jendrisc

I am not a first class schmuck at all today.

This is not my 500th post.

I'm not trying to get to 500 today

I'm not hungry at all right now.

I'm happy being way more impatient than others.

I did not miss my boyfriend at all last night.

There is no way Rob has posted his 500th post!

I am not hoping Rob gets to 500 today.

My mind is never in the gutter.

I love getting silly questions at work!

It's not going to be the longest day ever and there's going to be no traffic for Rob or me on the way home.

I'm not going to spend any extra money on random crap.

I feel like listening to all my old NKOTB tapes right now

 

My day is dragging.

I am not feverishly trying to get to my 400th post today.

 

Mary tapped her navy pumps nervously against the concrete sidewalk outside of the train station. She glanced at her watch three times before registering the fact that the train was over fifteen minutes late. Anxiously, she looked around the station. She hoped she didn't run into anyone her family knew. She was supposed to be at the library researching a paper for class. Who could think of 'Surgical Procedures for the RN' at a time like this anyway, for Pete's Sake? This was the day she was finally going to meet Jack Sullivan!

 

She took Jack's last letter out from her well worn copy of Shakepeare's "As You Like It". With trembling fingers, she carefully unfolded the paper and reread his final note:

 

Dearest Mary,

This is it! It's finally over! They are sending us home! I can't believe I've been over here for nearly four years. Thank you for keeping me company during that long lonely time. You've made me laugh on some really dark days.

I'd like to meet you and properly thank you in person. Bring your copy of "As You Like It" to a time and a place of your choosing. I await your response.

 

Yours,

Jack S.

 

Had she completely lost her mind? She'd agreed to meet with a stranger, but she felt like she knew Jack better than she knew her closest friend, Ethel. It was Ethel that had pestered Mary to write to Jack. Poor Jack, Ethel had said over and over. Ethel's family had known Jack's family practically all of her life. They were practically cousins. She even called his parents Aunty Laura and Uncle Bill. All alone over there in Europe with no family. He was an only child. His parents were both killed in a horrible plane crash on the way back from visiting him right before he shipped out to Normandy. How could Mary, studying to be a nurse, not feel empathy for the poor man and his tragic situation?

 

So she wrote. She wrote him nearly every day. She wrote of easy topics - what movies were playing, what the news reels reported, what rations her family got, and how the various drives were going. She wrote of more difficult subjects - what was happening in the Pacific, the economy, and the various defeats that she'd heard about. She was lucky to get one letter back from Jack for every ten to twenty of hers. But his were long, sometimes heart wrenching tales from Europe. He wrote of the men and boys in his unit. He told Mary how brave they were. He wrote about more than one of his brothers falling. Those were the hardest to read. He wrote about the victories that they'd won and the victories that lay ahead. He was always confident that they'd win out. Good over evil. He wrote of the horrendous losses that they had faced at the beach. Although he glossed over the details, Mary could sense the pain and despair that he'd felt.

 

This went on for more than two years. No wonder Mary felt like she'd known him. She told him things that she'd never told anyone; things that she shouldn't have. She blushed in embarrassment as she recalled a letter detailing her first kiss with a boy at their high school prom. 'Oh, please, don't remember', she prayed. It was too late to back out. Besides, she didn't really want to back out. She wanted to meet Jack and tell him what a brave and honorable man he was.

 

A whistle blew in the distance. Mary dropped her book and jumped at the sound. She quickly retrieved it and clutched it tightly as she watched the train approach. 'Oh hurry up!' Why was it taking so long? Her stomach threatened to give up the breakfast she'd eaten hours ago. She clutched the book tighter to her chest and walked over to the far side of the station. Smoothing back her reddish-blond curls and straightening her navy dress, she waited. She waited an eternity for the train to stop. She waited even longer for passengers to begin to disembark. She watched as person after person descended the steps. No one seemed to fit. There was only one man of an age that could have possibly been Jack, and he was met by a loving wife and two adorable children. No one else was leaving the train.

 

Dejectedly, Mary knew she'd been stood up. Of course he'd changed his mind when he got back to the States. Gosh, he was probably as embarrassed as she was thinking of all the things he'd written. Why should he want to meet her and bring back all those memories? Besides, she was only a pen pal.

 

Mary hung her head and turned to walk in to the station. She could hear the whistle blowing, signaling the train was moving on. She sobbed quietly into her hands and took a seat near the window of the station to watch for the bus. This was it. She would go home. No one, not even Ethel, would know of her failed meeting. After two years and two hundred letters, she'd move on too.

 

The bus rolled to a stop and Mary got out the fare. Just as she was about to leave the station and board the bus, she felt a tap on her shoulder. Startled, she quickly wiped her eyes and turned around.

