Balls and Walnuts
more than you ever wanted to know
Dates
Oy. I keep forgetting that WordPress, like Blogger, doesn’t save stuff in this little entry box. If I’m writing stuff and I navigate away, it’s lost forever. And that’s what happens to me. I’m writing about the date, let’s say today (since 1/11/10 is so delightfully binary, though not as wonderful as 1/11/11), and then I say, “Ooh, something sparkly!” and I click on a link and poof. But that’s my problem, not yours.
This tickles me. This is what you get if you google “tentacle sex papacy” with safe search off.
So where were you on 9/9/99? Or 8/8/88? Or 7/7/77? Or 6/6/66?
Of these, I remember clearly only 7/7/77. Summer school: I was in George May’s art class at Roosevelt High School in East Los Angeles, where my dad taught math. Like my father, I can’t handle long periods of inactivity, so summer school was a must. Mr. May was this animated fellow who reminded me of Red Buttons. And for those of you too young to remember Red Buttons, well,
Fine teacher, George May. Taught me how to draw.
6/6/66, I would have been four, looking forward to kindergarten, not realizing that kindergarten was ruled by a witch who would forever be locking me up in “the kitchen” all because I wouldn’t stop harassing this one girl (with whom I’m friended on Facebook).
Where were you?
D.
I’m betting 10/10/10 will be one of those dates that tons of people have reserved for weddings and whatnot. Kinda like what happened with 9/09/09. Y’know?
Jeepers. You’re asking me to think first thing in the morning? Um… lessee… 9/9/99 I was newly married, settling in to whatever version of domesticity existed then. And seeing the slow crumble toward the end.
8/8/88 — I would have been sixteen. I think we were on a family trip to Finland in August of that year. I was slightly annoyed because I had to wait until after the trip to do my driver’s test so I could get my license.
7/7/77 — Five years old. I don’t remember a whole lot from then. Except, wasn’t that around the time that Elvis died? Because I do remember watching bits and pieces of the funeral hubbub on TV.
6/6/66? Sorry, dude. I wasn’t even a glimmer at that point. 😉
Let’s see now …
9/9/99 was my brother’s 31st birthday, so I was probably at some sort of family gathering. Dean and I were about 6 weeks away from moving in together.
8/8/88 – halfway through summer break, heading into my last year of university, working not terribly hard at 2 part-time jobs and hanging out with friends.
7/7/77 – the first summer after we moved from Montreal back to Vancouver, where I was born. I was 10 and looking forward to a summer where we weren’t 3000 miles away from my grandparents.
6/6/66 – about 3 months post-conception, I believe my mother was in the throes of dire morning-sickness.
9/9/99 – Being a guest in a fabulous house in the Foxhall area of Washington DC (a house that my UK diplomat friend lived in, which let me know exactly how my local guests felt when visiting my government-provided housing overseas; I too had that open-mouthed, glassy-eyed stare as I toured the multiple floors), working at 24-hour arms control watch center (watched a lot of bad late night TV, punctuated very, very rarely by the ringing of the STU, aka Secure Telephone Unit, which provoked cries of “did you hear something? oh, shit, it’s the STU! where’s the key? who’s got the f-ing key?” and then one of us would answer it – “Hello. Nuclear Risk Reduction Center.” and hear “This is Major XYZ of the North American Aerospace Command. Prepare to go secure.” and then we’d turn the key and Major would sound like Donald Duck for the rest of the conversation.), and commuting to Ohio where my husband of a bit more than three months was in a PhD program in Physics.
8/8/88 – living in Irving, Texas, working as a Production Planner for Abbott Laboratories, having gotten my MBA in Jan. Sometime around then I went shooting for the first time with a friend. I love to shoot guns, but wouldn’t want to keep one in the house.
7/7/77 – touring Europe with my mother and grandmother, probably in the south of France that day, maybe Carcassonne. That was the summer Star Wars was released and I watched it multiple times, including, I believe, at least once with your lovely wife. When we got back from Europe it wasn’t in the theaters anymore and I was quite distressed.
6/6/66 – A month away from my second birthday…
Fun, ain’t it?
It emphasizes, I think, how very long 11 years truly is.
6/6/66…just about at the end of my junior year in high school
7/7/77…the summer of my 10th high school reunion; boy did I enjoy bragging to those loser popular kids who were working on their second marriage while I had a masters degree and a cool Camaro (which didn’t turn out to be so cool as I discovered metal pieces in the engine…piece of crap…nothing but Japanese cars from that point on for me).
9/9/99…subbing in Las Vegas and being reminded what a second class citizen in the teaching world is like.
1/11/11…learning I need to go on BP medicine…and reminding myself things could be worse.
Things can ALWAYS get worse.
8/8/88 i was almost a year old. so i don’t remember.
9/9/99 i was just starting 6th grade. i don’t remember noticing the day.
on 1/11/11 i have no idea where i’ll be. kind of scary, kind of fun. 🙂
Shaina, I’m guessing 6/6/66 your parents weren’t even born yet.
lol yes they were! my mom turns 60 in a few weeks (feb 2) and my dad will be 62 in march (so they were born in 1950 and 1948, respectively). i have old parents. yup. they didnt get married until they were 32 and 34, had my bro 2 years later and me 5 years later.