Thursday, December 2, 2010

Thursday??? Already???

How the heck did that happen?!!! I feel like I lost a whole day this week (oh, yeah - I did.  Tuesday, damn it anyway.)  Ahem.  Regardless,  it's awfully nice to see you this morning! Getting to the Orchid room today today means dealing with an air temp of.....six whole degrees. Boy howdy, it's gonna be a fun trip to the gas station today! I hope you can settle in to your morning read with as much coffee, cocoa, or, hey, even cocoa puffs, as you like. Whatever works - the cold has breached the bay window and I can feel the draft on my toes six feet away.  Yeeeesh.

Today's post is from warmer times - I'd posted it on Facebook, in honor of my brother's birthday back in June - hey, that's a happy thought! June!  It's a few birthday reminiscences (oooooh, that's a tough one to spell!!)  but tomorrow I'll post the getting-lost-with-Denny adventures. Reviewing these stories and memories, it somehow seems that we had a great deal of fun while my brother, perhaps not always intentionally, showed me how good and healthy it was to laugh, particularly when the person you needed most to laugh with, or at, was yourself.  Thank you, Denny.

A ritual my brother and I were able to conduct, as adults, was taking each other out for lunch on our birthdays. This was a somewhat lopsided ritual, he had about 3 jobs at the time (none of them really well paying, hence, multiple jobs) and was a part time student, while I had one job and 50 hours of art school a week (no exaggeration - that's the art school girl of doom I really was.  EEEEEeeek!)

So, I got treated to lunch in a very cool restaurant (Palomino?) whereas he was treated to White Castle, or once, brunch at the Uptown Bar. I would ask him for a pair of jeans without holes, he would attempt to explain his requests to me. "Shari, I want a pair of Rockport Umpquaa's." "Denny, I don't know what you just said". "They're sandals, really comfortable ones and they'll help me walk better (this was around the time of the arthritis problem)". "ok, I go to the shoe store and I ask them for....what? Newport oompaloomphs?" "NO, Rockport Umpquaas!"

At this point, he had tears streaming down his face from laughing at me, and I bust out laughing each time he said that ridiculous brand name. I'm guessing the shoe store guys laughed it up too, since I hadn't written it down and I sounded like a damn idiot. So, I get the shoes, and I spent 45 minutes in Target getting him a birthday card. That sounds...excessive, but back then, it was possible for me to find one that made him laugh till he cried (paybacks, I guess). I found one that clearly laid out the birthday plan for two lunatics to celebrate (I only remember the red noses and bunny ears) but the card was a four-page essay on birthday idiocy. I made him read it out loud so I could laugh along with him.

The only other time (well, other than when I got him the Happy Hockey Family) that I made him read something out loud was when I was living with my roommate Stephanie. She and I were friends with a guy named Roswell. Now, both Steph and Ros are intelligent to the point of awkwardness, so I actually managed to feel pretty normal around them.

One night, either before or after heading to the Irish well with those two, and Denny in tow, I decided to introduce Denny to the works of Edweard Gorey - the illustrator/dark humorist. So, I ordered him to read Steph's copy of The Curious Sofa' to Ros. Ros knew the story already, and tends not to be very emotional. Denny started reading, and immediately caught on that it is one twisted little story. Ros held his sides and laughed tilll he hurt, while the rest of us just laughed ourselves silly as Denny finished.

I do believe that was the night he fell for a really pretty girl that worked at the Well, and tried to flirt with her. He said something creative about her clothes - but since I've never seen a woman glare so coldly at anyone, I guess he should have stuck to being charming instead of trying to be...funny. :-)

Thanks for the memories, Denny - love and miss you lots.



  1. Thank you for making that memory fresh again. I miss him too.

  2. That night was so unforgettably fun. I just wish that his life had intersected with us more often back then - he could find humor anywhere, and I've rarely laughed as well since he's been gone. It's a good goal, though, to learn how to laugh better.

    Remember playing pictionary? :-)