Maybe to be replaced

So when I was cleaning the house, as I do every few years, I found this photo strip that Satu and I took in the mall when we were first dating. They are grainy and don't handle the cartoon filter well, but I think it is pretty evident that we are smiling.

This way, we kind of look like nuns I think, except for the one where I have a uni-brow. When I see this post years from now, I will still see how pretty Satu's smile was in these pictures and that's the point of this post anyway. Let the memories fill in the blanks.

On my team

One of my odd, not so endearing quirks is that the more I am happy in love, or excited about something, the more time I spend worrying that I will fuck it all up somehow and end up living in an RV with 50 cats. Whenever I feel like I might win, there is something in my mind that says "don't get cocky, prepare yourself for failure so that you don't get crushed into a powder if you fail." For four years, Satu has been a voice that says "you might win, prepare for that."

We are such a funny couple, she is so small and seems kind of fragile because she is kind and understanding. Should you cross the line though, watch out, no more Mr. Nice Girl, just try to pull your poncho over your head and hope you die quickly. She is sensitive, but can survive anything, and I do really mean ANYTHING! I seem kind of built for battle I think, and it's true that I will never give up a physical quest, but everything on the inside is so soft. Emotionally I am a house of cards. My plan for handeling adversity is to get out of the room before anyone sees me cry.

Other than my sister, no one in my life has ever understood me like Satu. I feel so grateful to have her to face the world with me.
  Here are just a few examples of how she shields my house of cards.

She distracts me on road trips so that I don't see the dead animals and feel sad.

She never corrects my grammar because she knows it will make me feel stupid, but a few days later, she will gently educate me at someone else's expense so that I will not feel stupid years later when I figure out that I used the wrong there(their) in a letter or something.

If I make an etttiquite error, she totally covers for me and takes the fall, even if it seems like she ate the thick squash skin and not me.

When I wake up in a panic, she can tell by my heartbeat and puts me to sleep again by rubbing my chest.

When one person tries to break me down, she spotlights the things that will build me back up.

She has never let me feel dumb for not finishing college, and keeps me believing that I am smart enough to go back.

She knows the difference between a real emotional crisis, and my hunger and pms breakdowns, but she treats all of these states with equal care.

When I call her and bother her with my worry and fear, she not only talks me through it, but she gives me a plan because she knows it helps me to have steps to take. Even if the plan is to put bath salts in the tub, light a candle and make tea, it helps.

She knows that if she looks at me a certain way, it makes me feel loved and safe. No matter how hard things are for her, she always makes sure I know that I am loved.

Racing Names

I know that Satu loves me in part because she gave me a racing name. She gives racing names to all her beloved little animals. She goes by Best Effort.



Best Effort aka SatuD2

Midnight Chatter

Joyful Noise aka. Sassifrassy

Fatty Happenstance aka. Juicy or Juice Newton or Grossy Josie

Special Talent aka Gimladen the domestic terrorist.

Little Hedge Fund aka Five and Dime



 



And of course we all miss Task at Hand.

aka Sir Onion, aka Best dog ever.

 



Blood Blister Sisters

You can never really guess what funny things will make Satu feel delighted and connected. Saturday at dinner, she was pleased to discover that we had matching injuries on our hands. I was pleased to get some extra hand-holding out of it. She snapped this picture, then moved the gourd because she worried that it looked too, hmmmm, sexual to go on my blog.

Snuggles

It crashed out on the dog because it NEVER sleeps anymore. Just know something when you see this. Doesn't it make your little heart swell up?

Who needs a security contract?

We've got the Royal Guard.

No room in the inn

Sassy is scared of the cat, and with good reason. I'm a little scared of Noodle too. Consequently, Noodle does as she pleases around the house. She drinks water from the bedside table and sleeps in Sassy's bed.

Sassy sleeps in Gimmie's bed.

Gimmie doesn't sleep, and when little Mr. tap toes doesn't sleep, neither do I.

Hmmm... Delicious?

Our wine. Most people have a song. Screw the song, we've got a wine!

Weekend in Savannah

Satu and I took a trip down to Savannah two weekends ago to get away from the naughty animals and see Bonnie Raitt in concert at the civic center. Bonnie owned that stage and put on a fantastic rock show with her band. She just has an enormous presence, a great voice and total mastery of her craft. My dad, who has always loved the blues, bought us tickets and we joined him, my sister and my mom for the show. Everybody got thoroughly rocked.

