Tuesday, 2 February 2010
We got a phone call very early this morning that my uncle had had a heart attack and had been flown to Philadelphia for surgery. This immediately upset my father to the point of insisting that he drive up there straight away. Little JJ was not even out of bed (and he is an early riser) and Daddy and Mother were packing things and getting ready to go. I stood there stuffing a toasted muffin into my mouth whilst they scurried round with suitcases and so on.
Of course Mother would not let him go alone. They would be taking JJ with them, so that he could stay with our other uncle's family in southern New Jersey for a few days whilst Mother and Daddy went on to Philadelphia. We were fortunate to have had Roger here the last few days-- working on the new (old) Buick project with Daddy, and so they would have him and the dark-green car for the ride. But it meant that I would be left to see little Lisa off to school for the next few mornings, and to arrive late each day myself (as her school starts an hour after mine, so I will miss first and half of second period by the time I get there. But, it cannot be helped).
Before they left this morning we did get another phone call and the news that our uncle had probably not had a true heart attack but that he has significant arterial blockage and so will need some bypass surgery. Other than this (significant but manageable) problem he is doing well. Daddy was relieved. But still they would leave at 9.00.
Roger drove Jessy in so she would not be late today and then would return for Daddy and Mother and little JJ who was getting dressed though crankily. I made a breakfast for Lisa and helped her get dressed and drove her in myself, a few minutes late, in the Regal and then got myself over to the high school. Of course we get out earlier so I was able, with Jessy, to drive over there and pick up Lisa when she got done. As of right now we are three girls on our own in the castle for probably the rest of the week.
Our uncle is out of his surgery and doing well-- they expect him to be much improved by week's end when they will release him. I rang my aunt in southern New Jersey and got a few updates and got to talk with JJ too. He is having fun with his cousins and does not fully understand the serious issues of his visit there. This is probably best.
I spoke with Daddy too and though he is relieved he is still concerned. 'It could happen to any of us,' he said. 'You always think it'll be the other guy, but it could be you, you know.'
'But you are very healthy,' I told him, 'and you work out and walk and ride the bike. And you don't smoke.'
Our uncle has always smoked cigarettes. It is a source of concern through the whole family. 'Yeah, but I could be better. And they're saying it's not due to the cigarettes.'
'What else would it be due to?' I asked (yes, incorrect grammar and all).
'I don't know. I told him as soon as he gets better we're all starting a fitness routine.'
Daddy already has a fitness routine. As casual as he has always been about other things (diet, paying bills, wearing ironed clothes) he has always enjoyed just doing physical things like walking, running, riding stationary and two-wheeled bicycles and of course swimming. He and I have a little competition on the rowing machine down stairs, trying to improve our 2k times. I am down to about 9:17-- and, by the way, have lost about 2 lbs of holiday-season fat.
Our other uncle tends to be a bit more rigorous in his fitness than either of his elder brothers and we worry perhaps less about his health than anyone's. Tonight they are both at Gran's house farther up in New Jersey and one aunt stays with her husband in hospital and the other is minding four little kids at the farmhouse. All the signs look good and so I have relaxed my own concern and left it all to God. I think sometimes this is all we can do.
For supper Jessy and Lisa (meaning Jessy, with Lisa sitting on the counter asking questions and talking incessantly) made a frozen entree of roast beef with fried mashed potatoes left over from Gran's birthday dinner and cranberry sauce and (mostly cold) broccoli. I planned for tomorrow to have macaroni-and-cheese casserole with the leftover chicken in it. I think we will not starve soon.
Lisa did ask to sleep in with me tonight but as of now she is in Lisa's bed, probably asleep if I care to go look whilst Jessy bangs away on the computer on FaceBook and Twitter and wherever else she needs to broadcast her news to her friends. We made sure Lisa brushed her teeth early because we kind of figured she would end up like this. I will leave my door open on the gallery side anyway in case she comes looking for me at two AM.
Oh, and I wrote a note for the school saying I will be missing first period all week because of getting my little sister to school and of course the teacher and the guidance people were fine with that-- British literature? --my major? --are you kidding? There is another section of the same class during fifth and they asked if I wanted to just sit in on that and miss lunch, but I said no way. Anyway I have the textbook, like I haven't read all that stuff already. And I can write my paper from home.
So we will be all right for the short term. Thanks be to God.
...
Showing posts with label driving. Show all posts
Showing posts with label driving. Show all posts
02 February 2010
30 August 2009
More intense decompression
Thursday, 27 August 2009
Under threat of a drizzle I came inside and am sitting here in my room, my usual room, up stairs at Terncote in Virginia. It has been a very dizzying three weeks! But England is always England and that is the best part about it, so it is worth any amount of airplane rides and waiting in queues. Daddy said once, after his first tour there, in the '80s, that there'll always be an England because people in England say that there'll always be an England. Or, as people would say now, it is what it is. And that is why you go to see it.
A few things changed in the year since we were there last. Of course the house we had taken is let again, this time to a nice American doctor and his wife whom everyone knows and likes. It is a lovely all-brick multi-gabled house from about 1870 with a red-gravel garden walk and a bright blue door above which is the room Jessy and I had for two years. There is a dovecote in the eave, there are mice in the garage and rabbits live under the back steps. In back is a garden that trips down gentle terracing to the preserve, which is mostly overgrown behind the house but spreads out into a marvellous copse of wild fruit trees and thick green grass. I used to wander out there by myself and take off my clothes and inhale the sweet wet fragrances of the woods, and it was like I was getting high on the whole idea of being there, being naked, being free and happy, and being myself (which of course is how I am since we have come back and have lived here). Once on a fine English summer afternoon I lay down naked in a bed of that thick grass and stared up through a few gaps in the trees at the clouds passing by, and I was there over an hour like that till I realised people would be wondering about me. It is a unique memory-- for I only ever got to do that once-- and something I know only I will ever appreciate. But it is the kind of innocent indulgence that Jessy and I do here, now, and I know that no one else really fully understands it.
Our friends from HOH have all moved along with their lives-- some are dating new people, some are not dating any more, some have left the school, which is very sad. English schools thrive on people being committed to them, but it is always a case of 'school choice' as it is called here, and there are always times when someone leaves before 5th or 6th year and is missed horribly. Even less welcome, I did run into Henry, the boy I dated during 4th and part of 5th year, who is a year older and having completed 6th form, with honours, moves on to university. 'You look well, Janine,' he said to me. I blushed (WHY?). I do look well. From so much sun I am tanner and my face is clearer and I am probably a little better shaped, but his opinion can't possibly matter to me now. Still I suppose it was inevitable we would meet, if only at the food court in the shopping arcade, and I handled it as well as I could have. My journal from that time is still kept in handwritten notes and is not on this computer. I let my stepmother read it once and she got as far as the part when Henry was petting me under my skirt and I had not said 'no' yet, and she put it away and said, 'No, thank you, Janine!' I giggled at that at the time because her journal, most of which she has let me read, is somewhat racier than mine could ever have been (I won't say in what way!) and like hers mine is only honest and accurate, you know. I felt at the time that Henry's 'attempts' (for no, he was never successful in what he wanted from me) were important enough to be included. Now when I look back on it it's pretty embarrassing. This happens to girls all the time, and it's little more than a mild nuisance, and here I was in my journal making it into a momentous occasion. But it was a first for me, and at the time I had wondered how it would be, for the rest of my life, to be able to say that a not-so-blessed event had taken place during my family's two-year stay in England... and how many girls could have said that?
I consider that such an event would have been much worse than 'not so blessed' and it didn't happen there and hasn't here either, and, since Henry has no way of knowing that, I revel in his uncertainty. He may accuse me of 'going back to my own kind' all he wants now. What I have gained from having lived there far outweighs what I would have lost had I followed his wishes.
Also I had on a great little pale-green twill skirt and my sleeveless navy cotton top and looked great that day in the arcade (Jessy said some other guys were watching me). So Henry can suffer.
Speaking of Jessy she did-- well, after we had arrived at Lady B's- let me know that a certain little-more blessed event had taken place when she went in to change and wash up in the airplane toilet on the way over. We had taken a change of things for the ride, just to arrive feeling fresh. I had not really taken advantage of it, feeling much too sleepy (I napped in Lady B's car halfway up the A11) and you know the experience of getting out of everything in the tiny airplane toilet just to change your panties is just too much effort. Last time I tried it I bumped the latch on the door and it opened (only a little) and that was too disconcerting to forget this time. But Jessy climbed past my seat and went in there with her little bag, and of course, being Jessy, she took much more advantage of the opportunity than I had expected. She told me that night in bed.
'You didn't!' I said.
She nodded, somewhat proud of herself.
'That's why you were in there so long?'
'It almost didn't come,' she said. 'And then it got frustrating.'
'You didn't have to!' I said.
'Yes, but I wanted to try it, to say I've done it.'
I giggled. 'How was it?'
She shrugged in the bed. 'It got pretty hard to keep my mouth shut.'
Airplane toilets are hardly secure, you know. One must be very quiet no matter what business you are doing.
'So were you short of breath?' I teased. You know, because the air in an airliner is pressurised only to about 8000 feet, so it would be like doing it whilst up in the Rockies. Hence the expression 'mile-high club'.
'Yes,' she said. 'But not because of the cabin.'
I laughed at her. Well-- that is one event she can say for ever that she's done.
There were many more adventures we had on our trip and I will attempt to relate some of them as this blog proceeds. For now I will say that when we got in to Philadelphia on Tuesday evening we were all very exhausted and drove out to the beach house (in NJ) straight away, where there was a party of some friends and relatives that went quite late. Little J.J. slept through it all-- he tends to sleep very well. I, typically for a twit, attempted to live a perfectly normal life in Greenwich DST+5 till Wednesday morning when Jessy and I walked over the dune to the beach and I fell asleep on the blanket for about two or three hours. Passing people thought I was dead. Jessy covered me with a towel against the sun and explained to two men who passed by that I was not hung over, that it was only jet lag. But in a way what the men assumed was correct too, for I am still coming down from the reverie of having been to England again.
This morning Roger arrived and drove Jessy and me home to Terncote in order than we may keep some engagements, specifically a dinner with the girls' club tonight. As the car pulled up in the yard I kicked off my shoes. As we walked up the steps I unbuttoned the shirt. We carried our own bags in to the house, leaving Roger to take the car back on his own. Jessy went round opening windows in the back to the sea air. I dropped my bags in the front hall with the shirt. I peeled down my shorts and left them in the parlour. I opened the French windows and went out, prising off the bra and leaving it on the step. I shimmied out of the panties on the terrace and dove straight into the pool. Jessy came out and giggled at me. But I felt absolutely great and within ten minutes, after she had joined me, I was swimming my 'usual' 25 laps. Today I did 30. And I still feel great.
Now I sit here in my room, not having got dressed, revelling in all that has happened in this very long and still-incomplete blog. Well-- I have two weeks left in which to finish it before school begins!
And I still haven't picked up my clothes.
...
Under threat of a drizzle I came inside and am sitting here in my room, my usual room, up stairs at Terncote in Virginia. It has been a very dizzying three weeks! But England is always England and that is the best part about it, so it is worth any amount of airplane rides and waiting in queues. Daddy said once, after his first tour there, in the '80s, that there'll always be an England because people in England say that there'll always be an England. Or, as people would say now, it is what it is. And that is why you go to see it.
A few things changed in the year since we were there last. Of course the house we had taken is let again, this time to a nice American doctor and his wife whom everyone knows and likes. It is a lovely all-brick multi-gabled house from about 1870 with a red-gravel garden walk and a bright blue door above which is the room Jessy and I had for two years. There is a dovecote in the eave, there are mice in the garage and rabbits live under the back steps. In back is a garden that trips down gentle terracing to the preserve, which is mostly overgrown behind the house but spreads out into a marvellous copse of wild fruit trees and thick green grass. I used to wander out there by myself and take off my clothes and inhale the sweet wet fragrances of the woods, and it was like I was getting high on the whole idea of being there, being naked, being free and happy, and being myself (which of course is how I am since we have come back and have lived here). Once on a fine English summer afternoon I lay down naked in a bed of that thick grass and stared up through a few gaps in the trees at the clouds passing by, and I was there over an hour like that till I realised people would be wondering about me. It is a unique memory-- for I only ever got to do that once-- and something I know only I will ever appreciate. But it is the kind of innocent indulgence that Jessy and I do here, now, and I know that no one else really fully understands it.
Our friends from HOH have all moved along with their lives-- some are dating new people, some are not dating any more, some have left the school, which is very sad. English schools thrive on people being committed to them, but it is always a case of 'school choice' as it is called here, and there are always times when someone leaves before 5th or 6th year and is missed horribly. Even less welcome, I did run into Henry, the boy I dated during 4th and part of 5th year, who is a year older and having completed 6th form, with honours, moves on to university. 'You look well, Janine,' he said to me. I blushed (WHY?). I do look well. From so much sun I am tanner and my face is clearer and I am probably a little better shaped, but his opinion can't possibly matter to me now. Still I suppose it was inevitable we would meet, if only at the food court in the shopping arcade, and I handled it as well as I could have. My journal from that time is still kept in handwritten notes and is not on this computer. I let my stepmother read it once and she got as far as the part when Henry was petting me under my skirt and I had not said 'no' yet, and she put it away and said, 'No, thank you, Janine!' I giggled at that at the time because her journal, most of which she has let me read, is somewhat racier than mine could ever have been (I won't say in what way!) and like hers mine is only honest and accurate, you know. I felt at the time that Henry's 'attempts' (for no, he was never successful in what he wanted from me) were important enough to be included. Now when I look back on it it's pretty embarrassing. This happens to girls all the time, and it's little more than a mild nuisance, and here I was in my journal making it into a momentous occasion. But it was a first for me, and at the time I had wondered how it would be, for the rest of my life, to be able to say that a not-so-blessed event had taken place during my family's two-year stay in England... and how many girls could have said that?
