Talkin' 'Bout My Girls
This is just a quick tribute to the three most important women in my life. Soon, there will be a fourth, but for right now, these are my girls...
Miss Tessmacher: who not only puts up with me calling her that (after the dingbat femme fatale in Superman...when Tess is anything BUT!), but who also puts up with my renovation urges and bad music. Okay, the music is really great, but I can't seem to convince her of that. Whatever. She traipses after me to various headbanger concerts (Kiss, Poison, Cinderella, Sammy Hagar...) and, even if she doesn't necessarily wave her devil-horn salute in the air, at least she gets a kick out of people-watching. She not only is okay with me spending $60-$70 a month on comic books, but she graciously goes into the store with me and waits patiently while I make comic-book-guy talk with Damon & Jen. She's managed to move my display of Kiss crap out of the house and into my work office, but she also has made me crazy enough for her not to mind in the slightest. When I suggest leaving the Kiss lava lamp as a "nightlight" for the baby, she gives me that wooden stare I know so well and leaves it up to ME to decide that probably isn't the best idea I've ever had...which is INFINITELY better than being condescending or patronizing. She listens to me natter on & on when we're on our evening walks, and just basically puts up with all my bullshit...which can be pretty deep sometimes. Love you, hot stuff.
Mama: who is a "mother" without being a "mutha" in ANY sense of the word. She gave me life and then made it fantastic enough that I want to pass the favor along to my OWN spawn. She taught me how to use every power tool under the sun, and gave me the courage to tackle hilariously huge jobs by saying "I can do that!" (This uttered before we spent a week putting a new convertible top on an old Coravair...) She taught me how to renovate, where to spend money and where to save it, and how to make the whole project look better than a "professional" could because, since it's my house, I care more. What more can I say? SHE BOUGHT ME MY FIRST KISS RECORD! Now, that's love. You da best, mom!
Ramona Q.: a foundling who showed up at my mother's house, but couldn't be kept there because all HER cats were FEL-V positive. Just when I needed a pet, 'Mona showed up and earned her name by being both brave and pesty. She learned to play rough without using her claws, and in the winter she sleeps on her back in the crook of my arm while I watch TV. She forgave me for leaving her at my apartment with little or no human companionship for several summers during grad school, and when Tess & I get it right by her, she brings us this ridiculous yellow & torquoise bird toy to show her devotion. Live forever, mon chat.
Miss Tessmacher: who not only puts up with me calling her that (after the dingbat femme fatale in Superman...when Tess is anything BUT!), but who also puts up with my renovation urges and bad music. Okay, the music is really great, but I can't seem to convince her of that. Whatever. She traipses after me to various headbanger concerts (Kiss, Poison, Cinderella, Sammy Hagar...) and, even if she doesn't necessarily wave her devil-horn salute in the air, at least she gets a kick out of people-watching. She not only is okay with me spending $60-$70 a month on comic books, but she graciously goes into the store with me and waits patiently while I make comic-book-guy talk with Damon & Jen. She's managed to move my display of Kiss crap out of the house and into my work office, but she also has made me crazy enough for her not to mind in the slightest. When I suggest leaving the Kiss lava lamp as a "nightlight" for the baby, she gives me that wooden stare I know so well and leaves it up to ME to decide that probably isn't the best idea I've ever had...which is INFINITELY better than being condescending or patronizing. She listens to me natter on & on when we're on our evening walks, and just basically puts up with all my bullshit...which can be pretty deep sometimes. Love you, hot stuff.
Mama: who is a "mother" without being a "mutha" in ANY sense of the word. She gave me life and then made it fantastic enough that I want to pass the favor along to my OWN spawn. She taught me how to use every power tool under the sun, and gave me the courage to tackle hilariously huge jobs by saying "I can do that!" (This uttered before we spent a week putting a new convertible top on an old Coravair...) She taught me how to renovate, where to spend money and where to save it, and how to make the whole project look better than a "professional" could because, since it's my house, I care more. What more can I say? SHE BOUGHT ME MY FIRST KISS RECORD! Now, that's love. You da best, mom!
Ramona Q.: a foundling who showed up at my mother's house, but couldn't be kept there because all HER cats were FEL-V positive. Just when I needed a pet, 'Mona showed up and earned her name by being both brave and pesty. She learned to play rough without using her claws, and in the winter she sleeps on her back in the crook of my arm while I watch TV. She forgave me for leaving her at my apartment with little or no human companionship for several summers during grad school, and when Tess & I get it right by her, she brings us this ridiculous yellow & torquoise bird toy to show her devotion. Live forever, mon chat.
During stairway demolition and rebuilding, I put my 60-year-old mother on a stiff futon and my 9-months-pregnant spouse on the air mattress. The ONLY one having a good time with this living-room campout is my feline sidekick. Thank you, ladies, for making me a better man.
posted by Animal at 2:52 PM
5 Comments:
You are a lucky man.
What do you mean "She learned to play rough without using her claws..."- do I actually NEED to show you the thin scars that are reminders of Ramona's wrath?!
Thanks for the tribute and thanks for all of the amazing house work you have done! Perhps your females "put up" with you because you are worth it?! (and no jokes about "putting out")
As much as they probably know how you feel about them, I think it's very sweet that you are so public. :)
I remember when I first got to know Tess in flute studio class at MSU and thinking she was the height of cool because not only did she play the flute better than anyone else in there, but she was able to make intelligent and insightful comments about the culture of heavy metal concerts during the occasional class discussions in which our teacher tried to convince us of the universal superiority of Western classical music.
Love and miss you both!!
Oh dear...I most certainly must have been rebelling against the boss man! Or, that is how corrupted I have become by Scott's Kiss-mania!
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