I am so happy that Satu fits in well with my family. Mom and dad were always nervous about meeting girls I dated before, though in some cases they had reason to be wary. Satu just made it seem easy to win them over. I know it was probably really difficult for her to meet them initially, but she does have a hell of a poker face and a surprising amount of courage. When we met my parents for the first time over lunch at Tubby's Tank House, she won them over instantly. In fact, not twenty minutes after that first meeting,  my mom called to let me know that she and my father had discussed it and Satu was welcome in their home at any time. This was totally new territory for them, so at the age of 36, Satu was the first girlfriend that I ever took home, and I hope that she will spend many future holidays with us weirdos.

Yeeeaah, I gotta crown, playuh!

This is the message I got from Satu while she was on a two day cleaning spree. Funny, It's exactly how I think of her.

Because of the already want to.

There is no shortage of bad fan fiction surrounding the Closer and Major Crimes television shows. While I am not a great writer, I do have an appreciation for people who are MUCH worse at writing than I am. Lately Satu has been reading me some pieces that she finds as bedtime stories, which is pretty counter productive since it usually keeps us both up laughing. Here is my synopsis of the one that started it all.

Sharon and Brenda meet serendipitously in a scuzzy police bar, probably because that's where the author believes grown-ups would go to drink way too many grown up drinks like the twelve whiskey shots Brenda had in this story (never mind that they are both wine drinkers in the show.) They meet and act shitty to each other because they each have nearly uncontrollable feelings of passion stirring, surprisingly everywhere except where passion is known to stir. Then Sharon has a sexy musical interlude that makes all of the men in the bar watch her like predators.  Sharon and Brenda have a conversation about how Brenda's husband has driven her to drink, so later if the women accidentally have sex or something, we won't worry about the whole adultery thing. After that there are a bunch of boring descriptions of things that don't need to be described like the exact location of the cab and who paid for it. It also gets really confusing because the author chooses to just call them both women instead of using their names or any other descriptor. Let's just fast forward.
Sharon and Brenda make it home to Sharon's house where Rusty has also conveniently been explained away. A lot of harsh things start happening at this point: there is harsh kissing, harsh pushing and harsh whispering all leading up to the harsh ripping of an expensive sweater. I was surprised that little move didn't grind the whole scene to a halt, but the ladies were on a mission  and could not be deterred. A moment later one of the ladies spears the other abruptly with her fingers drawing out encouraging moans from the impaled.
Had it happened like that to me, there might have been a shocked, angry scream followed by a whirlwind gathering of ripped clothing.
Someone looked venerable while the women assumed an impossible sexual position. There were hips and breasts everywhere. Satu and I read this part several times trying to get the idea, but the only thing we could figure is that one of them melted through the other due to the harsh heat and heaving and moaning and such.
Once the act was awkwardly complete, the women cradled each other lovingly. The author wondered "What could have gotten into them except for the alcohol, and the already want to?"

Currently, having the already want to is a great excuse for everything from pouring another glass of wine to parking my truck on Satu's flowerpot. No further explanation is ever required.

Curiosities around the home- Bucephalus

Bucephalus, named for Alexander the Great's horse, was originally made to be a part of a retail display at Satu's work. She stayed up late one night bending the frame into shape by hand. He was such a labor of love, that he had to come back home. Now, I stuff him with fresh pinestraw every year and put a glowing red nose on him at Christmas. In the spring he wears flowers in his mane.Gimmie is jealous and pees on him whenever he gets a chance.

"I know which side starboard is," she said on the way to the boat. "This is the hand that makes the S."

On Video Games

Deus Ex: " I like to line the bodies up on the pier. It's neater and I can survey my handiwork"

Faunasphere: " It's too soon. I hope blinky is ok"

Tiny Tower: "I need those fuckers to work harder. I have things to build in this phone"

About Farting

"Ummm. that was not a fart. It sounded like a fart, but some moths just flew out of my butt opening and closing their briefcases. No, I don't know why they were in there."

Language of the Apes

"Girl, I can't wait to get back home and continue learning the language of the apes...What? You can't get that shit on Rosetta Stone."

Dog park



My dog

 We're two for two.
The city of John's Creek down the street from us has a wonderful dog park called Newtown dog park. It is a great place for dogs to sniff some butts and romp about, but it is where our dogs like to embarrass us.
On our first visit, it was a hot, busy day for the park. The park has a fountain in the center where dogs can play in the water and cool off. It is the gathering point for humans as well.


