BRAINPAN LEAKAGE

Part 12 of 12

Continued from: Mahwage: Where’s Everybody Going?

…And the bride and groom said let there be food… And there was food… And the food was good… And the food cost a whole bunch of money… And there were leftovers for eons… And so on, and so on, and so on…

Yep… No two ways about it. We had food. In some respects I suppose that has also set the tone for any parties and such we have had ever since. Trust me, there’s never a shortage of food.

Because of that, one of my favorite kitchen appliances is a vacuum sealer – or, as I like to call it, the suck ‘n seal machine.  I think it’s actually called a “Foodsaver®” and the company that produced it describes the thing as a “food storage system”…Or they did… Mine is an older model that E K gave me for Christmas many years ago, so they might have changed their tag line… All I know is that I put stuff in the bag, suck out all the air, and heat seal the edge – Voila! Vacuum packed food that can survive a stay in the freezer quite a bit longer than average… Wish I’d had one of ’em back then…

Of course, as I said, the overabundance of chow made for an easy go of it over the next week (plus  a handful of days). I didn’t have to cook, simply reheat – for those of you who may be new to my blog, go back through some of the earlier entries and you’ll find out why I keep saying, “I didn’t have to cook…” In a nutshell, my bride doesn’t much care for kitchen duty… Fortunately, I already knew that coming into this…

I suppose that if we had been thinking, we would have taken a better picture or two of the spread.  In all honesty, we weren’t really thinking about much of anything, other than simply getting to the other side of all this with our sanity intact. I’m pretty sure that at some point we were both just on autopilot, which is probably why we made it without  the benefit of pharmaceuticals, shock therapy, or straight jackets.  I guess it’s lucky we even have the pictures we do since we accomplished this on a shoestring, and had way too many irons in the fire on top of it all. Looking back now, I seriously doubt we could manage to pull it together the way we did back then. I don’t know if it would be just a matter of not having the energy, or if the simple knowledge of the fact that we overcame so many obstacles – not the least of which was money – would scare us out of even trying. Of course, they say love conquers all…

And I say yet again, “whoever the hell they are… “

But, I think maybe they are correct in this case. We made it happen and  it’s one hell of a memory…

I suppose what has brought it back around in my mind at this particular point in my life is the FAQ. Because of my profession I get asked all manner of questions by fans, and this one has always been at the top of the list for some reason. Maybe because I babble on incessantly about E K, no matter where I am.

And, to fuel that fire, there is also a simple, yet very profound fact that I recently realized, as I was sitting here writing this in fact,.. Next month, February 2009, it will be 23 years since I first laid eyes upon E K and fell headfirst, unequivocally, no holds barred, just plain blithering stupid, in love with her, no matter what my co-workers had said. To me, that’s a rare thing and “lightning strike” special… (Just a quick addendum: Yes, I know, February was last month, but hey, I originally wrote this in January.)

Of course, the real cause could just be that I’m just getting old and my mind is going… That’s always a possibility…

But, to continue in the sappy, sentimental vein I have started here, time has “marched on.” Life has taken twists, turns, and thrown horrible roadblocks in our path…

Friends have gone, moved away, lost touch. Some couples that were there with us on that evening have since split, going their separate ways and finding love elsewhere, or in some cases finding happiness alone. Others have disappeared, only to reappear in unexpected places. Some are long out of touch, but not forgotten.

And, as is inevitable for us all, some family members have since crossed over the veil betwixt the worlds, leaving us to face this existence without them. In that respect, one of the worst of the “potholes” along the road was the sudden and very unexpected loss of my mother just a scant few weeks after the wedding, but that is, as I often say, a different blog.

And what of Erin? (Remember Erin?)… Well, I cannot tell a lie… That little parenthetical tag throughout these missives was just me having fun. Erin was one of those friends who moved away and with whom we lost touch. E K and I both hope she is doing well, and if she happens to be surfing the web some day and stumbles across this blog, maybe she’ll drop us a line… We’d love to hear from her.

