Happy Birthday, My Friend

A few pics in honor of his birthday. These are from Jess's birthday party a couple years ago.

















Happy Birthday, J. We miss you and we love you.

Memories - Part 1

……Attn. JasonToo - I thought I’d do a separate blog rather than write in the comment section of your request…it may get slightly lengthy.

Many of my memories are from when we were younger, going through turmoil together, elementary school, middle/high school and then KU. Of course all the times I went on trips with Jas will (hopefully) be forever embedded in my mind – drunken nights in NYC, drunken nights in Chicago, drunken nights in KC, Florida, St. Louis – hmmm…. maybe that’s why my memories from our formative years are so much more clear to me. I will never have a bond like I had with him ever again in my life (I’m sure any close siblings can attest to that) and memories and pictures are all I have now. Let’s visit some of them:

(in no particular order – just random memories right now)

1. When I was 3 and told not to touch the soft spot on his infant head - I, of course poked it. He knew about this, we laughed about it, and I choose to believe this is what made him smart and witty.

2. Every Christmas Eve (until we were teenagers) we tried to stay up all night to catch our parents putting “Santa’s” presents under the tree. We always fell asleep around 2am with visions of Atari, Cabbage Patch Kids, G.I. Joes, Transformers, etc. in our heads. Then of course we would wake up the parents at 5:00am.

3. One Christmas during a slight sibling rivalry phase, I decided to be nice and get him a season pass to World’s of Fun. You should have seen the look on his face. I have a great picture of him hugging me after I gave it to him. He has liked me ever since.

4. We fought with each other, but always protected each other. (a general memory)

5. One day, in our shared bathroom, brushing our teeth, we looked in the mirror at the same time. My hair was wet and slicked back and his was short and we said (at the same time) “Ewww! We look like twins! MOM come here!!!”

6. The first time I bought alcohol for him and his friends (me -21, he – 18, still in high school) He was going to have sex with this girl at my place, and I talked him out of it. He REALLY liked me then. That’s what big sisters are for.

7. Going to his frat house when I had a fight with my loser ex-bf and him being there for me, telling me to leave the jerk. You were always right Jas.

8. Drunken dancing with Jas at The Brown Bear Brewing Company to Ice, Ice, Baby. For some reason that one sticks with me – this is definitely not the only drunken dancing we have done.

9.Him always trying to convince me that Peyton Manning was gay. (he hated winners)

10. With him in NYC, at around 4:30am, in a taxi, on our way from some bar, singing Luther Vandross’s (sp?) “Here and Now” at the top of our lungs. I think the cabbie wanted to throw us out.

11. At my wedding in Florida, he lost $200 in the ocean at night. I tried not to laugh but who swims in the ocean at night with 2 $100 bills in their pocket? (btw – he unbelievably found it on the shore with a flashlight some hours later)

12. Jas and I. The Strokes. Tiny venue in St. Louis. Best. Show. Ever.

13. New Years Eve (I think) going into 2001. Jas and I are visiting our Mom in St. Louis (different time than The Strokes Experience) and she agrees to drop us off near the Arch where there are tons of bars. We find some place, ring in the New Year, and end up at a casino until 6am or so. Conversation when we realize it is 6am:

me: Are you going to call mom to pick us up?
him: Yeah right – you call her.
me: she’ll be less mad if you call.
him: I don’t think so….
both: Let’s get a taxi.

My mind is exploding with memories right now and this is helpful to write them down. BUT is is 7:20pm and I would like to wrap things up at work (because I have been working so hard). I guess this could be Part 1.

Bye for now.

Three Months Later....Some Thoughts & Feelings

And my fear - a very real fear, I feel - is that my memory of him will fade, and all I'll have is the memory of the photographs of him. Already, looking at pictures, I close my eyes and try and remember the moment itself, rather than the photographic representation of the moment, and I struggle. I see the picture of him, not him. The pictures help and hurt at the same time.

Italo Calvino wrote a short story about a man that originally hated photography. He felt that if any moment deserved to be preserved in photograph, then every moment in life deserved the same; therefore you must either live your life in the most photographable way possible, or else consider photographable every moment of your life - believing that everything that is not photographed is lost, as if it had never existed. Eventually he ended up pursuing the latter thought, and became the obsessed photographer, finally photographing photographs as the only course that he had left.

