Marriage and All That

I  have been writing stories in my head since last night, which is nothing new, but what is new- is
wanting to write about marriage. My marriage and marriage in general. I was thinking so much about life, as Ray was sleeping so peacefully next to me until I  finally drifted off to sleep.
I was thinking- why are there manuals and classes for the dumbest things in life that you will never, even use. But the most important ones, relationships, marriages, parenting and  raising children- how did that get left behind in the mix? At least when I was saddling up my Dinosaur back in the day- Mrs. Ruthie Reader was teaching us Home Economics in High School.  I learned to fake sew and fake cook. Do a  Fashion Show with a polyester shell top I think- or was that when my mom put my sister and I in Sears Sewing Class? It all gets a little muddled.
 Not that I learned to be a  cook and wife from that. In the early days I  still  left  all the insides of the chicken in while cooking it. I was twenty one, just made sense to put it in the oven- guts and all. Sure it was yummy. I have a pretty darling husband , he has never said, "Your food tasted like hell- I forgot to mention "We have known each other thirty years. In December we will have been married twenty nine.
We were both definitely Clueless when we got married. I was twenty two, he was thirty. I believe our sense of humor is the strongest thing that has kept us going through the tough times. Sometimes you just have to laugh, and believe it or not we do with each other every day over the most ridiculous things. We usually try to out shock, out- whatever each other. Love and support is always there.

To tell you the truth, we both try to rack our brains about some "Romantic Proposal", neither of us can remember. The  thing I do remember, I knew he was the one for me. What we did know- we wanted to be together more than anything. Neither of us were particularly great prospects on the outside looking in. I was getting married again for the second time at twenty two, ( first time at eighteen) and wouldn't get a divorce until Ray pushed it, and took me down to City Hall.  I didn't get it, I was twenty one and immature, I couldn't see why or  how that could affect Ray or anyone else.  I was dragging my feet, but the truth was I liked Ray so much- I was scared to get a divorce and didn't want to make a mistake again. I knew I had found the right one- but how could I explain that to anyone at that time?

He was living in a Bachelor Pad- not terribly motivated and you know when I was making more than him at times as a waitress..... well, the truth is I never let him leave the Coffee Shop I worked at, I was a smitten twenty year old. He  was renting office space in a depressing building,  having just left The Bradbury Building downtown. The economy was in a recession, and little work was to be had. I still thought he was a regal beagle. We moved in together- and were honest about it with both sides of our family. No secret keeping- that went over big!  His mother disowned him, and mine did the equal version with me.

I think the reason Ray and I are so similar ( even though it appears on the outside we are different as night and day) is that we both wanted the same things. We both wanted normalcy after coming from insanity.  The benefits for us  having similar backgrounds-  an understanding and forgiveness
for behaviors that others might have abandoned ship long ago. Even we wanted to abandon ship on each other at times. There has always been this underlying forgiveness, love, understanding, even and especially when the rage, anger, tears, " I'm divorcing you look" comes out.
Right- anyone who has been married along time doesn't know that look- than right on to you!
Overcoming things together, just as every couple learns- is just part of the ride.

I think sometimes we expected more hurt, more pain to chew on- gave us more character to build.
That became the biggest BS myth, it just was more pain we became conditioned to from past experiences.We could not allow the good, success,  love, and support. The challenges, the fear, the mayhem became our way of life, living.We had to let go step by step, who wouldn't want to let go of all of that? When it becomes part of who you believe you are, your identity, there is sorrow in saying goodbye. In the final parting- saying goodbye to the beliefs, myths and people  as well.

This is where Ray and I now stand,  changing,  growing,  learning, feeling like babes- in -the- woods- of- life at times. It is time to welcome this new skin we are shedding. Just as all marriages, relationships must to move forward, grow - stay current, or face wilting. A rebirth takes place constantly, sometimes for one, or both. Other times inevitable endings. Marriage is that secret place no one tells you- where change is the only constant to thrive. It is that big wave you ride,sometimes  watching a beautiful, golden sunset together- other times falling under a riptide where you can't breathe, panic. Middle road is good, walking along the beach dipping your toes in the water. I am ready to do some soaking up the sun, playing in the waves and just seeing where the day takes us.

The Mount Charles

Patience is a virtue....  I think that is the number one thing I was put on this planet to work on. My darling hubby said he would get around to writing this story,  I do believe him in his Libran sort of way. He will think about it, weigh it, mull over it- ruminate. I however am a true Lioness,
Leo through and through. I think about it, and that's that. Let's do it NOW. That's pretty much how the average Leo rolls. We  don't let any grass grow green under our feet. Much to the detriment of ourselves many times- we are reactors.
Well, the Libra has spoken... and has joined in on this story, This is a collaboration and we are laughing as we retell this story of our lives together. First time collaboration on writing a story.

