So Midwestern

Date with The Groomsman tonight. Wheeee! Oh, how I adore that kid. Oh, how sillynervousexcited I am merely by the prospect of seeing him. Oh, how I have no idea what I am going to wear.

This dating stuff is equal parts exhausting and exhilarating. The exhausting part involves making sure that my hair doesn’t make me look like Medusa, wearing something other than yoga pants, being on top of my game enough that I don’t do or say anything terribly rude/ridiculous/offensive. And the exhilarating part is all of the rest. Sliding into the passenger seat of his car. Listening to him laugh.

I keep trying not to let my hopes not to get too high. I want to take inventory of his attributes, everything about him that makes him seem near perfect, and I want to compare it to Colin, to The Athlete. I want to marvel. He fascinates me.

And I want to be neutral. To enjoy his company but not crave it. To recognize his flaws, because we all have a few. I want to keep my feet on the ground. Because I am afraid that, as soon as I go head over heels, it will be gone. That’s how it happens with me, isn’t it? I blink and it is over.

Straddling what I want to feel and what I’m allowing myself to feel is difficult.

One of these days, I am just going to have to let go and fall hard.

But not just yet.

Labels: boys

The relationship Grandpa Stan had with our family was a strange one.

He was the neighbor. Divorced, messily. He had kids, but not much of relationship with either of them. He moved in with my grandma when my uncle was still in high school.

Before I was born, and when I was younger, his relationship with my aunts and my uncles was rocky. His fuse, I think, was somewhat short and the entire situation, I think, was awkward: some random, wild, heavy drinker of a man moving in with your mom. It would probably be difficult to be gracious in that situation.

But he was always my grandpa. Not the type of grandpa who would take you to the park or to the zoo, but my grandpa nonetheless. We would play card games – mostly War. He would pay us feeble amounts of money to count tiny light bulbs, which he sold. He was always at the beach, slathered in baby oil, listening to the radio and playing cards with Grandma. We, the grandchildren, ran around and swam and ate chips.

When my grandma died, suddenly, he was the one who found her body. Her death broke him. Skinny and lifeless, he would spend hours upon hours at Mom and Dad’s. For no reason, really, except to avoid being alone.

Sometimes we would joke and call him our inheritance.

He wasn’t a father or a stepfather. Grandma left him behind and we inherited him.

It wasn’t terribly long after she died – probably not a year, even – that he found a new girlfriend. A widow in Ohio who he would drive to see. For a while, he continued to spend holidays with our family, as he had for over 20 years. And then that stopped, too.

We still saw him, but infrequently. He would stop by, randomly, when he was in town. Aunt Lynn would cook him dinner. And he would call, too. To tell me that I look like the girl in Mamma Mia. To send his condolences for Aunt Marie’s passing. To wish us a Merry Christmas.

He called after Christmas – the 26th or the 27th. I answered the phone, chatted with him for a bit. He briefly mentioned his upcoming surgery and his liver cancer. For such grave subjects, he sounded remarkably upbeat. He sounded as though the cancer and the surgeries were just another obstacle. Something else to overcome. He gave me the impression that beating the disease was a certainty. I didn’t worry about him.

And I never saw him again. And I never spoke to him again.

But what I did do, before hanging up with him, was tell him that I love him.

I’m so glad that I did.

Labels: bummers, family

My grandma, who died in 2003, had the same boyfriend for the 20 or so years before she died. She lived with him. We called him grandpa.

My dad's father died before I was born.

I always called him grandpa. While, technically, he was not (which I was always aware of) he was the only grandpa - on that side of the family - that I had ever known.

He was my grandpa.

And he died today.

It was a routine surgery. The first of a few, to fight the liver cancer that had recently been found. The surgery went poorly. He died later, in the Intensive Care Unit.

His children aren't having a funeral. And so it is just over - like that. Here. Gone.

I thought 2010 was supposed to be better.

Labels: bummers, family

I have a feeling that, once the giddy thrill of New Year’s Eve wears off, that there is little of that night that I will remember.

Forgetting it will not be my goal – unless, perhaps, things with The Groomsman end especially poorly – but remembering every detail will not be my goal, either. The restaurant we ate at? What I made for dessert? The color I painted my nails? It is all on the periphery of that evening. It wasn’t what made it special.

What made it special happened in a fraction of a second. The Groomsman leaned down and brushed a kiss across my forehead. We had been standing close. The room was alive, the band was loud, there was so much activity around us. I don’t think he knew that I noticed. I don’t think he wanted me to notice.

That’s what I will remember about New Year’s Eve. A simple, chaste kiss on my forehead.

Labels: boys

On Thursday, I was walking the dogs. We were just nearing the end of the street. Steps away from the park. The dogs were pulling and I sped up. Stepping onto the grass, assuming it was less slippery than the pavement, I fell. One leg under me, one leg outstretched. I managed to keep both leashes in my hand. I got up. We continued our walk.

On Friday, I had started the car. The dogs and I were headed over to Lucy's house for a playdate with Wolf. I left the dogs in the house while I spread a blanket in the backseat of my car. We were running a bit late. I was dragging, thanks to a 4:30 am bedtime. I would make up time by running back into the house. Across a patch of ice. And onto my knee.

