Friends,
Now I have a beard. My face is, officially, beardy. When I eat, say, chips and salsa, and lick my lips, the salsa is hairy.
Several weeks ago Hope Moreland (that's my mother-in-law) and Ashley Brady (that's my sister-in-law) came to visit. Their excuse was our new house; they were to come and womanize it, or, decorate. For four days they stayed with us, and for four days in my house, when all three were here, there was a sound not dissimilar to that of an ambulance's siren. I don't know how a man can raise only daughters, being outnumbered like that. My ears hurt very soon after they arrived, though I loved that they came. Every now and then they looked at me and they knew it. They said, "Oh we're driving Carlos crazy. Poor guy has to put up with three women decorating. How do you do it?" Actually, it was very easy. I love these three women, and having them in town was great. Now in our house are many kinds of knick knacks: a wreath, all kinds of candles, baskets set in special places, pine cones with certain wonderful scents, a wall-clock. And, after much discussion and debating about what should go where (the painting--from Marshalls--was returned [thank God!]) everything is in the perfect spot. I live in a home that feels warm, safe, and the feeling of love is evident everywhere. Thank you, Hope and Ashley. Having you out was one hell of a time. --Then, the day after the women were gone, my dad flew out and stayed with us, and we manned it up around here, put some chest hair on the walls. Many wonderful things happened. He took my friends and me out to the bar. I am told it was very fun, and that my friends really liked him. The next day, we walked around Pittsburgh a bit, and after a while he bought us a TV, with a DVD player in it (somewhat to our arrogant/academic snob mentality's dismay)--so now we can watch movies on our way to bed without getting out the laptop and putting it away again (which, now that we are NetFlix customers--and very happy ones at that--is perfect). I am sure there must be an analogy in there somewhere, something I can't find the words for: women came and bought candles; then the men buy drinks and a TV. Something about that feels very very appropriate, no?
A homework assignment: The problem with Blockbuster is walking into the store and forgetting the names of all the movies ever made. It's like stage fright. You forget everything you came to do. Alli and I will be "in the mood for a movie" and we will drive to Blockbuster, then wander the aisles for a couple of days repeating "Does anything look good to you?" "What do you want to rent?" "Have you made up your mind?" Usually, we end up in a fight somehow, and walk out empty-handed, ed off at Hollywood and each other, kicking ourselves for forgetting to make a list of movies beforehand. So, please, help us out. Send us some must-see movie titles. We can store them up in our "Q" on NetFlix. (Sidenote: Most of the time I am sure that the Internet and pretty much any post-Industrial-Revolution technology is of the devil, but then, after centuries of trying, man breaks through: something like NetFlix comes along, and I'm positive that it's all been worth it. Forget the bloody wars and politics and greed and CEOs and high gas prices and the coalmining and exploitation of "under-developed" countries and ...forget all of that. I have NetFlix now. I can conveniently watch my movie. It's all so easy now, plus my marriage is better. So, thank you to the man who started it all by thinking up the steam engine. Yes, thank you Mr. Steam Engine Guy.) To summarize your assignment, in case you missed it, send us the titles of movies you think are good and are worth the watch.
Another homework assignment: This question came up while Alli and I were painting the walls a few weeks ago--Of the songs you know and love, if you could ask the songwriter "What does it mean?" what are your top five? A couple of rules: No fair naming obscure songs to show off how "indie cool" you are. And no symphonies. Think popular culture (or, something you could buy at Borders or Amazon.com or some such place) from the last fifty years or so. For me, "Stairway to Heaven" is one. Get it?
Thanksgiving: We drove to Maryland. There are friends there, the Duncans. They are a family, by way of the Moreland clan, that I have come to love. It total, there were eleven of us at dinner, and nine of us a couple of days later when we played touch football in the backyard. Alli made two amazing catches for touchdowns, and I made one. We were on opposite teams, something I apparently forgot, because I kept slapping her ass. All of us were sore the next day, hardly able to walk, and, over a week later, I am still sore. I heard a statistic once that sixty percent of all men believe that they are in the top ten percent of all athletes. As of last week, I am no longer in that sixty percent.
Last week, my hair was too long again. So I got a haircut. Only, this time, and for the first time, Alli cut it for me. I look, according to my friend Ian, "like a Russian"--I have no idea what he means by this. I like it. I don't know how she did it--we took out a pair of scissors (old scissors, yucky scissors, scissors that more pulled than cut), and she went to work, no comb or anything. Amazing. Alli is very proud. Whenever we're out now, she makes sure to comment on how good I look, then "naturally" segues into the fact that she cut it--"Did you know," she'll say to whomever is around (friend, acquaintance, homeless guy at the bus stop), "that I cut it? It was my first! Doesn't it look so good? I mean, don't those layers just blend?"