But, through it all: trials, tribulations, loss, gain, joy, sadness, and speed bumps galore, E K and I remain. Together and weathering whatever we must.  We still live in that very same house where we took our vows, where I dropped her ring, and where she strapped on her stockings with rubber bands.  We eat our meals in the room where our friends and family gathered to watch my bride smear me with cake; and we watch the morning news sitting in a chair that rests right before the window where we giggled while fumbling with our rings. Our paid-too-much-for fixer upper is paid off now,  free and clear… And the remodeling we began way back when is long done, along with many other projects since. So long done in fact that we are probably even due for a bit of a redecorate.  We have a wonderful child, we’ve both changed jobs, and I’ve even changed careers, abandoning my life as a tech to pursue my dream to be a writer. So far, that has worked out well. And, as beautiful as E K was on October 31, 1987, in my estimation she just keeps getting prettier every single day.

And, you know what else? My heart still goes “pitter-pat” whenever she enters the room – just like it did that fateful and fortunate day back in 1986 when I turned a corner in a tech center and found her waiting…

Yeah, yeah, okay… I can hear you screaming – “Sheesh, Sellars… All right already… Enough with the sappy Hallmark Channel^TM crap… What does this have to do with food… Or was that just a ploy to get us here so you could throw down some kind of Nicholas Sparks inspired frou-frou on us?”

Well, in all honesty, no it wasn’t intended as a bait and switch. I just guess nostalgia has a way of creeping up on a person and taking over. But, we’ll talk about that  later…

So, the food…

Take a good look at the pictures from the wedding… You’ll see cake, chafing dishes filled with veal parmigiana, ham, rice… Plates filled with dollar rolls, cheese, condiments… But, what’s missing?

Well, I can easily understand if you are having trouble with the “where’s Waldo” scenario here, so let me refresh your memory just a bit… Remember earlier in this story when E K and I planned the menu and blew a wad of cash at the Honey Baked Ham® Company? Part of what ate up that chunk of change from our budget were the boxes of fancy hors d’oeuvres… Or, as the young man behind the counter called them, much to E Kay’s amusement, Whores Duh-Vores…

It was probably a solid month later when it dawned on us that all of those expensive mini quiches, bite sized meat pies, and unpronounceable little appetizer morsels never made it to the table that night. They were still nestled snug and chilly in their boxes, stacked neatly in the chest freezer downstairs… That was our final glitch for the evening, not that anyone even noticed…

Still, it opened a door and presented an opportunity we simply could not pass up… When lives  settled down once again over the following weeks, we set our plan into motion… We gathered our friends, filled the fridge with beer, wine – even a bottle or two of the bubbly – and baked those boxes of goodies…

We had our party… Even if it was several weeks late.

And now, sadly – in my way of thinking, at least – we have come to the end. Not of Brainpan Leakage, of course… I plan to bore you with many more stories of the lunacy that is my life. Nor is it the end of E Kay’s and my story…  It’s merely the ellipsis at the end of this particular chapter in a memory book that will hopefully just continue to grow for untold years to come.

I know that many of you have come to expect humor from me at every turn – be it silly, dry, acerbic, or even hidden… I hope that I was able to inject some of that into this tale, and into your lives with it. I realize, of course, that some – maybe even a good portion – of this was sappy and sentimental. Well, I’m a sappy and sentimental guy, especially when I come down with a bad case of nostalgia. Don’t worry, I’m taking something for it and the doctors assure me it should clear up soon – although they say I will always be at risk for a sudden relapse, (or two or three), in the future. But, what I can definitely say about this attack of nostalgia is that in writing this multi-part answer to a frequently asked question I have been given a gift. While it may seem like nothing more than random babbling to some of you,  committing this slice of my life to “paper” has allowed me to relive something in much more depth and detail than the cursory re-tellings I’ve given in the past.

And, for that, those of you who asked the question that made this series of blog entries happen, have my humble and profuse thanks. You have given me something, that while it was there all the time, had been hidden behind better than two decades of day to day life, still in my heart but obscured from my view.

In any case, if the sentimentality here has managed to get your panties all in a bunch, just remember I warned you about it at the outset, so don’t bother to send any complaint letters…It won’t do you any good because I’ll just give them to E K, and trust me, you don’t want her answering them… (I keep telling you people she’s evil…)

Now… What with this little blog “mini-series” being born of a FAQ and all,  I suppose I should move along to the next question. So, as to the query about how our daughter came to be…

Well, you see, when a man and woman love each other…

Nah… On second thought I think I’ll just let you call the local high school and ask the biology teacher about that one.

