reminisce – Page 6 – Life in the Cheese Drawer

memorable

January 21, 2014 kate Comments 1 comment

it was during the last few weeks of my fall semester of my second year in college when i had my most memorable kiss.
in a scandalous turn of events, i had somehow ended up in a short relationship with a boy six years my senior with whom my roommate was infatuated; that did nothing for roommate relations at the time, but i was 19 and finally found myself in the crosshairs of a guy’s attention.
he invited me to play cards at his friends’ apartment which was in the same complex as mine, just in a different building across the courtyard. we walked over on the snow-compacted sidewalk in early december cold.
after a couple hours of cards, and after a couple of drinks, his friends said they had to call it a night, so we bundled up in our winter coats, said goodbye, and started back across the courtyard to my building.
i don’t remember if it was actually snowing or if there was just snow on the ground, but it was white on the ground and dark skies overhead, and the lampposts’ light pooled in small, glowing circles that lighted the path back.
we were both a little tipsy, slipping and sliding across the sidewalk, and, laughing in the punctuated dark, he leaned down from his 6’3″ frame and kissed me. it was warm, wet, and boozy, and the cold fled.

night divine

December 13, 2013 kate Comments 0 Comment

tonight i drove to zumbro falls, a small bucolic town, population 307, that’s about 35 miles from st. charles, to visit a coworker of mine who was participating in a craft sale. i left at 6:30, after the sun had made its early wintertime descent into the western sky. i drove northwardly cross country, hitching rides on county-road blacktop.
one thing i noticed immediately when we moved from austin to new london was the farms were far and few between in west-central minnesota, while farmhouses popped up all over the south end of the state, like mushrooms after a rainy day. after moving back, i was comforted by the plethora of farms, and as it turns out, christmastime is when they shine.
many of the farmhouses were strung with copious lights, the yards populated with reindeer, santas, snowmen, and candy canes. tonight was a little hazy, and the moon shone muted, yellow in the sky, just enough to bring a white sheen to the ground where the few inches of snow we got lay.
as my tires hummed over the asphalt, bringing me to farm after farm, i was suddenly struck with a homesickness for the drive between new london and the st. cloud area. after spending christmas with my family – food prep, o holy night, buffet, stockings, presents, bad movies – i would drive home on highway 23, then veer off on county road 2 in cold spring, and slide through garrison keillor’s lake woe-be-gone backyard. a couple miles before trundling under interstate 94, there was a home that had done its lights right: the massive tree in the front yard was strung in vertical white lights from top to bottom. you could see it coming a mile down the road, and i looked forward to seeing it every year.
i won’t be seeing my lake woe-be-gone tree anymore, and there are some definite wild cards to this christmas (like…will the new church choir sing “o holy night”?). but the basics will still be the same – family and fun and snow and cheer. i know i’ve said in the past that home really is where your family is – it’s not about the place or the atmosphere. but it sure is hard to remember that sometimes.

omission

November 16, 2013 kate Comments 4 comments

let me tell you a story about avoiding childhood trauma by omission. i’m not saying my parents were deceptive; my mom is the most honest person i know. but adult matters don’t need to be discussed with children, especially if their foreseen consequences don’t necessarily come to fruition.
my childhood was not your normal childhood. we lived on welfare and foodstamps for a good two years when i was 11-13 years old while my mom went back to school to get her degree (and get a better job – guess what? welfare works!).
you ask my brother, and he will be able to tell you nothing of that time. my sister liz was amazed at ice cube trays a few years ago, mentioning that we only had store-bought ice growing up. i looked at her like she was crazy; we used ice cube trays until i was 14 years old. needless to say, as the oldest, i remember the most about this time.
i didn’t comprehend the stigma. in fact, a lot of the response we got was positive and in the form of help from church and community members. but as a non-financial-dealing person of the family, i had no idea how stressful this actually was.
i recently found out the reason why we were almost homeless at one point, and for personal reasons (hi mom!) i’m not going to explain. but i will say this: the deception by omission was probably one of the best things my parents did for my siblings’ and my relationships with other family members.
i remember a little about the sale of 60 acres of the family farm (it was my dad’s dad’s land): watching the surveyors and pulling the long 150′ measuring tape along the east edge of the property. only later did i find out some more details – how my mom’s friend helped us out with some money and how close we were to being homeless.
i never wondered the reasons behind the foreclosure on the land – i always thought it was just because we were on welfare. sure, that had to be part of it; if we’d had a lot of money, it wouldn’t have been an issue at all. but after hearing more information, it became a little clearer and understandable, and my relationships were different, so i could more easily come to terms with what i was hearing. if i’d heard it when i was 13, i would have been devastated.
but i will say that the omission my parents performed during that time was for the best. i don’t consider it deceptive, because it was an adult matter. we grow cynical and suspicious with age, and to have that thrust upon a person at an early age is to deprive her of an innocence that doesn’t last forever. we need the hope and wonder of our childhood to keep our cynical selves in check later in life.

