Homeward Bound

I remember, when I was younger, watching the movie Homeward Bound, and wondering how good a dog’s sense of direction was in real life.

At least in the case of Gemelli, I can now say: problematically good.

Gem not only remembers where things are, he also has strong ideas about when we should visit them. When he comes with me to work, for example, he always drags me to the pet store, many blocks away, even if it’s been months since his last visit. He knows where all the pet stores are in our home neighborhood, too, as well as all the TD Banks (where he can find water and free biscuits), and not a walk goes by that he doesn’t try to take us to a least a couple of those stops.

A few months ago, my younger brother got a cockapoo, a little girl named Brooklyn. Gem loves Brooklyn. Not in a ‘where the ladies at?’ kind of way (his other focus on walks), but in a platonic, member of the same pack, besties-for-life way. The two of them will wrestle and play for hours on end. Fortunately, and unfortunately, Brooklyn lives just ten blocks from our house. So on any afternoon or evening walk, Gem now also tries to drag us down to see her. And, a few times a week, we let him.

Last night, Jess and I had dinner at a restaurant near Columbus Circle. We brought Gem along, and ate at an outdoor table. Post-dinner, we walked into Central park.

So far as I know, I don’t think Gem had ever been to Columbus Circle before, nor to that corner of the park. But, even in the relative darkness, he looked around, and then started pulling us northward. A few blocks up, he veered out of the park, and onto Central Park West.

“He’s trying to take us to Brooklyn’s house,” I told Jess.

“I don’t think so,” she replied. “That’s still twenty blocks away, and he has no idea where he is; he thinks this is near our house.”

But, in fact, Gem knew precisely where he was. And he was on a mission. Up CPW, then across some street in the mid–70’s, and up Columbus. When we were two or three blocks away, Jess conceded. A few minutes later, triumphantly, Gem dragged us in my brother’s building’s front door.

Sure, those excellent navigation skills are at times a pain in the ass. But they’re also kind of a comfort. As Jess has a terrible sense of direction, it’s nice to think that, so long as she’s walking Gem, the two together are likely to find their way home.

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Recently, Jess was yelling at me to clean the kitchen.

“You know you don’t have to yell,” I said.

“Yes I do,” she replied. “You’re voice activated.”

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5

anniversary

Happy anniversary Jessie! After five years, you’re still the funniest person I know, the biggest hearted, and my best friend. I love you so, and I’d dance with you anytime; especially if it’s to UB40.

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Away In Virginia, I See a Mustard Field And Think Of You

because the blue hills are like the shoulder and slopes
of your back as you sleep. Often I slip a hand under
your body to anchor myself to this earth. The yellow
mustard rises from a waving sea of green.

I think of us driving narrow roads in France, under
a tunnel of sycamores, my hair blowing in the hot wind,
opera washing out of the radio, loud. We are feeding
each other cherries from a white paper sack.

And then we return to everyday life, where we fall
into bed exhausted, fall asleep while still reading,
forget the solid planes of the body in the country
of dreams. I miss your underwear, soft from a thousand
washings, the socks you still wear from a store
out of business thirty years. I love to smell your sweat
after mowing grass or hauling wood; I miss the weight
on your side of the bed.

\- “Away In Virginia, I See a Mustard Field And Think Of You” by Barbara Crooker

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Step Aside Siri

Jess: AND TAKE OUT THE TRASH!!

Me: You know you don’t have to yell at me just to get me to do something.

Jess: Yes I do! You’re voice activated.

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3

Three years ago, on a Sunday afternoon, I said yes to the best decision I’ve ever made.

So, today, on my third anniversary, I just wanted to quickly post about how wonderful Jess is. (Which, frankly, I should probably do more.) (And which, actually, Jess tells me to do: “what should I blog about?” I’ll ask her. “Me,” she invariably replies.)

Blog instruction notwithstanding, Jess is the yin to my yang, not overly boastful, rarely looking to be the center of attention. So far too many people – including my friends and family – have never discovered that she’s much funnier than I am, and smarter, and wiser and kinder and more insightful, too.

Which is why, even when she yells at me for not cleaning correctly (and mind you, I’m fairly OCD – just apparently not OCD enough), even when she tells me ‘you’re not my boss’ any time I tell her to do anything at all, even if we sometimes want to kill each other (“We’re best frenemies,” she recently proclaimed), I couldn’t be happier or more in love, I still can’t spend enough time with her after even days and days together in a row, and I wouldn’t want to be married to anyone else.

Happy anniversary Jess. I love you with all my heart.

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Head to Head

After weeks of work (into which I was conscripted as coder-in-chief), Jess just launched an awesome redesigned website for her consulting company, JG & Co., as well as a new accompanying blog, Truth Plus.

By comparison I’m now even further behind, both in the long-needed update to Cyan’s site, and in any sort of regular posting here. Is some competition the kick in the butt I need to finally get moving again on both fronts?

Either way, go read her blog. It’s well written, and a great window into the business side of the fashion world, which I otherwise only get to see from the sidelines (or when dragged to parties as arm candy; short but very charming arm candy).

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Inequilibrium

Early this week, struck by a slew of business insights, I spent three or four straight hours madly scribbling on yellow pads and wall whiteboards.

Certainly, this was a longer stint than most, but nearly all my good ideas, business successes, and small victories trace back to just such frenzied sessions of ‘Eureka!’ idea capture.

These bursts of thinking leave me energized to the point of manic, and I want, more than anything else, to share them. I want somebody else to get equally excited. And, unfortunately for her, the person who usually bears the brunt of that ecstatic, high-speed explaining is Jess.

Though Jess is the realist to my optimist, she’s kind enough to listen supportively, ask interested questions, and only later tell me the full list of problems she immediately sees that I haven’t even begun to consider.

Still, I can’t imagine it’s an easy task. Which might explain why, when Jess walked in to the office, and found me scrawling elaborate diagrams and flow charts on the wall, her first reaction was to roll her eyes, and say, “Beautiful Mind time, is it?”

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