BRAINPAN LEAKAGE

Part 3 of 12

Continued from: Mahwage: Love At First Sight…

When last we left our intrepid blogger, he had fallen hard for an evil femme fatale, and was perilously close to being…

Oh, sorry… I sometimes have a flair for the dramatic and all… Part of that whole writer thing…So anyway, where was I? Oh yes…

And there I was… Hopelessly – and secretly – in love with this woman everyone had told me would chew me up, spit me out, and then grind her heels into my corpse just for spite while cackling madly and spitting on me for good measure –  All for no other reason than she was just that kind of psychobitch. And, to add even more insult to injury,  she would also cut out my liver and kidneys with a rusty letter opener just so she could cook them up and feed them to her cats.

These folks really and truly did have a bizarre view of this woman.

To this day, I’m still not entirely sure what she did to make these people, especially the men, be so damned afraid of her. All I can say is that if  it was because she did in fact tap-dance on someone’s head around there, (figuratively or literally, either one), that person most assuredly deserved it. Believe me, I worked with them and I had my own daydream moments about some of these individuals falling off a cliff,  simply disappearing in the Bermuda Triangle, or some other such demise, and not all of them were as bloodless as those I listed…

Besides, look at that picture… How could anyone think such horrible things about this woman? Yeah, okay, well admittedly there is a bit of a “dominatrixish” gleam in her eyes… Well, more than a bit, actually…more like a whole bunch… But, that’s okay.  I’ll admit to being afflicted with Joss Whedon Syndrome (JWS), meaning I happen to love strong female archetypes. However, some folks – men and women alike – find strong women intimidating, so maybe that was their issue. (shrug). Or, they could have just been assholes like I said at the outset, which is probably the more likely explanation in my opinion…

But rather than go there, let’s move on. Actually, this is the point where we sort of hit the Fast Forward / Scan button on the story. All manner of things happened in the weeks that followed, but they are a bit of a drudgery in many respects and a bit too personal to blog about in others. So, in order to get from point A to point B, I’ll toss in an abbreviated sort of synopsis here.

Begin story compression:

Due to an oversight, it seemed that a tech position actually was open with the company, but had not been advertised, nor had the management of the store responsible for doing the hiring been told. This was rectified when the district manager came through town for a visit. Of course, I waved my flag and upon proving my claim was immediately transferred to the tech center (my heart went pitter-pat for more than one reason at this point, let me tell you)… Unfortunately, the district manager didn’t consult E K about this change to her staff and since she was the “tech management” she wasn’t terribly happy about that fact. Soooo, I was pretty much viewed as an enemy my first couple of weeks there. In fact, I was even interrogated by her with condescending questions like, “Do you know how to do x y z?” Invariably, x y z was always something ridiculously simple,to me, at least, and something I had been doing for 10 years longer than anyone else on staff: things like soldering components, swapping motherboards, aligning disk drives, etc… Rather than take true offense, I would simply answer in the affirmative then set about proving myself by completing the task perfectly and in record time. (No, I’m not bragging here… just telling it like it was. You see, while I had years of experience, Kathy, Erin, and Phil, all three, were recent graduates of the electronics program from the local community college. Although they had degrees not a one of them had even a full year under their belt in the real world of electronics repair.  The truth was they were  all green enough to stick in the ground and sprout roots. I was a veteran tech, and to a large degree found this whole scenario amusing beyond belief…)

Of course, Kathy’s condescension really didn’t matter at that point because I had no other choice but to worship her from afar anyway, because you see, it turned out she was married. My heart sank upon that discovery, however, I contented myself with spending 8 hours out of each workday in the same zip code with her and reveled in the opportunities I had to converse with her too. What I didn’t realize at the time was that her marriage was already dashed upon the rocky shores, and that for all intents and purposes it was really all over except the paperwork.

