Being VIP

Sometimes it’s very good to be me. This is my story and I’m sticking to it.

In March of 2012 I bought concert tickets to see Bare Naked Ladies and Big Head Todd in the Last Summer on Earth tour. I looked forward to attending for nearly 6 months and in the end I cried and burned things.

Life ebbs and flows. The universe showered meteors this summer. During the same week a benevolent business relationship produced VIP tickets to Big Head Todd on the Maine State Pier.

IMG_0620I had enough rewards on my credit card to pay for an overpriced room, across the street from the venue, with an expansive view of the harbor. For 4 hours I felt like I was young again. It was wonderful.

IMG_0558  Free VIP tickets are delightful. The chairs are cushioned, the lounge is intimately spacious, the porta potties have no lines and, in one case no lock, and the musicians mingle, however briefly, with the lesser beings.

IMG_0589The illusion of infinite freedom is delicious. I wanted to take my credit cards and follow the band, to sit in a cushioned chair, seaside, on a perfectly clear August day, forever.

We all know that didn’t happen. I came home the following morning. I saw our local weather forecaster on the commuter bus. He was returning from Duke where he’s completing doctoral work. Our eyes met. When he saw me recognize him, he said “Hi”. I didn’t talk with him.
Instead, I spied on the reunion he had with his wife at the bus station. They were truly happy to see each other. It was touching to witness.
When he was in the men’s room, I talked with her and mentioned how consistently nice he is in public,  that along with appreciating it as a human being, it is gratifying to me as an advertiser. I can’t have people thinking I’m a creeping, stalker for no good reason.
I am an observer. I really am an advertiser too.
I told her that I hated to be intrusive, that it must be such an infringement to have strangers bearing down, everyone wanting your precious time. She was very happy to talk about him, to say what a sweet, genuine, person he is, and to tell me he’s finishing up at Duke. She loves him and she’s proud of him, it’s in her smiling eyes.

As I was getting ready to leave a young woman, working at the terminal, stopped me. “I’m so glad I saw you” she said. “This is my last week, I’ve taken a new job and I wanted to tell you.” I hugged her. I told her I was happy for her and we discussed the merits of her new position. I gave her some unsolicited advice- Everyone is new at one time or another. Don’t worry. New things make us all a little apprehensive just think of it as an adventure and you won’t be nervous anymore. I am SO proud of you!

I’d like to live a glamorous VIP life. Except I don’t want to be a VIP. I’d rather be me.

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Midday in the Garden of Mediocrity and Mayhem

elroyjones:

I enjoyed this post and others on domingosaurusrex, amusing commentary on the human experience.

Originally posted on Not Necessarily About Dinosaurs or Anything Else:

Well so far so good on my quest to post a blog every day this month.  Thus far today at least one faithful reader has told me in person they were a little disappointed in yesterday’s offering; (an excerpt from my journal.)  OK I admit it was kind of a cop out,  but in my defense I never really write journal entries with the intention of other people reading them.  PLUS, I did have to work at 3 this morning, and I still took time out to post something.  And don’t be surprised if I do it again.  30 blog posts in 30 days is a lot to expect from someone as frequently unmotivated as I am. (Wait…I just realized there’s 31 days in August.  Fuuuuuuuuck….)  Sometimes 1 blog post in 3 months is too much to ask.  (I feel like I was a little more productive before this…

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Empire Security

A downtown friend recently divulged that he and his wife have worked only part time for the last 16 years. They enjoy themselves when they’re not working. They have a garden and they go kayaking. They meander and daydream. They live, he tells me, week to week. It sounds heavenly to me.

When you get right down to it, we’re all living week to week. We may have different budgets to work with but we exist within the confines of the boundaries we set for ourselves. It’s all imaginary. We believe we have security because we have faith in the concept of security. Don’t try to argue the point. If I have to defend it you’ll just get depressed, trust me on this one.

The same day that my downtown friend told me he works only part time and has done so for the last 16 years (I’m not jealous, jealousy is ugly. I’m envious, jealousy’s charming cousin.), I met my neighbor’s visiting brother walking home from the local dive bar, tanked at 5:30P- not that there’s anything wrong with that, particularly if you’re visiting on vacation, but what do you do for the rest of the evening if you’re trashed at that early hour? Anyhow, during the course of our conversation, as we traveled up the street, and I wondered if he had a speech impediment that made him speak so slowly and carefully until I discovered where he’d spent the afternoon, he asked me when I was moving. I had no idea who he was or how he knew I was moving until he put the question in context thusly, “You know, my sister-in-law said you’re building an empire and soon you’ll move.”

It’s interesting to hear what people think of your life. I’m not the least bit offended by the remark because I know the spirit in which it was made. Everyone who is even remotely acquainted with my husband and me knows he is motivated by his children, trying to provide them with some security. The thing is security is worth only what we imagine it’s worth. It has no real value because it can be lost in a second.

You know how I am. I’ve been plotting to get myself a part time job that will last at least 16 years. As recently as August 1st I made this announcement to my own dear husband, “Yesterday was my last day. I quit. I’ll just finish the end of month and close out the accounts and I’m done. Figure it out your own damn self.” Really, I did quit. I quit because in the middle of the interminable construction project, during my favorite time of year, my husband and the accountant we work with decided NOW would be the time to change the business entity. I don’t want to bore you to death but I’m sure you know who does all the work around here.

Don’t you worry. I’ll get my revenge when we move. New hours, 8A-4P with an hour for lunch, that’s 5 days a week ladies and gentlemen. I will be observing all of the bank holidays and I will also celebrate Boxing Day, Patriot’s Day, my birthday, and some obscure holidays that don’t get near the recognition they deserve. I don’t have anything much but it does seem I have JOB security. IMG_0471IMG_0472

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Moving Along

IMG_0457IMG_0458IMG_0467Acceptance with forgiveness arrives unexpectedly. I’ll be relieved when the interminable construction project concludes. I miss writing the serial stories and having the luxury of time to read. Today there is a lot to be thankful for.

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One Wall

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Someday there will be more walls and a deck with HOG panels. It will have to be pressure washed too.

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Looking In & Out

IMG_0449Looking in at the living room and kitchen windows. Pacing myself and not getting excited. YAY!

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Luna Salvation

Last evening my husband made an ill-advised comment that began with “You don’t understand because you don’t have children…” and ended with me making some strategic changes to my advance directive and my obituary, damn straight! My obituary and my advance directive are works in progress. I’m not kidding when I say I’ll have a bouncer and a velvet rope as I lay dying. I set the standard for childish reaction, it is my life’s work.

Each June luna moths come here to Hippy Hill. They’re drawn by the light at the steps. I am enchanted by them. This year the birds have attacked them and left nothing but shredded luna wing remains on the steps in the morning. It is a tragic situation that disturbs me. I can’t look.

This morning, as I kissed my husband goodbye, he pointed out two luna moths. We encouraged them to fly away but they wouldn’t. My husband used the grill tool to transport the luna moths, one at a time, to the edge of the woods under some ferns so the bluejays wouldn’t eat them. After he left, I made some adjustments to my documents.

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