 

"Excuse me, Miss Williams? I believe you dropped this." The man standing before her was a handsome man with a wide, kind smile. He was also tall. She had to look up to meet his eyes. She forced her gaze from the arresting green eyes down to his lean fingers where he was holding out her copy of "As You Like It." Her heart slammed into her chest.

 

Her hand brushed his as she reached for the book. It scorched her all the way up her arm and left her tingling. She quickly took the book and looked back up into his face, bemused.

 

"Mr. Sullivan?"

 

"Yes. It's me. Jack Sullivan." His grin broadened, and he tipped his hat to her.

 

"How? I saw everyone depart. I didn't see you." She was confused. She waited until every last person left the train. She was sure of it.

 

"I... I was so nervous about meeting you that I was... err.. indisposed." Jack told her sheepishly. His face turned a brilliant shade of red and she nearly laughed out loud in relief. "I'm sorry, Miss Williams. I almost missed the stop. I came out just as you were coming in to the station."

 

"But how? How did you know it was me? There are plenty of other women around the station that it could have been."

 

Taking her free hand in his, he gazed warmly into her eyes.

 

"I'd have known you anywhere, Miss Williams. We've known each other for over two years. You are far more beautiful than I ever imagined during all those long nights."

 

"Please, Mr. Sullivan," She gulped. "Call me Mary." She smiled tentatively up at him and was rewarded with a huge glowing smile that lit his whole face.

 

"And you must call me Jack." His gaze intensified, pleading with her.

 

"Jack." She blushed and looked down at her feet. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you in person. I'm so glad you are home."

 

Putting his finger under her chin, Jack gently raised her face. He leaned close to her, looked directly into her eyes, and said very softly, "Mary, the pleasure is all mine. I'm going to kiss you now. If you intend to stop me, you need to do it now."

 

She wouldn't stop him. She gave him a small smile of encouragement and took a step closer to him. Slowly, his lips descended toward hers. He was giving her plenty of time to back out, she knew. Her lashes flitted shut as she felt his breath tease her lips. She shivered when his mouth settled on hers. It was a quick chaste kiss, but she could sense the urgency and restraint behind it. And it thrilled her. The only contact their bodies had was the hand that he held warmly within both of his. As he eased himself away from her, she opened her eyes. She had no idea if the kiss had affected him as deeply as it affected her.

 

"Oh, Mary." Jack groaned out through clenched teeth. He tugged her hand gently toward him. She went willingly into his open embrace. He enveloped her in a tight hug. "Thank you so much." He murmurmed into her hair, kissing her again and again.

 

And she knew.

I read with music on. I don't like having the TV on, as that is too distracting for me. But reading with music fits me perfectly.

Rush was in a bathtub with Dream Theater and Mike Portnoy farted. Geddy loudly exclaimed, "Wheres My Thing!?!". "It is in Alex's double neck Gibson, which is not the greatest place to find a gigantic wildebeast. Neil said fear the snow dogs or they will kill your family, then outa nowhere came Kurt Cobain shooting heroin in the face. "Ow!"

 

Neil ran screaming, grabbed his drumsticks and his helmet, whipped out his giant spaghetti noodle, and sped out of the studio to go find Terry Brown's apartment. "Oh my gosh! I forgot my...motorcycle keys and my newest lyrics. Well no big deal, Courtney Love will remember them.

 

At that moment, the phone rang "Hello Neil, you left your lyrics back in Toronto and your snowdog is here too. Come get them." Neil replied, "I don't have the soup or shrimp cot to get the lyrics. So mail them here along with my motorcycle keys and kitty litter bags. Meanwhile, Alex was checking his Gibson sandwiches, which tasted similar to broccoli, but still couldn't compare to the soup he had each day. Chicken has protein for Geddy's fingers, giving him the feeling of pride from knowing that he soon would rule the world. "What'a Farcry you'd take the whole pie i had".

 

He scurried away, frantically searching for his lost squirrel, who knows how he got away. And why. He called to his pet Canadian goose, not a creature came, "Why!, Oh why can't I get my silly real goose to run with the Toronto snowdog?

 

An answer came from above. "Because, only good little geese can run into snowdogs whilst charging black squirrels". Geddy decided to pick up the fuzzy little fella while he was still ahead of the game, and promptly shared some popcorn with his bloated, whale - like Marlin and Dory, who were feeling especially thin and crispy, like Lays.

 

"Start a new story, already! Sheesh!" said the start. They muttered aloud, "Jelly babies and crispy Lays can sometimes become yellow, sticky and mushy when left in the rain. Refrigerate your meat, because it really smells bad when you leave it on your grandmother overnight. She's old and incontinent. Andrew MacNaughton took her photograph and sold it to some tabloids

I am miserable right now!

I am not at all sympathetic to Rob's plight.

I'm not nervous about Friday's weather forecast and the ALCS game #1.

I haven't spent much time surfing the web today.

I hope this day never ends.

I'm not tired at all.

I love the selection in our cafeteria at work.