Three Magic Oats

My mom, in a fit of rage, sent me to sell our family goat today.

She (my mom) keeps an herb garden in the backyard full of all manor of smells, tastes and colors. It's been there for several years and has, as a result, flourished into a varitable cornocopia of food-enhancing plant life. The goat, which we had unanymously voted to name Fargus, had been tied up in the backyard for a little over a week due to the incident in the basement. I haven't the time nor the energy to go into the details of the event, but I will say that it involved an unusually large sack of undercooked meatballs. After gnawing through the rope that quarantined it to the back corner of the yard, it meandered its way toward the garden.

No one was home during this time so we only found the aftermath of its herb binge. The only survivor of the ordeal was the parsley. One would expect to be comforted that something had persevered the hunger of the now ill-fated quadraped but upon its creation, parsley was predestined to be a mere garnish. So while we now at least possessed something to add to the aesthetic of a meal, our taste buds mourned a great loss.

My mother held her calm as the neighbor's watched, wondering what would become of the spiteful Fargus that now stood among trampled and half eaten plants (except the parsley). My mom knew the goat had done this for revenge; to get back at those that had punished it. She knew because she could smell the cumin on its breath. And we had known since we acquired Fargus that he would shy away from even the sight of it. So to now see him standing in it and to even have eaten it spoke of the audacity with which he approached this attrociously vengeful act.

But as soon as we were back in the house, she let loose. I have never seen such anger fly out of her as I did then. I imagine steam would have come rushing out of her ears had she filled up with water a good hour before hand. So, as I said before, she immediately made plans for me to sell Fargus.

It was difficult to find even a prospective buyer, given the goat's now tainted history. The entire day brought me nothing but a variety of ways to use up energy. As the sun began to set, I was growing weary. And when you're tired, you'll take almost any offer to get rid of the burden you're carrying around. Including three magic oats.

That's right. Three magic oats.

I readily agreed as it was the best offer I had heard all day. Word about the goat's taste for revenge had gotten around quickly and no one was biting. So at this point, as unlikely as it was, three magic oats sounded pretty good. A few ounces in my pocket compared to a couple hundred stubborn pounds was no contest. I gave up the goat, took the oats and headed home.

Before commending me on my earnings (if that is what you feel inclined to do), there is something you should know. My mother was not happy about it at all. But you should also know something about magic oats.

They're quite different from beans in that they do not grow up but sideways. And so, rather than waking up to a bean stalk reaching through the clouds, you'll awaken in the morning to an oat mound several miles long (if your angry mother throws them out the window the night before) which merely causes flight delays, mangles with the traffic flow, relocates grazing cows to back yards where they are not welcome, and angers that one pedestrian who will inevitably be on his way to pick up a gallon of milk.

The latter has only himself to blame, however, as he was too lazy to get it the night before, not wanting to interupt his favorite television show. And so his anger is merely misdirected. But I suppose better at that mound than at an unsuspecting person in the wrong place at the wrong time.

If your mother does not throw them out the window the night before, you'll find those three oats exactly as they were before you fell asleep and wonder if they're really magic at all. And knowing what you are thinking, the oats will be insulted and disappear completely. They will thus show you that they are, indeed, magic but also deprive you of any further show of it.

My mother, as I have mentioned several times, was angry. And without a second thought, she tossed those oats out the kitchen window. That was a few hours ago. The oats, without a doubt, are working in the soil beneath. We'll awaken in the morning to a mound of magical wonder and inconvenience.

Fun.

My Luna Moth

This morning I left the house.

Any other morning that would be unquestionably normal. If my mom or dad were up, they would most likely audibly wonder where I was going. And I would tell them. Maybe I'd be out to a friend's house, going to the store or just wandering around aimlessly.

But this morning was different. I'm here in Wolcott again which means I'm not at my own house. I slept in my room (on the couch downstairs). I went to bed in an awkwardly silent mood, knowing I could neither talk to Alyssa nor hug and kiss her good night. For her sake, I will not share with you the particulars of her character that lead to said decision but I will say that it was a conscious choice on my part.

Normally I do. I'll kiss her several times on the cheek, forehead, eyebrow (one of my favorites). We don't kiss on the lips, a decision we've made together but that's another entry if I so choose to share. You'll have to wait and see. I did not realize why it was that I refrained from these outward affections but I just knew that I couldn't. The only words I let out last night, on my way to the couch, were quietly whispered.

