Wide Open Spaces

Blog soundtrack:

Did I already mention in this blog that I’m not perfect? Oh, yes. I did!

It would seem today that I felt less than perfect, because at around 4pm, it felt like the walls of the house were closing in on me, and I needed to get the hell out. Ever feel like that?

Perhaps it was the few new inches of snow covering the ground, the frigid temperatures, Thunderbolt meowing at me every time I looked at him, or was it an excited pre-Christmas Iz running around the house chasing Liam, causing Monty to bark like a maniac every 10 minutes?

It might have been all that, and it may have been an email from a friend this morning; she was upset, because she was told her unemployment benefits had expired. I called her and told her that she could reapply; it involved a quick phone call and a few tap-taps on the keyboard at the unemployment office. Facing almost a year of not working myself, it made it seem even more so that the walls were closing in.

Previously, I said that I loved visiting New York City, but I don’t think I could ever live there because I would miss the wide open spaces I have at home. Today, it felt like my wide open spaces had suddenly transformed into the back of the Waste Management garbage truck. Yes, I was a bag of trash, and the walls of the truck were slowly squeezing the life out of me.

I began to channel MacGyver, trying to think of how I would get myself out of this situation. Could I wedge my Swiss Army knife in the corner of one walls to prevent it from moving in further? Would it help if I wrapped myself up in duct tape, hoped that no one noticed, and rolled out the front door?

Then the couch said, “Meet the Parents is on. I know how much you like that one. Come here, sit down, take a load off, and staaaaaaaaay a while.”
No, no, no!
Then Liam ran by and shouted, “Look, I’ll run upstairs, let Iz catch me, and then you make a break for it.”
He ran off, and Iz ran after him.
Thanks, Liam!
I grabbed my laptop, and I headed to a place I hadn’t been in ages, a place where everyone knows my name – the local pub.

In the Summer, I went to this pub every Sunday to write my blog. I’d enter, plop my laptop down on the bar, and then I would order a speckled hen. Funny, but it was the only place where I would ever drink a beer.

I feel funny saying that I go to a pub every now and then, because it seems like such a stereotypical male thing to do. It’s like I’m Norm at Cheers or something like that. Well, no one shouts out my name when I enter the pub, but most at the pub know me, which really is a nice thing.

Tonight, I sat down and ordered my speckled hen. I then plunked my laptop down on the bar as Dearbhla (Derv-la), the bartender, approached. She said, “Oh, I was going to say it’s nice to see you again and where’s your computer, but there it is!”

Every now and then, when I’m on my own, I also go there for a bite to eat. I bring my laptop then, too. (Like me, my laptop doesn’t get out much!) They let me sit forever with my laptop and never hurry me out the door. On one occasion, one of the waitresses walked by and said, “Jean, we know what you’re doing. You’re writing a novel about all of the employees at this pub!”

I said, “No. That’s not it. I have a blog.” She asked, “A what?” When I hear that, I usually just say, “Oh, it’s this thing on the internet where I write stuff.”

After I say that, there are usually no more questions, except when my brother in law, Kevin, asked me how a blog differed from Facebook. I spent a few minutes explaining the differences to him. I think the blank look on his face, a man who I knew was super smart, left me thinking, “Some people get tech, some people don’t.” We are all wired differently.

Tonight, the pub wasn’t that busy. It really was a wide open space when I arrived. It was warm, inviting, and the sounds of CNN, the Green Bay Packers game, and the Irish music provided a soothing soundtrack. Here I am, where everyone knows my name.



After an hour of “space,” I began to miss Thunderbolt’s meow, and Iz asking me yet again, “How does Santa know if I’m naughty or nice?” (And, no. I will never miss the sound of Monty barking!)

I had regained my space by way of a bar and a beer. And, it might not be so important that everyone knew my name there. In the end, it was only important that I had a place, no matter where, in which I could regroup, remember my name, and, most importantly, remember who I was. ♥

Wide Open Spaces That Become Smaller Spaces Can Be Good Sometimes: On my way home from the pub, I went to pick up Chinese take-out for dinner, really good Chinese takeout. The woman who always answers the phone is a lovely young Chinese woman named Ella.

I have been going there long enough to have seen her through her pregnancy and the birth of her beautiful daughter, Angela. Whenever Iz and I have gone in to pick up food, Angela’s always been there in her stroller either laughing and smiling or fast asleep.

Ella doesn’t speak good English, and I don’t speak good Chinese, so communicating has always been an effort between the two of us. But, we’ve always made the effort. Tonight, I asked where Angela was, and Ella said, “She’s sleeping over there.” I went around the corner, saw her fast asleep in her stroller, and she looked beautiful. She was an angel.

When Ella came back out from the kitchen, I said, “She is so beautiful.” (God, I still get baby lust.) Ella smiled. She said, “I need to show you Halloween picture. If have time, I take you up to see them.”

I said, “I’d love to see them. Angela is such a good little girl and just so beautiful.” Ella pressed the palms of her hands together, bowed, and then said, “Thank you. So are you.”

The wide open space between us instantly became a small and loving space. And, as far as I am concerned, the most important spaces are the ones that squeeze people, especially those who are so far apart due to some barrier, together. ♥