I consider that such an event would have been much worse than 'not so blessed' and it didn't happen there and hasn't here either, and, since Henry has no way of knowing that, I revel in his uncertainty. He may accuse me of 'going back to my own kind' all he wants now. What I have gained from having lived there far outweighs what I would have lost had I followed his wishes.
Also I had on a great little pale-green twill skirt and my sleeveless navy cotton top and looked great that day in the arcade (Jessy said some other guys were watching me). So Henry can suffer.
Speaking of Jessy she did-- well, after we had arrived at Lady B's- let me know that a certain little-more blessed event had taken place when she went in to change and wash up in the airplane toilet on the way over. We had taken a change of things for the ride, just to arrive feeling fresh. I had not really taken advantage of it, feeling much too sleepy (I napped in Lady B's car halfway up the A11) and you know the experience of getting out of everything in the tiny airplane toilet just to change your panties is just too much effort. Last time I tried it I bumped the latch on the door and it opened (only a little) and that was too disconcerting to forget this time. But Jessy climbed past my seat and went in there with her little bag, and of course, being Jessy, she took much more advantage of the opportunity than I had expected. She told me that night in bed.
'You didn't!' I said.
She nodded, somewhat proud of herself.
'That's why you were in there so long?'
'It almost didn't come,' she said. 'And then it got frustrating.'
'You didn't have to!' I said.
'Yes, but I wanted to try it, to say I've done it.'
I giggled. 'How was it?'
She shrugged in the bed. 'It got pretty hard to keep my mouth shut.'
Airplane toilets are hardly secure, you know. One must be very quiet no matter what business you are doing.
'So were you short of breath?' I teased. You know, because the air in an airliner is pressurised only to about 8000 feet, so it would be like doing it whilst up in the Rockies. Hence the expression 'mile-high club'.
'Yes,' she said. 'But not because of the cabin.'
I laughed at her. Well-- that is one event she can say for ever that she's done.
There were many more adventures we had on our trip and I will attempt to relate some of them as this blog proceeds. For now I will say that when we got in to Philadelphia on Tuesday evening we were all very exhausted and drove out to the beach house (in NJ) straight away, where there was a party of some friends and relatives that went quite late. Little J.J. slept through it all-- he tends to sleep very well. I, typically for a twit, attempted to live a perfectly normal life in Greenwich DST+5 till Wednesday morning when Jessy and I walked over the dune to the beach and I fell asleep on the blanket for about two or three hours. Passing people thought I was dead. Jessy covered me with a towel against the sun and explained to two men who passed by that I was not hung over, that it was only jet lag. But in a way what the men assumed was correct too, for I am still coming down from the reverie of having been to England again.
This morning Roger arrived and drove Jessy and me home to Terncote in order than we may keep some engagements, specifically a dinner with the girls' club tonight. As the car pulled up in the yard I kicked off my shoes. As we walked up the steps I unbuttoned the shirt. We carried our own bags in to the house, leaving Roger to take the car back on his own. Jessy went round opening windows in the back to the sea air. I dropped my bags in the front hall with the shirt. I peeled down my shorts and left them in the parlour. I opened the French windows and went out, prising off the bra and leaving it on the step. I shimmied out of the panties on the terrace and dove straight into the pool. Jessy came out and giggled at me. But I felt absolutely great and within ten minutes, after she had joined me, I was swimming my 'usual' 25 laps. Today I did 30. And I still feel great.
Now I sit here in my room, not having got dressed, revelling in all that has happened in this very long and still-incomplete blog. Well-- I have two weeks left in which to finish it before school begins!
And I still haven't picked up my clothes.
...
06 August 2009
Decompression
Monday evening 3 August 2009
Jessy and I left after tea, drove down to the Ferry, had an expensive supper in the terminal and ended up on the boat as the sun was going down on the Bay. This is a rare sight and a lovely treat. We sat outside in the wind, still in our swimsuits with t-shirts on over them, inhaling of the rare southeast breeze that carried salt spray and took our hair apart. Then it was a long and somewhat exhausting drive down through eastern Maryland and into the Virginia peninsula. I have grown to dislike this part of the journey-- the Maryland state troopers are everywhere, I hate their brown cars, they have this stupid law than in a construction zone you have to switch on your headlamps, and the scenery, though green and pristine and beautifully rural, becomes monotonous. I chose the shore road and went off 13 directly after 175. Jessy was asleep and didn't notice a thing.
Now we are both home and back in our own rooms. The castle is dark and still and even cool-- Roger was over some time in the week and reset the air-conditioning and light and sprinkler timers and I feel like I don't even belong here. At once I flung up my windows to that sea breeze, took off all my clothes, and draped myself over the bed for a nap. But I could not sleep, and now I am typing.
Becky rang-- she's coming over tomorrow. Jessy thinks we should just greet her like we are and see what she says about it. She's heard, but never experienced it, you know. Maybe she will want to. I really don't mind. I have had half a mind (and not much else) to go for a dip in the pool tonight-- it's been so long since I've done laps. But there will be bugs out. The county sprays round here but I can see the bugs on my screens so I don't know when they were round last.
When we are alone in this house we never feel like eating. The last week we were here alone I lost two pounds. It's no use blaming Mother-- it's not that what she makes is so filling. She makes the best food she knows how to and I never eat more than I should, really. I just don't happen to eat when I don't have to. Besides there is nothing fresh to eat in this whole house. There's not even any milk.
My parents will be home on Thursday, and then on Friday evening we're having a little premature party for Jessy's 16th. Rita and Josie and everyone from our circle here will come. Jessy's birthday is really not till St Mary's Day, the 15th, but we'll be in England then. On Thursday the 13th our parents and our little ones will join us over there and we'll have another party with our friends from HOH. This is how it is in this house... we have multiple parties for everything.
Since Jessy did Lisa's hair for her party, Lisa asked if she can do Jessy's. And Jessy assented... so this will be interesting, probably even funny. Actually, in spite of being lush and gorgeous and capable of causing jealous girls to commit crimes in order to wish they had hair like hers, Jessy's hair is actually pretty easy to manage. It is naturally curly, so curly that you need to brush it wet, and as soon as you do it starts springing back. For the beach she just yanks it all back in a ponytail that looks like a plume of blondness. For a party she does the same, only with wetting it first, to buy more time before it springs back, and a bit of hairspray and/or some clips. Someone suggested she cut it once and there came that characteristic Jessy glare, when she looks at the poor cretin like he'd said the oddest thing anyone could ever have said. You might as well have said 'The Martians are eating your rice' as 'You should cut your hair short some time.'
Speaking of a plume of hair I just remembered why I wanted to type this. (I am in serious need of decompression. Please don't expect more blogs till we get to England!) I did delete the guy we met on the beach, who had recognised me from AOL. How had he known? There were literally thousands of blonde chicks in bikinis on the beach this morning! How he could have put two and two-- and two and two-- together is beyond me. I suppose it just goes to show how close I get myself to too much risk. It's a fascination I have-- I tend to wade into risky (risqué) situations just to see how well I can handle myself so close to the devil's lair. I have never really fallen-- oh, there have been time when I ought to have kept my mouth shut and times I really felt out of my depth-- but I am a good girl and there's no cause for worry. It's just that sometimes my own too-trusting nature gets me in a little further than is best for me.
One of the things I like to do when we're alone in the house is dress up, for no real reason, only because I can. Right now my hair is all put up on my head like it might be for prom or if I were going to a wedding. And I was standing in front of the full-height mirror wearing nothing but my cross charm and my good white church shoes, which are like 2-1/2" heels. And I called out to Jessy and asked her what she thought. She giggled and said I looked like I was modelling, and she brought in her camera and took some randy-looking photos of me. We loaded them onto my computer (and hers, to avoid using email) and I have been seriously wondering if I would ever have the guts to send them out. Well, they really are good pictures. And you know me-- I wouldn't pose too inappropriately. It's just that I'm not ashamed of myself, and I just wish we lived in a world where other people could appreciate a certain amount of beauty in being natural and innocent and cute. Maybe that's only a fantasy that I have.
I am glad I have Jessy to keep me grounded. And I am glad we have put four and a half hours between the AOL stalker creep and where we are safe and sound.
...
Jessy and I left after tea, drove down to the Ferry, had an expensive supper in the terminal and ended up on the boat as the sun was going down on the Bay. This is a rare sight and a lovely treat. We sat outside in the wind, still in our swimsuits with t-shirts on over them, inhaling of the rare southeast breeze that carried salt spray and took our hair apart. Then it was a long and somewhat exhausting drive down through eastern Maryland and into the Virginia peninsula. I have grown to dislike this part of the journey-- the Maryland state troopers are everywhere, I hate their brown cars, they have this stupid law than in a construction zone you have to switch on your headlamps, and the scenery, though green and pristine and beautifully rural, becomes monotonous. I chose the shore road and went off 13 directly after 175. Jessy was asleep and didn't notice a thing.
Now we are both home and back in our own rooms. The castle is dark and still and even cool-- Roger was over some time in the week and reset the air-conditioning and light and sprinkler timers and I feel like I don't even belong here. At once I flung up my windows to that sea breeze, took off all my clothes, and draped myself over the bed for a nap. But I could not sleep, and now I am typing.
Becky rang-- she's coming over tomorrow. Jessy thinks we should just greet her like we are and see what she says about it. She's heard, but never experienced it, you know. Maybe she will want to. I really don't mind. I have had half a mind (and not much else) to go for a dip in the pool tonight-- it's been so long since I've done laps. But there will be bugs out. The county sprays round here but I can see the bugs on my screens so I don't know when they were round last.
When we are alone in this house we never feel like eating. The last week we were here alone I lost two pounds. It's no use blaming Mother-- it's not that what she makes is so filling. She makes the best food she knows how to and I never eat more than I should, really. I just don't happen to eat when I don't have to. Besides there is nothing fresh to eat in this whole house. There's not even any milk.
My parents will be home on Thursday, and then on Friday evening we're having a little premature party for Jessy's 16th. Rita and Josie and everyone from our circle here will come. Jessy's birthday is really not till St Mary's Day, the 15th, but we'll be in England then. On Thursday the 13th our parents and our little ones will join us over there and we'll have another party with our friends from HOH. This is how it is in this house... we have multiple parties for everything.
Since Jessy did Lisa's hair for her party, Lisa asked if she can do Jessy's. And Jessy assented... so this will be interesting, probably even funny. Actually, in spite of being lush and gorgeous and capable of causing jealous girls to commit crimes in order to wish they had hair like hers, Jessy's hair is actually pretty easy to manage. It is naturally curly, so curly that you need to brush it wet, and as soon as you do it starts springing back. For the beach she just yanks it all back in a ponytail that looks like a plume of blondness. For a party she does the same, only with wetting it first, to buy more time before it springs back, and a bit of hairspray and/or some clips. Someone suggested she cut it once and there came that characteristic Jessy glare, when she looks at the poor cretin like he'd said the oddest thing anyone could ever have said. You might as well have said 'The Martians are eating your rice' as 'You should cut your hair short some time.'
Speaking of a plume of hair I just remembered why I wanted to type this. (I am in serious need of decompression. Please don't expect more blogs till we get to England!) I did delete the guy we met on the beach, who had recognised me from AOL. How had he known? There were literally thousands of blonde chicks in bikinis on the beach this morning! How he could have put two and two-- and two and two-- together is beyond me. I suppose it just goes to show how close I get myself to too much risk. It's a fascination I have-- I tend to wade into risky (risqué) situations just to see how well I can handle myself so close to the devil's lair. I have never really fallen-- oh, there have been time when I ought to have kept my mouth shut and times I really felt out of my depth-- but I am a good girl and there's no cause for worry. It's just that sometimes my own too-trusting nature gets me in a little further than is best for me.
One of the things I like to do when we're alone in the house is dress up, for no real reason, only because I can. Right now my hair is all put up on my head like it might be for prom or if I were going to a wedding. And I was standing in front of the full-height mirror wearing nothing but my cross charm and my good white church shoes, which are like 2-1/2" heels. And I called out to Jessy and asked her what she thought. She giggled and said I looked like I was modelling, and she brought in her camera and took some randy-looking photos of me. We loaded them onto my computer (and hers, to avoid using email) and I have been seriously wondering if I would ever have the guts to send them out. Well, they really are good pictures. And you know me-- I wouldn't pose too inappropriately. It's just that I'm not ashamed of myself, and I just wish we lived in a world where other people could appreciate a certain amount of beauty in being natural and innocent and cute. Maybe that's only a fantasy that I have.
I am glad I have Jessy to keep me grounded. And I am glad we have put four and a half hours between the AOL stalker creep and where we are safe and sound.
...