More to come…

Murv

Part 9 of 12

Continued from: Mahwage: Clink! Clank! Oh, Murv!

Apparently, I perform well under pressure, even when it comes to mathematics…

Yes… The ring was exactly, and I do mean exactly, where my advanced calculations had said it would be. I didn’t even have to get dirty looking for it. I simply stood on an upturned 5 gallon bucket, removed two screws from a vent cover on the duct work, and there it was, winking at me in the dim light as if to say, “Whee! That was fun, let’s do it again!“

Needless to say, I ignored the ring’s request, replaced the vent cover, and returned upstairs. I also made it a point to show my mother-in-law the ring so that she would know the crisis had been averted, and more importantly, that I was not nearly as big an idiot as she imagined me to be. To this day I’m not really sure she was convinced…

Oh, and before I go any further I need to address a couple of things…

First, my apologies to Z Z Top for snagging one of their song titles for this blog entry. But, I think you’ll see why I did it if you keep reading…

Second, if you look closely at the picture above and on the right, you will notice that E K appears to have a grin on her face… In fact, it is something almost resembling a laugh. Well, that’s because it is. A laugh, I mean. Although you can’t see my face in this photo, rest assured, I was desperately trying to stifle a guffaw myself. It seems our rings were in a mood that evening. Not only had E Kay’s wedding band taken an unscheduled excursion through the HVAC duct work, we  even had ourselves another “ring mishap” right smack in the middle of the ceremony. Scott, (visible on the right), had handed me E Kay’s ring. Erin (remember Erin?) had handed E K my ring. Both of us, at his behest, had handed the respective rings to E Kay’s father, (the guy in front of us performing the ceremony), so that he could bless them… When he handed them back to us,  each at separate times as the ceremony called for, somehow I ended up with my own ring to slide onto Kat’s finger. Well, my ring being larger, obviously, this wasn’t that much of an issue. However, as the logical progression continued, moments later E K ended up with her own ring to place  on my finger and we tried desperately to make a surreptitious swap without letting on, but ended up getting tickled…

But, let’s step a few minutes back in time… (Yeah, don’t you wish you could do that for real? Me too.)

So, here we are, instantly back in the recent past… Well, it was recent past then… Now it is… Well, you know what I mean…

At this point I have recovered the fugitive wedding ring and I am feeling fairly proud of myself over such a grand accomplishment. However, since the clock didn’t stop during the mini crisis, we are at T minus 15 at this point… E K is still in the bedroom making herself too gorgeous for words, or as has been my personal contention for years, desperately trying to pry open the window that had been painted shut by the previous owners in order to make her escape. She maintains that my theory simply is not true, but when we went to replace that window during our continued  remodel several months later, I found claw-like fingernail gouges in the woodwork that looked suspiciously like they had been made by a human being with petite little feminine hands. From all appearances they seemed to have been made while she was attempting to dig her way through the wall.

With evidence like that, you tell me… What would you think?

But yeah, I digress…

We were coming up on zero-hour and fast. People had been arriving for several minutes, and our tiny house was now full, and even overflowing onto the front porch. In fact, it became obvious that there was a bit of an exodus occurring right before my eyes. It was at this particular point when I realized that I had started to sweat more than just a little. At first I thought it was simply because I was the groom and it was my job to sweat profusely immediately prior to the ceremony, however it was soon brought to my attention that everyone else was sweating too. Given that they weren’t standing in my shoes, there had to be something else going on…

You see, as I outlined in the earlier installment, “Mahwage: The Wedding Suit,” not only had the 2008 startup of the Large Hadron Collider screwed with the fabric of time and space, effectively f*cking up clocks on 10/31/87, apparently it had also temporarily shifted the entire planet on its axis, returning us from the beautiful fall weather we had been experiencing, (since, after all, it was autumn), to something more closely resembling mid-summer.

