And time stands still…

…but for a fleeting moment.

We were home for Thanksgiving, visiting with Kate’s parents.  Visits to Philadelphia are always pleasant, far too short and there is never enough time to see all those near and dear to me.  I do try my hardest to visit Kate’s parents, however.  These are people who stood for me when others were not willing to do the job themselves.  Kate treated me like a sister.  Her parents treated me like a daughter.

Towards the end of the visit, Kate’s father took me aside and gave me a watch that had belonged to Kate.  He was slightly confused by the watch as it was a strong representation of how Kate compartmentalized her life and kept many secrets.  While her parents knew of Kate’s fondness for the finer things in life, they were not aware that Kate would procure said fancy things.  This component of grief and frustration seems as if it will never sort itself out; no matter how much time passes.  So many questions remain unanswered.

Immediately, I put the watch on.  Of course, having sat idle for nearly four years, it no longer functions.  It will definitely need a battery.  I’m thinking a complete service is necessary, as well.  Just my luck – there are neither authorized service centers nor retailers in our state.  I kept the non-functional watch on my wrist so I wouldn’t lose it while we were skittering hither and yon in Philly.

We have been home for over a week.  The thank you note is overdue (will I ever get my shit together, I wonder?).  The watch is still on my wrist.  It still doesn’t work.  And it occurred to me:  why should I fix it?  Is it not more…erm…sentimentally poetic that I’m wearing a watch that belonged to my deceased best friend and the watch no longer functions?  On December 19, 2010 time, in a sense, stopped for many of us that day. We find ourselves moving forward, doing the things we do, living life as we should because Kate would not want people moping about and, let’s face it, this is part of life. That said, is there something inherently unhealthy or wrong about wearing the watch that no longer keeps time?  The watch that froze time, perhaps?  The watch that could potentially bring me back to the time when Kate was here and I was still a whole person?

This morning, Milkface asked if I was going to “fix Aunt Kate’s fancy watch?”  I had no answers.  I’m in no hurry.  After all, in this particular instance, time has stopped.  Time is irrelevant.

STEP AWAY

sometimes you’ll see me step away,
I may, or perhaps may not say
I’ve chosen now to stand apart
because I am about to fart
to feel the flatulent caress
and I don’t want to cause distress
to make you pause and look about
wondering who let one out
pondering who was the master
of that particular crackblaster
I step aside through courteous thought
because I remember well when you did not!

Day Of The Dead

Allhelgons dag,
Day of the dead,
Thinking of things
I wish I’d said,
When You were here,
Before you passed away,
November first,
The days are dark,
Trees stand naked,
In graveyard and park,
Light a candle to your memory,
In the grey,
It was long ago,
When you left,
Still I feel sad and bereft,
As I visit with your soul,
Upon this day,
But seasons change,
Life goes on,
Much has happened,
Since you’ve gone,
I stand here with thoughts,
I’d like to say,
So I send them to you,
Lying there,
As I stand here,
In silent prayer,
Knowing in time,
I’ll also head your way,
Though not until,
I live my life through,
But I will die,
And when I do,
A candle and a visit,
Would not go astray.

How to Buy Cheap Wine in Sweden: Go to Germany

One of the things about living in Europe is that due to the small size of some of the countries, it’s possible to leave one country, drive all the way through another, and then into a third country all in one day. That’s what we did on Saturday.

We wanted to get as early a start as possible, so Daniel and I got up at 4:45am. Hans wanted to hit the road at 5:30, although we ended up leaving closer to six. He drove the three of us through the pitch black of the early Autumn morning to the Scandlines ferry terminal in Helsingborg. It took about two hours to get there, and the sun was just rising as we arrived at about eight. Daniel paid for our return ticket to Puttgarden, Germany, and we drove our rented pickup truck onto the ferry. This was a very short crossing, only about 15 minutes, barely enough time to use the bathroom and browse the tax free shops. I only had time to purchase two bags of Halloween candy.

We got back in the truck, drove into Helsingor, Denmark, and continued on our way. Daniel took the wheel for this leg of the journey, where we passed through very flat but beautiful Danish countryside, with its endless fields of yellow rapeseed blossoms destined to be made into cooking oil. In another two hours we arrived at a second ferry terminal. Once again we drove onto the ferry, but since this was a longer crossing we had the time to do a little duty free shopping. Hans bought some red wine, which seemed rather foolish because after 45 minutes, we arrived at Puttgarden and the enormous border shop contained in a barge floating in the harbor.

It was about the size of an Ikea, four stories high, with a different type of alcoholic beverage on each floor. We started with the wine floor and began filling up our three shopping carts. Daniel and I bought forty boxes of wine equivalent to 125 bottles. Each box was at least a third, and in some cases a quarter, of what we would have paid for similar wine in Sweden. This is how you recoup the cost of the trip itself.

After we paid for our wine, we pushed our carts out to the truck and loaded it up with our combined eighty boxes. Then we headed back into the shop to fill up on beer and liquor. Everything was half the price you would pay at Sweden’s alcohol monopoly, so we stocked up on bottles for the pub in our house (the only “real” pub in Alvesta) and for Christmas and New Years. The boys are experienced border shoppers; we packed all the bottles in boxes we found in the shop, and cushioned them with pieces of cardboard for the drive home.

At this point it was about three in the afternoon, and it was time to head home. We drove our booze-laden truck onto the ferry and then, at last, we were able to relax and eat some lunch. Five hours later we arrived back in Alvesta, unloaded all our boxes and crates and bottles, and stashed them temporarily in the garage.

So now I can say I’ve been to Germany. Well, at least to a very small part of it.

Message from the Facebook Masters

(I recently tried to leave FB, and lasted a whole week. This is my imaginary response from the FB Masters, to the tune of Barenaked Ladies “One Week”)

“It’s been one week since you looked at me,
Deactivated yourself cuz you were angry,
Writing letters like a drama queen,
Thought  your luddite ways better than FB,
In five days you were abstinent,
Friends all saying “I posted, hey did you see?”
It’s okay, we’ve seen it all before,
We know we’ve got you by the short-and-curlies,
Two more days and you were back again,
You lasted one week, brave attempt, don’t be surly,
We’ll work you back into our marketing,
But don’t worry we don’t expect you to be sorry……”

THOUGHTS

You are not your thoughts,

Your thoughts aren’t you,

Not everything you think is true,

Your thoughts may give cause for reflection,

But that is quite another question,

One way to interpret it is this:

Your thoughts are self-analysis,

So if you receive them open ended,

You decide which ones are befriended,

Which thoughts you actively choose,

To reflect you, and your values,

It’s you that gives your thoughts traction,

Which ones then lead to action,

You may have a thought that you despise,

That doesn’t mean it’s where your heart lies,

Perhaps dark thoughts come about yourself,

You can leave those ones upon the shelf,

Thoughts are not right,

Thoughts are not wrong,

But sort them, and put them where they belong.