I was feeling kind of blue last night. The day hadn’t gone quite right. Things were messy at the office; I hadn’t started the short story that is due tonight; and I felt old and fat. I was feeling kind of blue.
Remember that I ended the Sunriver trip feeling like an ass. This feeling lingered even into Tuesday morning as I set about sorting the quotes and orders left over from the previous two days. Custom Box is surpisingly busy right now. In general, our business declines after April 15th. It also declines after a price increase. Since both of these events just occurred, we’d expect to be compeletely dead. But we’re not. We’re busy.
I had a moderate lunch, in keeping with my diet, but then I broke down and had a Hershey bar with almonds. And another one. That’s 460 useless calories and many grams of fat. I began to beat myself up mentally. I’d already spent the last three days consuming more calories than normal (though that was by design). I felt fat. I felt defeated. I felt thrown from my diet.
Rather than triumph over these bad feelings, I stopped by Safeway on the way home. I bought Safeway Chinese food for dinner. Then, when I’d finished my rice and sesame beef, I had some left-over cake and ice cream. I felt emotionally and physically defeated.
To make matters worse, I’d been unable to start my latest short story assignment. I’ve got a clear plot in my head, but at this point it’s blatant plagiarism (stealing a poignant bit from Craig Thompson’s Good-Bye, Chunky Rice). I want to make it my own, adapt it into something new, but the words just weren’t coming.
I lay on the couch and moped.
The phone rang. Jenn was calling to invite us over to dinner. Emotionally, I didn’t much feel like going, but intellectually I knew that it was a good idea.
And you know what?
When we walked onto the porch and I saw Emma’s big smiling face, everything was better just like that. Harrison appeared at her side. “You know what, J.D.?” he said. “I saw you from far away, but I didn’t see Kris. She was way behind you.”
We sat on the floor and we played.
“Harrison, who’s your favorite superhero?” I asked.
He pulled out his astronomy book — which features members of the Justice League of America on every page — and he pointed out his favorite. “I like the Blue Superman,” he said (referring to a plotline in which Superman splits into Red Superman and Blue Superman). “And Plastic Man,” he added, finding the stretchy guy on another page. (I know from past conversations that Hank also likes J’onn J’onnz, the Martian Manhunter.)
Without warning, Harrison jumped on my back. Ouch. “Harrison’s a wild boy,” said Emma.
“Are you a wild girl?” asked Kris.
“No,” said Emma. “I’m a wild woman.” Then she thought about it a little more. “No. I’m a princess.”
I read Emma a story about the pyramids in Egypt while Harrison lay on my back, his chin resting on my head.
“Harrison,” I said, when we were finished with the story, “Bring me the Great Big Book of Absolutely Everything.” He brought me his National Geographic photographic atlas. We looked up Egypt. I pointed out the actual pyramids, tried to explain their scale. We looked at photos of boys riding donkeys, of a woman carrying an urn on her head.
Harrison tried to explain to me that Oregon is bigger than Egypt. “Go get your globe,” Jenn told him. When he found his globe, we tore a piece of paper so that it was the same size as Oregon. When we placed Oregon over Egypt, it was clear that Egypt was larger. Still Harrison didn’t believe.
“Egypt’s about the same size as Oregon and Washington together,” I said.
“I don’t think so,” said Harrison. “Oregon is big.”
He went upstairs to fetch a larger map. “See?” he said. And, indeed, on this map Oregon was bigger than the Egypt on the globe. Hmmm. How to explain scale?
“Every place looks big when you live there, Hank,” I said. “You look out in every direction and everything seems so big.”
“I know what,” said Harrison. “When God looks down from the universe, he sees the whole thing” — meaning the Earth — “at once.”
Kris, of course, tried to secularize the conversation, but without success. “Well,” she said, “Anyone looking down from space — like an astronaut — could see the whole Earth at once.”
“But God is even above the astronauts,” said Harrison, “Because he’s in the universe.”
We left it at that.
Instead we compared the sizes of the states, and talked about the different places Harrison has been. “You remember Joel and Aimee?” I asked. “They’re moving here,” I said, and I pointed to South Dakota and Mt. Rushmore. “That’s a long way away.”
Harrison played with the globe. “Why are the North Pole and the South Pole so far apart?” he asked. And we couldn’t really explain. I mean, they’re far apart by definition, not for any other reason.
I started the night feeling kind of blue, but I finished it feeling rosy. All because of interaction with a couple of kids.
On 28 April 2004 (07:33 AM),
Joel said:
On 28 April 2004 (09:12 AM),
tammy said:
Jd, I came to your weblog straight from the family sight. As I was reading over there how Jeff played with Noah last night I thought to myself,” JD needs kids. If JD, could just have one kid he’d wonder how he ever lived without them.” Then I read your entry! Now I’m convinced JD needs kids!