15 July 2009
Full house
Tuesday & Wednesday, 14-15 July
Jessy, Josie and I left the castle early in the morning, went over and collected Becky, and got up to the Landing (house at Lewes) in time for lunch. Mother had a nice sandwich platter waiting, of which we girls ate pigs' shares. Well-- I am never much for breakfast and we had got nothing more than a bagel or so before we'd left. We had a nice visit and got to show Becky and Josie round our childhood home, including Mommy's cherished formal flower garden out back, newly rejuvenated by Mother (and a bit of paid help). They were especially touched to see Mommy's memorial stone, just a little statuette of an angel on top of the small square marble tablet lying over where her ashes rest. I was glad to be there at Lewes again-- I have not been there in some months. But I do not need Mommy's beloved house ot her gardens or the actual sight of her memorial tablet to remember her, you know.
We caught a ferry at 3.40 for Cape May. Neither Josie nor Becky had ever been on it. This is how provincial some of the people we have met in the Eastern Shore are. The ferry is a fun ride and Cape May is always a nice stop just for a day-- yet none of them have ever ventured two hours north to even see it. For them it is only a dotted line on a map. Jessy and I indulged them and we all went to the forwardmost gate and pretended to lean out like that scene in 'Titanic'. At least we did till we were scolded for it. Then we went up to the deck and leaned out over the railing there, which is more permissible. Needless to say those two dozen photos will make it on to three or four FaceBook sites shortly!
We did not stay for supper in Cape May but drove up directly to the Island and got settled in at the beach house. Jessy and Josie got the idea to stay in the little attic room, the one on the ocean side, where Lisa and J.J. usually sleep, and that might have been sensible. But in the end we all ended up sleeping all over our own room, the one on the western end of the house-- and when I say 'all over' I mean ALL OVER, for after a long game of 'Apples to Apples' we fell asleep where we were, mostly on the floor, though Becky was half up on top of my bed and when I woke up I found Josie curled up on her side with my foot under her pillow. The place was atrociously sweaty. Jessy and I got out of the house, in costume, for our shift at the shop, leaving Josie and Becky a note. They came down for breakfast at about 9.00, in swimsuits under their shorts and t-shirts, and the went to the beach. Jessy and I met them there-- still in costume of course. Of course people stare when we walk down the beach in-season, dressed like 1750s working girls. We put on smiles and carry hand baskets from which we give out discount coupons. The cards are for a free breakfast or sundae if you buy three, because Mommy always said she'd rather have families than dates. It's a different kind of clientele, one that tends to come back a few times during a vacation and then again and again, year after year. Besides giving away one out of for makes more business sense than giving away half, you know.
We sat with Becky and Josie in their swimsuits only for a few moments and then went up to change. We had successfully got out of working this evening (whilst I am typing this) and so spent the afternoon off on the mainland seeing 'Harry Potter 6' (sad movie, and very dark). We went shopping and got back here.
Tomorrow we will be working the evening shift. We hope to be on the beach most of the day. I always wonder if I will run into any of my online friends there... they ought to know by now how to find me. Till then I wish them luck! (ha)
...
Jessy, Josie and I left the castle early in the morning, went over and collected Becky, and got up to the Landing (house at Lewes) in time for lunch. Mother had a nice sandwich platter waiting, of which we girls ate pigs' shares. Well-- I am never much for breakfast and we had got nothing more than a bagel or so before we'd left. We had a nice visit and got to show Becky and Josie round our childhood home, including Mommy's cherished formal flower garden out back, newly rejuvenated by Mother (and a bit of paid help). They were especially touched to see Mommy's memorial stone, just a little statuette of an angel on top of the small square marble tablet lying over where her ashes rest. I was glad to be there at Lewes again-- I have not been there in some months. But I do not need Mommy's beloved house ot her gardens or the actual sight of her memorial tablet to remember her, you know.
We caught a ferry at 3.40 for Cape May. Neither Josie nor Becky had ever been on it. This is how provincial some of the people we have met in the Eastern Shore are. The ferry is a fun ride and Cape May is always a nice stop just for a day-- yet none of them have ever ventured two hours north to even see it. For them it is only a dotted line on a map. Jessy and I indulged them and we all went to the forwardmost gate and pretended to lean out like that scene in 'Titanic'. At least we did till we were scolded for it. Then we went up to the deck and leaned out over the railing there, which is more permissible. Needless to say those two dozen photos will make it on to three or four FaceBook sites shortly!
We did not stay for supper in Cape May but drove up directly to the Island and got settled in at the beach house. Jessy and Josie got the idea to stay in the little attic room, the one on the ocean side, where Lisa and J.J. usually sleep, and that might have been sensible. But in the end we all ended up sleeping all over our own room, the one on the western end of the house-- and when I say 'all over' I mean ALL OVER, for after a long game of 'Apples to Apples' we fell asleep where we were, mostly on the floor, though Becky was half up on top of my bed and when I woke up I found Josie curled up on her side with my foot under her pillow. The place was atrociously sweaty. Jessy and I got out of the house, in costume, for our shift at the shop, leaving Josie and Becky a note. They came down for breakfast at about 9.00, in swimsuits under their shorts and t-shirts, and the went to the beach. Jessy and I met them there-- still in costume of course. Of course people stare when we walk down the beach in-season, dressed like 1750s working girls. We put on smiles and carry hand baskets from which we give out discount coupons. The cards are for a free breakfast or sundae if you buy three, because Mommy always said she'd rather have families than dates. It's a different kind of clientele, one that tends to come back a few times during a vacation and then again and again, year after year. Besides giving away one out of for makes more business sense than giving away half, you know.
We sat with Becky and Josie in their swimsuits only for a few moments and then went up to change. We had successfully got out of working this evening (whilst I am typing this) and so spent the afternoon off on the mainland seeing 'Harry Potter 6' (sad movie, and very dark). We went shopping and got back here.
Tomorrow we will be working the evening shift. We hope to be on the beach most of the day. I always wonder if I will run into any of my online friends there... they ought to know by now how to find me. Till then I wish them luck! (ha)
...
27 June 2009
Home alone
Saturday, 27 June 2009
It was a long and busy week up in NJ. Both Jessy and I have worked almost every shift at the ice-cream parlour since we got up there. We don't take a salary-- it's the family's business, and June is usually a pretty rough start on the season, with most of the girls not knowing what their schedules will be and when they're actually able to be done with school and all. Wednesday we had off completely, and spent the day on the beach with little Lisa. Thursday we were on the the morning, and then Daddy had promised to drive the two of us over to Tuckerton in the jet boat for lunch at Stewart's root beer which is right on the water at the seaport museum there. That was a nice time. The jet boat is blindingly fast, if the water is flat, which it was. I think Daddy said we hit 65 MPH. That feels like about twice that when it's on the water. Jessy and I sat in back by the roar of the motor and squealed like blonde bimbos. Daddy laughed.
We worked Thursday night and then Friday morning, and finally I begged out of one shift in order to see Stephen. Friday evening Roger arrived and drove me down in the dark-green Cadillac to Terncote, where I got dressed in something nice (blue paisley dress and heels) before Stephen showed up to take me to dinner. I felt very elegant, the acting lady of the house when he arrived. I had never been so fully alone here-- the other times my parents and siblings have been absent from home but close by-- now they were over 4 hours' drive away! But, no worries-- it's all proper between us. Stephen just took my hand and handed me into the car and we went out to the nice place on the water in Onancock, where we toasted ourselves on a kind of reunion.
I got in at about 11.00 after a very pleasant walk along the waterfront (I shall not say more!). I just undressed, washed up, and ended up on the computer till late. This morning I awoke rather late and decided I would not care. Daddy rang at about noon, asked how my date had gone, and then wanted to know when I would be back. I felt completely indolent and asked if I could stay on here another day and come back up after church tomorrow.
'Well, I don't see why not,' he said, 'if you really feel like being alone.'
I laughed. 'Well, you know me, Daddy... I'm just doing nothing.'
'Hmmm,' he said. 'As long as there's not something you're not telling me.'
I thought for a moment and realised what he probably meant. 'Daddy! But I tell you everything.'
'All right,' he said.
'Really, I do. Stephen dropped me at the door and we said our goodnights--' I said no more about that-- 'and he made sure I got into the house and left. And I called him when I knew the house was safe. That's all.'
He hesitated on the phone. 'Are you going out today too?'
'Um, no. He's working... and then supposed to go bowling with his people.'
'Oh. So, what will you do today then?'
I shrugged. 'Probably lie out back. I do want to clean my bathroom. I will clean Jessy's too, if I'm not a total mess. That's about it.'
'All right. Your mother wants someone to look in on the geraniums. You might weed a little back there too. You'll be out in the sun, and....'
'Yes, Daddy. All right. I will do that.'
'Keep to the house and the garden,' he told me. 'Call us if you're going out and when you get back. I don't want to not hear from you today.'
I smiled. 'Yes, Daddy.'
So I did clean my bathroom, I did get to be a total mess, and I crawled-- actually crawled-- from mine out my door and across the hall to the one Jessy and Lisa use and I did theirs too. Usually I clean my bathroom before I get dressed, often in connection with having a shower, like on a weekend. It's a messy job and some cleaners can damage clothing dyes, you know. By the time I was done with that I smelled of Lysol and my hands were all dried out and I still had not had a shower, so I rinsed out all the cleaning stuff and left the bathroom fans on and windows open, and I went down stairs and dove right into the pool. And I did about twelve laps and then lolled in the corner of the pool staring up at the sun till I decided I had better put on sunblock.
I lay in the chaise at the side of the house for about two hours. This is extraordinarily long for me-- I had on SPF 45 and kept turning over, but I really do think I got unusually dark today. Daddy had said to keep to the garden, but it becomes hot there inside the surrounding wall and the sun reflection off green grass is always cooler than that off paving blocks and potting soil. There is a 'fringe', as we call it, of tall untended grass about five yards wide separating the lawn from the salt marsh of the bay, and it grows tall enough that boaters really can't see us lying in the chaises here. So it's safe enough. However I did hear a peculiarly smooth engine drone approaching. The sound of a boat approaching usually waves with the water-- it's never a single steady tone. I opened my eyes and there, coming right down the edge of the bay, was a high-winged airplane. I had my hand over my eyes against the sun and there was no chance to cover myself... so apparently I was a vision for the pilot and his passengers down here on the chaise as they flew right over me at about 60 MPH and about 250 feet up. Oh, well.
When I got up I had another dip in the pool and then went in for tea. I really have done nothing much of anything at all-- definitely have not weeded or swept out back and definitely don't want to now. I will go to church in the morning-- in the Regal-- and drive up by myself to the ferry at Lewes. I really should stop in at the old house but I am supposedly working at the parlour at 7 and would like to get there early. Also, I miss Jessy. All that remains is to find a good book to read on the ferry ride-- I have read pretty much everything in this room already....
It was a long and busy week up in NJ. Both Jessy and I have worked almost every shift at the ice-cream parlour since we got up there. We don't take a salary-- it's the family's business, and June is usually a pretty rough start on the season, with most of the girls not knowing what their schedules will be and when they're actually able to be done with school and all. Wednesday we had off completely, and spent the day on the beach with little Lisa. Thursday we were on the the morning, and then Daddy had promised to drive the two of us over to Tuckerton in the jet boat for lunch at Stewart's root beer which is right on the water at the seaport museum there. That was a nice time. The jet boat is blindingly fast, if the water is flat, which it was. I think Daddy said we hit 65 MPH. That feels like about twice that when it's on the water. Jessy and I sat in back by the roar of the motor and squealed like blonde bimbos. Daddy laughed.
We worked Thursday night and then Friday morning, and finally I begged out of one shift in order to see Stephen. Friday evening Roger arrived and drove me down in the dark-green Cadillac to Terncote, where I got dressed in something nice (blue paisley dress and heels) before Stephen showed up to take me to dinner. I felt very elegant, the acting lady of the house when he arrived. I had never been so fully alone here-- the other times my parents and siblings have been absent from home but close by-- now they were over 4 hours' drive away! But, no worries-- it's all proper between us. Stephen just took my hand and handed me into the car and we went out to the nice place on the water in Onancock, where we toasted ourselves on a kind of reunion.
I got in at about 11.00 after a very pleasant walk along the waterfront (I shall not say more!). I just undressed, washed up, and ended up on the computer till late. This morning I awoke rather late and decided I would not care. Daddy rang at about noon, asked how my date had gone, and then wanted to know when I would be back. I felt completely indolent and asked if I could stay on here another day and come back up after church tomorrow.
'Well, I don't see why not,' he said, 'if you really feel like being alone.'
I laughed. 'Well, you know me, Daddy... I'm just doing nothing.'
'Hmmm,' he said. 'As long as there's not something you're not telling me.'
I thought for a moment and realised what he probably meant. 'Daddy! But I tell you everything.'
'All right,' he said.
'Really, I do. Stephen dropped me at the door and we said our goodnights--' I said no more about that-- 'and he made sure I got into the house and left. And I called him when I knew the house was safe. That's all.'
He hesitated on the phone. 'Are you going out today too?'
'Um, no. He's working... and then supposed to go bowling with his people.'
'Oh. So, what will you do today then?'
I shrugged. 'Probably lie out back. I do want to clean my bathroom. I will clean Jessy's too, if I'm not a total mess. That's about it.'
'All right. Your mother wants someone to look in on the geraniums. You might weed a little back there too. You'll be out in the sun, and....'
'Yes, Daddy. All right. I will do that.'
'Keep to the house and the garden,' he told me. 'Call us if you're going out and when you get back. I don't want to not hear from you today.'
I smiled. 'Yes, Daddy.'