"Good night."

I thought that perhaps sleep would conquer these unsettlingly disconnected emotions. It usually does. Sleep has this odd ability to melt off negativity and cause the previous day's frustrations to somehow vanish.

But not this time.

I woke up feeling the same way. I didn't want to talk to Alyssa. I didn't want to talk to anyone. Getting back to what normally happens, I tend to wake up and walk into her room to bid her a pleasant good morning. I'll sit bedside and talk to her for a few minutes about whatever happens to be on our minds or floating around in the vast spaces upstairs. It's an enjoyable way for me to start my weekend days here. But this morning, after a hollow "good morning" to her, I suggested she go back to sleep. It was not yet 8:00 in the morning and we hadn't exactly gotten to sleep at a decent time the night before.

So, after my suggestion that she return to her unconscious state, I went back to my couch. Why? I don't know. But every time she walked in the room I pretended to sleep. I just didn't want to talk. To anyone, really. She just happened to be the one there.

I had, after a few seconds of lying on that couch under the guise of my shut eyelids, an undeniable urge to leave. To grab my Bible, get in my car and just go. I knew where too. I had to go to the local high school. It's a big, quiet space of fields and pavement.

So I left. I got up, said not a word to Alyssa, changed my clothes, grabbed my Bible, picked up my keys and my iPod (just in case) and left. I felt a little guilty for not saying anything to her about where I was going or what I was doing. But I knew it had to be this way. Even if just for me.

I walked around the school fields just talking to God about what's been going on the last few days. He knows, sure. But it's nice to tell Him anyway. I had to confess some things to Him and ask Him advice on some others. And some things were just me relaying how I've been feeling. It was a nice time, just the two of us.

On the final stretch of ground before I got back to the car, God left me something. There, laying in the still dew moistened grass, was a Luna Moth. I have only seen one once before in my life. So to see it now, just sitting on the ground (and not moving when I touched it) was amazing.

I wanted to get something to bring it home on (or in) to show Alyssa. I grabbed some cardboard from a nearby dumpster but not before taking a few pictures with my phone. That turned out to be a good idea. Upon returning from my garbage recanoitre, it was gone.

But I saw it. I was there. For the brief moment that it chose to rest there in the grass, unswayed by human hands, I got to see it. No one else.

And that made me think.

Have I been taking this relationship for granted? Have I been trying to fit it into a certain box or at least trying to avoid parts of it that are to my dislike? Maybe that's going to far. Maybe it's just that I've been trying to manipulate every moment of time spent with her to get everything I can out of it. But it doesn't work that way.

If I put that moth there in the grass, what special moment would that have been? What would I have then experienced but my own hands at work? And while it can be good to see the fruits of my labor, it isn't anything special for me to manipualate beauty into existence. Because in all honesty, I can't.

And so what good is it for me to manipulate my time with Alyssa? What will I gain from creating my own special moments? Absolutely nothing.

But what do I gain from letting God control and direct? Everything! When He is in control and when I let go and allow Him to do His thing and simply follow His lead, I am shown His glory and beauty through His works. Who am I to attempt control of a God given gift?

My life is His. This relationship is His. And because it is His, it is His to do with as He sees fit, according to His will. And I want nothing else. Those Luna Moth moments in my life, and in our relationship are His doing. Just the way they are. I can't create that moment. Only He can. And they're blessings to be enjoyed and cherished not held on to and stretched by my hands as much as possible.

Alyssa is His too. And I should not ask her to be anything other than that which He has created her to be. She is His and His alone. She is a gift also. Something to be enjoyed and cherished. Something to be, as I so galantly said two entries ago, fought for. To be protected.

Thanks for the moth, God. And thanks for Alyssa.

About Ten Minutes

The estimated time between now and when an expected phone call will hit my phone.

Let's see where I can get in that time.

While I hate wasting time in explanations, this may need one. Alyssa will be calling me when she finishes her movie with Kay. The estimated time span between now and then is ten minutes. I wanted to see what I would be able to blog about in that time. So let's see what happens...



My parents just arrived home from a play or musical they saw in...nah.

I was listening to the Superman Returns soundtrack in my head while I was getting ready for bed. Oh shoot. I forgot to brush my teeth. Well...it can wait. The particular track I was replaying goes to the scene where Superman is having a conversation with Lois Lane while flying her around, thousands of feet above the city.

