Ten four

The night jayson asked me out was simple and perfect. It was in the middle of a "jam session" with my band "Hot Stuff". Althought hanging out and banging on instruments, while using a ghetto recording set up is far from a legit "band". Regardless, we had all grown bored of the jam room, and the instruments and decided to take the fun out into the brisk October night. Like most New England nights, the ground was wet. The air was suprisingly still, and the suburban and winding road was lit up by the neighborhood's street lights, which was suprisingly romantic.

Lindsey, Dombek and Jesse had run off, leaving Jay and I behind. We never talked much before. We were both just mutual friends of Jesse. I couldn't find my shoes, so to speed things up and get back with the crew, I put on the first pair I saw. Of course, they were jesse's size 15 or something, and fit like shoe boxes.

As I flopped out of the driveway, nervous as ever. He walked silently but close by my side, clearly searching the "rolodex" in his brain of starter topics. As we slowly walk down Peach Tree Lane, far behind the rest - he asks me "So, you like Anti-Flag?" At first, I thought. "Wow random"...then "Wow, this kid holds the same passion for anti-government, punk - right on." But before I could further any thought, he grabbed my hand. Fingers intertwined and my heart in my throat, I turned my face away, surely blushing but with the widest smile on my face ever.

His voice was soft, and this is when he spoke... and slow, very slow. My heart STILL lodged in my throat, it seemed like an eternity passed. In reality, it was really like 20 seconds and then he gently breathed : "Uh....um......I have a question to ask you...?"

So nervous, I reply, "Yeah?"

He adjusted his grip on my tiny hands, seemingly hesitant to speak. Grasping my hand tighter, like he never planned on letting go, he spoke, "Will you go out with me?"

My head started racing a thousand thoughts a minute. I felt like I was on cloud 7,000,000 or something! All calm and cool I said, "Sure."

Almost suprised he replied, "Yeah??????"

Almost bewildered by the question, "Yeah."

And at this point, I found some confidence. Enough to peek over at him quickly anyway. He had the widest, most heartfelt smile I've honestly ever seen. My heart melted, this time I gripped his hands a little tighter. And we continued walking down little ol' Peach Tree Lane, me flopping in Jesse's size huge sneakers. Not knowing I had just started the rest of my life. Six and a half years later, our hands are as tight as ever. Our grip never loosens.

Ten four, good buddy.

"The mouse"

My mother isn't scared of most things. In fact, I can't really think of anything that frightens that woman. Of course, she's weary of needles, robbers, you know "normal things"; but honestly she is basically the female, 4' 11'' version of Chuck Norris. More scary really.

Our old apartment was terrible. My mother kindly referred to our landlords as "Slum lords" because they were known to "mickey mouse" everything (which I learned later is NOT Disney related). There was always something breaking down, the best was every fricken year in december our hot water broke. Sorry, not every year... there was one year where the upstairs apartment's bathroom pretty much fell into ours. Awesome, right? Anyways, not suprisingly a mouse would sneak its way into our house every now and then.

So we are home one day and Ruby, our old Miniature sheltie, started to get riled up. It didn't take long to notice her issue. A little field mouse, cute as a button was gliding along the shag carpet. My mom and I, as about 99.9% of woman would - shreaked, scrambling for "traps". The best we could do was an empty butter container. My "tough" mom had the empty butter container trembling between her fingertips as she inched around the washer, towards the the living room. There it was, white and brown , maybe the size of a walnut, trembling under our entertainment center. It was staring directly at her, and me... who was peeking around my mother who is about 5 inches shorter than me.

Eventually my mom inched closer and closer to the little bugger, when out of no where like a 1 ton elephant it charged, and we reacted as if it was indeed an elephant. Maybe even worse. I was barely in the room to begin with so I ran quick, out of "harm's way" when I hear it, man down.

My mom (who has had 2 knee replacements by the age of 40 something) had fallen. As I walked torwards her again, I see she is belly down on the floor, arm extended, screaming "HEELLLLLLLPPP MEEEE, MELLLLLL! I FELLLLL!!!!!!" And at that moment, I fell back into reality and burst into tears laughing: It wasn't an elephant, it was a mouse. I hoisted my mom up and grabbed the empty country crock container and caught that sucker.

Sometimes I like to take the scenic route in situations, clearly. It's worth it, because the memories are priceless.