Showing posts with label Charlotte Fairchild. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Charlotte Fairchild. Show all posts

Friday, November 5, 2010

November 5

The next morning they both turned the radio off to the sound of a baby being attacked, and stories of neglected children. It was the second day in a row this station had started the day for them with children in critical or painful conditions.
“Turn it off, Ryan!” Ali whimpered.
“OK,” and he reached for his glasses.

School and getting older meant glasses for him. He turned the light on and switched the radio alarm off. He got up and worked out for 10 minutes, shaved and put the clothes in the dryer from the washing machine. Ali stared at the ceiling for 10 minutes and stretched and woke up gently. Sometimes Ryan came back to bed for more kisses but this morning he didn’t. He would probably begin research on adoption to find a better legal way to do this.  “No one could have more integrity than this man,” Ali thought.

She got up, found her slippers so that her feet would be all protected, and went to the kitchen to begin the tea and gluten free pancakes. “Maybe tonight we can bake yams with marshmallows in the fireplace,” Ali yelled to Ryan. She didn’t mean to do it, but she made the place really into a home by filling the rooms with smells. She lit a scented pumpkin candle. There was a stained glass chimney she placed on the candle. She raised the blinds, put a poncho on and garden shoes and took the bird feeders out. They were already calling to her. They came to the window. The cat she fed scampered a distance and began his mournful meows. She traded meows with him for a while, and then went back inside to peel grapefruit and apples. They ate peaches sometimes because of her Uncle Pat who would give them peaches when he visited from Georgia. They had a few left. Ali saved those for dinner.

Soon they were at the table, and the smells from the food and candle filled the air. They started eating with Ryan reading a book, magazine or newspaper. He would stumble upon a strange idea and have to tell Ali. Most of the time, Ali watched. She didn’t read or do much when he was around, except see him.

“Do you want to meet for lunch today, Ryan?”
“I want to, but I have a contract appointment, and I don’t think I will be out in time to eat out with you. But because of that, I will be able to come home early. Do you want to go out to dinner and then a movie tonight, Wife?”
“I can change my schedule, Preppie. Where do you want to meet, anyway?”
“McDonalds?” he asked.
“Ummm, lets not and say we did! How about here at home, and I will download a movie, Preppie? And then we can have those yams with marshmallows in them!”
“I will build the fire when I come home, then!” Ryan said.
“OK, Eaglescout!” Ali said. She wrinkled her nose and he grabbed her and kissed her.
“One more?” Ali asked. He complied.
They parted, and he was out the door. She reached for her book bag on wheels. She had to reach a studio across town for a recording that morning of her classical music for a puppet show children would see for the holidays. These things had to be prepared before the holidays.

The traffic, the race for time, the weather, all played their roles in the day for Ali in her little car, and Ryan, in his larger car. She hummed to the music she was going to be performing that day, and practiced awareness of the traffic. Being a day dreamer, she had to wake up to her surroundings or she would miss a turn or make a mistake that would cause an accident. No cell phones, televisions or other distractions. She really should just drive and not hum or practice the melody because that sent her to another place, as well. It was still dark, except for the ribbons of lights from cars and street lights.

Studios were interesting. They were all different. They each took on the personality of the producer/owner. Some had wooden walls, and others had the sound proof foam.
All seemed pretty masculine. She remembered one studio of a female friend who had beautiful paintings and decor for the studio. She didn’t travel with bands, but she just recorded with them at this studio. It was great knowing what to expect. Surprises are good, but with surprises comes less of an idea about the art of the production.