Other people's dogs

 I enjoy watching the dogs play, so I sat down on the astro-turf just outside the fountain and watched other people's dogs play while our dogs wandered aimlessly to pee on stuff. Satu struck up a conversation with a lovely couple on the other side of the fountain. Suddenly, I had a curious sensation of heat on my back. That was followed by the realization that hot was accompanied by wet which was immediately followed by the understanding that I had just been peed on. I turned around, fully expecting to see that troublesome pug that had been hanging around looking up at me with guilty pug eyes. Instead I saw Gimmie put his leg down and trot off like this was his usual thing.
I was stunned and I looked over at Satu to see if she was going to snatch him up, but she and her new friends were all doubled over laughing. When she could manage, she threw a finger out toward where Gimmie was ignoring her "Ahhhahaha, N-no. ha ha. bad dog. hmm ha ha hmmmm," she wheezed.

Little pisser doesn't even feel bad about it

On our second trip to the dog park, the water was off. There were a few dogs there with their people, but it was too hot  to stick around long without water. Sassy spent a few minutes carrying a ball around and then found the only water in the park. It was a muddy little puddle in the shade. I expected her to drink from the puddle, but my sweet girl, who wouldn't go near the clean fountain water when it was on, laid down in the mud like a pig. Other dogs came over and sniffed her and wandered off. She just looked at me blissfully from her puddle.
We're so proud.

Cookie monster has a twitter account?

S- "Cookie monster tweets? Well, that makes sense I guess. I've been tweeting church signs for a while."
K- "You're on twitter?"
S-  "Oh yeah, girl. There's all kinds of stuff you don't know about me."
 She pulls out her phone and reads off a list of crazy billboard sayings. They're like fortune cookies from God.
K- "That's all you tweet!?"
S- "Yep. Well, sometimes I do chiropractic signs if I think they're good enough."

Cross country games

My job often keeps me out of town. It is why, after almost four years of dating, we live two hours apart and spend so much time missing each other instead of living our fairy tale happily ever after. When I am not with Satu, I try to collect little experiences to share with her. When something is funny, I usually imagine if she would laugh too, and if something is sad, I imagine her with me and it makes me feel stronger. I try to make only choices that she would be proud of and always make my way back to her as soon as I am free. When I fly, my mind wanders always to her sweet smile. The pictures in this post are part of my favorite traveling game.

It's not great, but it will do.

     One of Satu's favorite games is called " What if I was a paraplegic?" The rules are very simple though it is difficult for me to play and I have never actually won a round. The game starts with a hug, and then without warning, player 1 (Satu) will go limp and heavy in player 2's (me) arms. The objective is for player 2 to not let player 1 fall on the floor and also to get her upstairs and tucked into bed for the evening without injuring her in any way. Player 1 decides who wins.
     Satu is a small, but very unwieldy package when she becomes dead weight. That's not an excuse, just  a fact. One recent evening after a nightcap, I approached my love with outstretched arms. It is usually easier to get a hug after a nightcap since she is much less squirmy, and I like to get her in my arms whenever she can be caught. I soon found myself with an arm full of giggly, but otherwise immobile girlfriend.
     I stopped for a moment to strategize. Could I put her on my shoulder? No, that would risk me banging parts of her on the door frame. Should I grab her bottom and hoist her onto my hip? I thought about holding her bottom for a long moment. I would never get her up the stairs, but even after I had decided against it, I thought about holding her bottom just to enjoy the daydream. Finally, I decided to lean her upper body into the crook of my left arm and carry the rest of her like a stack of school books under my right. It wasn't ideal, but maybe I could make it upstairs this time.
     We played one step at a time, taking time-outs on each step. At the top of the stairs, excited by the possibility of my first win, I began to shuffle quickly toward the bed, accidentally kicking a cat. My arms were starting to fail, so the success of the game would depend these last few steps. I made it to the bed and dropped Satu on her side of the mattress. Her feet dangled off the side and she dropped into a heap as soon as I let her go. Out of breath, but feeling victorious, I scooped up her feet and tucked them under the covers. She didn't look comfortable, but she was also not injured this time. Inside I did a victory dance. It's not great, I thought, but it will do.
    I walked over to my side of the bed, climbed in and opened the book I had left on the night stand. I had barely read the first sentence before I became uncomfortable with the bedroom's silence so I sneaked a glance over at Satu. Sure enough, she was staring at me with the kind of astonished expression on her face that means I have fucked up." What?"I asked.
"It's not great, but it will do? IT WILL DO!??"
"Holy shit," I said "you heard that? You can hear me think?"
"No girl, you said that out loud," she said playing it totally deadpan.
I couldn't believe it, but it struck me as hilarious and both of us laughed until we were in pain. Now, every once in a while, to remind me to do my best, Satu will look at me and say "Meh. It's not great, but it will do."

