It’s time to say goodbye to a few long-time friends. Tell Michelle Branch to warm up.
I wore my old Lunar Trainers to the Color Run on Saturday knowing that it would likely be their last act of service. They must have known it was time to go, too, because at various points during our walk, pieces of rubber came off of the sole. They weren’t the most beaten pair of shoes I owned, but those New Balances are also the most comfortable shoes I’ve ever owned. Despite the fact that I’ve put them through hell (I threw up near them once and spent the next morning scrubbing out vomit splatter. This is how much I love those shoes.), I can’t let them go.
Consequently, these Nikes were pressed into service. They were white – and mesh – which meant they were impossible to keep clean. They were, I suppose, perfect for the Color Run. It’s been a great ride, Lunar Trainers. I have no complaints. As I sat in the car at a stoplight after the run, I looked down at them and said “My shoes look like Fruity Pebbles. “Ooooh, Fruity Pebbles,” Lynnette said. Perhaps predictably, we ended up at a Jamba Juice in Ewa Beach splitting a huge thing three ways.
GOODBYE TO YOU!
Also giving out this weekend was the Vornado fan that I have used since I lived in my parents’ home. As you can tell, I hadn’t cleaned it in at least that long as well. My old room in my parents’ home was tiny and on the side exposed to the sun when it rose in the morning. This fan was a life-saver. I brought it with me when I moved into Lynnette’s parents’ home for that stretch, and it blew air at me faithfully from the side of the bed. When Lynnette and I got a place of our own, of course the Vornado came with; it would have been insane to leave him behind.
And so it goes, the Vornado has generally stood next to my side of the bed. I would set it on high in the fixed position and point it directly at me during naps and at night. On Saturday afternoon when the three of us were fresh out of the shower and ready for our hard-earned naps, I tried to turn on the fan like I had done so many times before. I turned the switch, heard the hum of electricity, watch the blades move ever-so-slightly, then stop. I tried again. Nothing. I must have let out some kind of sound of despair because Lynnette asked what was wrong from another room. “The fan,” I said. “I think it’s dead.” “Oh no!” Lynnette said with that mock-concern that permeates her speech every time I try to tell her about a significant material loss. How dare she! Other than myself, she benefited the most from the Vornado’s wondrous air circulating. Then again, this is the same woman who said “Just get rid of it already!” when we were considering getting a new car. Tear.
GOODBYE TO YOU!
Speaking of that spiteful woman, today is Lynnette’s birthday. She turns _____. If you have the chance, please wish her a happy birthday via one social medium or another. I am sure she’d appreciate it.
On Sunday morning, Madison discovered the hiding place of the plastic WWE championship belts and started strutting around the living room with them. “Why don’t you and mom practice your run-ins?” I said to Mad. “Oh, yeah!” she shouted, disappearing into her room, only to emerge with her Princess music maker a few beats later.
Madison gave Lynnette the Big Gold Belt (because somehow, she understands the hierarchy) and they went backstage (the computer room) and waited for me to start the music. They ran out a few times; Madison corrected Lynnette a couple of times because Lynnette didn’t jump over the piles of laundry.
A long time ago when Lynnette and I first started going out, we were Christmas shopping at Nordrstrom Rack. Christmas music came on over the store’s speakers. “It’s time to board the Christmas train!” I said, starting to do this weird strut thing. I never expected her to actually board the train, but a few minutes later, I felt the hands of a Filipino Princess on my waist. I turned my head and there she was. Matty was with us. He couldn’t believe it, either.
That’s what I thought of when I saw Lynnette practice run-ins with Mad. It’s part of what makes Lynnette wonderful: she’s never been afraid to make an ass of herself for the people she loves.
Happy birthday, Love.