I look at these pictures of Schrowe and I think, Maybe this is a bad idea - maybe I should never look at a photo of him again and do everything I can to preserve the memory of him that I have already in my brain. But I don't think our brains are designed with that capacity. Or at least, mine isn't. I need the photos. I wish I'd photographed more. I wish I'd walked around with a video camera or tape recorder at all times when I was around him. I haven't had enough. Even if it's the same conversation, I want to have it again. I want to laugh at the same jokes. I'm fine with that. Something. I haven't had my fill of Schrowe.

So another request: if you're up for it, please post any memory of him you can think of in the comments here. It'd help me. I think. Maybe it'd be helpful for others. I don't care if it's the lamest story ever, or if it's just a single sentence. I'd appreciate it regardless.

Sorry if this sounds like begging. I guess it's come to that. For me.

middleCoast is my support group. Like it or not.

I got this girl named Camry & she's a whore.

I drive a '95 Camry. Black. Just like this one + 200K miles. For a vehicle, she is the equivalent of a Japanese whore, but overall she is a whore that stills wakes up every morning and does the job.......so I guess I can't complain about the services.
Today after trudging through 10 in of snow the C-D.O.T. snow plows so kindly put half way up my door, I got into my Japanese pleasure-moto and started her up. NPR was on the radio and cool air was blowing out of the defrost. Brrrrrr...she was chilly but it felt good to be inside her. I could feel and hear her getting warmer.
I got out of my car to wipe the excess white/gray/brown snow off of the windows...ya know, clean her up a bit...make her look nice...real nice. As I was wiping off the windshield, something bizzare happened. Her windshield wipers started swaying back and forth, grinding across the ice covered windshield. I thought nothing of it, got in the car and attempted to switch the wiper knob to the stop position. I then noticed it was already in the stop position. Interesting. I restarted the car once, twice, three times...by this time she was HOT and ready to go....but still....the wipers kept swaying. Back and forth, back and forth. Well shit. Still gotta go to work. So I drove her.....all the way to school AND all the way back from school, wipers blazing. The friction of the blades on the dry windshield produces a sound similar to rubbing your face on glass. Just then, I realized.......I can't even get her wet. What? Why? Oh yeah, my wiper fluid doesn't work (there's a leak) so I can't even moisten her up to clean her off. Damn. I can't please the whore. Will she leave me? Why does she not work anymore? Did she catch a mechanical STD? Should i get her tested? I hope I don't have to. I hope she's better tomorow because I love Camry. I can't wait to enter her dark, warm insides tomorrow morning. Moist wipers or not.

Notes from a former hipster turned mom...

Damn do I feel old. Or just out of touch. When did this happen? When did Mommy trump Jennifer? Don’t get me wrong - being a mom is the best thing in the world. I wouldn’t change it for anything - not even those glory days of old. But sometimes I gotta wonder…what the hell happened? The money that I used to contribute to local bars and live music is now redirected to Gymboree and the Disney Store. Instead of those kickin black heels, I buy shoes that are good for chasing down the toddler carrying the glass jar of marinara sauce at the grocery store. Instead of displaying the treasures I’ve collected as I’ve traveled, my shelves display Dora’s playhouse and tea sets. Instead of the Record Bar on Friday night we visit Chuck E. Cheese’s. Instead of that great Wyeth painting, my walls display rainbows and horses and people that resemble potatoes with single eyebrows. I’ve completely come to terms with all of these adjustments. But I’m having a hard time with one. I drive a minivan. Damn things are just so practical. I’m okay with the fact that I own one, and when I’m with the kids I’m totally fine with it. But it is the one thing in my semi-new mom life that totally labels me a mom when I’m not with the girls. Even with the windows down and those kickin black heels on and the Black Angles blasting…I’m a mom. A mom with sunglasses that are sticky from the hands that just ate a fruit roll-up pushing them up on a tiny nose. But I’m a rockin’ mama. I’m proud that my preschooler asked if we could go see the Beatles some time. I love that when we talked about Band of Horses she got this smile on her face as she pictured a bunch of horses playing beautiful music. I’m proud that she loves to dance to MMJ’s “Off the Record” and wants to know why Bob Marley is telling her to Get Up, Stand Up. The hipster in me just won't die - it just has new priorities...and a new ride.

Turn Up Your Speakers

Everyone should listen to Peter Bjorn And John and be happy.



Go buy the album now.