So I did clean my bathroom, I did get to be a total mess, and I crawled-- actually crawled-- from mine out my door and across the hall to the one Jessy and Lisa use and I did theirs too. Usually I clean my bathroom before I get dressed, often in connection with having a shower, like on a weekend. It's a messy job and some cleaners can damage clothing dyes, you know. By the time I was done with that I smelled of Lysol and my hands were all dried out and I still had not had a shower, so I rinsed out all the cleaning stuff and left the bathroom fans on and windows open, and I went down stairs and dove right into the pool. And I did about twelve laps and then lolled in the corner of the pool staring up at the sun till I decided I had better put on sunblock.
I lay in the chaise at the side of the house for about two hours. This is extraordinarily long for me-- I had on SPF 45 and kept turning over, but I really do think I got unusually dark today. Daddy had said to keep to the garden, but it becomes hot there inside the surrounding wall and the sun reflection off green grass is always cooler than that off paving blocks and potting soil. There is a 'fringe', as we call it, of tall untended grass about five yards wide separating the lawn from the salt marsh of the bay, and it grows tall enough that boaters really can't see us lying in the chaises here. So it's safe enough. However I did hear a peculiarly smooth engine drone approaching. The sound of a boat approaching usually waves with the water-- it's never a single steady tone. I opened my eyes and there, coming right down the edge of the bay, was a high-winged airplane. I had my hand over my eyes against the sun and there was no chance to cover myself... so apparently I was a vision for the pilot and his passengers down here on the chaise as they flew right over me at about 60 MPH and about 250 feet up. Oh, well.
When I got up I had another dip in the pool and then went in for tea. I really have done nothing much of anything at all-- definitely have not weeded or swept out back and definitely don't want to now. I will go to church in the morning-- in the Regal-- and drive up by myself to the ferry at Lewes. I really should stop in at the old house but I am supposedly working at the parlour at 7 and would like to get there early. Also, I miss Jessy. All that remains is to find a good book to read on the ferry ride-- I have read pretty much everything in this room already....
15 April 2009
On the town
Tuesday, 14th April 2009
I went down stairs in my good jeans, a black long-sleeved t-shirt, and black socks. Jessy was still having her shower. Lisa and the Barbies had set a place for me at the kitchen table and the moment I came in Mother brought a dish of (instant) oatmeal over for me. 'What's with the special treatment?'
Mother just smiled, maybe blushed a little, and went back round into the kitchen. She loves that kitchen. It's like her domain here. If there were a computer in it she might never leave it.
Daddy came in and said, 'Is that what you're wearing?'
I looked down. 'Um, yes, these clothes are on me, so I would say I am wearing them--'
'You'd better ask the other one then. She said she was wearing a dress.'
I made a face. 'Oh, no.' But Jessy came in with jeans on and a pretty nice long-sleeved bright-blue top with a little white cotton shrug tied at her middle. It was a very cute look. Gran came in and sat with me, once again saying how sorry she was that she had wrecked her car. I said, 'It's hardly wrecked, right? It's only a fender.'
She said, 'Yes, but I will have no car this week.'
I smiled at her. 'So you can't go to exercise class, and you have to ride round in a limousine till then.'
She made a face like that would be utterly distasteful.
Of course Daddy grilled us on his instructions for the trip, insisting that we phone him or our uncle in southern NJ in case anything happened to Roger that he could not collect us. Gran, the eternal optimist, insisted there was no need for worry. I came back down stairs with my dark-brown high-heeled maryjane shoes on and my patchwork leather jacket that was new for my birthday. Jessy wore a cute black leather sport jacket and her black block-heeled shoes-- with her naturally-curly hair all drawn back and cinched in a low ponytail ring she looked like a child of the '70s. We both had umbrellas and our purses-- though for the city I always take most of my stuff out of it in case I should lose it, either negligently or violently (it's happened before) and my phone goes in my pocket.
At about 2.30 we would go. Roger had pulled up outside-- the long dark-green classic Cadillac rumbled calmly at the foot of the steps. Daddy kissed Jessy and then me and then turned to say goodbye to Gran. Roger stepped out with an umbrella for her and Jessy and then I followed into the light drizzle. Daddy put Gran's bags into the boot and leaned in to say goodbye again. Then, we were off.
Whenever Daddy or Mother is not with us I sit on the right in back. It's the seat with the intercom phone and the window and TV controls (this car was built before wireless controls were so common even though it has a DVD player now and the control pad is just like a remote, only one that's just wired in place). Gran sat beside me and rather than sit between us Jessy took the seat facing me, next to the console. At once she kicked off her shoes and slouched with her heels up on the seat cushion beside my leg. I closed my hand round her pink socks and squeezed her foot a few times. She likes being pampered like that, but she is my sister and I adore the little twit, you know.
When we went past 175 on Rt.13 Gran showed us where the other car had hit hers. Roger had rolled the window down before then and listened to her story, asking her some questions. Then he reassured her that Daddy's friend (who is also Roger's friend) in Delaware would be more than capable of fixing a 1987 Jaguar. She adores that car-- she had always dreamt of having one till Daddy bought it for her back then, and then our uncle insisted on upgrading it a few years ago to a Chevrolet engine and gearbox, so it's perfectly reliable and yet still looks like a Jaguar, you know. We look forward to seeing her get it back again.
The ride up Rt.1 and I-95 was uneventful and quick. Despite rain, some traffic, and stopping for McNuggets and drinks we got into Philadelphia well before 8.00. Roger took us on a short tour of Penn's Landing and Society Hill, mainly for Gran, who has been in this car often enough but said she could not recall ever having a pleasant nighttime tour of her hometown like this. As we drew up in front of the theater it began to rain... hard. There were two vans and trailers right in front of the place, probably belonging to the bands, but Roger stopped the car right in the street and hurried round to open the door for us. We said our good-byes to Gran and him and hurried to the kerb-- without our umbrellas. Of course people looked-- they always do when there is a long car, you know. Jessy and I have learnt to pay it no mind (though I do notice and I apologise if that looks bad, you know).
The show was fine-- mostly, as my dad would say, TDL (too darned loud). The musicians wander round before and after their acts and you get to meet them, have your pictures taken, buy their t-shirts and CDs and so on. Naturally we located Jessy's friend (from FaceBook) straight away. We stood (there are no seats) and chatted amiably and it was really fun. Of course hanging round with our father has taught us that pop stars, whether they are up-and-coming or well-established, tend to be pleasant, positive people who welcome friendship and happy smiles from just about anyone. We had a few pictures taken, by each other and by strangers of both of us, you know.
After the show and during the later acts we got to talk some more with the band. I don't mention them by name here because Jessy and I are all over their MySpace page with comments, and it would be a dead cert to identify us and locate us from there-- Daddy would hate that. And Jessy's friend in the band comments frequently on hers. What proves this point is that both of us were recognised at the show by some of their other fans who have seen us on the band's MySpace pages. It was a form of celebrity-- we walked past people now and then and heard, 'Is that--?' Well that might be because we are our father's daughters. Sometimes we are recognised for that. But the worst was, 'I've seen her on their site!' --as though we were rivals for their idols' attention. So THIS is why I do not mix my chatting on AOL with my last name or my pictures!
We stood in the lobby chatting with the band whilst the people closed up and finally kicked us out. I got a text from Roger than he was waiting up the block, and we needn't hurry. It was beneficial however because Jessy's friend came out with autographed posters for each of us, and we made sure to have bought their t-shirts first anyway. Then there were hugs and kisses all round and we were 'escorted' out to the pavement.
That was at 11.45. We both stepped up the wet street to the car and promptly fell asleep, me on one of the pillows against the side of the car and Jessy lying all the way over with a pillow for her head on my leg.
...
Wednesday, 15th April
So we got home at about 3.30 am. Having slept in the car I woke up at the unreasonable hour of 8.15, then went back to sleep till 9.30, then sat up and typed in this. Jessy's friend has sent her a text message much earlier this morning, while they were on the road going back home, and she typed back, 'How on earth are you even awake!' But his enthusiasm and energy is boundless-- as with most drummers we've known!
It's raining rather steadily but it is not cold. I sit here naked typing in this... looking forward to a long pleasant rest today!
...
I went down stairs in my good jeans, a black long-sleeved t-shirt, and black socks. Jessy was still having her shower. Lisa and the Barbies had set a place for me at the kitchen table and the moment I came in Mother brought a dish of (instant) oatmeal over for me. 'What's with the special treatment?'
Mother just smiled, maybe blushed a little, and went back round into the kitchen. She loves that kitchen. It's like her domain here. If there were a computer in it she might never leave it.
Daddy came in and said, 'Is that what you're wearing?'
I looked down. 'Um, yes, these clothes are on me, so I would say I am wearing them--'
'You'd better ask the other one then. She said she was wearing a dress.'
I made a face. 'Oh, no.' But Jessy came in with jeans on and a pretty nice long-sleeved bright-blue top with a little white cotton shrug tied at her middle. It was a very cute look. Gran came in and sat with me, once again saying how sorry she was that she had wrecked her car. I said, 'It's hardly wrecked, right? It's only a fender.'
She said, 'Yes, but I will have no car this week.'
I smiled at her. 'So you can't go to exercise class, and you have to ride round in a limousine till then.'
She made a face like that would be utterly distasteful.
Of course Daddy grilled us on his instructions for the trip, insisting that we phone him or our uncle in southern NJ in case anything happened to Roger that he could not collect us. Gran, the eternal optimist, insisted there was no need for worry. I came back down stairs with my dark-brown high-heeled maryjane shoes on and my patchwork leather jacket that was new for my birthday. Jessy wore a cute black leather sport jacket and her black block-heeled shoes-- with her naturally-curly hair all drawn back and cinched in a low ponytail ring she looked like a child of the '70s. We both had umbrellas and our purses-- though for the city I always take most of my stuff out of it in case I should lose it, either negligently or violently (it's happened before) and my phone goes in my pocket.
At about 2.30 we would go. Roger had pulled up outside-- the long dark-green classic Cadillac rumbled calmly at the foot of the steps. Daddy kissed Jessy and then me and then turned to say goodbye to Gran. Roger stepped out with an umbrella for her and Jessy and then I followed into the light drizzle. Daddy put Gran's bags into the boot and leaned in to say goodbye again. Then, we were off.
Whenever Daddy or Mother is not with us I sit on the right in back. It's the seat with the intercom phone and the window and TV controls (this car was built before wireless controls were so common even though it has a DVD player now and the control pad is just like a remote, only one that's just wired in place). Gran sat beside me and rather than sit between us Jessy took the seat facing me, next to the console. At once she kicked off her shoes and slouched with her heels up on the seat cushion beside my leg. I closed my hand round her pink socks and squeezed her foot a few times. She likes being pampered like that, but she is my sister and I adore the little twit, you know.
When we went past 175 on Rt.13 Gran showed us where the other car had hit hers. Roger had rolled the window down before then and listened to her story, asking her some questions. Then he reassured her that Daddy's friend (who is also Roger's friend) in Delaware would be more than capable of fixing a 1987 Jaguar. She adores that car-- she had always dreamt of having one till Daddy bought it for her back then, and then our uncle insisted on upgrading it a few years ago to a Chevrolet engine and gearbox, so it's perfectly reliable and yet still looks like a Jaguar, you know. We look forward to seeing her get it back again.
The ride up Rt.1 and I-95 was uneventful and quick. Despite rain, some traffic, and stopping for McNuggets and drinks we got into Philadelphia well before 8.00. Roger took us on a short tour of Penn's Landing and Society Hill, mainly for Gran, who has been in this car often enough but said she could not recall ever having a pleasant nighttime tour of her hometown like this. As we drew up in front of the theater it began to rain... hard. There were two vans and trailers right in front of the place, probably belonging to the bands, but Roger stopped the car right in the street and hurried round to open the door for us. We said our good-byes to Gran and him and hurried to the kerb-- without our umbrellas. Of course people looked-- they always do when there is a long car, you know. Jessy and I have learnt to pay it no mind (though I do notice and I apologise if that looks bad, you know).
The show was fine-- mostly, as my dad would say, TDL (too darned loud). The musicians wander round before and after their acts and you get to meet them, have your pictures taken, buy their t-shirts and CDs and so on. Naturally we located Jessy's friend (from FaceBook) straight away. We stood (there are no seats) and chatted amiably and it was really fun. Of course hanging round with our father has taught us that pop stars, whether they are up-and-coming or well-established, tend to be pleasant, positive people who welcome friendship and happy smiles from just about anyone. We had a few pictures taken, by each other and by strangers of both of us, you know.
After the show and during the later acts we got to talk some more with the band. I don't mention them by name here because Jessy and I are all over their MySpace page with comments, and it would be a dead cert to identify us and locate us from there-- Daddy would hate that. And Jessy's friend in the band comments frequently on hers. What proves this point is that both of us were recognised at the show by some of their other fans who have seen us on the band's MySpace pages. It was a form of celebrity-- we walked past people now and then and heard, 'Is that--?' Well that might be because we are our father's daughters. Sometimes we are recognised for that. But the worst was, 'I've seen her on their site!' --as though we were rivals for their idols' attention. So THIS is why I do not mix my chatting on AOL with my last name or my pictures!
We stood in the lobby chatting with the band whilst the people closed up and finally kicked us out. I got a text from Roger than he was waiting up the block, and we needn't hurry. It was beneficial however because Jessy's friend came out with autographed posters for each of us, and we made sure to have bought their t-shirts first anyway. Then there were hugs and kisses all round and we were 'escorted' out to the pavement.
