Goodbye.

Some people don't like to say it.  Others don't have a problem with it.  Some think it means forever, and some don't give it a second thought.  How do you say goodbye?  There's no way to really say it without feeling like you left something on the table.  Especially in the face of tragedy, you can't really close the chapter on that part of your life.  You'll always have memories.  But what else is there? 

When I think about her now, I feel regret.  Regret for not spending more time with her, even if she was so good at pushing people away.  Regret for not forcing her to spend time with us.  Calling her.  Texting her.  Facebook.  Smoke signals.  Telegrams.

My father-in-law said, "the shoulda-coulda-wouldas are a bitch."

My mind keeps tormenting itself.  At work.  At home.  In the car.  Why didn't you try harder?  I know there's nothing I can do now.  I know it may not have helped.  Even if, everything else constant, we spent more time together, I'd probably hurt just the same.  But at least I'd have had a few more memories.  A few more words, a few more moments.  I can't clear my mind.  I only want to remember the good times, but the regrets keep creeping back in. 

It's too late now.  She's gone.

I met Krystal in the same place I meet 95% of the people I meet.  At work.  But she didn't work with me.  She never worked for the company.  She was a customer looking for paint to help one of her friends paint a room.  Me being a single guy thought she was cute...obviously.  She wasn't having it but I could tell just from the ten minutes it took to mix a gallon of paint that she was a nice person.  She cared about people.  She laughed at my stupid jokes and smiled from ear to ear.  That was just her way.  No matter what was going on in her life (and believe me, at times, she went through hell) she was uplifting.  She mentioned her cousin was a co-worker of mine.  Little would I know that I'd marry that cousin of hers a few years later.

We agreed to let Krystal move in sometime in 2005.  A townhouse apartment in SE Portland is where we called home.  We had our differences from time to time.  We squabbled over things that roommates squabble over.  We had parties, gatherings, soirees.  Furniture was thrashed, carpets stained, guys in penis costumes appeared one Halloween. Shuttling the underage into upstairs closets when the police arrived.  We'd break into impromptu dance-offs.  We put aluminum foil in our mouths when Grillz was all the rage.  It was one of the best times of my life. 

Later we'd have arguments about something I can't even recall.  We didn't talk for a quite some time.  This is another time I fucking hate thinking about.  What good came out of being mad at her?  No good.  No fucking good at all.

We finally buried the hatchet after about a year I'd guess.  More good times were had.

We could barely talk to each other like normal people most of the time.  We quoted any movie we could but we'd also go beyond quoting and talked in character voices from our favorite comedy movies and shows. Here's a typical exchange between Krys and I:

Me:  (in Will Ferrell's Robert Goulet voice)  Hey...what's the haps?  Da da dee da da daaaahhh!

Krys:  (in Kip from Napoleon Dynamite's voice)  It's actually going pretty good?  How bout yourself?

Me:  (Goulet) Can't complain. What are you havin for dinner?  You're hungry aren't ya?

Krys:  (Kip) Yeah, but I went to the store and they ran out of veggie burgers.  I'm just kinda T-O'd right now.

Me:  (Goulet) I can't believe the store has the guff to deny you a vegetable burger.  Don't let those hooligans rule the biz.  (holding stare until she breaks character and laughs)

Krys:  (laughs) (in regular voice)  I love you Mike-a-like!

Me:  (continues Robert Goulet)  Yeahhhhhhhhhh!  She-bop she-bang Thong Song!

Krys: (in her best Goulet voice)  You get the idea.

The last great time I can remember spending with her was at her friend Jake's house for New Year's 2010.  It was the first time Nikki and I could escape the house being newly-minted parents.  We dropped the kid off and headed out for a night of drunken conversation, drunken dancing, drunken drawing on passed-out faces.

I was at work one day a few weeks back.  Thinking about stuff.  Random thoughts were flickering.  I thought to myself, "we've been lucky to not have people around us die for quite some time."  Apparently someone was listening.

