A One Week Test

Going back to the time I was about 15 years old, I have felt what I would consider true love for several guys. True love is different when compared to infatuation. Infatuation is more a physical attractive. Infatuation is the work of hormones. Love is the work of the mind, of the psyche.

There are some people, guys specifically, that I will be in tune with, and some that I will not. I have never met anyone of any gender who is not capable of irritating me at least slightly from time to time.

There have been a few guys in my life that after several months in a relationship, after the lust and passion began to ebb, I nevertheless started wondering how I could live without them. These are the guys who are not overbearing, they are calming, and they are willing to listen to my silliness. My brain will give a guy extra points if he occasionally gives spontaneous back rubs or waits for me without complaint as I put on make-up. There are no two guys who have been in my life who I have felt the same level of fondness.

Last week Terry, my boyfriend, and I went on a little adventure into the Adirondacks. Time-wise, it was our first trip together of any length. I knew it was going to be a test, whether I thought of it that way or not. Terry has many characteristics that I cherish, but there are a few things about him that rub me the wrong way. One is that he tends to get a little macho on occasion. That is not my style.

On our trip, we stopped at a large, outdoor store. Terry wanted to make a purchase. Did he buy a gun? Did he buy some knife? The answer to both of those questions is no. He bought a pair of binoculars so he could help his girlfriend/bird watcher spot birds up in the trees.
  
Our trip is now over and if someone were to give me a multiple choice question asking to describe my feelings for Terry in a single word, I would select love over fondness or like. Truth is; I have recently wondered how I could live without him. I guess I can put up with a little bit of bravado, after all, he is putting up with a goofy bird watcher. I think we both passed the test.

Boston's "All Kinds"

Over the last ten years I have become civic-minded and have acquired a social consciousness. Once upon a time not too long ago but seemingly in another world, my worries were about grades, perhaps a boyfriend, and in some vague way, my future as an adult. For me as a person, a lot has changed since then.

One of the personal changes is this advent of social awareness. I have noticed it more recently with the local trials of Aaron Hernandez and Dzhokhar Tsarnaev, especially Dzhokhar Tsarnaev. Once upon a time I would have known about these kind of important events but not followed them with interest. At least for me, to some degree my mental involvement in these sorts of things is not particularly healthy psychologically. Still, I can't help myself; I am taking an interest in the real world. Having said all of that, as sad and even as scary some things can seem, there are times when a person just has to laugh.

Yesterday my boyfriend, Terry, and I were eating at a Five Guys restaurant. There's nothing like a pitifully unhealthy cheeseburger and some death-defying fries to bring the world's troubles more into perspective. As I am chomping away at some high calorie food and contemplating how much time on an elliptical I'll have to spend to burn it off, Terry calmly informs me that he has discovered a new talent. With my mouth stuffed with salted, deep-fried french fries, I give him an inquisitive look.

"Hi Katie, how's the food?" he inquires in this almost creepy, high pitched voice.

"Did you see that?" he then asks in his normal voice.

I swallow the glob of french fries then said, "See what?"

"I talked without moving my lips," Terry replies with a note of actual pride. "I am a ventriloquist."

For about five seconds I just stared at his grinning face. "What?" I mumbled.

"I can do ventriloquism," he responded. "I can talk without moving my lips. I can even do it in a couple of different voices."

There are all kinds of people in the world, and in Massachusetts. On one end of the spectrum there are murderers, terrorists, etc., then at the other end of the spectrum there are those who become exciting because they can talk without moving their lips. If the evils of the world seem to be closing in on you, one little-known antidote is to have dinner with an amateur ventriloquist. He won't rid the world of evil people, but he'll certainly make them seem farther way.

Our Trip To Long Pasture

When I finished writing my last blog entry, the idiotic one about visiting vernal pools, I got to thinking about my mother. When I was about 9 years old I became interested, or more like fascinated in nature. I started reading all kinds of books and literature about the great outdoors. One of the things I read about was vernal pools and their micro ecosystem. But reading about vernal pools wasn't good enough. I wanted an expert to visit one with me so I could ask a million questions.

