So the junior prom was coming up. I was pretty much on the out with my current “girlfriend”, and I just wasn’t into her anymore. We already had our tickets to the prom and it’s always nice to not burn too many bridges when breaking up. The auburn hair girl was in the outs with her current man, too, but they too were planning on going to the prom. Her brother drove her and her date, while I drove my date in my car. I don’t remember if I also drove my best friend or not.

Around this same time I had decided to get a scarab beetle tattooed on my chest. A major part of that decision was that as my life was changing I got this tattoo. It reminds me of some of what began around this time in our history, and for that I am grateful.

So now we come to the prom. We joined our group of friends for the dance, put our coats on our chairs, cameras on the table, and took to the floor. As the night progressed, I danced less and less with my date and more and more with this auburned hair beauty. I remember at one point we had what would be considered a train or sandwich going on, and she was in the middle. I realized the irony of the teacher coming over to ask us to move apart as I now do the same.

She and I continued to dance through out the evening, and I even remember the slow dances when we acquiesced to our own dates. I looked across at her with her looking at me over the shoulder of her date; I’d close my eyes, smile and imagine I was slow dancing with her.

When the dance ended I offered to drive her and her date home. Somewhere along the line, my best friend ended up in the backseat of my small hatchback along with the girl and her soon to be exboyfriend. The girl told her brother I’d drive them home; his reaction was “take care of my sister”. (In hindsight a) he wanted the privacy with his own date and b) I have.).

We drove through the twilight and went where we go after danced: Eat ‘N Park. My best friends snored in the back of my car, while the four of us went inside. I slide into the booth next to the girl and my soon to be ex was forced to sit across from me, next to where the new girl’s almost ex.

We had a nice meal, albeit I then dropped her off to say goodbye and good riddance to her exboyfriend, while my soon to be ex, best friend and I drove on down the street.

Last night Claire and I were running out to grab dinner, and I asked her to grab my shoes for me while I finished something else. A moment later she’d run back into the room with my leather sandals I keep near the door in our living room. I don’t usually wear them unless I need to run out onto the rock yard. As she dropped them to the tile, something wiggled under one of them. We’ve had geckos in the house recently (and we always let them live cause they’re cute and eat bugs), so I went to pick up the shoe to show Claire. But when I picked it up instead of a cute little gecko there was a scorpion under my shoe.

Now I’d not seen a scorpion in my house in almost a decade and there he was! Claire shrieked and then immediately calmed down. She had this look like “what the hell is that thing?” I explained to her it was a scorpion and tried to figure out how to put it in my Claire context. I told her it was kinda like a “bad lizard” that hurts you.

I grabbed a glass and put it over the scorpion, and then went to find my Leatherman. I grabbed him up by the stinger and showed it to Claire, then I shot a few pictures before she and I went outside to crush his skull with a stick.

cc licensed flickr photo shared by Roadsidepictures

See this one time was sort of interesting. I’m still not sure who was there or why, but this was a place near where we’d get together with these groups. It was called Stone Shelter because it was just that. A large stone shelter in South Park. A place my parents suggested in the past to have gone “parking” even. A place now just a memory and razed long ago. I can’t tell you much about that specific day at that place other than there were three of us there. She was there and my brother, too. It was during one of his larger part of life. I wore my hair long, my cut off jeans low, and the Les Mis shirt I owned hung off my frame, mostly from the rain of that afternoon showers. We had a Frisbee that we flung about the grassed hillside

That evening I drove her home. Went inside to meet this supposed 4’ iguana that really was. Spike. What a name for a female iguana. I visited the lizard in her bedroom. The door closed. Her father wasn’t happy, so I was obliged to meet him. I went down into this 70s shag basement to do so. Me, the man boy, the college boy with the tattoos, baggy cut off jeans, moist, not quite dry or wet tshirt, longish hair in my face, and pager on my belt that kept vibrating. Him in his Dockers, his button down, and neutral colors socks. Hair combed back, moustache and engineering glasses. Not quite a meeting I’d imagined. I cared then what she thought. What he thought. I remember his eyes burning as I walked up the stairs later unable to hide my tattoos creeping out between my combat boots and the torn shorts. A permanent iguana, like hers, upstairs.

