Will and Jada (as required by Internet Rule #478b)

Ramblings Post #384
I watched the video. It looked like he'd been crying for a while. That funny laugh you do when you try to play it off. I watched his jaw clench. His body language. But she...she looked like she had just gotten something off her chest and was finally free. We're all different the ways we deal with stuff. 

This year. I can honestly say that one thing I did not see coming this year was so many black women out here trying to revive that old Friends excuse from the mid-ninties? You know the one I mean. They were on a break! Yeah, but here we are now and Will and Jada, well, they still married. So that break got the same validity as it did the first time. I mean, if they had really wanted one, it ain't that hard to get the divorce process started. People start it and then take it back all the time. Especially in California. But ya'll believe what ya'll want to.

Because the truth is, this the old double standard. On damn steroids. Let's just be completely honest here. If a still married Will had gone out and developed a sexual relationship with one of his daughter Willow's friends who was half his age, under the guise of "helping her heal herself," the Fresh Prince's new nickname would be "Black Epstein." And the uptick in discussions about wealthy prominent men preying vulnerable young women would have been high enough to start a new cable channel. Will woulda been cancelled, deleted, cast out, defrocked, and they'd even be taking Wild Wild West off of streaming platforms (Okay seriously, that's a terrible movie, they can take that one out the rotation anytime, no scandal needed.) But here it's Jada. And she was in a very unhappy place. So...it's okay then?

That part.

That part right there is why even if it was an "open relationship" or whatever, what she did was just foul. Now, I imagine if the stories are true, and I'm not saying one way or another if they are, then the other people in their life are supposed to be like OTHER people. Like away people. I dunno, maybe a little chippie down in Hollywood. Maybe a yoga instructor. Maybe somebody who only rolls through when their team plays the Lakers or the Clippers. The other person is NOT somebody who you both invited into your home, became friends with your kids and took on family vacations with you. Not somebody you posted up on the red carpet with. And then when it all comes out, your description isn't supposed to use artful words like "entanglement" instead of simple words like cheated, because well it kinda makes it sound like maybe there were feelings on both sides of that "tangle." Which isn't the flavor you want to add right now. Since you're still married and all.

Maybe there is a feeling she "deserved to get him back" for past transgressions. Maybe they were on a break. But this situation is like he hooked up with a waitress from the Cheesecake Factory she'll never meet, and she hooked up with the next door neighbor kid who he taught to play catch and sometimes comes over to eat dinner. The little fella is even in your family Christmas card.

So, it's not the same thing. It's not even close.

Barkeep. Water. Because there is no celebration in heartbreak.
 

Because she was, I am.

I could always see this barn from the window of the bedroom

Our deal since childhood was that she and I would dance at my wedding. Even after time and bad health put her in a wheelchair we still talked about it.

But I never found anyone worthy of presenting, and when I did I let her slip away.

She once told me that she hadn't been worried about death until she was eighty two. She said she'd spoken to a gypsy woman in her youth who assured her that she would make it at least that far.

But eighty two was a long time ago. A long time.

He favorite story about me, was how a small child, after she told me not get my clothes dirty that I went and did it anyway. Then realizing what I had done, I went and picked the switch for her "give me my beating" without asking, because I knew I had done wrong. I got a hug instead.

For last few years she told me that story every time I saw her. It made me smile.

She falls into that special category of people that I have actually known for my whole life. The very idea of her kept me straight at times, in that there are things I could have done that I knew I would not want to explain, or have anyone explain to her about me. She was for me a fixed point in the universe.

For the last fifteen years, every time the phone rang after ten at night, and I saw it was my parents calling, my stomach did little flip flops in dread. She's been doing poorly for a while so you tried to mentally prepare yourself. And still it wasn't enough.

The biscuits I bake are her recipe. One day I'll get the crust on her sweet potato pie right. Those remind me of a little white house with green trim, a pecan tree with thick climbing branches, the big bed with the metal frame and the bunk beds, a big pitcher of sweet tea, barns to search through, the shotguns behind the bedroom door, and night sky that looks like God picked out every star just to be seen from there. The whole place had a sense of peace, it seemed to calm the soul.

Last time I saw her, she looked so small, lying there asleep. My brother and I stood there, watching her for many minutes. Before I left, I kissed her on the forehead and whispered to her that I loved her. I hope she heard me.

My Grandmother has moved on to a better place.

Bar Chatter

Bar Chatter #5
When it's not enough to make a post, but deserves to go out to the world... it's just Bar Chatter.

Is it true? Are Crunchy Cheez Doodles making a comeback. After discovering a cache at my local grocery, and buying all three bags left, I noticed that one of the packages mentioned that a New new and improved (yet again?) edition was coming out. Or they were changing the bag. Or something. I just hope it means the store will carry more. I'm that far from writing the company again and asking why the local supplier won't stock an obvious seller.



