Claude Strikes Again!

Before the teen years started turning my mother’s hair gray, my insane klutziness was the cause of her frequent trips to the hair salon for a cover-up dye job. My mother was never sure if I would make it through the day unscathed……or even alive. I could, as she so eloquently put it, trip over the patterns in carpets.

Growing up (back in the days of yore) before cell phones or even voicemail for that matter, we had a little hallway niche that held our landline and answering machine. Sadly, this old technology involved many connected wires that were left dangling. Our answering machine was frequently replaced as I would trip over the phone cords and send the poor machine flying into the wall on a monthly basis.

For all my clumsiness, I only had one cracked head and one broken bone in my childhood years. I was generally just covered with a multitude of scratches and bruises and my room was filled with knick knacks and such that I had broken in one of my klutz attacks.

My mother nicknamed me “Claude” (as in clod)!

The scariest day in my family was not the day I received a driver’s license or any other age appropriate milestone event but rather the day I got my first pair of “high heeled shoes” – age 12. I think my mother was convinced that my clumsiness would result in a fall of epic proportions and she would be called to my school to identify my body. Cause of death – “tripped on own shoes”.

The klutz in me did not go away as I grew older. However, it has taken extended vacations. I am either more conscious of my surroundings and therefore less clumsy or more resilient and less likely to cause serious bodily harm. I do admit that I stub my toes weekly and have at least one mystery bruise at any given time.

My boyfriend has met “Claude” on a few occasions. I think my “Claude” personality amuses him to no end and he has stopped asking where the scratches or bruises came from and has come to accept that his girlfriend is prone to occasional bouts of klutziness.

And then today happened!

As I was walking out of my house and down the stairs to the driveway (yes, I AM taking a risk whenever stairs are involved), I slipped on the worlds tiniest patch of early morning dew iciness and went tumbling forward. Luckily, I know the drill. At the first sign of clumsy unsteadiness I toss my hands forward to break the fall. Sadly it was concrete blacktop and I scraped the palms of my hands and landed…kerplunk….on both knees…..taking all the skin off in the fall.

So what do I do? Cry? Get upset? Freak out?

Not I!

I shake it off and chalk it up to the return of the 5 foot tall klutz and am thankful that I am not fully grown as I generally don’t have far to tumble. I get into my car and dutifully take a cell phone picture of my scraped up knee and send it off to my caring boyfriend. I was thinking that perhaps some loving words of sympathy might make me feel better.

His text response after receiving the picture:

“DUDE – you need to start wearing protective gear 24/7!”

Is it better to know and be disappointed? Or to not know and be left wondering?

We all come with baggage. Some of us just have a quick carry-on parcel that contains just a few items. Some of us have a full set of luggage. And some of us carry trunks and suitcases that are dinged and banged from years of abuse.

If past relationships have taught me anything, it is that the value is learned only once the “parcel” has been discarded.

However, I don’t reuse baggage and therefore I toss the past into the trunks of my life.

And yet sometimes a parcel is retrieved from the lost luggage bin and finds it way to my door, or my inbox, rather.

And so here I sit, staring at the past that wants to be my present providing me with information about my present in hopes of making it my past.

Sometimes life makes you shed far too many tears.

In true love the smallest distance is too great, and the greatest distance can be bridged!

I must keep reminding myself of this quote! I go through my daily routines and there it is…this quote, hanging overhead, dripping down on me like a slow, steady rain. Seeping into my thoughts and trying to remind myself……distance….can….be….bridged!

My alarm goes off in the morning. I lean to my left and hit snooze and then turn to my right. That side of my bed is empty. I am awake now…..but it can be bridged!

I take a shower and drape myself in a towel and walk into my room with faint bits of water still soaking on my skin. I turn my back and no one is there to help me dry off….but it can be bridged!

I make my coffee in the morning and fill the pot a bit too much. There will be no second cup to make….but it can be bridged!

I head to work and walk solo down the Boston city streets. The sun is breaking through the sky and I squint my eyes as I walk to my office, coffee in hand…..in the cup he gave me….and it can be bridged.

I get through my work day and trudge home, tired and full stories from the office. We will speak tonight. Every night. Always. And there is the distance……it can be bridged.

We see eachother monthly….sometimes more than that. We speak daily…..all day…..every day. Pictures. Emails. Phone calls. We bridge.

He is there.

I am here.

It is lonely at times. I can’t lie about that.

But there is a fine line that binds us. A small transparent string that I know is there. It connects me to him and therein lays our bridge.

And in the end we will find eachother in the same place at the same time….across the span….and on the other side…..and it will be eachother we are holding on to with the bridge behind us!

It will be bridged!

And I know where I’ll be August 21 and 22….and you should be there too!

If you are in the Detroit area – Savage Productions presents:

And if you are in the Chicago area – The League of International Party Girls Presents:

Or even if you are not in the area….make a weekend out of it!! Book a vacation and get out and have some fun!!!

These shows are not to be missed!!!

~A

Help support the local rockabilly music scenes and come on out to these shows!

Funny…I always somehow managed to find my car keys when I looked for them but….

When I misplaced my car keys and went on a house hunting turn-my-life upside-down frenzy, I always managed to find them. When I was looking for love, my life was turned upside down but I always turned up empty.

I can look through me and find a series of stale romances. I can see instances when the love was not there but the comfort was. I can find a series of “stayed long past the expiration date” relationships which had soured on the shelf and yet I refused to throw them away.

It’s funny, this life we lead, when matters of the heart are concerned. In most cases we allow the reality to be clouded and we don’t listen to the deep recesses of our minds. We stay because we don’t know any different or perhaps out of fear of loneliness.

It’s hard to pinpoint the reasons when you are actually living them but hindsight is 20/20 and suddenly the answers appear.

I do know that I have listened to pep talk after pep talk and advice (both solicited and unsolicited) and yet still made the same, for lack of a better term, mistakes.

So I gave up and moved on. I found solace and comfort in the relationships in my life that were tried and true – my friendships. I took dating out of the mix and was resigned to nights alone in bed with my kitty and a full social calendar of fun and friends.

And then the strangest thing happened…I met someone.

Of course, as the age old adage goes, it happened when I least expected it and when I wasn’t looking.

I could wax poetic about how amazing this person is – the man who holds my attention, the man who makes me smile, but I won’t (well…at least not today.)

I will say this – he is perfect. Not “perfect” in the sense that I will shove a big mouthful of “this is what the perfect man is like” hooey down anyone’s throat. By “perfect’, I mean perfect for ME. Our similarities and personalities mesh and where we are different, we somehow manage to compliment eachother.

I can only say what is true – I have actually fallen in love. When we speak, I get lost in his words, his eyes, his voice. He makes me laugh and he makes me think and he brings a sense of calm to my life! I look at him and know that this is the person who I want to hold hands with, down a tree-lined path, when I am old and gray and my gait has slowed.

I suppose I had a catchers mitt on one day and managed to reel in one of life’s little curve balls. But I’m happy to be back in this game. I am going for 7 full innings, a bit of overtime and then retiring with the pitcher who tossed me this ball!