She drove into the parking lot finally. She unhooked her safety belt, let herself get out of the car and went into the unlocked building, finding her way. This was an unusual place for a studio. Being dark made Ali more careful about the parking under a light, getting her key and going to the front door instead of the actor’s entrance, many people called it that.
November 5
######

Thursday, November 4, 2010

November 4


Ryan brought work home on the weekend. He exercised and then he ate and then worked. Ali and Ryan were both interested in computers. They were so slow in the beginning, and no matter how fast they became, there was entirely too much time invested away from each other and instead on computers. Ali played with poetry while waiting for the baby. She couldn’t get flight information because there was no set day that everything would be settled. Instead of being nuts about waiting and instead of telling her husband, Ryan, what she was up to, she wrote poetry on the computer.  The green font on the black background was cause for eye strain, but she would learn this new technology.


Hug
A hug can be warm, safe, kind, and joyful.
Hugging, I glow.
Thinking of hugs, I twinkle.
When I twinkle and glow,
My mind is thoughtless and dreamy.
For a hug can change history in my life;
All ideas sweeten or fade inside a hug.
Hugging is loving someone
Enough to let yourself be loved.
A hug should be endless, yet renewed--
Not every day, nor every hour,
but every opportunity--unplanned.
I like our hug!



Our hug is a rug
For your feet
A rug is a hug
For your knees!
A beautiful house has rugs
Meditating hugs!


Our hug is a rug
For your feet
A rug is a hug
For your knees!
A beautiful house has rugs
A meditation in hugs!

Hugs, bugs, plugs, flugs, slugs
An incantation of ugs
For bringing out giggles and sliggles
A hug is sometimes huggly
Before turning into mugs
of hot liquid
warming our fingertips
down to our toes
hug in a rug.
Ali Babba!


Perfect Hug
There is no such thing
as a perfect kiss
Sans hug.
The wonderful kisses
do best within
a
hug.


Child, let me hug you.
You are so far away,
I haven’t met you
And yet I miss you.

Are your eyes like mine?
Do they twinkle?
Will you cry?
Are you afraid?
What is life like for you now?
Are you safe?
Will you love me back?
Will you be sorry you are with me instead of somewhere else?
There are so many questions.
Hurry, so I can meet you.

The next month while I am waiting, will I write about you?
When you come, we will plant a tree.
Maybe a very cold tolerant peach tree.
I will plan all of the things I would like to do with you.
This will help me wait for you, little one.
I will plan the name for you.
When I meet you, I will know you.
You will meet me and know me.
We will surprise each other.
Things won’t be easy with Daddy working so many hours.
He may not get used to you as fast as I do.

I don’t know when to tell him about your arrival.
Good night little child.
I wish we could have a family with 3 children.
How would Ryan being the Dad to 3 children?
Maybe it is time to talk.
Pillow talk tonight.

Ali booted off the computer, and told Ryan she was turning in early. She went to the bathroom and drew a bath while she got her black watch plaid flannel night gown. She slipped into the water and relaxed for 10 minutes. She heard the quiet tapping of Ryan’s computer, and the pages noise of being turned. The door was open, and the the candle lit. A small night light was on. She hummed. And then she reached for a towel, and pulled the drain plug. She stepped out of the tub and dried off on the towel. The night gown covered her fast and her slippers found her feet. She went to the bedroom and slipped under the covers. She decided to turn a light on and the radio beside the bed to some quiet music. And she hummed.

Before long, Ryan could not concentrate. He took a quick shower after booting off of his computer. He came bounding into the bedroom, with just the cutest tummy above his flannel plaid pajama bottoms. He slipped into the bed and reached for Ali in her flannel. She took her glasses off and closed the book twisting to place it on the night stand table while she was in his arms. He buried his nose in her hair, smelling her lotions and hair conditioner. He pulled her hair gently and sighed.