And did I read this right? You polished off all that Chinese food and still had dinner at Jenns place? Oh well,”tomorrow is another day.”
On 28 April 2004 (09:13 AM),
tammy said:
Oh and may I ask what takes Joel and Aimee to South Dakota?
On 28 April 2004 (09:17 AM),
J.D. said:
And did I read this right? You polished off all that Chinese food and still had dinner at Jenns place?
No, you did not read this right, though I can see how you might have been confused. I ate a grand total of one corn chip at Jenn’s place.
Oh and may I ask what takes Joel and Aimee to South Dakota?
You may ask…
On 28 April 2004 (09:43 AM),
Denise said:
Hey J.D. – everyone has days where they do not follow their diet. Mine are usually Tuesday through Sunday. ;)
But really, one day, or weekend is nothing to beat yourself up over. If you are able to start fresh on the next day, it won’t really hurt anything. If you don’t allow yourself something ‘bad’ to eat occasionally, you will binge eat (somewhat like you did on Tuesday). When I am seriously watching my food intake, I usually let myself have something ‘bad’ every other day…or give myself a ‘bad breakfast’ of Fridays – poppy seed muffins seem to be my evil breakfast of choice. That way, I can stay on track knowing that Friday morning I get to have the evil and sugary muffin.
If you started eating two large pizzas every night, then I would worry.
AND – Joel, it would also be a short distance between Oregon and South Dakota if you were the Bionic Man.
On 28 April 2004 (09:46 AM),
Lynn said:
We went to Disneyland in 2001 and I shared a bed with my then 10-year-old niece. She is a bed hog and I attempted to set some ground rules before we went to sleep. “Shelby,” I said. “See this line?” I drew an imaginary line down the middle of the bed with my finger. “This is the equator. Do not cross it.”
She rolled her eyes and used her best teenage tone when she replied, “Helllllo, the equator runs this way,” she said while drawing a horizontal line accross the bed. “This,” as she redrew the imaginary vertical line as I had done, “is the prime meridian.” And then she huffed a little pre-teen huff and rolled over to sleep. Damn those 4th graders and their map classes.
On 28 April 2004 (12:02 PM),
Jeff said:
Tammy said: I was reading over there how Jeff played with Noah last night
And here is a link to Noah’s site:
Pictures of Noah
Hey! What’s going on? The link doesn’t work! I wonder why that is!?!?!?
On 28 April 2004 (12:37 PM),
Dana said:
“Why are the North Pole and the South Pole so far apart?” he asked…they’re far apart by definition, not for any other reason.
Well, sort of.
They’re far apart because the earth is a (mostly) rigid sphere, and it’s axis of rotation has to be a straight line passing through the center of mass or else the rotation won’t be stable — either you’re going to be compressing and expanding bits of the surface (kind of like a partially scrunched up nerf ball) during rotation, and that takes energy being put into the system from somewhere, or you’re going to be rotating in such a way that the resulting angular momentum will throw the earth out of orbit without external energy being stuffed in to keep us in place.
Or something like that.
Joel, it would also be a short distance between Oregon and South Dakota if you were the Bionic Man.
Or Superman Blue…
On 28 April 2004 (12:58 PM),
Tiffany said:
Joel and Aimee,
I know I only see you once a year, but I will miss you on my future visits to the giant state of Oregon.
Jd,
Your change in diet (eating extra over the weekend) may have something to do with your feeling blue. Any change is food intake can affect your hormone levels
On 28 April 2004 (02:31 PM),
Joel said:
Thanks for your words, Tiffany (and for filling me in on the long-term dangers posed by depleted-uranium shells), and your curiosity, Tammy.
We’re actually moving to South Dakota for school. I’m attending the University of S.D.’s medical school, and Aimee’s planning on going to nursing school.
We’re very sorry to leave the fantastic community of friends we’ve made here, but just because we’re leaving Oregon doesn’t take us out of foldedspaceland! Look for a brand-new weblog from Joel and Aimee to appear sometime in the next month or two! We will join the distinguished company of Tammy and Denise and… possibly another person who suckle off of JD’s webspace!
Details to follow at this location!
On 28 April 2004 (02:33 PM),
J.D. said:
We will join the distinguished company of Tammy and Denise and… possibly another person who suckle off of JD’s webspace!
I have teats a-plenty. Metaphorically speaking.
On 28 April 2004 (03:14 PM),
tammy said:
Joel, have you ever admittted to Amy that you are John Doe? What a clever disguise to start another weblog with her? You are a cunning fellow!
Bwahahhahah!