About 15 years ago a group of friends existed. They weren’t true friends, but they were a group who gathered around others. Someone knew someone else and the group kind of existed. In part, it grew, for me, as an extended friendship of siblings, geeks, and freaks. Some lived in a basements dabbling with DOS, BBSes, and Windows 3.1. Others dabbled upstairs in painting, photography and the arts. Some dabbled with themselves, and I still don’t know what brought the group together, per say, but I do know when I see it in the other generations.

There was one Tuesday in particular when a large part of the group ended up in downtown Pittsburgh. In Market Square we sat with the waves of spring washing upon us as late April was lambing its way towards the end of May and summer break for many. For me, I was almost done with Freshman year at Penn State.

I don’t remember everyone who was there or if I drove a group or we took the PAT, but I remember the one girl. The one with the crooked tooth smile, permed out redish auburn hair, and glasses. The girl with the torn kneeed jeans and green sweatshirt. I flirted with her. She flirted back. At first it was a “group thing”. The thing to do, but I remember later that same the day, eventually, the rest of the group dispersed. It was just her and me, and we didn’t stop flirting. I won’t ever forget the feeling of suddenly realizing we were the only two left, and the protection and excuses of being in the group dissipated. I remember the sudden realization that this was something else. For me, Something more.

On the way home Friday from work in the car.

Claire: Dada, what are we doing this weekend?

Me: I’m not sure. We’ll ask Mama. Maybe we’ll go to the mall.

Claire: Dada, I want earrings.

Me, trying not to react: Why do you want those?

Claire: Cause Kaitlyn has them.

OH BOY.

This morning we Devon and I were busy in the kitchen, making breakfast and cleaning up. Claire had been playing in her little tent this week and pretending there were wolves and monsters and such around, requiring her to “hide” in the tent and play games.

Well, as I’m cooking I hear her scream bloody murder and run towards the kitchen. Knowing my kid and her standard volume, I barely flinched and continued my chore, concerned, but not panicked. Devon, however, caught on a bit sooner, shut off the faucet, and met her on the edge of the living room.

Claire screamed “there’s something in the cave!”. I’m thinking there is a bug and am still not too worried, but I take over hugging duty while Devon investigates the beast.

A moment later Devon exclaims “it’s a bird!”. A what?

I edge closer, still holding a hyperventilating Claire.

A dove, sitting on the other edge of our fireplace guard, calmly sits and looks over its surroundings. I pause, knowing that the flue was closed this winter, and wonder how this bird managed to get down the chimney and why it brought so much dirt into my house.

Then another thought occurred to me. How are we going to get this bird out???

I throw open the sliding glass doors as Devon removes the guard and I begin calling to this bird as though I speak the language.

It flaps wildly around the room.

So does Claire and Devon.

He runs to the garage. I run to the kitchen. I mean, I need to check on breakfast to – live goes on.

Then the bird comes into the kitchen and I scream. (It was aimed at my head, of course).

Devon charges in with a fishing net.

Seriously.

My screams panic the bird, who reroutes its course into my office. Drat! Why weren’t the other doors shut?

Devon chases after the bird; I reach for the camera.

The dove is released on the porch, flies away, and directly into our brick fence. It bounces off, lands on its back, feet in the air, and doesn’t move.

I grab a stick and flip it over, take a few pictures, leave it with a few parting thoughts, and return to the porch, happy the dog has been safely locked in the dog run…

After scrubbing our hands, eating breakfast, and going on about our day, Claire approaches me.

Mom?

Yes Claire?

I know what we can call the bird.

What?

Santa Claus!

[insert lightbulb above Donna's head]

Why Claire, that’s a great idea.  You know what mama thinks?

What mom?

I think Santa sent the dove to be sure you were being a good little girl.

No, it’s not Christmas yet.

It’s halfway there Claire; this is when Santa checks on kids.

Ah, man…

This morning, in the guest bath…
me: OW!!!
Claire: What?
me: I hit my elbow!!!
Claire: Are you OK?
me: No! It hurts!!
Claire: Oh, don’t worry, it will only hurt for a minute…