There's no doubt that I will miss her.  But she has given me something.  She made me realize that there are no guarantees in life.  Who knows if I'll be here tomorrow?  I need to be with the people who are important to me no matter what.  Even if we sit in uncomfortable silence.  Just spending time together will be enough for me.

In the end, we weren't cousins.  We weren't brother and sister.  But we were family.  Even though we drifted apart in recent years we were still close.  I can't believe that I have to go on living without hearing her Kip impression.  Or hearing random country music play when she's around.  Without seeing that smile or hearing that laugh again.

Krystal and I, 9/6/2008

 Goodbye Pook.  I'll miss you like technology.

4 More Years!

No, this blog entry will not mention political agendas, olympic dreams or education.

Today marks the end of the fourth year that I have been married to the sweetest, most generous, loving wife.  We are the only ones in the group of our friends that can say we were married during the Bush Administration.  What have we seen in the last four years?  Some ups and downs to be sure.  Some things remain the same.  Our house and the struggle to save it.  My job, although I have been promoted a few times since then.  Our car is still around.  We still have a cat even though he often annoys us to no end.

Many things have changed in four years.  360 days into our marriage we welcomed the love of our lives into the world.  Hayden Thomas was born on September 1st, 2009.  He has been the cement to our marriage.  Whenever we get mad at each other, he is there to look at both of us with a kind of "I'm too cute for you to argue with each other" look.  He seems to make everything better when the grown adults can't seem to figure it out.  He is the reason I will never forget how many years I've been married.  I'll just add 1 to his age and tell my wife, Happy "X+1" Anniversary!  I think I can manage that math in my head.

My wife is the ultimate giver.  It's what makes her go, it gives her joy.  It could also be one of her weaknesses.  She totally lives by the Golden Rule.  Maybe it's a modified Golden Rule. She expects back just a fraction of what she gives out, but she still expects something.  Instead, she often gets the short end of the stick when it comes to gratitude.  There are few people in the world who realize how generous and giving she is.

She is behind nearly every celebration in our group of friends.  She loves to plan things for people.  Birthdays, showers, marriages, babies, bar mitzvahs...she does it all.  She never hesitates to help out a friend in need.  And when our friends help us out, she wouldn't feel right until she made them dinner or bought them a drink.  I love her for all that she does for my son and I, even though she'd downplay it and tell you it wasn't a big deal.  I don't think she realizes how important she is to my son, myself, our friends and family. 

I love her very much, she is someone I cannot live without.  Four years ago today, I made a promise to her and to the world.  We will walk through this life together forever.  I will be by her side through thick and thin.

Peanut Better

Lately, I've been quizzing the people around me about what apparently is a cuisine phenomenon.  Many people love hamburgers and cheeseburgers and adorn them with basic condiments like ketchup, mustard and mayonnaise.

As far back as I can remember, anytime our family slapped Bessie on the grill in 4 inch patty form, my mom has always asked for the peanut butter.  This resulted in my sister and I groaning in disgust.  PB is reserved for jelly there mom.  It took a few years for my mom to finally talk me into taking one bite of her peanut butter burger and I was instantly hooked.

Since that point, my mom and I have been outcasts at the family get togethers.  "Where's the peanut butter?"  Now I hear everyone else groan.

A few days ago, I was heading home from work and the wife and I were trying to decide what to eat for dinner.  My wife mentioned a few places, one of which we'd never dined at.  Killer Burger.  "They have a peanut butter burger there," she said.  The Nissan was turning around.  I was heading to this mysterious place in Portland where every burger comes with bacon.

I arrived and felt like I walked into an episode of Portlandia.  The non-vegan hipsters were all over the place.  I placed my order and waited...and waited...and waited.  It seemed like a long wait.  My order finally came out and I had to wait for the whole drive home to try it out.  I got home and eagerly took the first bite of the Peanut Butter Pickle Bacon Burger.  Holy hell.  Best...burger...ever.  My wife took a bite and she was hooked.  I almost called my mom.  They used CHUNKY peanut butter.  Why didn't we ever think of that?  Bacon?  Duh.  It was like I've been doing this thing most of my life and I was doing it all wrong!  Pickles!