Eventually I endeared myself to my co-workers. They came to realize I had experience in the field and developed a true respect for my skills as a tech, so it wasn’t unusual for me to fix something, then find whatever one of the other techs had been working on positioned on my desk so that I could fix it too. I became the go to guy… Kathy, being the manager, would spend most of her time doing paperwork, but did check up on us regularly… That was always interesting, because trust me, this young lady made it very hard to concentrate when “inspection time” rolled around. You see, she would observe from a close vantage point… and I mean close. More than enough to be ah… um… shall we say… a distraction. This often left me parked at my bench for a bit after she returned to her office, whether I had completed the repair or not. (yeah, I know, that was just the lust talking… but hey, love and lust go hand in hand at times…)

Still, I continued to work there and secretly worship her. I didn’t have a shrine in my home or anything like that, nor did I stalk her. I’m not insane… Well, at least I wasn’t back then… But, I did think about her quite a bit, and I’m willing to admit I allowed my imagination to run wild on several occasions. But that is for me to know and you to, well… not know.

Speaking of imagination running wild, in one of those “what was happening on this day in history” sort of veins, Wildest Dreams by The Moody Blues was in the Top 20 on the airwaves at that time… Kathy despised it, primarily because it was overplayed. Me, I reveled in it, but for reasons not yet revealed to her. Every time it came on she would wonder aloud why I liked it so much. I just smiled and went about my business of daydreaming…

Then, a fateful day came… The VP of ComputerTrend showed up at the tech center. Kathy happened to be out of the office on a service call, and at this particular juncture Erin and Phil had both been laid off. It was just E K and me handling the repairs. Well, we had seen the writing on the wall when the layoffs happened, so I wasn’t surprised when the VP announced that the whole company had filed Chapter 13, was going under, see ya’ later, good luck, now get the f*ck out… Having read the earlier writing, I had already been trolling for another job and luck had been on my side for some odd reason. Within a week I was again gainfully employed, this time as the service manager for a new computer company opening up in the Brentwood area of the county. One of my first acts as the service manager was to hire a staff. I called Kathy immediately and offered her a job as a technician. She accepted and now the tables had turned. She was no longer my boss, I was hers… or so I thought.

End story compression…

Yeah, no kidding… believe it or not, that was abbreviated…

It was while working with T C Service (Total Computer Service, in it’s first incarnation as a side company to a T C B C computer store… I mention this only because I believe T C Service still exists, but I know for a fact it was sold shortly after I quit, and that was less than a year after I started… yeah, another story entirely)… Anyway, it was while working overtime one night for T C Service that Kathy finally announced to me that her marriage was all but done, and would be done soon enough if all went well with paperwork, lawyers and such, and that she had developed more than a passing interest in taking our friendship beyond the platonic stage. We were the only two souls in the place that evening, and all was quiet when she rolled her chair over to my desk and offered up this bit of news in a soft, mellifluous tone.

Yes… Once again my knees were like Jello and my feet like wet bags of cement, even though I was sitting down at the time. I’m surprised my heart didn’t explode straight out of my chest, especially when she leaned forward and proceeded to give me a thorough tonsil examination to validate her statement. But, before you get the wrong idea, no clothes flew off, and no one found a bra or a sock hanging from a monitor or workbench the next day.  It  literally didn’t go any farther than a few passionate kisses… well, not for a while anyway.

Since her marriage was in the process of dissolution, (a process that took longer than expected as you will discover in a later installment), we began to date. At this particular juncture she still didn’t know all that much about my financial situation. Probably because I wasn’t one to discuss this sort of thing. I suppose it was just how I was brought up. Your business is your business and other people’s business is their business, so keep it that way.  Suffice it to say, I was still deep in debt, behind in my payments, and my salary still wasn’t what it had once been: meaning, I was falling farther and farther behind money-wise.

However, I felt a deep need to impress this woman. In all honesty I saw this as a last chance. You see, I had been in love once before and that particular young woman had broken my heart. Yeah, that happens to guys too. In fact, to quote Steve Martin from Dead Men Don’t Wear Plaid, “All dames are alike: they reach down your throat and they can grab your heart, pull it out and they throw it on the floor, step on it with their high heels, spit on it, shove it in the oven and cook the shit out of it. Then they slice it into little pieces, slam it on a hunk of toast, and serve it to you and then expect you to say, ‘Thanks, honey, it was delicious.'”