On 28 April 2004 (03:44 PM),
Aimee said:
Tammy,
I don’t find your comments very funny at all. In fact, I find them hurtful for many reasons, but I would like to simply elaborate on one idea: Regardless if Joel is John Doe or not, I am disgusted that you continue to take unabashed joy in revealing the identity of John Doe. This may seem like school-yard fun to you, but I’d just like to remind you that through all words and laughs there is a relationship at stake in the revelation of John Doe’s identity. It seems to me that you are being a bit selfish by continually pressing this individual to reveal himself/herself to you. Take a walk in somebody else’s shoes, and think about John Doe or his partner’s feelings should he/she choose to share his/her name …
On 28 April 2004 (03:54 PM),
Johnny said:
I like to think so, too.
On 28 April 2004 (03:56 PM),
Denise said:
Ah…and wouldn’t it be really funny if John Doe was actually a woman? You know, just because Johnny goes by Johnny does not mean Johnny is a man.
Besides…it wouldn’t be half as fun if we knew who Johnny was. Life is more interesting with a little mystery, don’t you think?
On 28 April 2004 (04:01 PM),
Johnny said:
My post above was meant to follow on Tammy’s post, not Aimee’s. It’s just that Aimee’s trigger finger was faster than mine.
As for what Aimee said, however, I take Tammy’s ribbing in the good natured way that I’m sure it’s intended. Is SWMO ever determined that I was talking about her there really wouldn’t be a relationship at stake. She’d just skin me alive and hang my sorry ass out on the clothesline.
Tammy, rest assured, Joel and I are two separate people. And not just because of the medication, either. Who knows, maybe I’m actually Aimee…
And not just because of the medication, either!
On 28 April 2004 (04:15 PM),
Denise said:
Ok – I cannot get the teats-a-plenty picture out of my imagination…even if it was a metaphor.
Thank you J.D. for that lovely picture now burned into my brain!
On 28 April 2004 (04:55 PM),
Tammy said:
Thank you John Doe. And you are right; it was good natured ribbing.
I know Denise that teat thing is just a little too metaphorical!
On 28 April 2004 (05:29 PM),
Aimee said:
Well, if it was all a good natured ribbing (insert intonation of your choice) …
I would simply ask then that my personal relationships be left out of further scrutinization of the John Doe Identity Puzzle.
On 28 April 2004 (05:36 PM),
Mom (Sue) said:
“Jd, I came to your weblog straight from the family sight. As I was reading over there how Jeff played with Noah last night I thought to myself,” JD needs kids. If JD, could just have one kid he’d wonder how he ever lived without them.” Then I read your entry! Now I’m convinced JD needs kids!”
You said it, Tammy; I didn’t. -G- I’ve often thought about the astronomical IQ there would be in a child J.D. and Kris would produce. However, that said, I respect their decisions and am fine with whatever they decide to do in that realm.
On 28 April 2004 (09:26 PM),
Adam Luckey said:
I’m sorry but the Justice League is nothing compared to The Ultimates with Captain America.
Have a Nic night
Though I was fairly well integrated with my classmates in grade school, by the time I reached junior high I had gravitated toward a clique of geeks. Junior high is a time of cliques. I spent all of high school striving to transcend these cliques and never quite succeeded; all I did was alienate my existing friends. (Fortunately, college offered a fresh start.)