One Saturday there was going to be a guided program about vernal pools at the Long Pasture Wildlife Sanctuary. A few days before the program, I asked my father if he would take me. Apparently there was something he had to do (probably watch sports on TV), so he told me to ask my mother. My mom told me to ask my dad and when I told her I'd asked him first, she kind of rolled her eyes and nodded.

That Saturday I went off down a trail with a bunch of other nerds of all ages as we followed a naturalist to a vernal pool where we spent a couple of hours examining and analyzing that tiny, unique environment. I'm not sure what my mother did for those two hours but when I returned from the little expedition, she was there waiting. Sometimes I forget what my parents went through to raise a goofy girl.

Yesterday I talked to my mom and I was informed that today my father was to go to a medical clinic for a colonoscopy. He was going to be anesthetized and perhaps too groggy to speak with the doctor afterwards concerning the results, and he would definitely be unable to drive home. The post-procedure conference with the doctor, and the chauffeuring, would be a chore that would logically fall on my mom, but though my mother did not say anything, I know only too well that she is a little squeamish around such things. Anyway, that trip to Long Pasture came to mind. I told Mom that I'd take a day off work and drive Dad. She gave me a bit of an argument but I could tell by the tone of her voice that it was an argument that she wanted to lose. I proclaimed that I would not take no for an answer, much to my mother's relief, and at about 7:30 this morning I stopped by my parents' house to pick up my dad.

My mother met me at the door and she could not thank me enough. All I could think of was that this one good deed was not near enough to make up for everything she has done for me, her goofy little girl.

           

Vernal Pooling

Well, I took the day off to do something I like to do but sure must seem stupid; I went out to a couple of wooded areas to look at some vernal pools. Yep, I know; goofball. I would never ask anyone to go with me on some expedition that must seem idiotic.

Vernal pools are small, shallow ponds that hold water part of the year but generally go dry in mid to late summer. The particular characteristic has to be established. It can't be a one-time wet area; the result of an unusually rainy spring. They are important to the ecosystem and are full of biodiversity.

I drove out to a place known to have a couple vernal pools. I put on my dumb-looking boots, rubber gloves and walked out to see what I could find. This time of the year there are interesting things to uncover at a vernal pool. There are various kinds of amphibian eggs such as assortment of species of salamander, toad, frog and turtle. There are also interesting and rare invertebrates that are found nowhere else but within vernal pools. Unfortunately, vernal pools are also a prime property for mosquitoes, which begin developing in the early spring.

I became excited because I think I spotted the small, jelly-like egg mass soon to be jefferson salamander larvae. It's been a while since I've seen jefferson salamander eggs, so I'm not 100% sure what I was looking at. The jefferson salamander usually lays fewer eggs than the spotted salamander or something like a wood frog. Still, not 100% sure.

Anyway, I'm home now, messing around on the internet, and savoring a small glass of bourbon, bourbon purchased by someone else, for someone else, but drinkable by me.



     

It Was Obvious To Me

I'm not exactly an old lady, but some of my coworkers are actually younger than me. Some younger by about a decade, which is kind of scary when I stop and think about it.

Two of them work together in the same general area. I would be surprised if either has yet reached 20. One, Neal, is male, the other, Kayla, is female. Both are nice people but neither is exactly a social butterfly. Kayla is a little better socially than Neal but still, she is not exactly at ease with other people, especially guys. One thing that I find rather amusing as I have looked on from afar is this attraction they have for each other. To me it is pretty obvious, but apparently not to everyone.

Tuesday something got into me and I asked Neal if I could ask him a slightly personal question. He nodded, albeit a bit reluctantly. I then asked if he had gone out with Kayla yet. I figured he hadn't but I wasn't sure. It was a legitimate question, well, sort of. Anyway, Neal immediately became self-conscious then quickly shook his head. He bashfully told me that he liked Kayla but he thought sure that he'd get turned down. He said that he had kind of assumed that Kayla just wanted to be friends.

I can't remember if I actually giggled or not. Maybe I just got close to a giggle and kept it in. I informed Neal that he definitely would not get turned down. Neal looked at me as if I were nuts. He then, almost defiantly, questioned how I could be so sure.