I've been trying for nearly 20 years to turn people on to the peanut butter craze.  I've been telling my co-workers.  We discuss local cuisine in and around Portland.  I have a list going of places I need to try.  Telling stories of eating foot-sized filled donuts and vomiting myself awake.  Recently, my father-in-law challenged me to a 72oz. steak.  If I can't finish it, he'll foot the bill.  It sounds intriguing but I don't know if I can eat 4.5 lbs of meat.  I know I can, but my extreme hunger comes at the most inopportune times.

The moral of the story?  Try a peanut butter burger.  Now.

Egg-static Saturday

The sun made a cameo appearance today in the PMA.  Hip-hop-hooray!  Last year, we struggled to find an appropriate Easter egg hunt for the boy.  It ended up with him only getting one (real, hard-boiled) egg, which he promptly threw and later curb-stomped to show his disapproval.  That experience kind of soured me on doing the Easter egg thing.  Parents elbowing you and scooping up all the eggs for their 3 month old napping in their Baby Bjorns.  All the while, the kids who are actually trying to grab some egg are left with nearly empty baskets and equally empty tear ducts.  If I'd known the parents were going to have at it, I'd check your fanny pack into the bushes.

This year, the wife spent a few days trying to get me hyped for an even more local egg hunt in my old stomping grounds.  The second she said, "Brentwood Park" I kind of internally groaned.  I spent three years of my youth at the adjacent Lane Middle School.  They were good years but I vividly remember the surrounding neighborhood and the less than savory folks that live in the immediate area.  "But there's going to be a helicopter that drops eggs!"  Ok, honey, you've piqued my interest. 

A beautiful day it was in the ol' 'hood.  The smell of fresh-cut grass was in the air.  After we found parking (place was stuffed) we walked to one of the orange tents to register our kid.  Everything seemed pretty great.  The registration line was semi-long, but moved pretty rapidly.  We got squared away with the registration people and had 45 minutes to burn.  Face-painting?  He'd freak out and rub it off.  Easter bunny?  The line was re-donk.  Let's just wait for the helicopter to arrive. 

Putting on his best mommy cheeser face

They relegated the 0-2 year-old kids to the tennis courts for safety.  Good idea, except the wind blew the eggs to the large crack in between the two tennis courts and to the fences.  The organizers fixed this by picking up the eggs and dropping them as they let the kids loose.  Now this group of kids was allowed one parent to help them grab eggs.  I wasn't sure if my boy, who is pretty bright when it comes to getting what he wants, would get the whole, "when I grab the eggs they go in my basket and they are mine now" concept.  Turns out, he had absolutely no problem figuring it out after a few pre-hunt freak outs.

Turns out the whole thing was being put on by Hopecity Church.  Apparently they meet on Sundays at the middle school.  I don't know if I could go to church in the same place I used to kiss girls and beat up foreigners.

Examining the loot

He scooped up about 20 eggs.  It was super cute.  We all had a good time.  We turned over our egg loot for candy loot and were on our way. 

We then went for a little after-hunt brunch at McCrae's cafe.  I then proceeded to eat a 12-egg omelet, hashbrowns, toast, and 3/4 of a giant pancake the kid would finish.  I'm still full and it's 10PM.

Birthday Number Two

Two years ago today, my life changed forever.  The day the blue foot popped out, I knew life wouldn't be the same.  The last two years have been hard for one reason or another.  The one constant thing that makes my wife and I smile every....single....day is that boy.

Sure, he doesn't always listen.  He yells and screams sometimes, too.  He drives us nuts at times.  But there's no way we could picture our lives without him now.  I miss him while I'm away, and I can't get enough of him when I'm near.  It's hard to believe that two years has gone by.  He's learning new things everyday and trying to mimic Mommy and Daddy at every turn.  He loves to wear my shoes.  He puts on my ties.  Everybody says that he's my doppelganger.  He is. 

So here's to my boy.  Mommy and Daddy love you very much!