The "Mount Charles" has a lot of names that Ray came up with. It was originally  a Chevrolet Monte Carlo that I bought  at eighteen years old with the first hub.  I thought this was a very regal ride, after all, I was sporting a  blue Ford Pinto perched in the driveway.
Now with so many choices of cars, why a brown Monte Carlo at Hertz Rent A car you might ask yourself? I have no idea but perhaps I saw it on a commercial or thought it was super regal.
I wheeled out of that used Hertz Rent A Car place like I owned the road. I can't tell you how fancy I thought I was, all eighteen years old, Farrah Fawcett wanna -be- do and all.

That is how our story begins. Flash forward - selling it to my parents two years later, trading it in for a red 240Z and the single life. I was one happy gal pal. Flash forward once again  about  five years, married to my Raymond with two kids in tow.  One of our cars had broken down- blown engine, and we need another pronto. Enter The Monte Carlo, Mount Charles, Carlitos Way, as Raym had renamed the beast.
Out of desperation we bought it back from my parents. I was no longer eighteen, now twenty eight, how did that happen?  I am very hip to the fact that this car is very uncool. No way in hell I am driving this beast, I have a four year old and a new born that I am toting around in this ride. No way, Raym is doing this, I will drive the Subaru wagon.
Raym had started working in Culver City at a film Company, after always being self employed. This was twenty five years ago, and his first  step into the entertainment world  after working for Doug Trumbull, who had  originally started the company. This was Ray's first gig as an Art Director, so most things were new and he was winging it, feeling a bit out of his league. What was with this entertainment world?

One day as Ray was parking "The Carlito," at  work-  (by this time he had figured out to park it across the street in the Carwash Parking Lot, so no one would be the wiser) the headliner dropped even lower than usual on his head- dropping the beautiful fairy dust that it produced from above. If anyone has ever experienced a drooping headliner -this silt stuff falls out and doesn't stop getting all over your head and shoulders. It doesn't stop raining on you, especially in older cars.
Other drivers just see you with this veil of lining draped ever so gently all around your head and shoulders, like the warmest shawl.   It is a sight to behold.
 On this particular day the headliner decided to detach completely from the roof and do a super low rider on Ray. When he came back from lunch, however there was no more parking in the Car Wash across the street. What to do what to do?  "No one will notice if I park it in the corner,"  brave young Spencer thought. Later in the day a coworker said to Ray "Who drives that super ---- ---- car, a busboy?  "I don't know" he said, slinking away.  Later it was quitting time,  Ray usually beat feet out of there at a carefully scripted time..... before or after the rest of the crew to avoid being detected anywhere in the vicinity of the Mount Charles, let alone inside it,  especially  by the higher ups!
Unfortunately on this particular day the executives were chatty, (the president and VP's etc) decided to walk Ray out. What else could he do but fumble with his keys next to the closest BMW. That was like playing russian roulette, what if the beamer was one of theirs? All was well, they drove off.... and Ray shuffled over to "Carlito's Way." "I art directed this move " he thought triumphantly,smirking for sure at getting away with this accomplishment.
After leaving the parking lot, and driving round the corner, he stopped at a red light, looks over at the car next to him..... a shiny new Jaguar,  the carload of VP'S  he just left in the parking lot are just staring at him nodding and acknowledging his presence -  now the headliner is permanently draped over his head and shoulders- where did the BMW go?   The headliner foam was now raining, pouring down on him it's remaining contents. Staying the cool cat, he nods a friendly wave- turns bright red, slinks down and  drives off as the signal changes to green, acting cool but dying inside, as though this is an every day occurrence. Humility knows no bounds.

This makes me laugh thinking about him acting cool- I would have run out of the car screaming, explaining, laughing, I don't know.

We all start somewhere,  everyone has challenges with each stage of life.
We always will. I think it is about being able to laugh about them along the way.
Constant circle of reinventing ourselves-and just appreciating every step!

By the way the Company went bankrupt so who had the last laugh? Maybe the VP's are driving the Mount Charles now!

Watermelon

I have not felt like writing in awhile and the last few stories have been so serious that it is time for something that is humorous- at least this one makes me laugh!
Matt reminded me of this one as we were sitting here eating watermelon..... so here goes.

Back in 1980 at the tender age of 18 I was waitressing at a restaurant in Pasadena on Arroyo Parkway, a recent newlywed, and I actually thought I knew what was up. Hmmm....
My oldest sister and I worked together, she was the manager and we worked the morning shift.  She came in at five a.m., me at six fifteen. I was the laziest sloth imaginable to mankind at that age. I probably crawled out of bed at five thirty, powdered my greasy hair ( because I am sure I  allowed no time to take a shower) and I bet I put on a wrinkled uniform. We had to wear our hair in a braid, bun or pony tail- (pretty sure that is why I still wear my hair back to this day)

I lived about twenty minutes away, so I was always late-  this did not go over well with my sister/boss. It would get very busy in the morning,  and with only two gal pals working the whole place, you had to get going. That is where I learned my people skills, how to juggle many things at once,  and deal with hungry, angry people. It still comes in handy, especially now.
 