Yes, what I am saying is that  it was unseasonably warm… Way, way unseasonably warm. And when combined with all those bodies milling about in an enclosed area, as well as a half dozen medium-sized cans of Sterno flaming away beneath chafing dishes, along with a couple of crock pots set on high… well, it was just plain sweltering in the house. Not a problem.  Easy to fix. I would just turn on the A C…

… Uh-huh… Yeah… Problem…

And said problem is yet another reason why we paid way too much for our “fixer upper”. I slid the switch on the thermostat, and the A C clicked on. It then proceeded to make a groaning noise, followed by a clank, punctuated by a sputter, underlined by a screech, and then  when it was fully satisfied with itself, the damn thing settled in to a loud, not quite right sounding whirr. All well and fine, except that whirring was pretty much all it was good for at that point. Uh-huh… The compressor was all but shot, and the coil was hot on its heels… And, while that pun wasn’t intended, it is entirely accurate… The A C was blowing hot air…

But, even though the air flowing from the vents felt more like the product of the furnace than the A C, at least now it was moving…  Sorta… Well, a little bit…

So, in a last ditch effort to adjust the comfort level, we ran around the house and pried open every window we could so as to assist in the circulation. There were still more people coming for the reception following the ceremony proper, so heat exchanging was definitely going to be an issue. This process took a little elbow grease, because remember, the previous owners had been very good about painting the windows shut for us. While that thought was awfully kind of them, I was less than excited about it right then…

But, let’s move on to those stockings…

I make absolutely no secret of the fact that I am not a “boob man”. This is probably one of the reasons Erin, (remember Erin? By the way, is anyone sensing an “Erin” theme here yet?) Anyway, this is probably why Erin and her most bodacious and prominent chest didn’t enrapture me as it had done for the other red-blooded males back at ComputerTrend. I mean, nothing against breasts… They’re nice… Even fun to play with now and again… (No, I never played with Erin’s… Sheesh, you people…) But, to put it very simply they aren’t the physical feature that first attracts my attention when it comes to the appreciation of the female form… (As you can see, I am desperately trying to apply some political correctness to this part of my rambling, and failing miserably in the process, so I’m afraid I’ll just have to abandon the attempt…) The long and short of it is this… I’m a leg man. Nothing titillates, (yeah, odd word choice, considering), me more than a woman’s legs. I’m all about the whole stocking-encased, silky thigh, back of the knee, shapely calf, well-turned ankle appendage ending in a stiletto heeled pump…

Uhm… Excuse me just a moment…

…Okay, I’m back now…

What? I was getting more coffee… Jeez… First Erin, now this… Y’all are worse than me… Give me a break.

Okay, so let’s get back to the story… So, yeah, everyone has their turn-on’s, and shapely female legs are mine. So, my lovely bride, both knowing this fact and being in possession of a fantastic pair of legs, (yes, hers, not someone else’s), had picked out a pair of sexy, white, back-seamed stockings to go with her dress and high heels. Trust me… I was not complaining about this fact at all…

Now… I have to divert from the storyline once more in order to pass along a bit of pertinent information. E K was, at that time in her life, habitually late for everything. She still is, but to nowhere near the degree she was back then… Remember the part in an earlier installment about us annoying one another? Well, there’s one for you… As it happens, I’m habitually early. See the rub? I am pointing this out because much time has passed with all that A C mucking about and window opening handjive.

Therefore, much to my chagrin, we have now arrived at T plus 20 or so… Yeah, the mission profile has been altered and I didn’t get the memo.

And so, the tableau is set up thusly… E K is still in the bedroom. I am standing in the middle of the living room with all of our friends and family, doing the only thing I can think to do, which is shrugging my shoulders and shaking my head. My sister has already made a trip or two back to the bedroom to check on E K and has assured me that she is neither sick, nor has she escaped.

We continue to stand and/or sit, as the case may be, around the living room and stare at one another. Every now and then I would shrug once more and smile nervously. By now my best man, Scott, has punched me in the arm enough times that I am convinced I will be needing to head to the emergency room for an X-ray and cast once the ceremony is over… Got all that? Good, because here goes…

Finally, we heard the bedroom door click and swing open. A hush fell, almost like it would in an actual chapel. It must be something to do with “Bride Radar” or some such, you got me, all I know is it got real quiet, real fast… Anyway, from my vantage point I can see down the hallway and slowly, but surely, an absolute vision comes into view. E K was beyond stunning and my breath literally caught in my chest. However, since I realize full well that during this series I have gone on and on and on about how gorgeous  my wife is, in my eyes at the very least, I’ll try to refrain from doing so for a minute or two.