That was pretty much what happened to me on the first go around, and it was exactly what I feared would happen with E K if I allowed her to know how I truly felt. But I forced myself to take the chance… And like I said, I was going to do whatever it took to impress her, wine her, dine her, and capture her heart so that there wouldn’t be a repeat of what I’d dealt with before. Well, I couldn’t really afford to wine and dine her. I couldn’t afford to do the things for her I felt she deserved. I simply didn’t have the money.

But, I did have plastic, and she didn’t know that I didn’t have the money to back it up…

So, one Saturday, bright and early I picked her up. We had already planned to spend the day together, but hadn’t really made any actual “concrete plans” about what we would be doing, other than simply hanging out with one another. At least, that is what she thought. You see, I had a plan and it was definitely being set into motion… I had heard her mention a few days before that she really wanted to get her hair trimmed and spiral permed, so I decided if that was what she wanted, then that was what she would have.  I  drove us to the mall and waltzed her into a local salon, arranged an appointment, then waited patiently as they pampered her and spent a couple of hours on her coif. Once finished, I walked her over to the nearby Dillard’s where we did our own version of a scene from Pretty Woman, (well in advance of the actual movie I might add), and eventually walked out with a gorgeous red dress. Of course, this also meant a trip to the hosiery store around the corner for stockings, a side trip to Frederick’s for pretty underthings, and was rounded out by a visit to a shoe store as well: because what good is a new dress without new shoes to match, correct? And then that evening we went to a very nice, very expensive dinner… (Yes,  the photo above of E K assuming a Marlene Dietrich-esque pose was taken that evening, and she is wearing the very ensemble I just described… as  she also is in the come hither-esque photo at the top…)

I think I ended up dropping better than 500  bucks that day. Money I didn’t have, and couldn’t afford to rack up on my credit cards. But, when all was said and done Kathy felt like a princess and that was what I wanted for her. Of course, it was a gamble that nearly backfired when she found out how far in debt I was, and that I was struggling to dig myself out, but that I had spent all that money anyway (she is a very frugal individual)… Fortunately, luck was somehow on my side and she didn’t immediately dump me… She did, however take a pair of scissors hold of the plastic in my wallet lest I be tempted to repeat my silly behavior…

On a musical note yet again, by now there was another song riding the airwaves in the top echelon of hits. This time, my future bride actually liked it, overplayed as it was. I did too. Pete Cetera, undisputed master of the make out song and former front man for Chicago, was crooning “Glory of Love“, the theme from Karate Kid II which was one of the hot movies that summer. As sappy and sentimental as it sounds, then and now, that tune became the proverbial “our song” that set a tone for our future.

(On a side note – since I often refer to E K as the evil redhead, I should point out that indoor pictures rarely showed the hidden auburn in her hair.  As you can see above it simply appears brown… These days, however, her deeper red comes from the  “Clairol Spell” which I cast upon her tresses, by her request, at 6 week intervals.  And, just so you know, I have her permission to reveal that fact.)

So, anyway…

After a few months things at T C Service were taking a turn for the not so good. Mainly, the owner wasn’t on the same page as the rest of us who were living in the real world. So, serendipitously, E K and I became aware of a computer cabling company that was looking to get into the computer repair business as well. They had the money to back it, they just needed someone with the know how to run it.  We had a meeting with them and within weeks we said our goodbye’s to the craziness at T C Service and launched, MicroFix, Inc…

About this time, Kathy and I had just rented one side of a duplex here in the burbs in the shadow of an old radar tower known to locals as, “the golf ball,” and finally moved in together.  Just us, her three cats, and some secondhand furniture. Yeah, cohabitation.  The whole living in sin thing… But, by the same token, the location of MicroFix happened to be very close by, which made for a quick trip to and from work. I know, lame excuse… especially since we shared a bed, not just an apartment…

So, back to the cohabitation thing… Well, there were the obvious fringe benefits. Things like being able to see one another without burning any gas, or driving home late at night and getting only a couple of hours of sleep before having to get up and go to work again… Life was good.