Will my Doodles ever come back to me?

And can Kellogg's Dig'em Smacks be an adequate substitute?

I can feel my blood pressure

This is a health post
I'm getting old. What can I say. And things that should be swinging freely are starting to creak. No not that...minds in the gutter. But as my father likes to say, "getting old is better than the alternative." And the band played on...

A few years ago I had a chest pain, and Sporty insisted I go to the doctor, something I normally would not have done. In most cases, being a typical guy, I would have shrugged it off until the pain subsided then found out twenty years from now that my condition had existed since when I should have taken my ass to the doctor long ass time ago. But anyway I did go to the doctor because she said to and found out I had high blood pressure.

I say had because it's much better now. Going to the doctor and finding out fairly early probably helped. She might have saved my life.

I mean, you ever see one of those movies where the doctor's goes "Excuse me sir, are you sure you're breathing?" Yeah, that was me the first time I went. Numbers at the far end of "you might want to lie down, take a few breaths and try to relax." Looking back I'm fairly amazed they didn't call for an ambulance. Now it's down to merely a little high from time to time. Like now.

Maybe it's the school thing, and the job thing, and the house thing, and the money thing and every other damn thing all coming together in a lovely multi-threaded stress weave but lately I have a sensation that I haven't had in years. Back in my heavy drinking days I would wake up after a good drink and feel my blood pressure in my ears. I was a eerie feeling, sort of a low rumble in my head which I knew if I just stayed still for a while would pass. When I stopped drinking like that, those moments alone in bed on Saturday and Sunday mornings hoping I hadn't drunk myself to death passed for the most part.

And that was true until a week ago. I can hear it again. And it scares me.

I mix up the diet - salads, oat bran, baked foods, veggies and juices mixed with fried whatever and the occasionally extra greasy greasy something. I stopped eating crazy portions, now I just eat until I'm full throw the rest away. My weight is still down, my belts and pants loose.

Is it the diet? The stress? The whole of my existence?

Barkeep...something calming and soothing. With some rum in it.

Then karma hits me square in the mouth

Sometimes, the hints you get in life are subtle, and we miss them in the hustle and bustle only realize later that this was a clue that maybe, just maybe you'd missed an opportunity or let something get past you. You realize later that if you had done X or said Y the whole outcome would have shifted.

And then there are moments like this.

When the clue is obvious, so blatant, it's like God grabbed to top of your head, twisted it around to where he wants you look and says "here stupid", like you're Curley in a Three Stooges movie or trying to shove the dog's nose in it's mess to show it's mistake.

Short version - Sporty and I were still doing whatever it is we do. She texted that she misses me, and she'll be in town on x-day, etc. So we're now dancing around a new concept, trading I miss you's and I love you's when her "man" proposes to her...on my birthday.

Well.

There are 364 other days in a year and he picked this one?

Thinking maybe I missed something? Think God is saying for wasting all this time...take that? I'm getting that feeling.

Her message says "I was presented with an engagement ring". It ends with "luv u."

I've always been a little slow. But damn. Shit. Why can't she just say it? I'm gonna get up and do something, been in bed since I got home. Lifequakes and aftershocks.

These feets is made for walking

If you're ever in Piedmont park at 7am, you might spot me walking it out. Last week I got punked into starting an exercise regimen at 6:30-6:45 AM in the park. We do an hour then take it in and go to work.

By punked I mean we middle aged out of shape guys are in the office all the time talking about diets, how we're about to get started next week (always next week), how we're about to start eating better, regain that form we sported in high school or college and fuck like a rockstar again..only this time knowing we'll what we're doing. And she'll love it.

So after two weeks of suggesting a quick break in the middle of the work day, so I could get away from my phone, my buddy asks me how many times I've gone out and took the break. My number was a little low. To prove I was serious I agreed to do this thing at Piedmont. I ain't been up this early regularly since never.

I was surprised to find the park so crowded in the AM. We usually enter over by the Park Tavern, swing wide by the lake then around the track, do three brisk laps (we're supposed to be adding stairs tomorrow) then roll straight down to 10th and back to the corner. Walking now, not running, jeez. In our stroll we're greeted by the Boot Camp folks who are out doing calestenics when we get there (what time do they arrive?) and many the morning jogger.

I get tired watching the Boot Camp folks as they run by.

Me and Tom talk about whatever, and I think we're the only friendly people in the park. I don't really see anybody else talk to anybody else. Okay, the homeless guy was talking to himself, but I'm not sure that counts.

My goal is a six pack. Okay maybe a twelve pack-ish. All I know is that I'm down from a keg, and working my way from party ball down to case. I just want to feel comfortable taking off my damn shirt. As soon as my legs and back stop hurting. And my feet. And my sides. And my butt.


Bartender...Bacardi and diet Sprite.