Last night, we had some friends over. One of the MFAs, Adam, who is writing a book about the WWF--a novel, actually--recently purchased a VHS that showed all the highlights from ALL the WRESTLEMANIAs. Of course, we thought, this is a perfect reason to have the kids over. We invited about ten or so people to our place, and we ordered pizza, and now we all know the history of the WWF (now WWE, I believe). We watched while wrestlers, trying to comment on the success of "professional sports entertainment", use words like transcend. It was gross. Sean Michaels said it three times. The Undertaker bragged about having kicked a lot of butt. Hulk Hogan wasn't available for interview, but he was so tough in the ring. So much passion; so much will. He never gave up. He was six-foot-seven, inches from heaven; his arms were the twenty-four-inch pythons; and he was--and in many ways, still is--my hero. I found myself standing up and rooting for the Hulk as if this were still 1986. Man, I feel like a loser, but an awesome one. I am a Little Hulkamaniac, to the death.
It snows in Pittsburgh. It is cold here, and snowy, and white everywhere. It is very pretty. This afternoon, while taking Ray on a walk, Alli looked up to see two deer keeping warm by snuggling their heads on the other's neck. She was stunned. She picked Ray up, so he wouldn't scare them away, then she got the temptation to approach them, walking very slowly and quietly, hoping she could suddenly walk like a Ninja. But they hopped away, "and then," she said, "five more deer--I counted them--came out of nowhere, and hopped away with them. I think deer are the most beautiful animal." I am happy that she got to see this, as we are still city folk (Pittsburgh is a city, sure, but it's also a forest); before we moved out here, we had doubts that deer even existed. Now they live down the street. And the snow. The snow. It is white and and cold and pretty. Our car is covered in white. Our porch, our roof, our street. All white. We will get tired of it soon, maybe, but now it is a cold kind of heaven to look at.
We love and miss you very much,
Carlos & Alli
Now I have a beard. My face is, officially, beardy. When I eat, say, chips and salsa, and lick my lips, the salsa is hairy.
Several weeks ago Hope Moreland (that's my mother-in-law) and Ashley Brady (that's my sister-in-law) came to visit. Their excuse was our new house; they were to come and womanize it, or, decorate. For four days they stayed with us, and for four days in my house, when all three were here, there was a sound not dissimilar to that of an ambulance's siren. I don't know how a man can raise only daughters, being outnumbered like that. My ears hurt very soon after they arrived, though I loved that they came. Every now and then they looked at me and they knew it. They said, "Oh we're driving Carlos crazy. Poor guy has to put up with three women decorating. How do you do it?" Actually, it was very easy. I love these three women, and having them in town was great. Now in our house are many kinds of knick knacks: a wreath, all kinds of candles, baskets set in special places, pine cones with certain wonderful scents, a wall-clock. And, after much discussion and debating about what should go where (the painting--from Marshalls--was returned [thank God!]) everything is in the perfect spot. I live in a home that feels warm, safe, and the feeling of love is evident everywhere. Thank you, Hope and Ashley. Having you out was one hell of a time. --Then, the day after the women were gone, my dad flew out and stayed with us, and we manned it up around here, put some chest hair on the walls. Many wonderful things happened. He took my friends and me out to the bar. I am told it was very fun, and that my friends really liked him. The next day, we walked around Pittsburgh a bit, and after a while he bought us a TV, with a DVD player in it (somewhat to our arrogant/academic snob mentality's dismay)--so now we can watch movies on our way to bed without getting out the laptop and putting it away again (which, now that we are NetFlix customers--and very happy ones at that--is perfect). I am sure there must be an analogy in there somewhere, something I can't find the words for: women came and bought candles; then the men buy drinks and a TV. Something about that feels very very appropriate, no?