It was sometime within those first few months dwelling in that duplex that I took her hands in mine and asked a very serious question…

More to come…

Murv

… NEXT: Mahwage: So I Have This Idea…

Part 1 of 12…

What’s a nice girl like you… Doin’ married to that guy?

We’ll get to that in a minute. Right now I just have to say that I absolutely loved that bit from The Princess Bride.

“Mahwage…Mahwage is what bwings usth togethwerrrr …tooooo-dayyyyyy.”

Of course, I actually got a huge kick out of the whole movie. I even own the DVD… But, like usual, I didn’t come here to talk to you about a 1987 comedy. Well, not one that spent time on the big screen, anyway…

The reality is this: I get asked, more often than you can imagine, how it is that E K and I met up, “lell in fuhve”, and came to be hitched. I fully suspect that there is a kind of interest there born of circus sideshows. You know, the train wreck awe of seeing “Timmy the ape boy” or “Lulu the tattooed lady”. What I mean is, my guess would be what’s really going through their minds at the time is, “How in the hell did a troll like you end up with a hot babe like her?” But, in the end that is really just my own self-deprecating insecurity showing through.

I usually tell myself to ignore what my off-kilter grey matter “thinks” they are asking and simply answer the query with an abbreviated rendition of the  true and bizarre tale. You know, just enough to tell them what time it is in at least four geographical zones, but not quite enough to explain exactly how to build a clock. However there is an inherent problem with that approach, because more often than not it just ends up begging a few more questions. And then a few more… And then a few more…  Until finally, the entire story has been told, albeit in a roundabout and somewhat disjointed fashion – and as always, leaving out something or even some things entirely, simply because the discombobulated sequence has confused me and I forgot.

The truth is, the full span of our story is semi-complicated. I say semi because it isn’t really fraught with major complexities – just a few bumps, a couple of dips, a hill or two, a small mountain, and a handful of incidents that read like a script for an episode of a sitcom. All in all, no different than anyone else’s “love story”, other than the fact that it’s our story, and not their story. Know what I mean?

Because it truly is a FAQ when I am on the road, and even in email from interested fans, I had this bright idea that maybe I should blog about it.  Get the story out in the open and in a chronological, coherent fashion so that the next time I am asked I can say,  “Here’s the thumbnail sketch, but if you want the whole story, then you should read my blog…” I mean, how’s that for a segue to my website, eh? (no, not the mall cop electric two wheeler thingy – I’m talking about the  actual meaning of the word and all that).

Besides, when you get right down to it there is also that whole dying brain cell factor to consider. I mean, since I’m getting old and stuff like that, it might be  time to think about recording these important memories for posterity (or, posterior as the case may be) before I lose them for good. I mean, hey, my kid might need something to laugh at in her later years when I am in Depends^TM, drooling all over myself, and being a burden on her. (You see, I think E K will probably still be a hot babe and most likely have run off with “Ricardo the Pool Boy” at that point… I’m pretty sure I’m her picture in the attic so to speak. As the years go by, I just keep getting greyer and she keeps getting prettier…)

Well, moving on, I think we all know how bright ideas can turn out to be really intense Xenon flashes with no diffusion filter fired directly into your face, or in some cases just a really dim flashlight with almost dead batteries. It all just goes back to perspective, I suppose. At any rate, I think maybe  this particular stroke of brilliance is kind of like a whole row of  bulbs in one of those fancy, flashy signs, winking on and off in a taunting fashion. Why? Well, allow me to explain… You see, when I sat down to compose this blog, I gave it a bit of thought. First I had the initial question to answer, and then there were the often forwarded followups…