I never appreciated the skill it took to work half of a restaurant  the first  four hours of our shift without a hostess, while my sister took the other half. (It was a large place. ) It is a well oiled machine when it works, when it doesn't it is complete chaos. We liked it because we made most of our tips that way, before the other gals came in to work, but the hustling was intense.

We would have fun in the mornings and crank up the tunes. Disco was very in at the time, so we would just rock out as it made our mornings very entertaining and fly by. When the Restaurant Manager came in by ten, we would turn it down again. We had many regulars that came in once, twice, sometimes three times a day.
Some we didn't mind.... others, hmmmm.

The lingering gents always sat at the counter, and somehow had a "sixth sense" when we were the unlucky waitress working that section. Such a thrill to pour seven thousand cups of coffee to the same person all day. And no way-they would be back four times by noon, not to mention the afternoon. You're kidding.....

There was one special gent that took a liking to me.  I was  just a year out of high school, and as I said newly married. This fellow had a Gas Station next door to the Coffee Shop, and I would gas my lovely blue pinto up every week there. He started coming in more than usual it seemed, but I didn't really pay attention, until  he started parking  himself on my station everyday.
He was a rather interesting looking fella. I can't say he would have ever been my type, married or not.
It wasn't just because it appeared he didn't bathe frequently, or sweat profusely. Or..... stare constantly.
That didn't throw me off. Did I mention his breath? Or hair?  Oh, guess not- maybe later.
Maybe it was the way he would seductively shout my name..... "Cuuuuhhhhlllaaayyyrre."
All the while trying to get close to me with the smell of patchouli oil, B.O. and other stuff going on .

But alas,  there was one constant with this sexy beast- he ordered watermelon everyday, rain or shine.
He was watching his waistline..... but this is just a guess, I am pretty sure he may have been partying on something else other than watermelon when not at the Coffee Shop.  He was a  bit of a big fella,
and not on the tall side. I am pretty sure I was a few inches taller than him- which made it even worse when I was near him. It was okay when he was sitting down in the booth, but at the gas station he would get as close as humanly possible to me and  be level to me and my neck, or quite possibly a little lower. I could feel his dragon breath on me.  At this point of the story you are saying, "So why didn't you just beat feet and get gas somewhere else?" Well, I was still a very good obedient Catholic Girl, and he was a pushy,  strange as hell man that I just felt like I was supposed to get gas from and fill my pinto.

One day "Watermelon" decided he was going to leave more than his buck or two tip.
He left two- one hundred dollar bills. Well, that watermelon must have been pretty darned good I guess.
He said I deserved it- I felt a little uncomfortable, but okay Mr. Watermelon whatever you say.
Next time I go to get gas..... by this time I usually had to pay some type of penance like sit in his office and hear him talk and stare- this time he decides he wants to tell me something. Hmmmm.

He cuts to the chase. I know I hadn't eaten nearly enough rice pudding yet, or was it tapioca?
"I want you to be my vwoman." No I didn't add a "V", that's how he said "vwoman."
I wanted to snarl, chuckle,  yelp, gasp......

"I give you credit cards, apartment,  car, money... you come to me two, three times a week."
Okay, I really have not described this dude. He was wider than he was tall...... with the greasiest  hair slicked back. Yum.  I just sat there in disbelief wanting to laugh so hard.  I am friggin' eighteen.  He has to be in his late thirties at least, not to say that by twenty I didn't go out with a forty five year old-  but that was different.  He wasn't Watermelon, and he wasn't proposing I be his what?  What was he going to be my Sugarmelon? I tried reminding him I was married, with my plush pinto ride and all. That didn't sway the fox, he was married too. Things were starting too get a little uncomfortable and a little too real.

He gave me a really hideous gold necklace  and   some other jewelry that I threw away.
 Consequently I didn't go into Watermelons Gas Station anymore.  The final  joke is when his wife drives up in his big, red corvette. She hands me the keys and asks me if I want the Mercedes or the Corvette for the weekend.  I said neither- but they would not take no for an answer. It was the most uncomfortable situation I can tell you. I gave my brother-in-law the keys and  I am sure he had a rocking weekend.
The humiliated look on this  woman's face.... the horror on mine.

Watermelon gave it one more shot when he brought this older, very freaky man with bulging eyes staring me over like I was a steak dinner. I didn't get what was going on- Maybe in retrospect they had a thing for waitresses and wanted a harem.  Couldn't I at least have had a looker?  These fellas were an interesting crew, I just couldn't get into their style anymore. They knew it wasn't happening-some secretaries across the street I now noticed were sidling up to them. They were older gals.....
probably in their thirties,  but when you are eighteen they may as well be one hundred.