That was at 11.45. We both stepped up the wet street to the car and promptly fell asleep, me on one of the pillows against the side of the car and Jessy lying all the way over with a pillow for her head on my leg.
...
Wednesday, 15th April
So we got home at about 3.30 am. Having slept in the car I woke up at the unreasonable hour of 8.15, then went back to sleep till 9.30, then sat up and typed in this. Jessy's friend has sent her a text message much earlier this morning, while they were on the road going back home, and she typed back, 'How on earth are you even awake!' But his enthusiasm and energy is boundless-- as with most drummers we've known!
It's raining rather steadily but it is not cold. I sit here naked typing in this... looking forward to a long pleasant rest today!
...
24 March 2009
'To wardrobe' = a verb meaning to use anything you already have in a creative way.
Tuesday evening, 24 March 2009
Lisa is upset. Well, wait-- I must go back.
This past weekend, Daddy drove the 1961 Buick up to New Jersey, where he keeps his cars, and brought back the 1965 convertible. The 1965 convertible is just like the one he had back in the '70s when the band was first starting out, and in that time the big blue Buick was a common sight up and down the Island. Much later in life he located another one and had it rebuilt to copy the first one. It is a metallic light blue with white lower panels, white upholstery, and a white hood (top). There are bucket seats and the manual gearchange is in the console and it has chrome wheels and lettered tyres. And it's big-- really big, the way they haven't made cars for 30 years.
Of course when he first got the jet boat back in about 1978 he had it painted to match the 1965 convertible, in the same metallic blue with a white bottom and a white flames design on the deck. So, if you are following this, you can conclude that my daddy had gone to get the 1965 convertible this weekend for a reason. On Monday morning he drove Jessy and me to school in it and then disappeared 'on an errand', but I had him figured out by the end of the school day when he came to collect us... and yes, there was a trailer-towing ball beneath the back bumper of the 1965 convertible. How did I guess? --now that he has the original boat back, he would ensure that the car truly matches the one he once had, for 30 years ago he used to tow the Buick-powered jet boat with the 1965 Buick convertible he had then. I giggled till it embarrassed him. But this is what we love about our daddy. His optimism and sentimentality have got us through some very trying times, and there isn't one of us who would ever want him to change a single bit.
Over dinner last night he announced that, with the weather improving so dramatically, he was looking forward to commemorating the start of the season by towing the jet boat with the 1965 convertible over the Ferry and up the Parkway to the beach house where we will use the boat this summer. When he gets excited like this there's no stopping him. So we all discussed who would ride in which car (for of course someone has to take pictures!) and what we would all wear for the commemorative start-of-the-season event. Since I already have a red-and-white polkadot swimsuit that matches the softball team's jerseys I decided I would find one in the same blue as the car and the boat, hopefully with a complimentary white in it too. Little Lisa said she wanted the same thing; but that was just a ruse to get to go shopping with Jessy and me because, as Mother said, Lisa already has a white one-piece that would do just fine, especially if we are in blue. Lisa is a little too little for a two-piece anyway. (I never understood that-- and never wore a two-piece myself till I was old enough to... fit one. What is the point of a 5-year-old in a bikini?)
This morning I was saying good-bye to little Lisa (which really means we were hugging the stuffing out of each other) and we looked up as Jessy descended to the front hall. My mouth dropped open, and then I started to laugh. After all, we already knew Jessy already had the perfect swimsuit to wear when Daddy takes us out on the speedboat. It's a traditional Speedo racing one-piece in the very same light blue as the car and the boat... and THIS is what she wore to school today, as a shiny light blue leotard under her little tan cotton ruffle skirt and a white shirt with the tails tied round her middle, with opaque white tights and her tan round-toed pumps. This is my sister! --wearing a swimsuit to high school! --and it was superb and yet tasteful in every way.
Mother was impressed. 'You look... cute,' she finally pronounced.
Jessy shrugged, with a cute toss of her head (and those natural curls never fall out, unless of course she lets them fall out, and either way she's stunning-- grrr). I giggled. Lisa did too, mainly because I did, and then she said, 'Is that your bathing suit?'
Jessy shrugged again. 'People wear leotards under other stuff,' she said. We know. She has. I suppose we all have-- even Mother.
'It's brilliant,' I said to her.
'Mummy!' Lisa raved excitedly then, even as Jessy and I were kissing her good-bye. 'Can I wear mine too? The white one you said I have? Can I wear it too--' now she was looking at Jessy-- 'with my little brown skirt, and a shirt tied like that... and I could wear my good church shoes-- And did I get my white tights for Easter yet? Mummy!'
Lisa is still upset over it.
...
Lisa is upset. Well, wait-- I must go back.
This past weekend, Daddy drove the 1961 Buick up to New Jersey, where he keeps his cars, and brought back the 1965 convertible. The 1965 convertible is just like the one he had back in the '70s when the band was first starting out, and in that time the big blue Buick was a common sight up and down the Island. Much later in life he located another one and had it rebuilt to copy the first one. It is a metallic light blue with white lower panels, white upholstery, and a white hood (top). There are bucket seats and the manual gearchange is in the console and it has chrome wheels and lettered tyres. And it's big-- really big, the way they haven't made cars for 30 years.
Of course when he first got the jet boat back in about 1978 he had it painted to match the 1965 convertible, in the same metallic blue with a white bottom and a white flames design on the deck. So, if you are following this, you can conclude that my daddy had gone to get the 1965 convertible this weekend for a reason. On Monday morning he drove Jessy and me to school in it and then disappeared 'on an errand', but I had him figured out by the end of the school day when he came to collect us... and yes, there was a trailer-towing ball beneath the back bumper of the 1965 convertible. How did I guess? --now that he has the original boat back, he would ensure that the car truly matches the one he once had, for 30 years ago he used to tow the Buick-powered jet boat with the 1965 Buick convertible he had then. I giggled till it embarrassed him. But this is what we love about our daddy. His optimism and sentimentality have got us through some very trying times, and there isn't one of us who would ever want him to change a single bit.
Over dinner last night he announced that, with the weather improving so dramatically, he was looking forward to commemorating the start of the season by towing the jet boat with the 1965 convertible over the Ferry and up the Parkway to the beach house where we will use the boat this summer. When he gets excited like this there's no stopping him. So we all discussed who would ride in which car (for of course someone has to take pictures!) and what we would all wear for the commemorative start-of-the-season event. Since I already have a red-and-white polkadot swimsuit that matches the softball team's jerseys I decided I would find one in the same blue as the car and the boat, hopefully with a complimentary white in it too. Little Lisa said she wanted the same thing; but that was just a ruse to get to go shopping with Jessy and me because, as Mother said, Lisa already has a white one-piece that would do just fine, especially if we are in blue. Lisa is a little too little for a two-piece anyway. (I never understood that-- and never wore a two-piece myself till I was old enough to... fit one. What is the point of a 5-year-old in a bikini?)
This morning I was saying good-bye to little Lisa (which really means we were hugging the stuffing out of each other) and we looked up as Jessy descended to the front hall. My mouth dropped open, and then I started to laugh. After all, we already knew Jessy already had the perfect swimsuit to wear when Daddy takes us out on the speedboat. It's a traditional Speedo racing one-piece in the very same light blue as the car and the boat... and THIS is what she wore to school today, as a shiny light blue leotard under her little tan cotton ruffle skirt and a white shirt with the tails tied round her middle, with opaque white tights and her tan round-toed pumps. This is my sister! --wearing a swimsuit to high school! --and it was superb and yet tasteful in every way.
Mother was impressed. 'You look... cute,' she finally pronounced.
Jessy shrugged, with a cute toss of her head (and those natural curls never fall out, unless of course she lets them fall out, and either way she's stunning-- grrr). I giggled. Lisa did too, mainly because I did, and then she said, 'Is that your bathing suit?'
Jessy shrugged again. 'People wear leotards under other stuff,' she said. We know. She has. I suppose we all have-- even Mother.
'It's brilliant,' I said to her.
'Mummy!' Lisa raved excitedly then, even as Jessy and I were kissing her good-bye. 'Can I wear mine too? The white one you said I have? Can I wear it too--' now she was looking at Jessy-- 'with my little brown skirt, and a shirt tied like that... and I could wear my good church shoes-- And did I get my white tights for Easter yet? Mummy!'
Lisa is still upset over it.
...
01 January 2009
Welcome 2009
For New Year's Eve we had intended to be in New Jersey at the house on the beach there but two things intervened. The first was that my nieces and nephews have got sick and we were asked to postpone our visit till this weekend. The second was that Daddy would not be allowed to set off firecrackers-- at least not legally. So, we would be here.
Jessy was on her phone all day Wednesday hoping to find a party to go to. In the end Daddy decided he would not drive her home too late at night and would only let her accept invitations to a party at a female friend's house where there would be parents home all night and she could stay over. None was forthcoming. We would be staying here. Normally this is not a problem as we have had New Year's Eves in the past in which we just sat round looking at old home videos of us or of Lisa or of Daddy's oldest family movies on DVD or even some of Mommy. Of course there are also videos of his band-- well, either of his bands-- and plenty of other things including the 18th-century-style wedding he and Mother had, and so on. For some reason New Year's always makes us all sort of pull back and stay close. I don't think that's a bad thing at all, and it sure beats a party full of drunk people whom you can't trust two minutes past midnight.
We ended up each inviting a friend. I invited Becky whom I met on the first day or two of school here. We have always got on well and she is not dating anyone either. She's not the most sociable person in school, meaning that she doesn't go out much at al unless she's invited, which rarely if ever happens. I feel sorry for her sometimes, but as I have got to know her I respect and love her more and more. It's just a shame that a pleasant-looking, morally decent, intelligent girl is so unpopular. In that way we both have something on common. Neither of us will yield on our principles and so we each end up on our own most of the time. So she was a natural choice for me to invite and I am happy she was able to come over.
Jessy invited Rita-- yes, pretty, uberpopular Rita who was somewhat wary of the parties she had got invited to. I don't like to admit it but this is probably the influence Jessy, and even I, have had on her. Last year Rita would have gone to any party and braved the 'elements', if you will, for the sake of cultivating a reputation of being admired and desired. This year she is more selective. An invitation from Jessy to just come to our house, hang out, and stay over till after pancakes for brunch was exactly what she had hoped for. And so it was settled.
Becky got here first because she has her own car. I put her bag in my room-- that would be the easiest solution. Mother and Lisa and J.J. were all in the small parlour reading and Daddy was sitting in the kitchen beating the dickens out of a new set of strings, as he says playing hard is the only way to break them in. When Becky and I came in he put down the guitar and was all politeness... as usual. He really does like to make a good impression on our friends. Becky knows enough about him as my dad that she is no longer awed by who he is, or, I might say, who her parents know he was. He got us each a glass of (low-alcoholic) eggnog and we talked about how our Christmases have been. We never get that much for Christmas-- not like new cars or computers or diamond jewelry, you know, just whatever we happen to need and at least some of the stuff on our Christmas lists. I know people like Becky often assume we are these hyper-rich people who jet all over the world. The reality is that Daddy pays himself a very modest 'allowance' from his investments and we live within those means. That means we girls get the same speeches about money that anyone else would. As for myself I am glad of it. I would NOT want to have an unlimited budget for all the world (I guess that is an ironic or stupid figure of speech to use for it! --but there it is).
Rita's mother dropped her off at about 9.30 and we watched 'Ten Things I Hate About You' (Jessy's choice) in the TV theatre down stairs. Daddy came down with us and Mother did too after tucking in J.J. Lisa tried staying up but fell asleep in Daddy's lap and he carried her up stairs. Meanwhile through all this a storm was blowing through. Our uncle in New Jersey had phoned earlier reporting that they had had snow. The wind built through the night till it was howling and pretty scary. By 11.45 we were all convinced that we would NOT go outside and set off fireworks. Other people did, though-- we could hear them all over the place. We watched the ball drop on Times Square and the stupid comments of Hilary Clinton and the Jonas Brothers. I said it was pretty banal. Becky asked if we had ever been to Time Square for New Year's. I said, 'No.'
Daddy laughed. 'I have,' he said.'
'But that's ancient history,' I teased him.
'London was better,' he said, and then smiled at me.
'London?' she wondered.
'Yes,' I said. 'We were there for the Millennium.'
'Really! That big party they had there?'
I nodded. So she had us tell her all about that. I was only little then, of course, but I remember Daddy being on TV and people like Elton John and Richard Branson speaking there. There was also a concert one night which we also attended. Daddy got out some old photos on DVD and we watched them on the big screen. After that we watched 'She's The Man' (Jessy's choice again, getting us ready to act in 'Twelfth Night' by choosing all the Shakespeare adaptations she can find).
So it was nearly 3.00 by the time we all tromped up stairs. Rita was to stay with Jessy and Becky would stay with me. I've had other people in my bed before-- always friends, you know, or sisters-- hah!-- and although it always sounds like it'd be awkward it really never is. Becky wore sweats to bed, same as I do when it's cold, and we faced each other over the gap between the pillows talking till we both fell asleep. Actually I was grateful for her being under the same covers. It was a brittle cold night that was passed most comfortably and warmly because she was there.
