E

EDWIN & EDNA

I can't remember the last time Dave called me Jessie.  He knows my name.  He just doesn't use it.*  When he does call me Jessie, I usually think that there's something terribly wrong.  That he swallowed a peanut or some fish or is choking.

I imagine that he called me Jessie when we first met, but shortly thereafter be began calling me JD.  I liked JD.  It reminded me of the time in elementary school when I tried to get everyone to call me JJ.  My mom called me JJ for about a week, but no one else did.  Thanks, Mom.  You're the best!

A couple of years ago, Dave stumbled upon the name Edna for me.  Neither of us can remember how it came about, but it stuck and now I readily answer to it.  Even in public.  I thought it appropriate for Dave to have his own nickname, so I started calling him Edwin.  Now we're Edwin and Edna.  A hip couple in our 30s.

There are, of course, variations on these names.  Na.  Win.  NaWin.  Windom.  Edwina.  I can't explain, however, why Dave recently began calling me Wilson.  I think it's a reference to Cast Away.  The movie where Tom Hanks gets stranded on an island and talks to the volleyball, Wilson, to keep from going crazy (or to demonstrate that he is crazy, I'm not sure which).  Probably I should feel flattered that Dave thinks of me as his volleyball on this island we call life.

Probably.

*Also, he spells it wrong occasionally.  Our season tickets to the Guthrie, for example, read David and Jesse.

D

DAIRY QUEEN

What better way to celebrate America's birthday than with a blizzard?  I was so pleased to find an open DQ on our way home from the cabin today that I didn't even mind when I had to eat Dave's cookie dough blizzard because they mistook his "no extra fudge" for "extra fudge."  (Note:  This happens at least every third time that he makes this request, and usually I won't allow the trade.  Clearly I was in a very festive mood).  

C

CABIN

I've been trying to think all day of a good C word that isn't CABIN, but I haven't come up with anything.  But I am at the cabin this weekend, so that's convenient.  Hmm.  Convenient.  Oh, never mind.  It's too late now.

My day at the cabin consisted of breakfast, a short run followed by a short swim in my running clothes, lunch, sun-bathing, more swimming, reading a book about growing up in North Dakota that my pal Sarah gave to me, beating Dave in cribbage, a nap, dinner preparation, another swim, a delicious dinner, and now this.

I am hoping that tomorrow will look much the same.

B

BUDGET

I am putting myself on one.  With Operation Dissertation Writing soon to be in full swing, it seems wise.  I've never been much of a spender anyway, but it's still frightening to think that eventually I'll be contributing zero dollars to our family of two.

Don't worry.  The budget will include a per diem for coffee-shop purchases.  The writing will not happen at home.  We all know that.

A

ASTROLOGY

On the first of every month I like to check my horoscope to learn what the weeks ahead may hold.  I can't say that I've ever had an earth-shatteringly accurate reading, but it's fun nonetheless.  Unfortunately, Susan Miller at Astrology Zone hasn't updated her site, and it looks like I'll have to wait until tomorrow to learn about July.

I could really use some direction on certain matters, but I'll save that for fodder in the July Blogging Challenge.

It's Taken Me a Few Days to Even Be Able to Write This

A couple of weeks ago, right before our first game in the new Twins ballpark, Dave almost got in a fight with someone while parking.  The guy was standing in the only available free parking spot in order to hold it for someone who was on his way.  Dave moved the front bumper really close to the guy and explained to him through the open window that he wasn't a car and therefore didn't really have the right to stand in an empty spot.  I was decidedly nervous through the whole exchange, and a little bit angry at my husband, but it ended shortly thereafter when the guy's pal arrived in his new Mercedes and backed into the spot while we watched.  Dave called them both names and we were off.

I thought it was an isolated incident.  

Then over the weekend another altercation involving my spouse made this one seem mild, if not downright pleasant.  

Dave and I were running around our local lake on Friday night, and as usual, we moved from the walking path to the bike path to avoid two ridiculous and unnecessary hills along the way.  On the first hill, a man and woman on bikes passed us, vocalized the requisite "on your left," and breezed by without a problem.  On the second hill, at the exact opposite side of the lake, the same couple came by again.  This time "on your left" was followed by, "Come on, guys, it's a bike path."

Fair enough, I thought.  It is a bike path.  But when you add these two bikers to the total number of bikers we see on Lake Phalen each year, the number reaches approximately 12.  Maybe.

Dave didn't keep his thoughts to himself.  "If you don't like it, buddy, you can ride on the street," he said.  

And the man stopped.

I won't go into all of the details, but watching from a fair distance after my retreat to the walking path, I could see that words were being exchanged at a rather close range.  And it didn't look pretty.  

I get a little annoyed when things like this happen, and I yelled to them both that there was no point in ruining a perfectly good afternoon to fight over this.  The man's wife seemed to agree with me from her fair distance farther up the path.

Dave, finally, walked away from the angry biker, but not far enough before the man decided to TRIP him.  Let me say that again.  The man tried to TRIP him.  Luckily, Dave kept his balance.

Something about that TRIP triggered something in my peace-loving soul, and I calmly walked over to the man and explained:  "You know, it's one thing to tell us to get off the bike path.  Fine.  We'll move over.  But when you decide to get physical, it just makes you an asshole."  

And his come back was really quite good:  "Can you read?"  

Oh lord.  I didn't realize it until just then, but all of a sudden we were in one of those arguments where all  of the logic in the world was not going to make a bit of difference.  So I walked away and said nothing.  

The next moments are kind of a blur, but as the man followed me, I realized that his wife was still telling him to stop and was standing just a few feet away now.  It took me until this moment to look at her.  And another moment to realize that I knew her. And another to realize that this was going to be the most embarrassing moment of my life.  

Because she is an assistant professor in my department.  Where I am a student.  And she is a professor.  In my department.  Where she is a professor.

I'm actively trying to block this out from here on, but I do know I mumbled several rounds of "I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry."  

To her credit, she ended the entire situation by saying boldly and loudly to her husband, "Stop now.  This is my colleague."  Which was nice.  Because she's a professor.  And I'm a student. 

We exchanged looks and they rode off.  

But it wasn't over.  Partly because I was absolutely fuming at Dave for making his initial comment and at myself for bringing profanity* into the debacle.  And partly because they decided to wait for us a half mile down the path.

The good news is that they had decided to stop in order to apologize.  The bad news is that I just wanted to crawl in a hole over the whole thing and now I had to prolong the event in one of those terribly, terribly awkward small-talk situations after having to exchange apologies.  I mean, really.  The whole conversation ended in my getting advice about my job search in the fall.  It was helpful, but come on, how awkward is that? 

There's no moral to the story here.  It's just really embarrassing.  And what's worse, I expect to see these two at every turn now.  I've been living in fear to the extent that I've been running up those f*!%ing ridiculous hills.

  

*Although, and I've gone over this in my mind several times, I didn't actually call the man an asshole.  I merely suggested that he could be perceived as one in this situation. 

Unknown

If you want to know what the cloud situation will be like tomorrow, you're just out of luck.  There's no way of knowing.

This post is the most productive thing I've done all day. And that's not saying much.

These grey days really suck the life out of me.  I have gotten very little done despite having a whole day with only a to-do list and no where to go.  Taking next year to write my dissertation may be the worst decision I've made in a long while.  Of course, painting the office will help.  I mean, that's obvious.