It was during the second leg of our journey when, as things do on long trips in confined spaces over endless miles of flat plains, it began to feel kind of tense.  We weren’t exactly fighting or anything, just engaging in that siblingy kind of banter that ventures just close enough to offense to create a thickness in the air.  Who knows the subject of our banter, but at some point the car became very quiet for some long minutes.

A bit of background:  We hadn’t been dating that long, nary a kiss had passed between us and I think we both felt a little shocked that we wanted to venture out already on our own version of Meet the Parents (which, thankfully, lacked almost all of the cringe factor of the later to be made movie…). But I think we both felt that this friendship was worth looking into, for which, as everyone knows, a long boring road trip is indispensable.

So at this quiet point in our journey I’m thinking: Great.  Who’s idea was this?  We don’t even know each other that well, I can tell he’s mad at me, was it the thing about the green cars?  Are we too different?  Are we too alike? Etc., etc.  Then he says, “I need to tell you something.”  Oh boy.  It’s over.  I’m kind of surprised, I didn’t thing we were arguing that much, but maybe he just doesn’t like the back-at-ya type, I mean he is from the south, kind of—- “I think I’m falling in love with you.”    …

I don’t remember what my actual response was, but I don’t think I said anything at all.  Maybe David remembers better, but I’m pretty sure the subsequent silence just took on a new quality.  (Actually, now that I think about it, he was probably doing his own bit of mental gymnastics when I didn’t say anything back:  Oh, great.  Nice timing, smoothie.  You just had to go and blurt it out like that, didn’t you? And we have how many miles until Denver??? Etc., etc., etc.

Well, eventually it came out that I loved him too, and one thing has led to another, including a new little person on the face of this earth named Leif.  But two things stand out in my memory of the rest of that road trip: watching the sun set four or five times over the gently rising and falling Oklahoma horizon, and looking over at David, asleep in the passenger seat, and wondering if I might be with this new but strangely familiar person (strange, strange, very strange) for the rest of my days.  After 12 years of being married, moving steadily through the now predictable cycle of sunups and sundowns in our relationship– –the risings warm, inspiring, blinding, the settings dark, brooding, deep– –it turns out I just might.

CHOICE WORDS
Ahh, Brooklyn. Where comments, advice and expletives flow freely from the tongue. The other day (now a couple of months ago) I was driving to the local pet supply store for a large bottle of, er, stain and odor remover (the need for which is fodder for another blog altogether, but I will probably spare you). In the roundabout, a big white para transit-looking van with the word “Courtesy” emblazoned on its three sides shouldered in front of me and into the left lane. But I, in a sunny mood, merely braked gently and made a mental note of the irony. At the light, I turned right and noticed that Mr. Courtesy had meant to stay in my lane and was now behind me. I approached the pet store, on my left, saw a prime spot directly in front of it and made a quick U-turn to grab it. I think I barely braked.

At this point I heard a screech followed by a shocking string of judgments calling into question my character, my anatomy, even my species. But instead of unloading his dirty outburst, shaking his head and moving on like any normal road-rager, the driver put his white van in park, rolled down his window and continued his commentary for (I’m not kidding) two or three minutes. [As an experiment, try cursing fluently for two minutes straight, it's not easy...]

Some comebacks that occurred to me upon reflection (all, I am pleased and a little surprised to add, devoid of four letterers):
1. “So, I can’t make a U-turn in front of you, but you can sit there and rain curses upon me and my 1-year old for two minutes straight?” Not bad.

2. “Oh my, did I cause you to apply your brakes? I’m so sorry.”

3. “Oh, I see…you’re mad because you were actually trying to pass me across the yellow gore to make your left turn 100 yards ahead when I made my perfectly legal U-turn in front of you.” That one would have felt pretty good. (Though I’m not exactly sure that my turn was, in fact, what one would consider, strictly speaking, ahem, legal…but let’s not mince words here, people.)

4. “It’s a shame that ours is such a reality in which one must SHARE THE ROAD!”

Those are all well and good–amazing how a little hindsight can do wonders for an atrophied Whyioughta muscle–but here’s what I did say:
Me: “What is wrong with you?”
Him: Bleep bleepbleep bleeeeeeeep…YOU CANNOT TURN LIKE THAT!!…bleepitty bleep!, etc., ETC.!!!!
Me: (Nodding, waiting for him to take a breath, and then…) “You know, your sign says ‘Courtesy’.”

Simple. Pithy. Not a big wallop to be sure, but on the whole fairly respectable. It actually felt just right. And at least it got him to–finally–shake his head and just move on.

MILITARY YOGA

So the other day (it really was the other day this time) I tried out a yoga studio in a fairly schwank part of Brooklyn. On my way I passed a lovely young hipster displaying her toned body in a pair of bubble gum pink leggings and a periwinkle spaghetti-strap tank top. Her hair was knotted in two pert little knobs and she was smacking a piece of gum. I smirked, internally, and rolled the insides of my eyes before realizing that I was probably just jealous of her I’ve-never-had-a-baby-so-I-can-keep-this-figure figure. I proceeded to yoga, paying an extra $1 to rent my “mat”, which was a crumbling styrofoamy rag of a thing, and picked my way through the crowded studio to a spot from which I thought it the least likely to slap or poke my fellow yogis. Breathing, breathing, slow stretching, trying to get “centered” and shed the judgment quotient that yoga so wonderfully eschews.

In walks Miss Pink Pants. She’s the teacher. Really friends, there should have been a drumroll, because after a few requisite om’s, she launched us into the most whip-cracking yoga class my hamstrings have ever had the privilege of recovering from. Now, I’m all for a serious workout. If you know me at all it won’t be hard to believe that it’s easier for me to force myself into any number of painful contortions than to sit calmly with a cup of tea. But this lady…wow. Between wandering through the class pulling shoulder blades resolutely together and cranking a leg higher here and there, she sat at the rear of the room barking stern instructions to her exertively obedient class. I half expected her to yell, “DROP AND GIVE ME 20 RELAXING BREATHS–DO IT NOW!!!!!!!”