In the morning none of us got up before 11.00. I suppose this is typical. Perhaps not surprisingly, Rita was the latest sleeper. I suppose she would have had to be the only one of us more pampered and self-indulgent than Jessy! Mother made pancakes as promised and one-by-one we excused ourselves to shower. I know some people find it awkward to shower at someone else's house, but I rather insisted that both girls have showers here, just out of being a good hostess. I know how it feels to forego it. So they both did (not at the same time). Becky had hers in my bathroom, which she already likes because it has a view of the bay and the islands and the ocean beyond. She says I am the only one she knows with a bathroom with a view!
I actually napped this afternoon before writing this. Daddy was watching the Concert for George down stairs and I sat down there and watched that for a bit-- till of course he got out the guitar again to play along with it and then I came back up stairs and got ready for bed.
So, there were no wild parties, no excessive drinking (just our eggnog and the usual glasses of champagne at midnight), no making out on couches or strange boys' beds and no driving home amidst all the drunk drivers. And no firecrackers... though there might have been. Not very exciting I am sure-- but pleasant all round, with a nice chance to further cement friendships.
...
Jessy was on her phone all day Wednesday hoping to find a party to go to. In the end Daddy decided he would not drive her home too late at night and would only let her accept invitations to a party at a female friend's house where there would be parents home all night and she could stay over. None was forthcoming. We would be staying here. Normally this is not a problem as we have had New Year's Eves in the past in which we just sat round looking at old home videos of us or of Lisa or of Daddy's oldest family movies on DVD or even some of Mommy. Of course there are also videos of his band-- well, either of his bands-- and plenty of other things including the 18th-century-style wedding he and Mother had, and so on. For some reason New Year's always makes us all sort of pull back and stay close. I don't think that's a bad thing at all, and it sure beats a party full of drunk people whom you can't trust two minutes past midnight.
We ended up each inviting a friend. I invited Becky whom I met on the first day or two of school here. We have always got on well and she is not dating anyone either. She's not the most sociable person in school, meaning that she doesn't go out much at al unless she's invited, which rarely if ever happens. I feel sorry for her sometimes, but as I have got to know her I respect and love her more and more. It's just a shame that a pleasant-looking, morally decent, intelligent girl is so unpopular. In that way we both have something on common. Neither of us will yield on our principles and so we each end up on our own most of the time. So she was a natural choice for me to invite and I am happy she was able to come over.
Jessy invited Rita-- yes, pretty, uberpopular Rita who was somewhat wary of the parties she had got invited to. I don't like to admit it but this is probably the influence Jessy, and even I, have had on her. Last year Rita would have gone to any party and braved the 'elements', if you will, for the sake of cultivating a reputation of being admired and desired. This year she is more selective. An invitation from Jessy to just come to our house, hang out, and stay over till after pancakes for brunch was exactly what she had hoped for. And so it was settled.
Becky got here first because she has her own car. I put her bag in my room-- that would be the easiest solution. Mother and Lisa and J.J. were all in the small parlour reading and Daddy was sitting in the kitchen beating the dickens out of a new set of strings, as he says playing hard is the only way to break them in. When Becky and I came in he put down the guitar and was all politeness... as usual. He really does like to make a good impression on our friends. Becky knows enough about him as my dad that she is no longer awed by who he is, or, I might say, who her parents know he was. He got us each a glass of (low-alcoholic) eggnog and we talked about how our Christmases have been. We never get that much for Christmas-- not like new cars or computers or diamond jewelry, you know, just whatever we happen to need and at least some of the stuff on our Christmas lists. I know people like Becky often assume we are these hyper-rich people who jet all over the world. The reality is that Daddy pays himself a very modest 'allowance' from his investments and we live within those means. That means we girls get the same speeches about money that anyone else would. As for myself I am glad of it. I would NOT want to have an unlimited budget for all the world (I guess that is an ironic or stupid figure of speech to use for it! --but there it is).
Rita's mother dropped her off at about 9.30 and we watched 'Ten Things I Hate About You' (Jessy's choice) in the TV theatre down stairs. Daddy came down with us and Mother did too after tucking in J.J. Lisa tried staying up but fell asleep in Daddy's lap and he carried her up stairs. Meanwhile through all this a storm was blowing through. Our uncle in New Jersey had phoned earlier reporting that they had had snow. The wind built through the night till it was howling and pretty scary. By 11.45 we were all convinced that we would NOT go outside and set off fireworks. Other people did, though-- we could hear them all over the place. We watched the ball drop on Times Square and the stupid comments of Hilary Clinton and the Jonas Brothers. I said it was pretty banal. Becky asked if we had ever been to Time Square for New Year's. I said, 'No.'
Daddy laughed. 'I have,' he said.'
'But that's ancient history,' I teased him.
'London was better,' he said, and then smiled at me.
'London?' she wondered.
'Yes,' I said. 'We were there for the Millennium.'
'Really! That big party they had there?'
I nodded. So she had us tell her all about that. I was only little then, of course, but I remember Daddy being on TV and people like Elton John and Richard Branson speaking there. There was also a concert one night which we also attended. Daddy got out some old photos on DVD and we watched them on the big screen. After that we watched 'She's The Man' (Jessy's choice again, getting us ready to act in 'Twelfth Night' by choosing all the Shakespeare adaptations she can find).
So it was nearly 3.00 by the time we all tromped up stairs. Rita was to stay with Jessy and Becky would stay with me. I've had other people in my bed before-- always friends, you know, or sisters-- hah!-- and although it always sounds like it'd be awkward it really never is. Becky wore sweats to bed, same as I do when it's cold, and we faced each other over the gap between the pillows talking till we both fell asleep. Actually I was grateful for her being under the same covers. It was a brittle cold night that was passed most comfortably and warmly because she was there.
In the morning none of us got up before 11.00. I suppose this is typical. Perhaps not surprisingly, Rita was the latest sleeper. I suppose she would have had to be the only one of us more pampered and self-indulgent than Jessy! Mother made pancakes as promised and one-by-one we excused ourselves to shower. I know some people find it awkward to shower at someone else's house, but I rather insisted that both girls have showers here, just out of being a good hostess. I know how it feels to forego it. So they both did (not at the same time). Becky had hers in my bathroom, which she already likes because it has a view of the bay and the islands and the ocean beyond. She says I am the only one she knows with a bathroom with a view!
I actually napped this afternoon before writing this. Daddy was watching the Concert for George down stairs and I sat down there and watched that for a bit-- till of course he got out the guitar again to play along with it and then I came back up stairs and got ready for bed.
So, there were no wild parties, no excessive drinking (just our eggnog and the usual glasses of champagne at midnight), no making out on couches or strange boys' beds and no driving home amidst all the drunk drivers. And no firecrackers... though there might have been. Not very exciting I am sure-- but pleasant all round, with a nice chance to further cement friendships.
...
26 December 2008
Boxing Day
Friday, 26 December 2008
The tradition of Boxing Day is that you gather up all the gifts for people who are not in your own immediate family, especially people at work, and go visiting to delivering happy tidings of the season and your gifts. In America most people go back to work. In Britain this has always been a recuperative day, somewhat like New Year's Day is for some people to do too much celebrating on New Year's Eve.
As we have had a family-only celebration of Christmas Jessy and I decided that we would put Boxing Day to its intended use and drop in on those friends whom we knew would be home. So we were busy little bees all morning and afternoon, seeing Rita (of course), Becky, and Rachel. We said our hellos, delivered our gifts, stayed for a cup of tea and went on to the next house. By about two o'clock we were on our way to Josie's house when the brakes in the Regal began making a horrid noise. I was unsure of what it was and pulled off the road to ring Daddy. He told me to drive a little and have Jessy hold the phone out the window so he could hear it. Then he pronounced it bad break pads and told us we were safe to come home on it. We rang Josie and apologised for postponing our visit. She was it was nothing to worry about and that we could as easily come tomorrow.
When we got home Daddy drove the car and came straight in to make phone calls. I asked him how serious it was and he said it was 'dragging a caliper.' So off went the Regal to the repair place and here I sit with no car for God knows how long. Jessy rang Josie (and they talked for half an hour, almost eliminating any need for an actual visit (if not for the gifts) and finally invited her to our house tomorrow instead of our going there. Afterwards I presume we will be relying on Roger and the long green Cadillac again, at least for the short term.
As for our own Christmas, everyone liked everything they got and we all had a good time all day. We had our traditional waffles for brunch (not pork pie as in Britain-- ugh) and a lovely smoked ham for dinner. In the evening Jessy, Lisa and I st down in the basement TV theatre in our nice warm old-fashioned flannel nightgowns and watched BOTH movies of 'The Traveling Pants' (a family gift from Santa) till about 12.30 am. And yes, Lisa stayed up for the both movies-- and then fell asleep in my lap as we watched the DVD special features.
Gran is down with us, staying in her first-floor room, but will go up to Uncle O--'s on Saturday and visit with our other uncle sometime after Sunday. At 80 she is still going well and we are all proud of her for it. One thing Jessy and I have got from Gran was a pair of tickets to the 'Happy Days' musical playing in Philadelphia in late March. Gran always gets us theatre tickets, and not always to the very heady things but to pop musicals like 'Hairspray' and 'Lion King' and 'My Fair Lady'. This makes a fun time for us.
We will be going away ourselves over the next week, returning to the house on the beach in New Jersey for a few days where we had been over Thanksgiving. From there Daddy has a few engagements for himself and for Mother and we 'kids' will most likely play on the beach and whine about going to the mall. That island is always so remote and desolate in winters. (Not that it's not like that here too!)
I look forward to hearing from all my online friends about their holidays too. Till I meet each of you personally online, have a lovely holiday season and a positive and happy new year. :)
--JC (the twit)
...
The tradition of Boxing Day is that you gather up all the gifts for people who are not in your own immediate family, especially people at work, and go visiting to delivering happy tidings of the season and your gifts. In America most people go back to work. In Britain this has always been a recuperative day, somewhat like New Year's Day is for some people to do too much celebrating on New Year's Eve.
As we have had a family-only celebration of Christmas Jessy and I decided that we would put Boxing Day to its intended use and drop in on those friends whom we knew would be home. So we were busy little bees all morning and afternoon, seeing Rita (of course), Becky, and Rachel. We said our hellos, delivered our gifts, stayed for a cup of tea and went on to the next house. By about two o'clock we were on our way to Josie's house when the brakes in the Regal began making a horrid noise. I was unsure of what it was and pulled off the road to ring Daddy. He told me to drive a little and have Jessy hold the phone out the window so he could hear it. Then he pronounced it bad break pads and told us we were safe to come home on it. We rang Josie and apologised for postponing our visit. She was it was nothing to worry about and that we could as easily come tomorrow.
When we got home Daddy drove the car and came straight in to make phone calls. I asked him how serious it was and he said it was 'dragging a caliper.' So off went the Regal to the repair place and here I sit with no car for God knows how long. Jessy rang Josie (and they talked for half an hour, almost eliminating any need for an actual visit (if not for the gifts) and finally invited her to our house tomorrow instead of our going there. Afterwards I presume we will be relying on Roger and the long green Cadillac again, at least for the short term.
As for our own Christmas, everyone liked everything they got and we all had a good time all day. We had our traditional waffles for brunch (not pork pie as in Britain-- ugh) and a lovely smoked ham for dinner. In the evening Jessy, Lisa and I st down in the basement TV theatre in our nice warm old-fashioned flannel nightgowns and watched BOTH movies of 'The Traveling Pants' (a family gift from Santa) till about 12.30 am. And yes, Lisa stayed up for the both movies-- and then fell asleep in my lap as we watched the DVD special features.
Gran is down with us, staying in her first-floor room, but will go up to Uncle O--'s on Saturday and visit with our other uncle sometime after Sunday. At 80 she is still going well and we are all proud of her for it. One thing Jessy and I have got from Gran was a pair of tickets to the 'Happy Days' musical playing in Philadelphia in late March. Gran always gets us theatre tickets, and not always to the very heady things but to pop musicals like 'Hairspray' and 'Lion King' and 'My Fair Lady'. This makes a fun time for us.
We will be going away ourselves over the next week, returning to the house on the beach in New Jersey for a few days where we had been over Thanksgiving. From there Daddy has a few engagements for himself and for Mother and we 'kids' will most likely play on the beach and whine about going to the mall. That island is always so remote and desolate in winters. (Not that it's not like that here too!)
I look forward to hearing from all my online friends about their holidays too. Till I meet each of you personally online, have a lovely holiday season and a positive and happy new year. :)
--JC (the twit)
...
'Tis the season
Wednesday 24 December 2008
Now that I have my licence I am the driver of choice for just about everything. I don't mean to complain. I don't mind the odd errand for milk nor even for taking good little Lisa to and from ballet lessons. But Princess Jessy tends to have needs-- a very full social calendar as well as seasonal shopping trips, and the request often comes in the form of 'You have to drive me to Bath and Body Works.' She does not ask Roger so much now. And so I comply.
Daddy has generously lent me the Regal for my use, but he is very clear that it is not 'MY' car and in respect for that I don't load it up with too much of myself. I have two stuffed blue-and-white throw pillows in the back seat which my passengers like to cuddle with and a nice little three-nail cross hanging from the mirror. A canvas beach bag in back holds anything else I happen to collect. It keeps Daddy happy and really I am glad I have an excuse to keep it clean.
