Dear Josh Allen

 Dear Josh Allen,

I am getting too old to go through the entire "Josh Allen Experience" every week. My heart just can't take it. 

Touchdowns passes, Schnowplow touchdowns, all the other good stuff? That's fine. Interceptions and fumbles? Not so much.

Thank you for your anticipated cooperation.

Go Bills!

Vacation Time

 

When I was considering leaving my old job, where I had been for 15 1/2 years, one of the cons on my pros and cons list was giving up five weeks of vacation. A wise person told me: If you had a job you liked and where you were treated better you wouldn't feel you needed five weeks of vacation time.

Fast forward to this year (3 years after I left that job). Well, let's go back to November of last year first. Our HR manager told us how much personal time we had left for 2023 and we were supposed to tell her if we were going to use it or roll it over. (Roll it over?! At every job I ever had it was "use it or lose it.") I started work there on Feb. 21 and wasn't even thinking about personal days, vacation days, etc., so I was surprised to learn I had more than 13 hours of personal time left. With all the holiday time we all get, I only had to work one day between 12/21 and Jan 1. And, even that day could have been half a day. I worked because I wanted to get caught up on stuff so I wouldn't be overwhelmed when I got back on Jan. 2.

Now, a little over a month from my one-year anniversary date, a co-worker mentioned that I will have one week of vacation time plus the 10 personal days as of Feb 22. That's three weeks of paid time off after one year as opposed to five weeks after 15 1/2 years.

That alone is enough to tell me I made the right choice. 

(I could, and probably will someday, go into the myriad other reasons I made the right choice.)

Chapters

I wrote this in August and wasn't sure until this morning that I wanted to post it: 

 I read something last week that said what you think may be your true love may only be a chapter in the book of your life – or something like that.

It rang so true for me, especially with Bruce’s death so recent and my myriad emotions so painfully raw.

It’s true, though. Bruce was just a chapter. He was never my true love, and we both knew that, I think. But it was good for a while (until it wasn’t) and, because we ended up being friends, he is my second-longest relationship aside from blood relatives.

My two shortest relationships are actually the most memorable, oddly. Yes, Bruce and I had a lot of memories, but they weren’t the most memorable or impactful.

Baseball Guy? Now that’s another story. It was really just one night in college, but man was it nice. It wasn’t even sex. It was just a lot of kissing on the “dance floor” of Butler Gym during a cocktail party. Best. Kisser. Ever. Yes, we talked sometimes after that and I went to his baseball games and, yada, yada, yada. And we kept in touch for a bit after graduation. But it didn’t go anywhere. That’s OK. He could have been the most perfect guy in the world but I doubt anything could have been better than that one night, which I still think about. Obviously.

We’ll get to the other shortest one later. In fact, I’ll probably save him for last. You’ll see why when we get there.

Bruce and I met at Bradford Perkins. Two other guys are also Perkins-related.

Other Perkins Guy. Oh, Other Perkins Guy. We worked together at Perkins in Warren and just clicked. We got to be good friends; walked home together when our shifts coincided; hung out at work and sometimes after. It probably would have gone further had Bruce not transferred from Bradford to Warren. Actually, it might have gone further at my going away party if Bruce hadn't been standing there. As it was, we may have set a record for the longest hand-holding-without-saying-anything good-bye in history. We kept in touch for quite a while after I left Warren. Phone calls. Cards and letters. (Yes, handwritten, snail-mail letters.) Our birthdays are exactly a week apart (he’s older) so that was easy for us to remember. That’s what makes it so odd that when I Facebook’d his wife and asked her to wish him a happy birthday from me she said he had no idea who I was. Really, lady? Really? I guarantee she didn’t even mention it to him.

Bruce wasn’t the only reason Other Perkins Guy and I didn’t take it to the next level. I’m sure OPG noticed the flirtation between me and Delivery Guy. How could he not? Everyone else in Bradford and Warren did. I knew that wasn’t going anywhere. He was just fun, and fun to flirt with. In all honesty, I’ve never had a better time flirting with anyone since then. And no one has made me feel the way he did when he flirted with me. When he unloaded his truck, he would always come and look for me to check his order to make sure it was correct and all there. But he’d always say, “Ready to check me out?” I would always answer with a wink, “You bet I am.” Goofy and silly, but fun. And, on his last day on that route, he gave me a little kiss. Nice. Sweet. To this day, I wonder what would have happened if I took him up on any of his offers when he told me his hotel room number after his truck mysteriously broke down. Funny how it always happened in Bradford when I was working there, and Warren when I was working there. Subtle, DG. Subtle. 

Those guys all had their own chapters, some longer than others. Some are twistier and less predictable than others. These guys, however, can be lumped into one chapter. They deserve to be mentioned but I don’t feel that they each need a chapter, as surprising as that may seem. They are, in no particular order: Chico, Todd, Casey, Jim G., Jim K., John F., Mark L. and Nick. The others? Sorry. Maybe if my book has an epilog.

I have often joked that The Best Friend is the love of my life. That’s not true. He’s the lust of my life. He’s also the longest relationship I’ve ever had. I could say more but as of this writing (8-29-23) this chapter isn’t even close to being finished.

So, who is the love of my life? Great Smile Guy. We never even kissed (romantically) but I loved him with all my heart. It’s been 13 months and 10 days since he died and I still think about him every day. I’m writing a fictionalized version of our relationship to help me get past his death and to help get my feelings out. 

Last but by no means least is Ray Healy. Our relationship was very brief but very passionate and led to the most painful thing I’ve ever had to deal with. I like to think her name would have been Laura Katherine, but it’s possible he could have been Conor Raymond. We lost Baby Healy on November 18, 1985. Our relationship wasn’t strong enough to overcome the loss.

As I’m writing this I’m wondering if I’ll have any more chapters, like one that ends “ … and they lived happily ever after.”