I shouldn’t be too hard on her. She did give me a couple of helpful adjustments, and the rest of the room seemed to be eating it up, albeit in a sort of predatory, rip-the-tendons-apart-so-the-rest-of-the-pack-will-know-you’re-the-alpha sort of way. But I must say I was relieved when it finally came time for the ending relaxation known as Corpse Pose, in this case appropriately named. But as I focused on sinking into the floor, trying to release all of my now tightly wound muscle groups, Pink Lady came around to me with some final guidance, shoving my shoulders down to the ground and plastering my sweaty eyebrows apart with her forceful thumbs. (Even her thumbs were forcefull??!)

Alas, the attendant at the front desk looked pityingly at me as I declined the offer of saving 20% by buying a 10-class card right then and there. “No thank you, I’m not ready to do that today,” I said. And as I made my way toward the door (with a somewhat frantic desire to leave the joint), I noticed a chalkboard on which was written the inspirational phrase for the day: “Determination is freedom.”

Unfortunately, the ferry was not running on schedule — I think because of the fog. Leif was getting impatient, so we took a walk out on the balcony. Here’s what we saw.

We decided to go to the playground across the street at Battery Park. I shouldn’t have been surprised that Leif like the puddles more than anything else there.

I succeeded in getting him to climb a little bit, but he quickly returned to the puddles.

Leif and I jumped on the F-train for an adventure down to Coney Island.

After a 30 minute ride, we got off the train and onto the beach.

Leaf acknowledged the presence of the ocean…

… surveyed his surroundings …

… and got to work.

After a while, he decided to explore.

He soon discovered a bird. “Bird!” He exclaimed! (It sounds like “Dah!” In fact most of his words sound like “Dah!” It’s sort of like his sound for *.* in DOS … or “.*” if you’re into regular expressions)

He gave chase for a while and soon bored of the futile pursuit.

He was happy to get back into the stroller.

We had a couple hot dogs (Hot Dog = “At Ga” in Leivish) and fries, and then hopped on the subway home.

It was a really fun day.

While you don’t take a jet, getting there is almost like flying — you take a cable-car over the east river.

That’s the 59th street bridge right next to the cable-car. The climactic fight scene in Spiderman was filmed here. Scott, Leif and I, were just feelin’ groovy though.

There are ruins of an old asylum on the south end of the island. Just beyond that is a nice grassy area where Leif walked around.

He likes helicopters and airplanes. If you go to the flickr site (click any of the images) and view the images after this at full resolution, you can see the helicopter he was watching.

Behind us is the UN, the Empire State Building, the Chrysler building, the erstwhile Pan Am (not MetLife) building, and a the Green Goblin’s building.

Other than Leif’s runny nose in the cold, we all had a great adventure.

Our baptist neighbors looked at each other with some concern and took their leave. Maybe they’ll pray for us. We can use it!

I’m sure all 3 readers of this blog think that Leif’s beer-carrying habit came from his father. I admit that I once let him take a sip of beer, and (unlike a former president) he did inhale, causing him to choke with watery eyes. Sadly, I don’t think he likes beer. He does like beer containers, though.

I scoured our photographic archives in search of the origin of Leif’s obsession with beer cans and bottles. What I found was shocking:

Yes, on the day of Leif’s baptism, his Grandpop and Uncle Markie were welcoming him into the church with one of God’s gifts to humanity — Beer.

Yes, that’s all the way back to his ear. How’d it get there, you ask?

For some reason, Mommy decided it was bath time after dinner.

Leif liked that idea, although the flash from the camera started to annoy him…

Here is Evan, the composer, on accordion; Zach on violin, Rolf on guitar (me on ears…)…

…and Matt on bass

Leif was very curious and impressed…

“Look at THOSE cool toys!!!”

The wonderful Rolf; the wonderful snack on the coffee table…not that I needed to bribe these guys to play amazingly!

Matt in action…a photo cannot adequately capture his “game face.” It’s great.

Zach and Rolf, and the illustrious composition.

Some break time entertainment, courtesy of the littlest musician.

Evan, Herr Direktor.

I just couldn’t resist this one…

And Daddy just couldn’t resist THIS one!

I’m going to tell you about a fun trip to visit Pop and Kevin in Townsend, TN in October. Yes, that’s a really long time ago, but it was a blogworthy trip, so here goes!

Pop and Kevin invited us to crash Kevin’s family reunion, so we hopped on a great, comfortable JetBlue flight from NYC to Nashville and drove about 4 hours to Townsend TN. Leif was fine for the flight, but didn’t really approve of the long car ride after that. We got in really late … the next morning, we woke to a beautiful scene …

and Pop and Kevin’s smiling faces!

After a brief period of adjustment to his new surroundings …

… Leif got a chance to warm up to Grandpop.

We spent a lot of time on the porch looking at Mount LaConte in the distance.

While there, Leif made a new friend — Dalton.

“What the heck? We’re surrounded by grownups! Do you have to go to these things all the time?”

“Hey, watch this. I just discovered the glass coffee table over there … ”

Now the grownups are looking!

What trip would be complete without a drive in Pop’s new high-tech car up to low-tech Cade’s Cove?

There was a dramatic sky up over the Smokeys.

Once back at the cabin, we discovered that Leif might be called to be a conductor:

I’ll leave you with a picture of Pop in one of his favorite pastimes — involving amazing displays of cunning and dexterity. And a few smeared flies.