A homework assignment: The problem with Blockbuster is walking into the store and forgetting the names of all the movies ever made. It's like stage fright. You forget everything you came to do. Alli and I will be "in the mood for a movie" and we will drive to Blockbuster, then wander the aisles for a couple of days repeating "Does anything look good to you?" "What do you want to rent?" "Have you made up your mind?" Usually, we end up in a fight somehow, and walk out empty-handed, ed off at Hollywood and each other, kicking ourselves for forgetting to make a list of movies beforehand. So, please, help us out. Send us some must-see movie titles. We can store them up in our "Q" on NetFlix. (Sidenote: Most of the time I am sure that the Internet and pretty much any post-Industrial-Revolution technology is of the devil, but then, after centuries of trying, man breaks through: something like NetFlix comes along, and I'm positive that it's all been worth it. Forget the bloody wars and politics and greed and CEOs and high gas prices and the coalmining and exploitation of "under-developed" countries and ...forget all of that. I have NetFlix now. I can conveniently watch my movie. It's all so easy now, plus my marriage is better. So, thank you to the man who started it all by thinking up the steam engine. Yes, thank you Mr. Steam Engine Guy.) To summarize your assignment, in case you missed it, send us the titles of movies you think are good and are worth the watch.
Another homework assignment: This question came up while Alli and I were painting the walls a few weeks ago--Of the songs you know and love, if you could ask the songwriter "What does it mean?" what are your top five? A couple of rules: No fair naming obscure songs to show off how "indie cool" you are. And no symphonies. Think popular culture (or, something you could buy at Borders or Amazon.com or some such place) from the last fifty years or so. For me, "Stairway to Heaven" is one. Get it?
Thanksgiving: We drove to Maryland. There are friends there, the Duncans. They are a family, by way of the Moreland clan, that I have come to love. It total, there were eleven of us at dinner, and nine of us a couple of days later when we played touch football in the backyard. Alli made two amazing catches for touchdowns, and I made one. We were on opposite teams, something I apparently forgot, because I kept slapping her ass. All of us were sore the next day, hardly able to walk, and, over a week later, I am still sore. I heard a statistic once that sixty percent of all men believe that they are in the top ten percent of all athletes. As of last week, I am no longer in that sixty percent.
Last week, my hair was too long again. So I got a haircut. Only, this time, and for the first time, Alli cut it for me. I look, according to my friend Ian, "like a Russian"--I have no idea what he means by this. I like it. I don't know how she did it--we took out a pair of scissors (old scissors, yucky scissors, scissors that more pulled than cut), and she went to work, no comb or anything. Amazing. Alli is very proud. Whenever we're out now, she makes sure to comment on how good I look, then "naturally" segues into the fact that she cut it--"Did you know," she'll say to whomever is around (friend, acquaintance, homeless guy at the bus stop), "that I cut it? It was my first! Doesn't it look so good? I mean, don't those layers just blend?"
Last night, we had some friends over. One of the MFAs, Adam, who is writing a book about the WWF--a novel, actually--recently purchased a VHS that showed all the highlights from ALL the WRESTLEMANIAs. Of course, we thought, this is a perfect reason to have the kids over. We invited about ten or so people to our place, and we ordered pizza, and now we all know the history of the WWF (now WWE, I believe). We watched while wrestlers, trying to comment on the success of "professional sports entertainment", use words like transcend. It was gross. Sean Michaels said it three times. The Undertaker bragged about having kicked a lot of butt. Hulk Hogan wasn't available for interview, but he was so tough in the ring. So much passion; so much will. He never gave up. He was six-foot-seven, inches from heaven; his arms were the twenty-four-inch pythons; and he was--and in many ways, still is--my hero. I found myself standing up and rooting for the Hulk as if this were still 1986. Man, I feel like a loser, but an awesome one. I am a Little Hulkamaniac, to the death.
It snows in Pittsburgh. It is cold here, and snowy, and white everywhere. It is very pretty. This afternoon, while taking Ray on a walk, Alli looked up to see two deer keeping warm by snuggling their heads on the other's neck. She was stunned. She picked Ray up, so he wouldn't scare them away, then she got the temptation to approach them, walking very slowly and quietly, hoping she could suddenly walk like a Ninja. But they hopped away, "and then," she said, "five more deer--I counted them--came out of nowhere, and hopped away with them. I think deer are the most beautiful animal." I am happy that she got to see this, as we are still city folk (Pittsburgh is a city, sure, but it's also a forest); before we moved out here, we had doubts that deer even existed. Now they live down the street. And the snow. The snow. It is white and and cold and pretty. Our car is covered in white. Our porch, our roof, our street. All white. We will get tired of it soon, maybe, but now it is a cold kind of heaven to look at.
We love and miss you very much,
Carlos & Alli
posted by Carlos Antonio Delgado at 2:12 PM
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