most awesome moments

November 14, 2013 kate Comments 0 Comment

i’ve taken pity on you and decided to write another (non-houseblog) post.
awesome life moments, in no order, except as they come to me in my head. most of these aren’t awesome in the true sense of the word. they are just memories that i remember occasionally and smile when i think about them.
1. best day ever – big gay race/crypticon 2013 with jane. between rainbows in the morning and zombies in the evening with too much to drink, this really was an awesome day.
2. walking through the autumn woods at st. john’s for all those years.
3. when nate and i drove to utah for branden’s wedding. it was a good trip, fun wedding, awesome time. nate and i went to visit the state park island in the great salt lake just as the sun was setting – mountains surrounding us and dirt under our feet. on the way home we stopped in the black hills.
4. speaking of the hills, doing the deadwood tour with my sibs. ate a cheap (but good!) steak at an outdoor bar along with some rocky mountain oysters, then gambled our way up and down the cobblestoned main street.
5. almost seeing santa claus. i was 2-1/2. i was so close. whenever i remember it now, i get hope butterflies in my chest.
6. going to a podunk bar with kerin and angie on a random saturday night. kerin wanted to go see the band, so angie and i went with her to raymond, mn – population 30, i think. cars lined the streets on both sides, all visitors for the two bars the dinky town housed. kerin went to find some people she knew, and angie and i sat at the bar, had a few drinks, and enjoyed the music.
7. the first time nate and i went to the MN state fair. i was amazed at what i’d been missing all those years – what was i thinking, not going??
8. the day in high school when the pep band (yes, i was in the pep band) traveled to the girls’ basketball tournament in the cities and then to the boys’ basketball regions in st. cloud. long day, but absolutely fun!
9. the day i quit merrill. i never felt more free. i miss a lot of the people, but the place and work were pulling me under.
10. finishing nanowrimo in 2007 and 2011. the sense of accomplishment when you tip over 50,000 words is like none other!

um, what now?

September 23, 2013 kate Comments 0 Comment

i packed my prompt book in a box 🙁 all my books and movies are packed, which is a huge thing. the next huge thing is the kitchen. at this rate, i’ll be ready to move in 2 weeks.
i am not a reminiscent person when it comes to things, so why do i have so many things? as i mentioned earlier, i like pretty things. but, i also like things neat and uncluttered for the most part. i look at some of my knick knacks and think – why? why do i have this? oh yes, it’s because so-and-so gave it to me. oh yes, it’s because i got it from my grandma. oh yes, my mom might ask me in 10 years if she can borrow it and will be severely disappointed if i no longer have it (a set of crystal glasses that i would gladly sell if not for this).
but my things are nothing compared to the YEARS of writing i have stored on my hard drive and binders full of old school papers (graded, of course). i still have my math tests from my pre-calc class i took at scsu because i like looking at my grades occasionally.
and then i take a step back. i helped liz unpack this past weekend, and i realize that i don’t have a ton of stuff. my mom has a lot of stuff. liz has more stuff than i do. it just seems like i have a lot of stuff when i’m packing it up. nate complains about the amount of stuff we own, but i have to reassure him that, no, relatively speaking, we don’t have a lot of stuff.
last time we moved, i did a massive purge. this time i might not have so much stuff to donate, but i will still have at least one trip to goodwill. i got rid of a couple books, one of which i haven’t cracked since 1999, one of which nate purchased 8 years ago with the intent to learn 3D programming and never cracked, and one that i will never read again. why keep it if it’s not going to earn its keep? do we keep things just so we can remember the memories? do we dwell on the past? should we keep things that resurface memories, even though we know we will always hold those memories? keep the memories but look to the future? i don’t know.
well this turned into a rambling mess of junk.