The way the music is written and the remembrances it brings of the scene bring me to that place. That patch of sky way up there where no one else is. Where there are no noises, no distractions, no problems. Just quiet.

And here's the phone call.

Just as my time has ended, so must this entry. Perhaps I'll elaborate on it at a later time or perhaps I'll leave it as a random moment in time, just the way it is. We'll all find out together.

On Difficult Battles and Shopping With Women

Last night was difficult.

I am torn between two things. Do I write, elaborating in a reasonably respectful level, or do I give it a general approach? The reason for the difficulty in deciding is that the parties involved are not aware of my feelings for this past evening's events. And it would thus be a bit unfair for them to happen upon those feelings here in a public blog as opposed to a heart felt conversation between just us two. And so you see my problem. Do I or don't I?

I guess we'll all find out.

I've been in Wolcott since Friday night, spending my precious and limited leisure time with my amazing girlfriend. We've been enjoying each other's company and the events that have taken place over the past two days, including a shopping trip with Jean (Alyssa's mom), Emily (sister), Kaylee (sister) and Jimmy (mom's boyfriend). If any of you read this, please excuse any misspelling of your name. Correct me if you like.

Clothes shopping with women is an entirely different experience than it is with men. Although, truthfully, I can't say that i've ever been on a guy's group shopping trip. I guess we just don't do that. Anyway, it's an interesting experience. I was a foreigner in the women's section, always watchful of the exit aisles and knowing which direction to dart in if an escape was necessary.

Their shopping method is very interesting. First, they scan the racks. Then, when at least seven items of clothing have been plucked from them, a course to the fitting rooms is plotted. I'm not sure exactly what happens inside there but somewhere between entering and exiting, five clothing items are abandoned. The two that make it have survived stage one. This same process gets repeated a few times until a total is reached (it varies) and those that have made it through the entire ordeal are purchased and brought home to be worn a few times, after which they remain dormant in the closet for a year or so until they are rediscovered. They may be worn again; they may be disposed of or given away. One never knows.

I want to stop here and give an extremely large "THANK YOU" to Jean, the founder of our trip. Many purchases were made, including some of my own, and all were paid for (including lunch at one of my favorite restaurants, "The Corner Pug") by her. I was not expecting at all that I would be included in these monetary exchanges. So when I was, I was very greatful. Thank you, Jean. Thank you for the warm and welcome place I have in your family.

Moving on.

Joe, as it happened, had ventured down to Wolcott with Ross for a graduation party. I never discovered who it was for. I suppose it doesn't really matter. The funny thing about that is that upon his arriving in Wolcott, I was arriving back home at the mall. It's a good half hour trip between the two, so for both of us to simultaneously be entering the other's weekend habitat was quite situationally humerous.

Post party, Joe and Ross waited for a bit so that when our humble band of shoppers returned from our clothing rack adventures, we could hang out. Good plan, I thought. We met them at a local deli and guided them in.

"Wow," i thought, "I finally get to introduce Joe to Alyssa's sisters and dad, if he happens to be home." He wasn't. "And, he can see where i hang out on most weekends," and all that sharing with a friend jazz. Well..


Originally I had intended to, in a non specific way, lament over the trouble shooting I went through during the evening. However, I'm not going to do that for two reasons. One, I just don't feel like doing that. And two, Joe and I have made amends for the day in question. SIDENOTE: It has been over a week since I started this entry: END SIDENOTE

I could go up and read all that I've blogged because, in all honesty, I have no recollection as to what I typed up. But that just wouldn't be my style. It shall remain as it is, untouched by even the hands that created it...at least for now.

Although...I do want to say one thing.

While Joe was at Alyssa's, there were several things that agrivated me. They shouldn't have gotten to me; they were small and, in the long run, insignificant. But slowly and surely they built up anger inside me. The kind where my stomache gets all tight. It's hard to do that.

In sharing with you what it was that gave me insight on the foundational source of that anger, you may question my sanity. But trust me. Read on and you'll understand.

"Alyssa, do you have any GLAD bags?" Joe asked.

"What size?" she asked in response.

"Joe, you're joking right?" I asked. I wanted to be sure before Alyssa put effort into something that was going nowhere.

"Yeah," he said not looking up from the TV.

