Friday, September 17, 2010


I know this sounds foolish, even as I write it. But I think everything happens for a reason. Or, at least when I'm not miserable, I like to think so.

So, while I don't think I lost my job just so I could eventually meet the PeveMeister, I do think I ended up taking this job maybe so I would know the PeveMeister. Have I told you about her yet?

OK, I'm not gonna tell much, because it's not my business to tell. She's a 27 year old brunette, very pretty and gorgeous smile. OMG, I just love her. (Say it out loud, O.M.G.) So she and I were working together, both brand new, at this whole cell phone store gig. (Did I tell you about that? Oh well.)

And we're having tons of fun together. Like the time she set off the store alarm and the cops came, and there ended up being more cops than there were employees. And after they left, P.M. said, "I'm glad they looked at your license because mine is suspended." And the time I came in and there was some guy working under the hood of her car and I said,"So he likes you huh?" and she said, "No, we're just friends." I told her she was stupid, and roughly 2 hours later she's in the back room on her cell phone SURPRISED that he called her and told her he likes her. Uh, hello, it was 100 degrees today and he's under the hood of your car in a parking lot.

So PeveMeister is gone off to what I am calling a Sabbatical. She's had some problems and she's off for a brief respite and reset. Thankfully I had forced her to give me her Mom's cell phone number, so I called and got an address for her. Her Dad was a bit ornery with me, but I'm chalking that up to him being a father (and not just some uber conservative Christian type) and I'm focusing on the bright sound in her Mom's voice. So I've been mailing PeveMeister on average twice a week. Usually one is a letter and one is just a note.

She's on sabbatical for 11 weeks and it is my hope that my letters and notes make some kind of small difference in her days. I think it's why we met. She needed a friend. I needed a friend at the new job. It worked out well for both of us.

I don't know what, if anything, the future holds for a bitter, old, fat gay guy like me, and a beautiful young brunette lady like her. We never had Paris, but we had 2 months in the cell phone store and that's enough for a life time. (plus 11 weeks of letters)


I hope that's how you spell the word.

With my birthday up and coming, I decided it was time to begin the celebration. Since I'm 40 going on 41, and since many of my friends have left the area, and since MyFella and I have to manage our time on the weekends, you have to make life. . . you know?

So first I called on old friend, we'll call him (former) Car Salesman John, turned New and Improved John. I told him I wanted to have lunch, and then go to a barber shop for a barber shop shave.

We settled on quite possibly the world's best pub grub that is around the corner from my home of 10 years (yes, I still miss that place) and I had the steak po boy. It was actual beef steak of some type. I struggled with my habit of ordering the chicken salad, which is always good stuff. The po-boy was a good choice. But I digress ~

John knew just the barber shop for an old school style shave. Four old men and the smell of blue liquid and talcum powder with a plastic box of SuperBubble on the counter. During my encounter, I asked the man about the shop and he said it had been there for 50 years, he'd only worked there for 7. Then he listed the other locations he had worked at, and they span a distance of time longer than my life.

The experience was very much like seen with Floyd, and I was absolutely sure that there would be a straight edged razor in my near future. There were hot towels and hot shaving cream and a close shave. I was disappointed that he used a Gillette Mach 3. I mean, I, uh, honestly, have that in my bathroom. However, one time I opened my eyes and got a close up view of the barber's arm. It was perhaps a safer option for everyone that he used a Mach 3. Aside from the use of a disposable razor, the experience was everything I hoped it would be, and it was shared with a good friend (who opted for the cut and shave).

I guess if I want one with a straight edged razor blade, I'm gonna have to look for a barber shop with younger barbers, who can still hold a razor like that. But I wonder, does the world still make barbers? Is that a dieing breed, or something that can be found? I don't know.

But on the whole, it was worth $15. And a fun way to start my birthday off.

Thunderbirds vs Eagles

Tuesday I went and spent the day in my hometown, and while it didn't seem hectic, it actually was a day of here, to here, to here. By my own choosing, of course.