Dave and I were best friends from fifth to eighth grades. We lived close enough to do a lot of stuff together. And we did. We played D&D, we went hydrotubing, we argued the merits of comic books (I liked Marvel, he liked DC), we played computer games together on our VIC-20s. Later, we listened to music together. (The first time I heard Michael Jackson’s Thriller was in Dave’s room.) Dave and I had a falling out in high school. Or, more precisely, I underwent a drastic change, became (as Dave puts it) “a Bible-thumping sheep” and discarded old friends. For a time, we hated each other. We’ve patched things up over the last decade, though, and now
Andrew and I were in Mrs. Onion’s first grade class. We weren’t geeks then, of course; we were squirrely little munchkins, just like all the other boys. As we grew, I spent some time at his house. I remember seeing Star Wars with him once. I remember fishing for crawdads in his creek at one birthday party. I remember that his family owned a single-volume version of The Lord of the Rings made up to look like The Red Book of Westmarch. I remember that in the late seventies his father had, in the house, some sort of computer that could dial in with a modem to play a networked D&D game with wire-frame graphics. As we grew older, Andrew became less squirrely, more stoic. Still, his birthday parties were always fun. One year, Dave and I pitched together to buy Andrew the live Styx album, Caught in the Act. That was the year we all stayed up late watching Octopussy. Andrew left Canby for Lakeridge (or Lake Oswego?) after his sophomore year of high school. He went to Stanford for college and now brings the world lots of exciting gadgets as the VP for product development at
Ah, John Kern. I haven’t seen John in twenty years. I always thought John and I were very similar — smart but prone to stupid things. He and I could be very silly together. John lived in Charbonneau, a wealthy community between Canby and Wilsonville. I loved to go over to his house because it was so enormous and beautiful. John didn’t go to Canby for high school; he went to LaSalle, and gradually the rest of us geeks lost touch with him. In junior high, he held two computer parties. We all brought our machines over to his house and stayed up all night doing geeky computer stuff. (Or at least as geeky as you could get with
I met Darren in fifth grade, drawn to him because he was interested in comic books. For a couple of years, we were pretty good friends. I spent a lot of time at his house playing D&D (and Villains and Vigilantes — or was it Champions?), leafing through his comic books (like Dave, he preferred DC), and playing on his
Mitch was a strange duck, but I liked him a lot. (After all, he introduced me to
Jonathan was a kid that everybody loved. He was certainly a geek, and part of our group, but he was also cool enough to hang around with the regular kids. The teachers loved him because he didn’t goof around. Rather, he goofed around, but he knew when to stop. He was the funniest in our group (though John Kern was close). He was a great joke-teller and song-singer. One day in
Poor Jeremy Martin. He was most certainly part of our group; he was a geek, and in all of our classes. But just as the other kids picked on us, we picked on Jeremy. He carried his Dungeons and Dragons books with him to every class. He didn’t try to hide his geekiness. Most of us knew enough to try to pretend we weren’t geeky, even though everyone knew we were. Jeremy had no shame. So we picked on him as others picked on us. Still, I liked him. I went over to his house to play
Dave was my best friend for the four years beginning in fifth grade. Paul was my best friend for the following four years. Neither of us can remember how we met. Apparently we knew each other in junior high because he signed my yearbook. It wasn’t until our freshman year that we began to hang out together, and by our sophomore year, he was my best friend. (Tom Stewart was another best friend for Paul, I think.) Whereas I was staid and liked planning, Paul was all about spontaneity and fun. The combination worked well. We also had great arguments about life, the universe, and everything. Once, after a Newberg-Canby football game, we sat in the car and argued about the nature of God for more than an hour. (I was for God, he was against). By our senior years, we were so in-sync that once, while were driving down a country road, he began to tell me something and I said “I know” — “How do you even know what I was going to say?” he asked. We compared notes. I had known what he was going to say, though it was a completely unrelated to our previous conversation. Paul and I have kept in contact (with varying degrees of closeness) all our adult lives. It’s always great to get together with him. He still brings spontaneity to my well-ordered life. Paul’s a regular commenter around here.
I never knew Tamara well. She was a sweet, good-natured girl who was in all of the advanced classes with us geeks. We had a teasing kind of acquaintance, each of us making fun of the other. She was important to me mainly because first Dave and then Paul had a crush on her. It was strange to go from one best friend to the other and to have both of them infatuated with Tamara. I didn’t keep in touch with Tamara after high school, but for a couple of years in the mid-nineties I’d bump into her at concerts and events around Canby. She was happily married, had adopted a child, and was running a
While both Dave and Paul had a crush on Tamara Brunson, I had one on Tami Sale, my dentist’s daughter. Tami made my heart ache, and I’ll bet she never knew it. She was beautiful. She was smart. She was popular. And, best of all, she was nice to me. She didn’t treat me like dirt. We had a computer class together in eighth grade, and sometimes we’d collaborate on projects. I went to the eighth grade graduation dance — my first dance — solely because I knew she’d be there. I asked her to dance three times, and she said “yes” every time. We danced to “Open Arms” by Journey, and for the entire summer I melted whenever I heard that song. Poor Dave had to put up with me pining for Tami Sale all summer long. Then high school came along and I forgot all about Tami. I saw her in class, of course, but my crush had evaporated. Ironically, we were cast as husband and wife in the play our senior year (![A good afternoon nap can make one's toes curl with pleasure... [photo of Simon sprawled on the couch]](/photos/simonsleep.jpg)
![Nemo contemplates the many insect choices available to him. [photo of Nemo playing in the grass]](/photos/nemograss.jpg)
![Cherry trees don't normally buzz, do they? [photo of cherry tree in bloom]](/photos/cherrytree.jpg)
![The digital camera doesn't like to get close, so this is the best photo of a bee that I could obtain. [photo of a bee gathering pollen from a cherry blossom]](/photos/beeblossom.jpg)
JD said:
1680 miles away, in fact. Which is not so far if you’re God. Or an astronaut. Alas, we are but people.