2004-06-21 @ 10:15 p.m.
|So today was the Nanny meeting the Kids day. And I was almost as nervous as when I had met with Greg. Although today I wasn't able to rely on an artificial means for relaxation (aqua massage) because I realized yesterday that I only have $80 left until July 3, so shelling out $10 for a machine to pummel my ass probably wasn't a good idea. So plan B: Clonopin. Thatís right, take drugs and get behind the wheel of a 12,000 pound hunk of steel and drive south. Good thinking, witty.
Don't try this at home, kids.
But Iím used to clonopin, and it really just takes the edge off, so Iím not so freakiní anxious. Of course stopping and buying a large caffeinated soda and a six pack of chocolate donuts was probably not advisable and probably undid most of what the clonopin was doing for my body, but I bought them anyways. I eat when Iím anxious.
The ride up there was nice. We are having some incredibly cool and nice weather for June. Yesterday when I went for a walk at our local lake I had to wear a long sleeved shirt to protect me from a stiff breeze off the lake. Iím definitely not complaining though. I hate heat. Hey Mother Nature, if you want it to be 72 degrees and no humidity for the rest of summer, you go girlfriend. All those cute runner guys still wear shorts, even when its 70.
Oh I had the most embarrassing thing happen yesterday. I took a 5 mile walk along our local lake. Itís a nice lake and there are paved paths along the edge for runners, with an occasional bench for us old folks who want to sit and take our blood pressure or talk about Madonna in the '80s. Well, I had sat down at about mile 3.5. It was very lovely. I was looking out at a bunch of Canadian geese on the water, when I heard the familiar tamp-tamp-tamp-tamp of an oncoming runner.
Ok, I have this thing for runners. I like guys in shorts. I like guys with sinewy, muscular legs. I think theyíre sexy. Firm legs....yum. Married Guy is a runner. ďAĒ is also a runner. When I walk at the lake, I am forever checking out runners.
So I was sitting on the bench, probably looking like some nerdy bird watcher, when suddenly my head swiveled in the direction of the oncoming runner. Yeah, I was checking him out...its true. Young guy. Shorts. Sinewy, muscular legs. But since I was facing away from him, I had to turn around ever-so-slightly to checky-outy the boy-runner. So right after he passes behind me, my head then snapped around to the other direction to check out what I thought would be his departing ass-view and what do you think? The guy was still running forwards, but he had turned back towards me and was running backwards. He was checking me out, checking him out. Fruck.
Hi! Yeah, Iím checking you out. (me laughing nervously) Can I feel your quads? I promise
Damn. Another runner escapes the arthritic grip of awittykitty.
So I finally arrived up at Gregís house around 10:40. Two of his sons were washing his car. I asked them if they were doing that for Fatherís Day. No. just being obedient, helpful children I guess. They introduced themselves. I immediately mixed their names up. Guess my clonopin, caffeine and chocolate mix was already conspiring to make me look like an idiot, so I just decided to just smile alot.
So there I was at the front door of the 7000 square foot house. There was so really loud music blasting from up above, but when the kids got Dad on the intercom, the music went off immediately.
The house? Well, it's more like a 7000 square feet construction site. The only actual completed room on the first level is a small bathroom. The rest are framed out rooms covered in sawdust with huge cartons containing unused restaurant-sized stoves and subzero refrigerators. The grand piano is also down there covered with a huge tarp. I only got to see the edge of it. It was black. There are also several stair cases leading upstairs and I soon realized that leaving a trail of bread crumbs might have been a good idea, since the place was so incredibly huge and disjointed.
I saw Greg once again. Lets say the guy has hair. Who was that Australian comedic actor a few years ago? Yahoo Serious? Once again he seemed very serious when I met him. He gave me a tour of the entire house. The part they actually live in, actually only occupies about 1/3 of the top floor. The rest is under construction.
The ďefficiency apartmentĒ that would be mine, would not actually be mine...at least at first. Its currently acting as their TV room and kitchen. Its a large pleasant room with a kitchen at one end, large windows, very high ceilings, two fancy ceiling fans and French doors leading into what would be my bedroom. My room is about 1/4 bigger than my current room, is painted a really stunning lavender color, again with the high ceilings, a big ceiling fan, a pressed tin ceiling, with some big windows facing the woods. How can I complain about that? I currently look at the backside of a dentist building. The bedroom does have French doors with windows though. Weíd have to fix that. Witty does like her
I couldnít quite get an answer out of Greg though if and when the whole two rooms would be mine and mine only. I need all the space I can get. I have a lot of stuff. Furniture, bookcases, a piano. And kitty. He doesnít seem overly fond about the idea of my cat. He started recounting stories of finding cat turds in the corners of his house. I assured him my cat doesnít do that.
Probably the weirdest thing about the family room however, were several large portraits of his deceased wife, sitting on easels, in her wedding dress. They were married 21 years ago. And there were either 2-3 of them sitting at various angles all over the room. Why her in her wedding dress? Why not a more current picture? I found that a little eeky.
He soon sent me on a tour of the acreage with his sons. We were all able to talk together rather easily. They took me out in the yard and then around a path that went through some woods and then to the location where Greg is going to build a mausoleum for his wife. Fortunately its not right up against the house or anything. Its way out in a side yard, so thatís good. He had shown me the location when we were in his bedroom. Guess heís angled it so he can look out at her from his bed. (shiver)
After we got back in the house, the two boys took me in their bedroom and one of them had a nice keyboard. I asked him if he could play and he smiled shyly, but you know kids. He finally started playing a little ďHeart and SoulĒ. He was trying to balance the keyboard on his lap but it was teetering rather precariously, so I went over and got down on my knees and held it for him. He kept making mistakes on the song (I think he was nervous), but I told him it was ok, and then I said I would play the upper part of the song. Well, for me, I was playing it upside down and backwards. Had to try and figure out which direction to play it. He started to play the song a little better, once I started screwing up and I think we had a little connection going.
Then Gregís sister came in with the little girl, who I got to meet. She was really shy. She had a t-shirt on that said DIVA. So I asked her if she was a diva and she didnít say anything, and I told her that a DIVA was somebody really special who everyone really liked. She didnít really seem to buy that. Oh well. Guess I connect better with boys than girls. I was shy too as a little girl.
So the adults finally ended up in the family room and talked for a while. I kept hoping Greg would ask me some questions or say something about something, but when I mentioned that having an internet connection was important to me, he just went off and started talking about that for like 15 minutes. His sister did talk to me a little. She admired a necklace I had on and I told her I was from California and had previously worked as an artist.
Greg finally asked me for my e-mail address and I got his. Not really sure what thatís for. A Dear John letter? The guyís a mystery to me. He said maybe we can talk about things. And I was thinking...hey, I just drove almost 30 miles to your house...Why not now?
I am concerned about all his big plans to finish his house and build pools and build tennis courts... Heís been there 8 years. And all he has is a fancy intercom system, a grand piano covered in a tarp and plywood floors. When is that going to happen?
Lyrics by Lennon/McCartney. All angst copyright by awittykitty