First, lunch with my Mamaw (who loves me the most), and I picked it up at The Corner Market. So named, as it apt to happen in small towns, because it's on the corner of two streets. 7th and . . . something, I forget what. In all of my life living there, I was probably never in the Corner Market, but it's new my favorite place. Noodle told me that blue collar workers in the area will stand around their trucks eating their lunch and talking to each other. In addition to a great menu of sandwiches, they also make a hot lunch. On Tuesday the choices were rib tips, saulsberry steak (which I have never understood) and chicken & rice (one dish, instead of an entree with a side, casserole style). For Mamaw, I chose chicken & rice, green beans, corn and cornbread. Yes, she's a diabetic and only later did I realize the full-blown-carb-impact of my choices. Oh well.

Mamaw and I enjoyed a nice lunch together and she's feeling much better. She lamented the horrible treatment of her children who take everything nice (leafy vegetables because the home health nurse said not to while her sore is healing ~ i don't understand that one) and her ice cream bars. I called Noodle to ask about the ice cream, as Mamaw was very disturbed. She said something like, "She's eating 3 a day and even though they are low sugar, they still have sugar." I said, "Well, her version sounds better than '3 a day.'" Noodle, "What's her version?" Me, "One after each meal." You gotta admit, it has a more reasonable tone to it.

So after a very pleasant lunch with Mamaw and a brief, yet enjoyable visit with Uncle K, I made my way to the next part of the day: Picking up my two nephews from school. The 5 year old seemed only slightly pleased to see me, but the 5th grader hopped right in asking, "Where's my bookbag?" Because you know if something can't be found for that chile* I will scour the Mid-South to find it, and I produced a rolling book bag. **

Then I managed to sneak in a short visit with E, who I almost never get to see. *** That was a short visit, but I'm always glad to see him.

And my Moma cooked supper for me. She has this way of making hamburger patties, I can't quite describe it. But it's her way, and I love it.

But anyhow, the main point of the day was the Pee Wee Football game. This year my nephew is in the 5th grade and got a lot of good play time on the field. The weather was perfect with a break in the heat and decent Fall weather. And a favorite of me was the location of the game.

You see, in my youth, to my perception, private school kids were snotty. I had no friends there, and didn't care to. And even today, the thought of that school makes my nose turn up just a little bit (holding on to something from my youth, perhaps, a little too strongly?). It irks me that the public school system is so bad, so unsafe, that the best choice for my nephew is to attend that school. But there he is, just the same, a T-bird.

And then there's the Eagles. . . . somewhere lost in history . . way way back in 1987, I attended Prom there with my best friend**** It was a double date with her best friend, and drives to parts of the county that I had never visited prior. It was one of the most fun nights of my entire 18 years. And quite simply because of that, I just have a fondness for the school. A few weeks later, I attended her graduation, and then years later I began picking up the B children (of which E is one) in the afternoon and then on to their eventual graduations. So amongst my left over teenage angst for small town private schools, I have a fondness for that one, based on a few experiences there.

(Probably has something to do with white people's love of exclusivity, as seen recently on the website of 'Stuff White People Like')

So, I had called and texted the girl from that night and asked her to meet us there, since her alma mater (the Pee Wee sect anyway) was playing against my nephew and my Mom would love to see her. But she stood me up. I did get in a visit with the lady that did her that night so many years ago. And spent more than a few minutes checking out some guy that my brother and his wife know. Mr. Tony, they called him. . . . Oh, I could . . .well, never mind, I digress. . .

So the T-Birds lost the Eagles, and I didn't get to see my former. . . whatever she is to me. . . but I had a great day. . . in a land so far away . . .

*Yes, I spelled it that way on purpose.
**The satchel he was carrying hung near to the ground on his tiny frame.
***And I hate to admit is hotter than a pawn shop pistol when he's really my younger cousin type entity. But since he's in his 20's and a veteran, it's not completely pervy. It's more circumstantial. I mean, I didn't make him hot. He just is.
****A relationship that to this day still confuses me and I can't quite describe. That would take a whole blog of it's own. And some serious couch time with a professional.