E K smiled and began walking toward me. I smiled back at her, and as she stepped into the living room her heels clacked across the hardwood floor, sharp and obvious in the hush that still gripped those in attendance. She glanced around at everyone and said in a shy voice, “Sorry… I guess we’re ready now.” I stepped quickly to the “altar,” (as seen in the first picture up top, the “altar” was the yet unfinished window at the South end of the living room.)

My plan, of course, was to wait for my lovely bride to make her complete entrance and allow her to be the center of attention for a moment, just like it is supposed to happen at a wedding. She picked up on the cue and ventured farther into the room as she walked slowly toward me.

I continued smiling at her, but noticed that her own smile was quickly fading. In fact, her eyes had grown wide and her face had begun to twist into a look of surprise, fear, consternation, concern, calculating thought, and about twelve other similar expressions… And, these bizarre looks were being displayed all at once. Without missing a single, dainty step, as if perfectly choreographed, she turned smoothly on her heel and continued her march in the complete opposite direction, making a sharp right turn into the hallway from whence she had come, as she called over her shoulder, “I’ll be right back.”

A pair of seconds later we heard the bedroom door open, and then quickly shut. We all looked around the room at one another, totally dumbfounded. This was the last thing anyone had expected, and it once again had me wondering if E K was trying to claw her way out the back window in a bid to seek freedom. Of course, customarily the groom is the one to get cold feet, but since we had already been setting a precedent throughout our entire relationship for re-enacting scenes from movies that hadn’t even been made yet, there was always the chance that this incident was going to be plucked from our lives and inserted into Runaway Bride.

For a moment, I considered sending my sister back to the bedroom with a bottle of scotch  and a tumbler. My hope was that a shot or two would bolster my maybe-soon-to-be-wife’s courage, but before I could set that plan into motion, Kathy reappeared, her smile now beaming as she once again muttered a quick “sorry about that,” and made her way through the assemblage to stand by my side.

It wasn’t until we were preparing for bed later that evening… Yes, later that evening… Not night, not the next morning, that evening… Trust me, we’ll get to the “why” in relation to that in just a bit. Anyway, it wasn’t until then that I found out what that whole little back and forth dance was all about. And, I only found out because my bride suddenly announced to me that she had lost all feeling in her legs…

You see, it’s like this… While me not having a suit was a major screw up…  I readily admit that… It seems I wasn’t the only one who was misfiring in the grey matter department. E K… Yes, E K, had screwed up too. When she purchased the stockings to go with her dress, she had thought she picked up a pair of thigh-highs, when in fact she had picked up stockings. As in stockings that require a garter belt. A garter belt which was still packed away in a box in the basement, because we had only just moved in and were woefully behind in unpacking due to the remodeling activities. So, even if she had asked me to retrieve the lacy accoutrement for her, I probably wouldn’t have been able to actually locate it amidst the boxes until sometime during the spring of 1994, which obviously would have been just a tad bit late. She knew this… Remember, like I said before, she’s a smart cookie…

So, in a MacGyverish gambit, she had attempted to make the sheer fabric stay in place with a bit of  cellophane tape… Unfortunately, by the time she made it less than a half dozen steps into the living room, the stockings began to fall, hence the sudden horrified look upon her face.

But, why had she lost the feeling in her legs? Well, here’s the thing… Her own personal lightning fast calculations in the face of an impending crisis had led her to the only solution available within the confines of the bedroom, and time allotted upon her hasty retreat… For the entire evening she had been holding up her stockings with heavy duty rubber bands wrapped around her thighs… Now, that’s what I call commitment to a cause, for you see, I happen to know my bride had other actual thigh high stockings in the bedroom. I know this because she used to buy Leggs stockings mail-order by the dozen. Now, I doubt if she had any that were white, although she may have. I don’t actually make a habit of inventorying my wife’s undergarments.  That would just be… Well… Weird… Harmless, but weird… Anyway,  my point here is that I’m willing to bet there were some in “nude,” or some other hosiery shade that would have worked just fine with her dress.

But of course, that’s my E K for you… Once she sets her mind to something you best stay out of her way, because she is going to see it through come hell, high water… Or even sagging stockings…

But, as I said, this little tidbit of information came to my attention much later in the evening… I’m afraid this story isn’t over quite yet…

More to come…

Murv

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