I have asked, and received relationship advice in my life but I'm not thrilled with the idea of giving it. Nevertheless, I smiled and asked Neal if he had ever noticed how close Kayla stands to him when she is talking to him. He looked confused and shook his head. I told him that she stands about a half step closer than what would be normal. It is not a "just friends" distance, I said. I then informed Neal that when she speaks to him her voice is just a little softer than when she speaks to other people. I told Neal that the quiet voice comes from a bit of emotion leaking into her speech. Finally, I asked Neal if he ever noticed how she will go out of her way to make needless conversation with him. For a few seconds Neal gave me this blank stare before finally stating once again that he was pretty sure that Kayla just wanted to be friends. I told Neal that I am not an expert, and I can't read minds, but that I was 99% sure he was wrong.

Well I'll be honest; if I had been wrong I probably would not have written this blog entry. And if I had been wrong, Neal would not be sharing a pizza with Kayla in about an hour.

No Ordinary Patriots

I was at Terry's, my boyfriend, apartment yesterday evening. Since I carry nothing more than a cheap cellphone, I asked Terry if I could jump on his PC while he ran out to get our pizza. I had heard there was a snowy owl spotted in eastern Massachusetts and I wanted to get online to find out if it was true (it was). While I was on his computer, I saw a desktop folder that was labeled "Patriots". I clicked on the folder to find out what was inside. We live in New England so maybe he had some past New England Patriots listed. Well, what was inside this "Patriots" folder was probably something like 500 nude female photos and assorted short porn videos, porn videos if their names were any indication. One thing for sure; neither the photos nor the videos were of any Patriots I was familiar with. Of course I knew that I had uncovered Terry's porn stash.

My first reaction was surprise. I was not shocked, but I was surprised. It is possible that the source of my surprised came mostly by the fact that I had happened upon porn, and not that I had found specifically Terry's porn.  It is possible, after all, I was expecting to see football players such as Tedy Bruschi and Kevin Faulk in Patriot uniforms.

I do not live under a rock, at least I haven't lived under a rock in a long time. I know that as a rule, guys like porn. I've read where men more than women are "sight" oriented when it comes to sexual arousal. Philosophically speaking, this is not the fault of guys. It is the doing of mother nature. Anyway, the point I'm trying to make is; I did not get angry. I was probably disappointed for a minute or two but that did not last long because after a moment of thought, I concluded that I had no reason to be disappointed. As I said, Terry is basically following his human instincts. And it isn't like I am completely immune to porn myself. The sight of a good-looking guy can raise my pulse a few beats, even if it's just a photo.

Anyway, I did not and will not mention to Terry that I found his digital porn inventory. Terry may find many girls sexually attractive, but there is only one that he attends to personally. And I won't ask for anything more. Terry will never learn that I know of the porn. Besides, I've kept some secrets from him too. One of them is the existence of this blog.  

Ugly Sleep

I am at times an ugly sleeper. Last night was one of those nights.

I don't snore all the time but when I do, it can be pretty hard on the ears. My snoring requires for me to be on my back with my head slightly turned back, as though I'm looking at something on the bed's headboard. My mouth falls open and some really great snoring comes out. It can get so loud, it will wake me up. Sometimes my eyes will pop open and I'll hear the last few seconds of a snort. That's what happened last night at 3:10 AM, assuming my bedside clock is correct.

I will also talk in my sleep. This doesn't happen very often, but now and then I'll have something to say right out loud while I am snoozing. According to those who have had the misfortune of hearing me, I speak mostly gibberish. Now and then a word can be understood, but generally not much more. It is as though I am speaking my own language. I have tied these outbursts to times of heightened problems with anxiety and depression.

I once had a boyfriend who was a pretty good snorer. I would give him an elbow and that would usually silence him. I can have trouble with clinical anxiety that will occasionally trigger a panic attack in the middle of the night. Believe it or not, the sound of a man snoring can actually be a bit comforting during those times. So there are rare occasions when the low gurgling of male snoring isn't all bad.

I consider myself a pretty deep sleeper, as a rule. I don't awake easily. Unfortunately, when I am awakened in the middle of the night, I often have a tough time going back to sleep. This morning at 3:10 I was rousted by my own boisterous snoring and for the next hour or so I pretty much just laid there, now and then turning to glance at my clock. I know I finally fell back to sleep because I was rudely awakened by the alarm at 5:48, thus ending a night of some pretty ugly sleeping. I'll get another try tonight.