Jessy and I, once with Rita and once on our own, have gone down over the big bridge twice in the last four days to Lynnhaven for shopping. Coming back the second time-- Monday, when it was freezing cold-- we were caught out much later than the curfew imposed on me by my conditional licence, but we had no problems and got back safely without attracting any attention from the state constabulary. Daddy scolded me for letting the time pass and for not relying on Roger and the dark-green Cadillac. At the last minute-- Tuesday-- I needed the opportunity to run up to Salisbury for a few things and so did ask Roger. It was odd, riding by myself in a driven car and having him open my door for me. I had on good jeans and a sweater and my Uggs and felt very pampered of course, but it was my first time actually travelling like that and I am sure I did not appreciate it to the fullest. At my request Roger pulled through McDonald's and ordered takeaway supper for me, and I suggested we just wait and eat it together but he declined and drove me home directly. As it has turned out I am grateful that I have had only to wrap and write cards today.
For some incomprehensible reason it has got exceptionally warm this afternoon. I did not shower till after lunch and sat up in my room in my panties doing my wrapping and cards-writing. The panties are new-- Jessy and I saw them at a cheap little shop in the mall and we each bought a pair for ourselves. Mine are bright green with red-white-and-black Christmas symbols, snowmen and candy canes and holly sprigs and so on all over them. They're cute. And I have on my new Christmas toe socks too, which are mostly wide stripes in green and bright blue with a white band round the top decorated with candy canes and which pull up to nearly my knees-- and actually stay up, too. In my room it's 72 degrees and outside it's about 65. There is a gentle breeze, which will certainly go more malevolent, and an on-and-off drizzle which is even gentler. I have one window open and can hear that old ocean, far out across the bay, pounding in steep white waves upon the bar. This is bizarre because on Monday we had a vicious west wind and temperatures in or near single digits. Every night till this one we have had ice warnings in effect all over the area and one of my friends actually slipped on some one night and slid her car into another car causing damage to both of them. The poor Eastern Shore is just not ready for this kind of stuff yet.
Mother was sly enough to send Daddy out for groceries this afternoon and then got me to help her move in one of his presents, an indoor rowing machine. Roger was here for much of the day and helped too. We hid the long narrow box in a closet in the basement and will bring it up late tonight. Most of the day I have been nibbling on chocolate-chip cookies (Gran's family recipe) and sipping hot cocoa or eggnog. Whilst I was online tonight someone commented on that term and suggested it be called simply 'nog'. He asked, 'Is there any other kind of nog?' So I looked it up.
I was surprised to find that with all my family's study in the 18th century we had never learnt this before. The drink dates pretty far back but its modern version is mid-1600s and came over to America in the mid 1700s. It was originally called 'Egg 'N' Grog' and sometimes it was mentioned that it was served in a 'Noggin', a roundish clay mug. So 'Egg 'N' Grog in a Noggin' was sensibly shortened. It was most often an aristocrats' drink as common people of that period never got to actually preserve or save milk or eggs. I was also surprised to find it has always been traditionally made with rum-- 'grog' in Navy terms-- for Daddy has always preferred it with whisky or brandy and has only this year, coincidentally, bought a bottle of rum for it. It makes a pretty heady drink, at least to my tastes, and after two this afternoon and two tonight I am pretty lightheaded!
It is very late now. We have all the stockings hung up and prayers said, and Daddy's traditional bedside reading of Clement's 'A Visit from St Nicholas', complete with silly commentary, has been done and those of us younger than 6 have gone down for bed. I am in charge of conducting Lisa down to see what St Nick will have brought us in the morning-- it is a strict procedure we always follow, in that everyone has to be awake and go down stairs together. J.J. will go into Daddy's room from the other end and we girls will meet them all in the front stair hall. The tree is down in the small centre parlour and we presume all the presents will appear there too.
I will say in here that our father adores Christmas for all its mystery and magic to small children. When we were at Lewes he devised, and actually tried, a mechanical device in the attic above Jessy's and my bedrooms which, set to a timer for about one o'clock, played a recording of bell and hoof noises and actually rattled on a surface so that you could feel it as though a dozen or so feet were prancing along the rooftop. It worked, but it was not loud enough to have much effect. He has also always been very clever with leaving subtle little clues about the house, such as half-eaten cookies, handwritten 'thank-you' notes, spilled ash or soot about the fireplace, or the occasional 'error' in replacing stockings or assigning gifts as though they were arranged by someone who did know us as well as he does. As children we really did grow up in a world full of wonders because he made it so for us. Lisa and J.J. now get the benefit of Jessy and me embellishing everything with our own tricks and our tales of Christmases past. I know that tomorrow there will be some surprise that none of us has expected, and one particularly sneaky father who always assures us, 'I never lie, unless there's a surprise, and then I lie through my teeth about it.' If I didn't know him like I do I'd still find myself falling for it all.
...
Now that I have my licence I am the driver of choice for just about everything. I don't mean to complain. I don't mind the odd errand for milk nor even for taking good little Lisa to and from ballet lessons. But Princess Jessy tends to have needs-- a very full social calendar as well as seasonal shopping trips, and the request often comes in the form of 'You have to drive me to Bath and Body Works.' She does not ask Roger so much now. And so I comply.
Daddy has generously lent me the Regal for my use, but he is very clear that it is not 'MY' car and in respect for that I don't load it up with too much of myself. I have two stuffed blue-and-white throw pillows in the back seat which my passengers like to cuddle with and a nice little three-nail cross hanging from the mirror. A canvas beach bag in back holds anything else I happen to collect. It keeps Daddy happy and really I am glad I have an excuse to keep it clean.
Jessy and I, once with Rita and once on our own, have gone down over the big bridge twice in the last four days to Lynnhaven for shopping. Coming back the second time-- Monday, when it was freezing cold-- we were caught out much later than the curfew imposed on me by my conditional licence, but we had no problems and got back safely without attracting any attention from the state constabulary. Daddy scolded me for letting the time pass and for not relying on Roger and the dark-green Cadillac. At the last minute-- Tuesday-- I needed the opportunity to run up to Salisbury for a few things and so did ask Roger. It was odd, riding by myself in a driven car and having him open my door for me. I had on good jeans and a sweater and my Uggs and felt very pampered of course, but it was my first time actually travelling like that and I am sure I did not appreciate it to the fullest. At my request Roger pulled through McDonald's and ordered takeaway supper for me, and I suggested we just wait and eat it together but he declined and drove me home directly. As it has turned out I am grateful that I have had only to wrap and write cards today.
For some incomprehensible reason it has got exceptionally warm this afternoon. I did not shower till after lunch and sat up in my room in my panties doing my wrapping and cards-writing. The panties are new-- Jessy and I saw them at a cheap little shop in the mall and we each bought a pair for ourselves. Mine are bright green with red-white-and-black Christmas symbols, snowmen and candy canes and holly sprigs and so on all over them. They're cute. And I have on my new Christmas toe socks too, which are mostly wide stripes in green and bright blue with a white band round the top decorated with candy canes and which pull up to nearly my knees-- and actually stay up, too. In my room it's 72 degrees and outside it's about 65. There is a gentle breeze, which will certainly go more malevolent, and an on-and-off drizzle which is even gentler. I have one window open and can hear that old ocean, far out across the bay, pounding in steep white waves upon the bar. This is bizarre because on Monday we had a vicious west wind and temperatures in or near single digits. Every night till this one we have had ice warnings in effect all over the area and one of my friends actually slipped on some one night and slid her car into another car causing damage to both of them. The poor Eastern Shore is just not ready for this kind of stuff yet.
Mother was sly enough to send Daddy out for groceries this afternoon and then got me to help her move in one of his presents, an indoor rowing machine. Roger was here for much of the day and helped too. We hid the long narrow box in a closet in the basement and will bring it up late tonight. Most of the day I have been nibbling on chocolate-chip cookies (Gran's family recipe) and sipping hot cocoa or eggnog. Whilst I was online tonight someone commented on that term and suggested it be called simply 'nog'. He asked, 'Is there any other kind of nog?' So I looked it up.
I was surprised to find that with all my family's study in the 18th century we had never learnt this before. The drink dates pretty far back but its modern version is mid-1600s and came over to America in the mid 1700s. It was originally called 'Egg 'N' Grog' and sometimes it was mentioned that it was served in a 'Noggin', a roundish clay mug. So 'Egg 'N' Grog in a Noggin' was sensibly shortened. It was most often an aristocrats' drink as common people of that period never got to actually preserve or save milk or eggs. I was also surprised to find it has always been traditionally made with rum-- 'grog' in Navy terms-- for Daddy has always preferred it with whisky or brandy and has only this year, coincidentally, bought a bottle of rum for it. It makes a pretty heady drink, at least to my tastes, and after two this afternoon and two tonight I am pretty lightheaded!
It is very late now. We have all the stockings hung up and prayers said, and Daddy's traditional bedside reading of Clement's 'A Visit from St Nicholas', complete with silly commentary, has been done and those of us younger than 6 have gone down for bed. I am in charge of conducting Lisa down to see what St Nick will have brought us in the morning-- it is a strict procedure we always follow, in that everyone has to be awake and go down stairs together. J.J. will go into Daddy's room from the other end and we girls will meet them all in the front stair hall. The tree is down in the small centre parlour and we presume all the presents will appear there too.
I will say in here that our father adores Christmas for all its mystery and magic to small children. When we were at Lewes he devised, and actually tried, a mechanical device in the attic above Jessy's and my bedrooms which, set to a timer for about one o'clock, played a recording of bell and hoof noises and actually rattled on a surface so that you could feel it as though a dozen or so feet were prancing along the rooftop. It worked, but it was not loud enough to have much effect. He has also always been very clever with leaving subtle little clues about the house, such as half-eaten cookies, handwritten 'thank-you' notes, spilled ash or soot about the fireplace, or the occasional 'error' in replacing stockings or assigning gifts as though they were arranged by someone who did know us as well as he does. As children we really did grow up in a world full of wonders because he made it so for us. Lisa and J.J. now get the benefit of Jessy and me embellishing everything with our own tricks and our tales of Christmases past. I know that tomorrow there will be some surprise that none of us has expected, and one particularly sneaky father who always assures us, 'I never lie, unless there's a surprise, and then I lie through my teeth about it.' If I didn't know him like I do I'd still find myself falling for it all.
...
15 December 2008
From Rover to Regal
Monday 15 December 2008
The day dawned cloudy and grey but I would not be dismayed. After an early and thorough shower I dressed in well-worn jeans, my navy-blue sweater, and my dark-brown maryjanes with the heels that are like 1-1/2" and the plain wide belt that matches them (sort of). And I wore my new (for my birthday) patchwork leather jacket with its hood and white (faux) fur trim. Roger arrived to drive us to school. This was arranged, for if I were to drive myself we would have the problem of Daddy getting to school to meet me. I was adamant about going directly from school.
At school I was very anxious all day. I say 'anxious'-- I do not say 'nervous'. It was the excited flutter of a child looking forward to seeing Father Christmas-- um, Santa Claus again, sorry. (I have not seen him as 'Santa Claus' in two years, but it is definitely something I will have to do later this week... of course.) After English I deposited everything in my locker (what care I for homework when there is driving to be done?) got my jacket, and skipped out to the kerb. There was the queue of buses, but no Daddy. Rita and Jessy (those two a pretty steady pair by now) came out, waved to Roger as he pulled in, and then said good-bye to me. I stamped my foot, frustrated. Jessy stopped halfway to the open door. 'What's wrong?' she asked me.
I made a pout. 'Daddy's not here yet,' I said.
'Yes he is.'
I whirled round, seeing the now-familiar blue-and-white Buick coming in from the road. 'Yay,' I said, honestly still doing the little-kid thing.
Daddy pulled up behind the dark-green Cadillac and got out. 'Sorry,' he said over the bonnet. 'I had to get gas.'
I nodded, smiling happily. Jessy and Daddy said good-bye and stepped off the kerb and went round to the offside-- um, driver's side. Then Daddy opened the other door and got in. 'All set?' he asked.
I nodded. 'Ready when you are.'
He nodded too and then laid a hand on my leg, like he often does, like to give comfort. At once he bent his fingers and pinched me-- or, actually, could not. 'What's this, paint?' he teased. 'I thought it was pants.'
I blushed. 'It's just jeans, Daddy!'
'Hmmm.'
I have mentioned before somewhere that my daddy collects cars. His collection is by no means ostentatious nor even very extensive, consisting merely of half a dozen older Buicks, the Jensen-Healey, and an unfinished restoration project of a Camaro convertible. Being sentimental he acquired copies of the first two cars he ever drove, a powder-blue 1968 Riviera and a navy-blue 1965 Wildcat convertible. Both the Wildcat and the 1961 Invicta are fitted with manual gearchange. One came from the factory specially-ordered like that and one Daddy had installed (I forget which). When Mother was our nanny he provided her with a silver-blue 1962 Skylark for commuting to and from university. That is the car I secretly suspected he would endow me with-- but that was not to be.
The car I have been learning on is a 1985 Regal T-Type coupe, all beautifully restored in a soft medium blue with a white hood (okay, roof) and white seats on a black carpet. It has alloy wheels and the 4.3-litre v-6 engine which Daddy says is one of his favourites (like the one in Mother's Skylark till he changed it back to the original v-8) and-- yes-- a 5-speed manual gearbox also was custom-fitted and the car is probably one-of-a-kind.
