly find we can talk about anything. Mostly we talk about men and sex, lol. What could be a more fascinating topic?

Janet has a definite preference in men. Her preferred partner is The Big Black Athlete. I remember being troubled when she just flat-out states that she only sleeps with black athletes. I think it maybe some kind of bad racism thing, but my radar doesn’t go off. Some people like blondes, some people like big boobs or long hair & beards—whatever. It seems a preference based on a look, is all. You may disagree with me, but I finally decide she is not being “a Racist,” she just has a type. It is a racial choice, but not a bad thing. (She dates big white guys once in a while too, just prefers black guys.)

Anyway, she invites me to go to some clubs with her. She also warns me that most men would ask her to dance before they asked me, and hopes I wouldn’t get mad at her. Until she says that I hadn’t thought about it—of course that would happen! But like I said earlier, for some reason that does not bother me.

So we dress up and go out. Rarely, rarely do I get asked to dance first and when I am it often turns out to be a calculated ploy to get Janet to dance with them next, lol. But I just have such fun with Janet it doesn’t matter.

And everything I know about sex with Big Time athletes I learn from Janet!

On the back of the laundry room door in her townhouse, Janet has a poster of the Minnesota Vikings. When she nails one, she puts an X through his numbers. I laugh so hard when I first see the poster! And how many X’s there are! There are other posters, rolled up on a top shelf. Other teams, other years.

I ask her “Don’t guys get mad if they see that poster?”

She says “No, they just think it’s interesting. Some like to check out who else has been here. Sometimes they like to put the X through their number themselves.” We giggle over that. Men are such idiots, and especially athletes!

Janet has purple silk sheets for her bed, and a variety of Vikings related decorations. When a Viking comes over he knows he is doing a fan.

I ask “Aren’t you scared? They’re so huge, and you hear bad things sometimes!”

Her advice is “Never go to their hotel room! Especially if they are on a floor with the rest of the team which they usually are. That’s a hard scene. Bring them back to your place. Offer them a homemade cookie and introduce them to your cat. Let them see the picture of your mother hanging on the wall. Then you have a chance to be a person. The guys like being in a home; they treat you nicely in a home.” This makes good sense to me.”

She continues, “Things can go bad fast in a hotel room. Never stay in the same hotel as the team (when you’re out of your own town.) Bring them to your hotel.”

I ask, “So, do you have to do, like, anything they want?” As if the answer could be anything other than “yes!” If you have hang-ups, don’t do athletes. She doesn’t like it much when anal sex is on the menu, but otherwise, well, she just loves everything. The bigger the guy and the harder he bangs, the better!

(This is a compression of various conversations. I do not find this all out in one Big Reveal. As we become better friends our boundaries recede and we finally become just about totally open to each other.)

Actually, I rarely see Big Time athletes when we are clubbing. Which is fine with me because that whole scene kind of scares me a little. And Janet does say that during football season, players usually show up on Sunday or during the week. And she goes hunting alone at those times.

So Janet and I have fun on our Friday Club nights. Maybe once or twice a month a man meeting her requirements shows up. Almost always she can reel him in, and we leave with this guy following us in his car. Janet usually drives, thus I would be dropped at my place and she continues on to her townhouse. Which leads to a funny story:

One night shortly after Janet drops me off at about 1 a.m., I get a telephone call. It is an old guy who lives across the street from me. He is frantic. “Are you okay!?!”

I am baffled. “Uh. Yeah.”

He says, “Because you know a huge black guy in a gold Lincoln followed you home! He just watched you walk inside and then took off after your friend! You need to warn her!!! Should I call the cops?”

The guy is so excited. I tell him that it’s okay—the guy is a friend we happened to bump into. He sounds a bit disappointed & hangs up.

The next Friday at about the same time, Janet has another guy follow her home. The same neighbor calls, only this time not so frantic and rather prying.

Him: “Are you okay?”

Me: “Yeah.”

Him: “Because a big black guy is following your friend again.” He pauses significantly. “This one is in a white Porsche.”

I say I know.

He humpfs and hangs up.

Fun times in the neighborhood.

Anyway, when I start dating Tom, Friday club night goes away. I am usually going out with Tom on Fridays. Janet and I are still great friends. We see each other every day and talk on the phone often. She has Tom and me over to her place, etc. Tom of course is fascinated with Janet, especially after I clue him in on Janet’s sexual odysseys.

But as time goes by, I worry about Janet. She starts going alone to bars way too often. Several times during the week as week as well as Friday and Sunday nights. She knows this is too much, and tells me “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’m bringing home too many men.” She seems kind of down. “I just can’t stop myself!”

Some weekends she goes to Chicago (because they have a basketball team and in the early 80s Minnesota does not) and I know she is doing athletes in hotel rooms. She just can’t stop. So I worry. Is she safe? Will she be happy in life? I always used to think that she would wind up as some athlete’s Trophy Wife—but maybe by now she has done too many athletes for that to happen? So I worry.

Then, about 3 months after Tom and I are married, Janet finally meets Her Man.

By this time Janet is working across town for a large corporation. She meets him in the parking lot and they chat as they walk into work. He is a young executive in her company, and 6’9” lol!

She learns his name as he walks her in. Then, being a total computer literate she promptly hacks into the personnel department’s database and checks up on him. Yes! He is single! Halleluiah!

About 10 months later, Janet finally gets to stand under a canopy and marries one of the best looking men ever. I am so happy for her!!!!