why i'm faux goth

September 20, 2013 kate Comments 4 comments

when i was at st. ben’s taking my computer art III class in 2001, my professor had a tragus piercing. this was right around the time the cartilage piercings were starting to take off, and when i saw that tragus and how it was completely different than anything else out there, not to mention looking good on a 45-55-year-old woman, i decided then and there that i wanted one. (on a side note, that was the ONLY graphic design class i took in my entire college career, grad work included.)
before that i had already decided i’d get a tattoo at some point. my uncle and cousin had tattoos that i’d admired (even though they did not).
so when i had the cash, i got the tattoo first, and then less than a year later, i got my tragus pierced. at this point i’d already had my cartilage done (with a gun, unfortunately).
then they started cropping up all over.
this wasn’t a bad thing; i just considered myself an early adopter.
when i saw a picture of a triple forward helix three years ago or so, there was another moment where i said, “i want that”. and today i went in to get it.
unfortunately, my ear isn’t designed to accommodate a triple forward helix, so i just got a couple helixes farther up my ear. not exactly what i wanted, but i’m still happy with them.
what is the cause, though? i couldn’t tell you besides the idea that when i see something i like, i normally go for it. my tattoos are not your stereotypical picked-out-of-a-book tattoo with biker symbols and skulls and death that most people associate with tattoos. my piercings are all removeable if i want them to be (no). i like pretty things. i like meaningful things. i don’t consider myself goth (they are too emo) like my mom thinks i am. i just think things are pretty that she doesn’t.

goodbye again

August 11, 2013 kate Comments 4 comments

i only technically lived in new london for a grand total of three years. after my family moved from austin to the new london-spicer area, we rented in spicer for a year before my parents bought 224 n. main in new london. after three years, i went to college. i did come home for the summers between my first year and sophomore years and soph and junior years, and i stayed in new london for maybe a month and a half after graduating from st. ben’s, and that is the extent of my actual living time in new london.
my parents, however, have lived in new london for nineteen years. this means that while i had not lived in new london very long, i have made the drive to and from the area quite a bit and spent many a day there.
last april my mom got a new job in rochester, and their house sold last month. their closing date is august 30, and they take possession of a new house in st. charles on sept. 12. this last saturday, i went to the house one final time to help pack up. i won’t miss the house and area as much as my parents will (especially my mom), but i will miss it.
i’ll miss christmas – most of my christmasses were spent in new london. i’ll miss the drive along hwy 23 from st cloud. i’ll miss o’neil’s pub and their awesome bloody marys. i’ll miss memories surrounding july fourth in spicer – working the beer garden at the street dance and seeing people from high school. i’ll miss the heightened sense of familiarity when walking into a local business and knowing i might just know someone from long ago. i’ll miss green lake. i’ll miss lake andrew. i’ll miss sibley state park. i’ll miss the drive from my parents’ house to angie’s parents’ house. i’ll miss driving through new london, up the hill, and coming around the bend to see good ol’ 224. i’ll miss sitting on the deck with the sun filtering through the cedar trees in the backyard. i’ll even miss the little red barn. i’ll miss the autumn orangey-yellow of the maple tree in the front yard. i’ll miss seeing the high school and thinking about what a huge nerd i was. i’ll miss “grandma’s curve” – the curve on hwy 23 right by the roscoe roadside tavern that my grandma once commented was just the perfect curve for driving along. (i won’t miss the midget stairs in my parents’ house, however.)
all my high school memories are nestled in new london. my 21st birthday was spent with angie in spicer with a 6-pack of zima, some apple pucker, and jimmy’s pizza. i attended four high school graduations in nl-s (including my own). when someone asks where i grew up, i have a hard time saying where, which is especially odd since i spent the majority of my childhood in austin.
i drove out of new london last saturday, laden down with a bunch of stuff from the house, and got a little melancholy – it’s the second house i’ve had to say goodbye to within a year. (and as i got closer to the st cloud area, i got even more melancholy.) unfortunately, i can see no real reasons to come back to the new london area, and the thought that this could be my last journey up 23 was making me sad. they say change is good; a new page has turned; turn over a new leaf. all true, but i feel like it’s been nothing BUT change lately. i hope life settles a little.
goodbye, 224 n. main.

what i didn't know i missed

July 17, 2013 kate Comments 1 comment

today i took a bike ride a little later than normal and was riding back just at the cusp of dusk. the sun had just set, but it was still light enough to be out for a walk or bike ride. rochester has quite the array of bike trails, and i am able to trail ride for all but about three blocks of my rides. the final stretch of trail runs alongside a ditch that slopes up into a wooded area. tonight as i was riding home past the ditch, it suddenly lit up with fireflies, blinking my way home.
there were fireflies when we lived in austin – midsummer evening twilights my siblings and i would run out across the lawn to catch the blinky bugs. my dad would catch one and smear the butts across his shirt, neon yellow fluorescing his chest. when we moved to new london, the fireflies were nowhere to be found, but i didn’t realize they were gone. once in st. joe i saw a firefly, but i think it was lost.
last summer i had a glimpse – once or twice in austin i would sit outside at the right time and see some fireflies, but i think they tried to stay away from the cows. this summer, however, it’s been a bevy of bugs. last weekend jane and i were driving from lacrosse back to rochester, and the ditches were glittering with fireflies – one hit my windshield. the past couple nights i’ve been outside at dusk and fireflies light up the ditches, the yard, the driveway – they’re everywhere, and i am fascinated. how on earth did i go so long without fireflies, and why did i forget about them?
ever so slowly, i might be ok with the move to this part of the state.