Yeah, you guessed it… Dominos began to fall, and before I knew it I realized that this “little ditty ’bout E K and Murv” was in no way something Mister Mellenkamp would be able to condense into 4 or 5 verses over  approximately 3 1/2 to 4 1/2 minutes. I mean, he’s good…real good, in my opinion. I am actually a fan… Loved Scarecrow. Great CD…

But, I really shouldn’t go off on that tangent…

You see, the thing is this story has legs – and, I mean besides those shapely gams belonging to E K herself – yet another tangent that could keep me occupied for hours, but we won’t go there in public... The simple fact of the matter is that it will take more than one song, or even music video, to do the story justice. Well… maybe if it was a music video… Hrrrmmmmm… Well, let’s just not go there either…

Seriously… it became painfully clear to me that this tale really and truly has a life of its own. One that I wasn’t going to be able to condense into one blog. Therefore, I set about the task of figuring out just what it was going to take to do it justice. Well, the answer surprised even me. All I can tell you is this – it’s way bigger than a breadbox.

And, so begins a series of blog entries. An interconnected web of how E K and I came to be a couple joined together in wedded bliss (or so they say, whoever “they” are), and moreover the insanity punctuating it all. At this stage, I have sketched outlines for 7 separate entries to tell this story. Some long, some not so long. But, in any case, 7 separate incidents throughout the process, each of which deserves its own title and place in history. Some of them are funny,  some of them are simply Hallmark Channel^TM sappy, and others are just plain “WTF” moments. But, in the end, the real point is they are all 100% true, with witnesses and everything…

And, just so we are clear, I’m not going to guarantee that the number of entries involved here won’t grow to 10, or even 12 before everything is said and done… it could happen. I am, after all, a “writer of books”, and the process kind of does that fluctuating thing at times. But, right now, I can almost assure you that there will be a minimum of 7 over and above this introduction.

So, what I would like to do now is start you off with a picture.  A picture from the first page of our wedding album (note: we did not hire a professional photographer for the basic reason that we couldn’t afford it, therefore all of our pictures in the album are candid and amateur… but, we feel that captures the moment even better than if they were truly posed.) When E K reads this blog she just might beat me about the head and shoulders for showing this pic to the world, what with it not being the most flattering of them, for either of us. But, I think it sets a tone that you will come to understand as this blog series progresses… (Note – throughout this series you will see my dear and lovely referred to as E K as I do now, as well as Kathy, her given name, and even Kat, her preferred moniker… E K has become her tongue-in-cheek persona over the years, so it is just one of those things. Suffice it to say, the three names are interchangeable and refer to the same person, just in case it seems a bit confusing…)

By way of explanation, the photo below was taken in the kitchen of our  recently purchased (recent as in 1987 when the photo was taken) “Handyman’s Fixer Upper” of a house (read between the lines here – “needs to be totally gutted and completely redone”).

That would be my young and gorgeous bride on the left, running about with a container of sugar and her mouth hanging open. The guy in orange with his back to the camera would be me.  (see, I told you it wasn’t exactly flattering.) As you can see, the house needed more than just fixing up. It needed life support, which we were both willing to provide. Unfortunately, we had just purchased the money pit less than 30 days prior to this photo being taken, and had already been spending every waking hour  when not at work, refinishing hardwood floors, patching plaster walls, rewiring, and all manner of other things involved in rehabbing a house.

Oh, and the MOST IMPORTANT point. This photo was taken a mere handful of hours prior to our actual wedding ceremony and reception, all of  which took place in our partially remodeled living room, October 31st, 1987.

But, before we can get to that, we have to back up a bit and start at the beginning… A beginning which, unfortunately was a very dark day for our country and space program. And, an even more horrible day for 7 astronauts.

January 28, 1986… The day of the Challenger disaster.

I know, I know… It seems a morbid way to start a blog series about love, romance, and marriage, but certain events in our lives are impressed upon us like technicolor still frames, individual in a sense, but interconnected by a thin thread that ties everything together and makes us whole…

More to come…

Murv

… NEXT: Mahwage: Love At First Sight…