“I live for this, Ali.”
“And I wait for this, Ryan. I am glad I remembered this. It is a really good reason to come to bed earlier.”
“Ali, tell me about your day.’
“Ryan, I don’t want to wait for a baby to come naturally. I am in remission, and I want to live today, and not 10 years down the road.”
“So what do you want to do, Ali?”
“Ryan, I want us to adopt a child. And I want to adopt sooner than later.”
“Ali, I work so many hours. That won’t be fair to you and the child.”
“Ryan, do you know how many men are gone to work all the time, and how many women are alone raising a child? It won’t be the first time. But if we don’t have a child, then you will never find out if you might be attracted to a family. If it will help, we will go through parenting classes.”
“So when are you thinking of adopting, Ali?”
“I said soon, Ryan. So in six months or maybe a month?”
“Where is the paperwork? I will fill it out during lunch this week.”
“You don’t need to Ryan. I filled it out already. I did it perfectly. I don’t know if we will get a girl or a boy, or both.”
“This hurts my feelings that you didn’t come to me before filling out the paperwork.”
“I know, Ryan, but think about it. If you said no, then what could I have done? If you are into power over me, then you can nullify the contract. You won’t get the money back, and something we have together will change.”
“You are really gambling ‘us’ Ali for this.”
“Ryan, I spend too much time alone, and I want a completed life. Not one of waiting forever. If we luck out and have children from our bodies, well great. But when? I just don’t want to wait any longer. Give me reasons to wait, Ryan!”
“Ali,

Wednesday, November 3, 2010

Hug Story, Nov. 3


The next day she played piano, practicing pieces to perfection. The vibrations from the music were bliss for her. She tuned the piano herself by ear at least once a month. She worked on pieces for the local opera and symphony company, and a gig with some artist who needed the classics, including pop and R & B. She met many top tier musicians from other genres who needed her collaboration. She loved working with Aretha Franklin. What she did was creative as all get out!

To help her take breaks she bought a tea kettle that whistled. It was just a little more sound. And then she got a cat. An orange tiger cat that had been abandoned. Ali had a soft heart for the abandoned. This cat was old and fat. It was fat because she was feeding it a lot. Now that she thought about it, the cat looked like the cat in Shrek, that children’s movie. She had helped with the score for the movies. Before she became sick, she had made so little money teaching, but then she had found connections to work through the concerts free and cheap she kept going to.

Her friends and professors never forgot her. This made the difference in her life soon after she left the hospital with the news that she would die. Instead she went to concerts, ate better, and in three weeks she was in remission. She had heard Norman Cousins use laughter to heal his disease, and she had followed different diets her whole life, but found that it really made a difference to change to all green and drink lots of tap water with baking soda. How funny was it to find that all that was needed was 3 weeks to change her diagnosis!

It had been years since Ryan spent a lot of time with Ali. He was too busy with work and exercise and research. She heard that men in law, accounting, medicine and science were like this. Busy and not around much. For years she made friends with artists. She had fended off the flirtations. She tried her best to be friendly and not flirt, but sometimes it felt good to wink or just be with another human being and talk. It was very difficult to socialize while married to a work-a-holic. When she was very sick, she had started telling him that he deserved someone prettier, younger and more successful. Ryan looked at her and said he didn’t want anyone prettier, younger and more successful. “It is too much trouble to train someone else, Ali,” he would say with a twinkle. He acted happily married.

So Ali was alone when she wasn’t working. Most musicians need a lot of alone time to practice. Ali was no different. Three to five hours a day she practiced. And the rest of the time she was recording or performing. Finding her niche was really a miracle, after all the under employed life she had suffered through. Being so poor had caused quite a struggle with diet. Finding organic gardening and Adele Davis made the difference for her. Container gardening was enough for Ali. Ryan suffered through her salad breakfasts and he wasn’t there for lunch or dinner very often.

Sometimes she wondered, since she had money, why she stayed. She was alone after practice and performing. She never cared for shopping, or spending money for recreation. Her hobbies were music and sometimes rearranging furniture, petting the cat, and swimming. Ryan almost never got home until 10:30 or 11:00 pm, and then read for an hour, bathed and was asleep the minute his head touched the pillow. He was funny. How would their lives change if they did adopt?

A week passed, she had mailed the application in. If they adopted, then it would happen. The country of the month, almost flavor of the month, was Moldova. Last month it was China, and before that Korea. No one in the US had an easy time adopting in the US.