librarians

July 14, 2013 kate Comments 0 Comment

when i was in school, the library was tucked away in the corner of the stone building that faced the playground, half of it buried in the earth with windows along the ceiling that filtered sunlight into the book-filled recesses. part of the room was dedicated to desks and early 80s Apple computers where classes would sit for a half an hour playing number munchers or practicing keyboarding, and the rest of the room was divided into a small kids’ book section and everyone else’s books.
i was what you would have called a “voracious” reader throughout my gradeschool and high school days, mostly because i found myself on the fringes of friend social structures in my classes. plus i liked to read. i remember in first grade i was telling third graders how to read the petitions for weekly mass. (that might explain the friendlessness…) so in first and second grade, after i’d outgrown and become bored with the picture books and exhausted the small supply of non-picture books in the section, i asked the white-haired librarian (who i remember as quite cranky) if i could read the “Little House on the Prairie” books from the big kids’ section. there were a couple girls in the class whose parents had bought them the series and they had read them. i so wanted to read them! but the librarian, who was bent on keeping the rules, said i couldn’t read them because i was too young.
i must have complained enough, because my aunt colette, who was a school librarian in rochester, brought me a few books in the series that were remainders at her library: little house in the big woods and the last two in the series. i devoured those books. i must have read each of them ten times, and by the time i was able to actually use the better part of the library and check out the rest of books in the series, they were all falling apart.
today neil gaiman started #LibrarianAngel(s) trending on twitter. i thought of all the librarians i’d known through my life, and the one who was the best, even though she’d never checked out a book for me, was colettie. not only did she get me those remainders, she suggested books and authors on more than one occasion that i fell in love with, like robin mckinley and the polar express (back in the 80s!). she tended toward the weird, fantastic, and morbid; i’d like to think she and mr. gaiman would have got along swimmingly.
cheers aunt C, my #LibrarianAngel.

the fourth

June 19, 2013 kate Comments 0 Comment

i am planning on *finally* going to mandan for the fourth of july. my parents and various siblings have been going to mandan, north dakota, where my aunt and uncle live for the fourth of july for years, and i have never had or taken the opportunity to join them. apparently it’s the best fireworks display a person can see on top of a whole lot of other fun. I have the days on the vacation calendar at work, i’ve told everyone i’m going to be gone that week, and barring a disaster, i will finally be inducted into the mandan independence day club.
and a relevant prompt: tell me a memory from the fourth of july.
my early independence days in austin seemed to be full of pomp and circumstance. it seemed that every fourth was the same, even though the concrete memory i have in my mind may be the result of only one year, or a melding of different years. after waking up excited for the parade, my family walked down to the end of the driveway where our tall flagpole was and hoisted the flag up the pole. whilst watching old glory wave, or just lie still against the pole, we sang “america the beautiful” because it was a much better song than the actual national anthem, argued my mom. then one year, or every year, as my memory is sketchy, my aunts and uncles stopped over for coffee cake, and my mom made eggs benedict for breakfast.
then it was off to the parade, where horses and floats, bands and fire trucks marched past us, throwing candy out their windows* and from floats. it was at these parades that some animosity was fostered among the different supporters of the hormel plant in town. a strike in the mid 80s had effectively divided the town, which you can still see from time to time today.
after the parade, we stopped by our parents’ friends’ place, who had a garage with a screen over it in the summer time so they could sit in their garage and not worry about bugs. they also have THE COOLEST fisher price little people toys. they had a castle! it was awesome. alice was also a really good cook from what i can remember, and we probably had lunch there.
then it was a waiting game until fireworks. after supper we got antsy for darkness to fall, and finally it was time to pop popcorn to place in a paper bag with lots of butter and salt. we stashed bottles, and later cans, of pepsi in a small hard-top cooler and drove over to the kmart parking lot. my mom popped the tops off the bottles of pepsi on the car’s hubcap, and we sat on the hood of the car waiting for full dark. we chomped halfway through the bag before the actual fireworks started, but once they started, we forgot about the popcorn anyway.
*did you know that they can’t *throw* candy anymore? they have to walk to the kids and hand it to them. good grief.