I have to apologise since all my terminology about the car is so British. It's only been since we've had Mother (meaning our stepmother, who's from Australia) and since we went to England that I began to get even remotely interested in cars and driving. At HOH we had a part-time class in driving and it was all 'propshaft' and 'dampers' and 'silencer' and 'bonnet' and 'windscreen' and I just learned it the way it was taught. Daddy gave me a few lessons in the car park when we were in Norwich, with the grey-green Rover we had there. Now I know some people find switching over from right to left to be a problem, especially when the shift patterns are different. The Rover in England had first gear up by your passenger's knee, Daddy's Jensen-Healey has it next to your own knee, since it's on your right hand, and the T-Type has it back by your hip. But I just look at the top of the gear lever, which usually has a diagram of the pattern, and I do not find it a problem at all to find the co-ordination, whichever hand I have to use.
I will say here that Jessy, who is over a year younger than me, has never driven on either the right or the left-- all she has ever driven has been the garden tractor, motor-scooters, and the junior Formula cars and karts she raced in England, and none of them are specific to any particular side.
Daddy has been the ideal driving teacher, more of a coach than a police officer about it. I cannot say I have not made mistakes and some of them have been almost dangerous and definitely illegal. That is in the nature of learning to drive. What I cherish so much about Daddy is that he is by nature very sweet-hearted and forgiving. He does not expect me to be perfect, at anything, really, and so treats me not with exacting standards but as a pretty decent person doing a pretty decent job. To please him I have done my level best, and I have to say I have learned it all pretty well.
We drove up to the DMV agency in Onancock and Daddy came in with me when I presented my paperwork. They assigned me an examiner and told me where to wait with the car. Daddy came with me (I would have insisted even if they had let me, as a student, drive the car round the building alone, because I was not feeling pretty nervous) till the DMV examiner came. The examiner was about 35, tall, exceedingly slender, with jet-black hair and steel-grey eyes, wearing silver metal-framed glasses and an official-looking black wool overcoat. He seemed like the coldest, severest examiner in the world and my heart rose to my throat. He got in to the car beside me and looked at the clipboard. 'You are... Janine?'
'Yes, Sir.'
'Nice car,' he said, looking round inside it. 'What year?'
I looked at him, trying not to appear terrified, although I really think I could not have looked too flirtatious either. Some girls try that, you know. ' 'Eighty-five,' I said.
He nodded. 'Very good.' Then he noticed. 'It's a stick.'
I nodded. 'Yes, Sir.'
'Why the Delaware plates?' he asked.
'Oh,' I said, not having expected that. 'My daddy collects cars, and that's where they're kept. He just let me learn on this one.'
The guy nodded. 'Very good.' Then he looked at me and smiled. 'Well, shall we go, then? Buckled up?'
I was. He wasn't, and got his belt on. He directed me to pull out and I signalled for it, and we proceeded with the driving course. I was not nervous. I was very smooth with all the changes and especially with the brakes. Daddy had taught me what his father had once taught him and called 'the chauffeur stop'. No matter how hard you have to brake, just before the car comes to a full stop, you lift the pedal and then bring it to a stop from that very low speed. Your passengers will not snap backwards from the sharp stop. I have practised it and can do it almost without notice. Exactly once the examiner indicated one of the turns too late-- it's said they do this on purpose-- and I had to brake hard and come to a full stop which I did to, well, perfection-- if I have to be the one to say it.
'Very good,' the examiner said, and then he was all too willing to overlook my slight awkwardness with the clutch during my k-turn. (No, I did NOT stall it. Not once.) In parallel parking I just remembered what I had been taught, to line myself up with the driver's seat in the other car, turn when my shoulder passes the other car's corner, and then turn back when my front corner will pass clear. I got it to within a foot or so of the kerb on the first try.
'Where did you get your lessons?' the examiner said. 'Nandua--?'
I shrugged. 'No, not at school, Sir. Just... my dad.'
'This is your first try?'
I nodded, looking at him as he looked at me again.
'Very good,' he said. 'Now, out here, and up to the corner.'
I nodded. 'Yes, Sir.'
Fifteen minutes later I had a plastic card in my hand with my photo on it and the words 'Commonwealth of Virginia' across the top. The examiner saw me as we stepped out of the building. 'Good luck,' he said, smiling at me. He didn't look so severe now. 'Be careful, now.'
'Yes, Sir. Thank you.'
'Thank you,' he said, and Daddy and I got into the T-Type then.
On the ride back Daddy asked me all about how my exam had gone, what I had to do, how I did, what the guy said. Finally I got up my nerve and said, 'So, Daddy....'
'Yes?' he asked warily-- as well he might have.
'I was wondering.... Well, Jessy and I, and some of the girls, want to finish our Christmas shopping, and I was going to ask....'
'Here if comes,' he said.
'... if would be all right if we could... go down to the mall. In VB. You know....'
'Wait-- tonight?'
'No,' I said quickly. 'Not tonight. Maybe tomorrow... after school.'
He made a wry smile at me. 'I am assuming you'll want to drive this car to school tomorrow.'
I blushed. 'Well....'
'Drive to school tomorrow, but let Roger drive you down to VB. I would worry about you coming home over that bridge in the dark. And this road can be dangerous. The people here drive like they're asleep half the time.' Then he thought a moment. 'I'd feel better about it if you were able to come home in daylight, you know.'
I nodded, hiding a smile. 'Yes, Daddy. It's all right.' That's my daddy.
...
The day dawned cloudy and grey but I would not be dismayed. After an early and thorough shower I dressed in well-worn jeans, my navy-blue sweater, and my dark-brown maryjanes with the heels that are like 1-1/2" and the plain wide belt that matches them (sort of). And I wore my new (for my birthday) patchwork leather jacket with its hood and white (faux) fur trim. Roger arrived to drive us to school. This was arranged, for if I were to drive myself we would have the problem of Daddy getting to school to meet me. I was adamant about going directly from school.
At school I was very anxious all day. I say 'anxious'-- I do not say 'nervous'. It was the excited flutter of a child looking forward to seeing Father Christmas-- um, Santa Claus again, sorry. (I have not seen him as 'Santa Claus' in two years, but it is definitely something I will have to do later this week... of course.) After English I deposited everything in my locker (what care I for homework when there is driving to be done?) got my jacket, and skipped out to the kerb. There was the queue of buses, but no Daddy. Rita and Jessy (those two a pretty steady pair by now) came out, waved to Roger as he pulled in, and then said good-bye to me. I stamped my foot, frustrated. Jessy stopped halfway to the open door. 'What's wrong?' she asked me.
I made a pout. 'Daddy's not here yet,' I said.
'Yes he is.'
I whirled round, seeing the now-familiar blue-and-white Buick coming in from the road. 'Yay,' I said, honestly still doing the little-kid thing.
Daddy pulled up behind the dark-green Cadillac and got out. 'Sorry,' he said over the bonnet. 'I had to get gas.'
I nodded, smiling happily. Jessy and Daddy said good-bye and stepped off the kerb and went round to the offside-- um, driver's side. Then Daddy opened the other door and got in. 'All set?' he asked.
I nodded. 'Ready when you are.'
He nodded too and then laid a hand on my leg, like he often does, like to give comfort. At once he bent his fingers and pinched me-- or, actually, could not. 'What's this, paint?' he teased. 'I thought it was pants.'
I blushed. 'It's just jeans, Daddy!'
'Hmmm.'
I have mentioned before somewhere that my daddy collects cars. His collection is by no means ostentatious nor even very extensive, consisting merely of half a dozen older Buicks, the Jensen-Healey, and an unfinished restoration project of a Camaro convertible. Being sentimental he acquired copies of the first two cars he ever drove, a powder-blue 1968 Riviera and a navy-blue 1965 Wildcat convertible. Both the Wildcat and the 1961 Invicta are fitted with manual gearchange. One came from the factory specially-ordered like that and one Daddy had installed (I forget which). When Mother was our nanny he provided her with a silver-blue 1962 Skylark for commuting to and from university. That is the car I secretly suspected he would endow me with-- but that was not to be.
The car I have been learning on is a 1985 Regal T-Type coupe, all beautifully restored in a soft medium blue with a white hood (okay, roof) and white seats on a black carpet. It has alloy wheels and the 4.3-litre v-6 engine which Daddy says is one of his favourites (like the one in Mother's Skylark till he changed it back to the original v-8) and-- yes-- a 5-speed manual gearbox also was custom-fitted and the car is probably one-of-a-kind.
I have to apologise since all my terminology about the car is so British. It's only been since we've had Mother (meaning our stepmother, who's from Australia) and since we went to England that I began to get even remotely interested in cars and driving. At HOH we had a part-time class in driving and it was all 'propshaft' and 'dampers' and 'silencer' and 'bonnet' and 'windscreen' and I just learned it the way it was taught. Daddy gave me a few lessons in the car park when we were in Norwich, with the grey-green Rover we had there. Now I know some people find switching over from right to left to be a problem, especially when the shift patterns are different. The Rover in England had first gear up by your passenger's knee, Daddy's Jensen-Healey has it next to your own knee, since it's on your right hand, and the T-Type has it back by your hip. But I just look at the top of the gear lever, which usually has a diagram of the pattern, and I do not find it a problem at all to find the co-ordination, whichever hand I have to use.
I will say here that Jessy, who is over a year younger than me, has never driven on either the right or the left-- all she has ever driven has been the garden tractor, motor-scooters, and the junior Formula cars and karts she raced in England, and none of them are specific to any particular side.
Daddy has been the ideal driving teacher, more of a coach than a police officer about it. I cannot say I have not made mistakes and some of them have been almost dangerous and definitely illegal. That is in the nature of learning to drive. What I cherish so much about Daddy is that he is by nature very sweet-hearted and forgiving. He does not expect me to be perfect, at anything, really, and so treats me not with exacting standards but as a pretty decent person doing a pretty decent job. To please him I have done my level best, and I have to say I have learned it all pretty well.
We drove up to the DMV agency in Onancock and Daddy came in with me when I presented my paperwork. They assigned me an examiner and told me where to wait with the car. Daddy came with me (I would have insisted even if they had let me, as a student, drive the car round the building alone, because I was not feeling pretty nervous) till the DMV examiner came. The examiner was about 35, tall, exceedingly slender, with jet-black hair and steel-grey eyes, wearing silver metal-framed glasses and an official-looking black wool overcoat. He seemed like the coldest, severest examiner in the world and my heart rose to my throat. He got in to the car beside me and looked at the clipboard. 'You are... Janine?'
'Yes, Sir.'
'Nice car,' he said, looking round inside it. 'What year?'
I looked at him, trying not to appear terrified, although I really think I could not have looked too flirtatious either. Some girls try that, you know. ' 'Eighty-five,' I said.
He nodded. 'Very good.' Then he noticed. 'It's a stick.'
I nodded. 'Yes, Sir.'
'Why the Delaware plates?' he asked.
'Oh,' I said, not having expected that. 'My daddy collects cars, and that's where they're kept. He just let me learn on this one.'
The guy nodded. 'Very good.' Then he looked at me and smiled. 'Well, shall we go, then? Buckled up?'
I was. He wasn't, and got his belt on. He directed me to pull out and I signalled for it, and we proceeded with the driving course. I was not nervous. I was very smooth with all the changes and especially with the brakes. Daddy had taught me what his father had once taught him and called 'the chauffeur stop'. No matter how hard you have to brake, just before the car comes to a full stop, you lift the pedal and then bring it to a stop from that very low speed. Your passengers will not snap backwards from the sharp stop. I have practised it and can do it almost without notice. Exactly once the examiner indicated one of the turns too late-- it's said they do this on purpose-- and I had to brake hard and come to a full stop which I did to, well, perfection-- if I have to be the one to say it.
'Very good,' the examiner said, and then he was all too willing to overlook my slight awkwardness with the clutch during my k-turn. (No, I did NOT stall it. Not once.) In parallel parking I just remembered what I had been taught, to line myself up with the driver's seat in the other car, turn when my shoulder passes the other car's corner, and then turn back when my front corner will pass clear. I got it to within a foot or so of the kerb on the first try.
'Where did you get your lessons?' the examiner said. 'Nandua--?'
I shrugged. 'No, not at school, Sir. Just... my dad.'
'This is your first try?'
I nodded, looking at him as he looked at me again.
'Very good,' he said. 'Now, out here, and up to the corner.'
I nodded. 'Yes, Sir.'
Fifteen minutes later I had a plastic card in my hand with my photo on it and the words 'Commonwealth of Virginia' across the top. The examiner saw me as we stepped out of the building. 'Good luck,' he said, smiling at me. He didn't look so severe now. 'Be careful, now.'
'Yes, Sir. Thank you.'
'Thank you,' he said, and Daddy and I got into the T-Type then.
On the ride back Daddy asked me all about how my exam had gone, what I had to do, how I did, what the guy said. Finally I got up my nerve and said, 'So, Daddy....'
'Yes?' he asked warily-- as well he might have.
'I was wondering.... Well, Jessy and I, and some of the girls, want to finish our Christmas shopping, and I was going to ask....'
'Here if comes,' he said.
'... if would be all right if we could... go down to the mall. In VB. You know....'
'Wait-- tonight?'
'No,' I said quickly. 'Not tonight. Maybe tomorrow... after school.'
He made a wry smile at me. 'I am assuming you'll want to drive this car to school tomorrow.'
I blushed. 'Well....'
'Drive to school tomorrow, but let Roger drive you down to VB. I would worry about you coming home over that bridge in the dark. And this road can be dangerous. The people here drive like they're asleep half the time.' Then he thought a moment. 'I'd feel better about it if you were able to come home in daylight, you know.'
I nodded, hiding a smile. 'Yes, Daddy. It's all right.' That's my daddy.
...
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