  

Droid fire team ambushed

    This series was documented by Satu who has been embedded with the droids and joins them occasionally on their patrols. They were on a routine scouting mission in the front room province of the house. Usually droids scout in five robot teams, but two of the team members had been posted in the kitchen province to set up a firing position in the liquor cabinet and coordinate with the other teams to raid the Dramboui position.

     "The front room province is relitively calm compared to the living room area and the kitchen province, which is why we were so surprised to make contact here." said one of the "bucket type" droids after the attack. "That cat came out of nowhere" said another, " all teeth and claws and the color of a shark! It was terrifying."
    The cat separated one of the droids and attacked him with a fierce "batting and raking" technique known to be typical of the feline resistance in the region. The other two members of the team rallied and attacked with weapons of opportunity while beeping in an airstrike from beneath their fork. Unfortunately, the X-wing QRF was unable to respond since they were on station in the kitchen area where the Drambouie raid was heating up. "We were all alone, just us and that, that THING!" they recalled after the fight.
    "I knew I had to make a break, or I could end up on the floor, under a chair, or worse!" said the droid who had been raked and batted, "so I just launched myself as far as I could over and over until I was off the edge of the towel." Once he was clear of the towel, the other two droids covered him until he got all three legs beneath him. The three of them launched a fierce counter attack that lasted for two, or maybe even two and a half minutes. "I think that's why we were victorious;" said the droid's leader, "cats just don't have the stamena to fight long battles like that." Droids typically train to fight longer battles, often fighting in close combat for up to 5 minutes. "That's why the astromechs are the best, and will always be in charge of the TV remote!" remarked one of the junior logistics droids. Well said FND, well said.

Why cartoons

It's incredibly hard to find a picture of Satu online that you can be really sure is her. She is a creature of great mystery and prefers it that way like nessie or the chupacabra. It took me 34 years to find her in the wild, so to preserve her mystery, any picture containing her in this blog will be a cartoon.

The mystery sleeps with her loyal hound.

Toast and jamb and morning coffee

K “Good morning sweet girl, would you like to have some coffee with me before I go?”

S “mmmmmmmmmm. Girlfrang, when will you find out if you can get your extension? ”

K “ The jammer is on leave right now, I’ll have to wait till I get back from Yuma.”

S “The who?”

K “The jammer.”

S “Why do you call him the jammer?

K “I dunno. I guess because he jams through the paperwork? Who knows.”

S “Jam like grape jam? I wonder how jam came to mean force.”

K “You know like a door jam. That little wedge of wood you force under the door.”

S “Oh, Jamb like J-A-M-B, door jamb?”

K “No J-A-M, door jam.”

S “J-A-M-B”

K “J-A-M”

S “And yet, I still continue to believe it has a B on it. Hand me my phone.”

K ”Here you go girl, sorry you’re wrong.”

S “Ah hem, Door jamb, J-A-M-B: a door jamb is the vertical portion of a door and bears all the weight of the lintel.”

K “The lentil? That’s a bean!?

S “Yes it’s a beam.”

K “But that makes no sense, wait, what? Beam or bean?”

S “B-E-A-M. Liiiintle, not leeeentle.”

K “You just said the same word.”

S “lentil, lintel, lentil, lintel. Do you hear the difference?

K “No. You just said the same thing again.”
S Deep sigh. "lentil, lintel, lentil, lintel. Now do you get it?"
K "Ahhhhhhhh. No. They are different words like; I want to wear my new shirt, where did I put it?, but they sound the same."
S "They sound completely different, you just don't have a trained ear."
K "Well, I learned a new thing today though. That's something."
S "I love you. Don't land on a cactus."

