Back then, I saw a castle...

and now, I see a silo that stores cotton seeds. 

When I was a little boy, I would look out the kitchen storm door and see this at night.  My imagination told me that it was a castle.  It told me a story of a princess (of course) that lived there surrounded by her family and faithful servants. I would stare and stare and stare and imagine what it was like to live in that castle. 

My grandfather always told me, good naturedly, that it was a silo where cotton seeds were stored.  I didn't believe him.  My stubborn streak was strong enough, even then, to make me skeptical of what my grandfather knew.  That and the many instances in which my grandfather would sit at the door and stare with me.  It made me wonder if he was just kidding about the silo. 

Then one day, before bed, he found me staring out the storm door, again.  He gently put a coat on me, took me to his truck (I remember that he had to carry me and place me in the seat) and drove me to the cotton gin so I could see the truth for myself.  As we approached the gin, I was excited because my granfather was going to see the castle and believe.  I even thought we might get to go inside.  But, as the truck approached my castle, it slowly turned into the cotton gin that we passed every morning on our way to school.

I couldn't believe that what looked so much like a castle from my house could be something completely different up close.  I don't really remember what happened when we got home, being the drama queen I was even then, I probably fanned myself rapidly before fainting onto the sofa.  After that, I'd still look out the window trying to see the castle, but it was gone.  The silo had taken its place.  Still, it's one of my fondest memories.  That ride in my grandfather's truck, the sound it made, and the feeling of safety and trust that was such a natural part of me back then, is something I've always clung to.  Especially, when I realized many years later, that my grandfather wasn't staring with me because he believed my story, but because he cherished those simple moments that have no use for words.  We had many such moments.  I'm rich with such moments.

So, today when I was on the website for our class reunion in July, I came across this picture and remembered the castle.  Maybe I'll make a stop at the my childhood home one night and try to see the castle again.  Who knows?  Maybe it's still there.  Maybe it really was there all along. 

I think we all need our castles.  I believe this drive to have faith in something greater than myself that forever verges on dilusion is universal.  I still haven't found my "castle"...but I'm still searching.  For now, I think I'll hide in this memory from time to time in those moments when I feel lost and when I tire of searching.

I'd like to announce...

...our engagement.  I'm the luckiest jota in the world.

Yeah, once the divorce if final. 

Wishful thinking? 

Hell yes.  Wouldn't you?

Canada, OH my, Canada.

First of all, let's get some important old business out of the way. 

I love Ginger Beer...mmmmmmm K? 

Watch:

See? 

It's sweet.  It's spicy.  It's fizzy.  Muy, muy bueno.  And, killer with some whiskey or rum thrown in for good measure. 

So, what have I been up to since my last blog?  Let's see, I was officially welcomed into the temple as a new member even though I've been a member since June of last year.  I got some gifts also, a mezzuzah, a cookbook from the temple sisterhood, and a T-shirt that says "Shabbat Rocks". 

Because it totally does.

Um, The Electrician Affair has fizzled out, by all appearances. 

Met  a strange Asian guy with a wine cooler in the trunk of his Prius.  I know, weird.  That's just the tip of this Asian iceberg.  He says he's 27, but on paper he's 42.  He looks 20.  Despite his age, he claims to have lost his home during the Chinese invasion of Vietnam, which I thought was in the 60's and early 70's.  AND, he owns a restaurant in Houston that he works shifts at from Thursday to Sunday.  Otherwise, he works as a computer programmer for City Group.  Quite the character, that one.  He bathes in cream once a week and has his anus waxed in Canada every three months.  I'm NOT making this shit up.  Why Canada?  Because despite having been born in Vietnam and now living and working in the US, he's a Canadian citizen and he still gets free healthcare there...which includes having your anus waxed. 

Is that why Canada is so clean?

I say it is.  I'm going to call my congressman about this.  I want free anal waxing for every American.  I have a dream....

OH, and he gave me several hickies.  Mind you, I could've prevented them if I was really paying attention.  I had to borrow make up from a co-worker to cover them up.  She said I could keep it which is a good thing considering I'll have the hickies for a while. So, now I have a bottle of "Caramel Beige" L'Oreal Visible Lift foundation in my messenger bag.  I'm one roll of butterscotch flavored Life Savers away from having a purse.

Eh.  I was headed to the drug store anyway....