This morning, I skated. And I skated fairly well. There were just five minutes left in the session. I busied myself doing footwork. Intricate, yes. But not jumps. Not spins. I pushed myself through the footwork sequence, knees bending as they should, blades cutting into the ice quietly. It was easy, until it wasn't. Until I leaned too far back, ran out of blade, fell hard on my backside. It was startling, really. I hardly ever fall. And when I do, it isn't like that: not on footwork, not so violently and unexpectedly. I should have hit my head. I didn't.

That's how I ended my 2009. And how I started my 2010. By falling down hard. And getting back up.

I have bruises to show for it.

Labels: figure skating, me me ME

Okay, 2010. We've started off on the right foot. Don't disappoint me now, eh?

Last night was fairly awesome.

I was a nervous, anxious mess. When I was getting ready, all I could think about was how badly the evening could go. My friends might get mad at me for leaving. The Groomsman might not want me to show up. Such silly, silly fears. Completely unfounded.

I spent my night proving my anxiety wrong.

Splitting the night between my friends and The Groomsman/his friends worked out swimmingly. I had dinner and dessert with Lucy and Colleen and Chet and a handful of others. I left Lucy's house around 11.

The bar that The Groomsman and his friends were at was nearby. I slid in around 11:15, equal parts nervous and excited.

It was --- well, it was pretty darn close to perfect. I got my kiss at midnight. Danced. Acted ridiculously silly. Had someone holding my hand when leaving the bar.

There's so much more I could write about. (The night didn't end there; we went over to The Groomsman's friend's house. I finally got home at 4 am.)

But I'm having an awfully hard time writing it.

I'm just not sure that I have the right words to give justice to this incredible video that I'm replaying over and over and over in my head.

Labels: boys

Meg met Alexander on Tuesday.

Meg and Alexander became Facebook friends on Wednesday.

Meg and Alexander nearly decided to ring in 2010 together on Thursday.

Matchmaking might be my hidden talent.

Meg, Emma and I were out last night. It was snowing by the time we got back to Mom and Dad's. Was easier just to stay the night here.

I woke up at 3:00 am to find Emma standing over me. "Meg needs you," she hissed.

I was very confused. I told her to go away, I think.

"No," Emma said, "Meg needs you." She was giggling at this point. "Your coach wants to go to Chicago with her!"

Meg is going to Chicago for New Year's Eve. She's driving alone, but meeting up with several of her college roommates who no longer live in the area.

From my room, I can hear that Meg is laughing uproariously. I get up to check out the situation. She's chatting with Alexander online.

"He told me that he would go to Chicago with me, so that I don't have to drive alone." Meg laughed through her explanation. "I told him that it might be weird: him, me and a bunch of girls that he doesn't know. I don't think he even cares. This is so awkward. What the hell am I supposed to do?"

Meg, as most of you know, is the fun sister. She's the spontaneous one. She is the outgoing one. If someone wants to join her on a road trip that would otherwise be solo? Who is she to say no?

So she didn't.

But when she texted Alexander this morning, he said he was out. A choice that was probably for the best. I don't think that Meg was too upset. She was right: it would've been weird.

But they're hanging out on Sunday. Hurray!

I didn't read over Meg's shoulder or anything, but my favorite part of their conversation that she shared with me was about playing hockey together on Tuesday night.

Alexander: Remember when I knocked you over and then I pushed you down?
Meg: Yes
Alexander: That was my way of flirting.
Meg: Oh yeah? You were quite good at it.
Alexander: I like to keep it spicy.

hahahaha.

Young hockey player love.

I am so amused.

Labels: boys, hockey, my big little sister

My bad!

Am a loser. He thought my friends were planning an evening that "was going to be like an epic adventure to New York. But Michigan is just as grand, with a lot less Dick Clark (poor fella)."

So I am going to see The Groomsman after I have dinner with my girls.

Please feel free to make fun of me.

Labels: boys

I have picked out a boyfriend for Meg.

He's the son of a girl that I play hockey with. I had an awkward moment with him earlier this season. And, since then, I have decided that he would be the perfect boyfriend for Meg.

Then he broke up with his girlfriend and I knew that he would be the perfect boyfriend for Meg.

Meg isn't great at picking out boys. (I'm not saying that because I am. I am saying that because it is true.) She likes the bad ones. The really, really bad ones. She always has. During our New Kids On The Block Stage, her favorite was Donnie, OF COURSE. Didn't he set a fire in a hotel once?

Anyway. She likes the bad boys. And then she gets burned. Most recently, it was by some kid who plays in a local band and turned out to be a huge douche. Surprise, surprise.

But what Meg really needs, I am convinced, is a nice boy. A nice boy who plays hockey - preferably really well.

Excuse me for generalizing, but hockey boys come one of two ways: really nice and really grounded or arrogant man whores. And they all like to party a bit. Which is perfect for Meg.

My teammate's kid is the former. He is SUCH a nice kid. He volunteers to coach his mom's team. And we really, really suck. The kid is a saint.

He is also Meg's age. An awesome hockey player. Has the bluest eyes. His parents are super nice. And he has a job.

So, I have decided that he should be Meg's new boyfriend. (Simple as that, right?) The big introduction was last night -- we played hockey with a big group. We'll continue it at a team outing tonight.

Soon, I will have little hockey playing nieces and nephews running about.

I am the best sister ever. (Mostly because I have a backup boyfriend for her, too.)

Labels: boys, hockey, my big little sister