I think I will write more about some of the interesting customers-  had I not worked there I would not have met Ray two short years later. By then I am sad to say I was pinto-less. I sold that beauty to my sister, had to keep that gem in the family. I did have a fine brown Monte Carlo right after that- that I actually picked out and thought was as cool as a cadillac. Hmmmm. The next story must  be written by Ray, because that car got sold back and forth between my parents and us..... and he ultimately inherited it.
Now that story can only be told by him and it is pretty funny.
Memories are good.... we can look back and see how far we have come and have a good laugh at the ridiculous!

I Will Follow

How can it be seven thirty? Where did the day go?  It feels like it has been one of those lost days.
I am laying down on the couch with the computer on a pillow propping it up," Hoarder's"Marathon is on the television and Ray is watching. That is when I know my hubby is stressed, I  am starting to get into the groove of it today. When I am tired, I am like a restless,  irritable baby,  having no clue or ability to comfort myself in the moment. I decided in my delirium it was a great idea to organize the kitchen and have a bake-a-thon.

Why rest when you can be a whirling dervish?  It's just that it takes me hours to figure this little bit of info out to calm down. I just have to work it out and my family knows it. I did whip up a killer spinach-lentil soup.While I am in this mood, I grab for the chips to console myself, and get very salted out. Hmmm, by now I look like I am ready for labor and delivery.....

I have been writing all week about the situation with my younger brother. He overdosed on pills the beginning of the week, and has been in a facility - what the aftermath has been. Last night Ray and I went to a Preview Party for his work. It is a very busy and exciting time in his life, yet between the two of us, it was very difficult to get up with the people and celebrate. He is absolutely exhausted from his schedule,  and I am wiped out from this family situation.The turning point was when we met up with our dear friend who flew in from Pennsylvania last night, to celebrate his part in  the work he has done.  This was a real treat. The second treat, our daughter was coming to meet us later in the evening.

Ray went to meet up with Katie to let her know where we were, so I sat and just chilled out and chatted with our friend. He is a very sensitive man, and I am so grateful  he understood where I was coming from. (I didn't have to over explain myself) Ray and I  had such a great time with him in Pennsylvania,  we felt so welcome- it was wonderful to be at this party and just let down. I was telling him what the week had been like, and for some reason I just started talking about my parents. We were sitting at such a busy place.... so many people at this shindig, and I just didn't care. Life is just real when it is, and opportunity comes. You take it or you don't.

He and Ray have a lot of similarities, so I feel very comfortable with his personality. Every time I see him, I tell him he looks like Kenny Loggins ( he does) this time without the beard. As he talked, I realized how they both have had to modify their behavior - as artistic personalities to succeed. He  along with his brother  now run the company their father started. He is a very artistic, thoughtful, soft spoken man. The industry he works in is very rough, burly, masculine, manly man.When he gave me a tour with my hard hat on- through the facility last time I was there, I had to really put my game face on. It is very male dominated..... and I felt it every moment I walked through it.

I realized the same for my hubby,  how much he has had to change. From the  easy going artist sitting in his studio painting, having his own schedule..... (music  playing, shorts on, us just cruising around together when we felt like it, ) to- being responsible for huge projects, many people, and getting so far away from painting, drawing, quiet. Meetings, presentations, speaking in front of Presidents of Corporations,travel, heavy expectation to succeed.  Striking a balance.... and finding their voices. That was the point exactly what my friend was trying to tell me about my parents. It is time to find a different voice in myself with them.

I have always come so much from my heart, much to my detriment. I have worn it on my sleeve.The conversation with my friend last night about being so angry, frustrated with my mom. It has been all about my expectations. I thought I was always adjusting them, but listening to him last night.... I think I finally got it. Just as Ray and him have had to put their game faces on when they have to take the lead, that is what I now need to do with my parents. Take my emotion out, do the the best job I can.... and just be kind.

Ray has told me this throughout the years, my sisters have said the same thing- but my heart always gotten in the way. Why is it I have had so much patience with Hospice, dealing with someone else's family members, but no patience for my own?  Hearing from a non family member simplified it. I hear how lonely my mom is - she just wants to go for a drive, or out to lunch. I can do that. I am behaving no differently than her, if I am constantly commenting and judging her on her behavior,her negativity. It isn't working- she knows how I feel. My friend is right. He simply stated, "How about just trying to love her?"  I don't know how and what I have done hasn't worked in the past. This has been a week of total surrender. Surrender of my expectations. Of the past, what never was.If I am going to put my money where my mouth is- it's easy to talk about this when I am in the environment I am in at home, surrounded by love. Time to open my heart in a different way. I don't even know what that means as I write this, and it no longer matters. What I do know.... I am willing. And with that willingness- I will follow.