I walked into the kitchen, ever so much angrier. Again, do not judge based on this one incident you are being shown. Your sight of the evening is limited; there was a lot more to it. So shh. Just listen.

I told her to put the bags back, they were just joking (but angrily; not at Alyssa). And then it hit me. I suddenly knew why I was angry. I found the bottom of it all.

You see, Alyssa has the spiritual gift of hospitality (among others). It's a very evident gift and one that I am learning much from. And so, since there were guests over, she was being her hospitable self. She was just trying to cater to the needs of people around her and promote a warm and comfortable environment. She's very good at it.

Her hospitality was being taken advantage of.

That's what it all accumulated to. My heart added it all up and there it was. And wow did it make me angry. Like I said, that stomache tight angry. And it takes a lot for me to get there.

I was so angry in fact that I was tempted to just walk on over to him and demand that he leave. "Joe," I would have said sternly, "it's time to go." I think the only things holding me back were that it wasn't my house and I knew it was wrong. Not wrong to feel that way but wrong to take it out in anger. But that brought me to another realization.

I really care about Alyssa. Like...really.

She was being taken advantage of. If that force had been put on me, I would have taken it. But it was put on her and that got me...well, angry. Very much so. I wanted to take care of it. I wanted to take that source of hurt and anger and get rid of it.

I wanted to fight for her. I wanted to step up to he (or that) which dared take advantage of her and mistreat this beautiful woman. Sword drawn, shield ready. And wow did that feel good. I didn't want to sit there idley while she was in this wrongful situation. I didn't want to watch, observe, take notes. I wanted to get up and do something about it. I wanted to run into battle to defend her.

So be wary, you foes who challenge Alyssa's beautiful heart and soul; a creation that God Himself delights in. I may not be much but I will fight. I will draw my sword in defense of that which is righteous and good. I may come out scarred and weary from difficult battle. That's certainly a possibility. And there may be battles that I cannot win.

But come what may, God with me, I will fight.

Get Out There

It's 5:30 pm. The thermometer on the deck reads 93.

To help deal with the heat (nice, a butterfly) i've been sitting inside, since i left work today, watching movies. First i watched "Godsend" (summary and opinion to follow), followed by the completion of "Platoon" which Ben and i started yesterday. It's nice to sit in the AC and not do anything after working in the heat and sweating despite the fan two feet away. And these are big fans. But i've talked about that already so i'll move on.

"Godsend" is about a family that loses a son (their only son, Adam...go figure) to a car accident. Through a doctor who presents himself after the funeral arrangements have been made, the family has their son cloned. However, upon reaching the age of 8 (the age at which the original child died), weird things start to happen. It was okay. Nothing for a writer to brag about but an interesting concept and the plot was carried out decently.

"Platoon" was a war movie. Specifically about the Vietnam War and how it changed and affected the men involved. It concentrated on one specific platoon that housed characters portrayed by Willem Dafoe, Charlie Schene, Tom Dilinger, Johnny Depp (for about five minutes total). It was good. That's all i have to say about that.

Anyway, so i've been watching the colors dance on the television for a few hours and i needed a break. Most of you are now thinking (at least should be) how comical it is that i would take a break from the TV here in front of my laptop. Not much of a break. But it is. You see, i'm sitting outside in that aforementioned 93 degree environment, june bugs announcing the summer's oppressive warmth (as if we didn't notice) and the occasional sound of a child at play.

I just needed to be outside, heat or not. It's beautiful out here. The trees are resting, i just got in trouble for not watching the grill (it wasn't my job but i could have done something about the burning eggplant anyway), and the air is fresh even if it doesn't feel like it. Well, as fresh as Hartford County can deliver anyway. But the outside is different from the inside and ultimately that's what i needed.

It's alive. It's genuine. It's real.

You can't get that from a TV no matter how high the definition or how crisp and clean the sound. It's still synthetic. It's generated. It takes what you can experience with your own senses and packages it into a processed meal. A fully loaded baked potato becomes a tater tot. It's certainly better than it used to be but it still isn't the real thing. Only two senses are at work; you're missing out. Granted you don't have the bug that keeps buzzing my ear but you don't have the breeze on your skin either.

So, be it summer's furnace or winter's freezer, the outside beats the inside any day. If you haven't tried it, i highly recomend you do. You can touch it, taste it, hear it, feel it, smell it.

Get out there.