How we met

     People meet online now; almost no one drops a hankie and finds their soul mate kneeling to retrieve it as was common just a generation ago. Online dating is so much easier than the face to face kind I have done in the past, because I am both shy and flirtatious. The format makes it easy flirt and then run away without being seen running into a light post on the retreat, which has happened to me more than once.
     I joined match.com at the suggestion of my sister when I realized, a little too slowly, that the man I was dating was not actually dating me back. Naturally I was a bit emotionally unpredictable, but overall hopeful and excited about the rebound parade of nakedness I could now orchestrate.
      True to my nature, I spent a few weeks considering the profiles of women all over Atlanta and not engaging in any way. I would read a few, giggle flirtatiously and log off. When I saw Satu's picture, I blushed from head to toe and averted my eyes so I wouldn't appear to be staring at her, then I shut off the computer. I repeated this pattern for a few days, looking at her beautiful smile and reading her quirky, smart, perfectly punctuated profile...and logging off in a fluster. She was the reason I decided to join the site. Even though I was clearly never going to talk to her, I figured that if someone as awesome as Satu was posting there, maybe there would be someone on there for me.
     I took a little personality test to join the site. I don't know if I passed, but I had enjoyed a few beers by the time I got to the essay part, so I may have rambled and been overly truthful. The site sent me a list of  women that I may be interested in meeting. When a few of them messaged me, I enjoyed talking to them, but mostly didn't feel any kind of connection. I continued to visit Satu's profile and not talk to her.
     Eventually, I got the golden email inviting me to talk about joining Satu's dinner group, I swear there was a chorus singing faintly in the background when I opened it. We agreed on little restaraunt in Roswell called Spice andI arrived early so I could  flirt with the bartender to raise my confidence. When Satu walked through the door, she put me instantly at ease. She was warm and honest and funny and smart. We stayed long enough to annoy the waiter having an easy conversation that could have lasted hours more. Satu had a trip to Kansas coming up and invited me to share a growler she would bring home from the Freestate Brewery.  It sounded like the perfect date, she would bring the beer, I would bring the food and we would continue our conversation without an anxious waiter mopping up splashes of wine and pacing about.
     The next two weeks creaked by until she called. I bought everything in the store that I thought would be grillable and drove out to Roswell for the date (was it a  date? no, probably not a date, hope it was a date, how do people do this?). I met her very handsome dog Maki and nervously tried to help with the meal as much as I could. Satu cooked with vision and confidence. It was one of the best meals I have ever eaten to this day and the best date/not date of my life. After dinner we sat on her floor and talked like old friends. I made sure to keep the dog between us to ease my nerves which he seemed to like because it meant constant pats for him.
    We had a few more dates that I convinced myself couldn't really be dates. It was a little like a staring contest, neither of us would make the first move that so obviously needed to be made. One night when we were talking on the phone, she told me Maki was not doing well and she had been sleeping on the couch because he couldn't make it up the stairs any more. She had lent me a kind of sad, but sweet little book about a dog on our last date (not date?), so after we talked, I decided that to print out a poem called "Her Grave" by Mary Oliver. It just seemed like the perfect words at the time. Since I didn't want to tear the page out of my book, I went online and googled the poem. I found it on a quirky little blog, printed it and tucked it in the little book Satu had lent me. I read a couple of the other posts on that blog happy that I had stumbled on such a funny little place, then I saw a familiar face in the margin. I'll be damned if it didn't look just like Maki on one of the thumbnails. I opened the album and thought how funny that there could be more than one rhodesian ridgeback named Maki...in Georgia... leaning on a cute girl that looks just like Satu...living with a cat that looks like noodle...hmmm, in front of a house that looks familiar. Oh. I had just copied a poem for Satu off of her own blog.
      It took a few more weeks and a handful of quarters to finally bring us together. By that time I had bored all of my friends about how awesome she is and pretty much talked my poor sister into a coma. Thankfully, Satu had the idea to show me a selection of her state quarters, like a magpie, she is drawn to shiny things. As she layed the quarters out on her palm and expalined the features of each one, I studied them with great intensity. "I like this one," she said "because it has a cow and cheese." I couldn't stand the excitement of her warm knee against my leg and the touch of her fingertips as she layed quarters one at a time into my hand. I had to kiss her, I was dizzy from the effort it was taking to sit still, and the desire was overwhelming. Now that I have felt the touch of her lips, I can't imagine kissing any others.

Droid Therapy

These little guys have become my support crew. Like me, they are maintainers at heart. Often when I feel overwhelmed  or uncertain, I will get a little picture like this one on my phone. Just knowing that Satu and the astromechs are pulling for me makes me feel more calm.

I had to start this blog because my life with Satu has become too full of happy little moments and curious stories to file tings in a shoebox anymore. Every day she does or says something that makes my heart sing. This is where I am going to write those songs.