Singing, even in the rain? You betcha!

I like to sing.  (Which may be a big understatement, to be honest.)

I didn’t say that I was a particularly good singer, although it does depend on the song, I’ve found.  I was friends with a lady who was a semi-professional singer, which means that she sang quite regularly for people at weddings and other such events and was paid for her serenading.  Normally, she didn’t say much about my singing, but when I belted out some old jazz tune, she leaned over and said, “Wow, you’re good.”  I just laughed because, really, I’m NOT.  She just caught me in a deeper range where the singer added a nice sort of growl to the song, which is something that I can do.  I know that I’m not a good singer, but that doesn’t stop me from singing (and really, anyone who sings almost all the time has to sound okay at least once in his/her life, right?)

This past Christmas my mom said to Neal, “Jessica used to make up songs all the time.”  (And I have a tape of me at about four or five making up a song about members of my family and something about going to California or something.  I was TRYING to mimic a song I’d heard on the radio—the name of which escapes me at this moment, but I always remember this moment when I hear it on the radio.  I was singing and playing my broom guitar and I think I even had a bit of percussion in there banging on something in the kitchen.  I was FURIOUS when I rounded the kitchen door and saw the tape player recording my stylings.  I still remember that, too.  I found it at my parents once when I was in college and I snitched it, so I currently own this extremely old tape that I’m afraid to play for fear that it’ll break.)

His reply? “What’s changed?”

You know those moments in movies where the people break into song?  Yeah, that happens pretty regularly around our house.  When Neal and I were dating, he got a pretty fair warning about this, though, so we can’t say that he was tricked into a relationship where spontaneous singing and dancing occurred.  Back before we were married, we talked until late into the night and often fell asleep on the phone together, so Neal would go and get ready for bed when we were on the phone.  The “getting ready” included brushing his teeth, etc.  I was often bored on the other end of the line with nothing to do, so one day I made up a song about brushing and flossing one’s teeth.  It has two verses.  And I taught it to Neal when he came back, and we sing it to this day.  (Not daily or anything, but we do have an official soundtrack to the brushing and flossing of our teeth those moments when we feel the need to sing about such a momentous event.)

Sometimes I just put new words to old tunes, but other times I just plain make up new songs (such as the Teefie Brushing Song—that is not misspelled.)  Sometimes they become a part of our life and we remember them, singing them randomly here and there.  Others are just one-time tunes to fit the moment.

My life really is a musical.

Now…if I can only get others to impetuously join in with my song and then dance with me in a synchronized fashion, that would be fantastic.

(By the way, Neal insists that he loves it when I sing, and I sometimes catch him watching me with a loving grin on his face.  I take that to mean that he’s not lying and that he is madly in love with me, especially if he can tolerate my singing fairly constantly in our lives.)

I got rhythm, I got music
I got my man
Who could ask for anything more?

Looking back and looking forward

The place Neal and I held our wedding apparently now has a pretty decent website (as opposed to two years ago when we married, since I could find no information on the place and had to get all information through phone call after phone call instead).  Looking at the website, Neal and I are amazed that they somehow think they can get 200 people standing and 100 people for a sit-down dinner in that place.  I wish someone who’d been there could comment on how small that place actually is.  We had eighteen people there (twenty including ourselves), and only had room for my grandparents and all four of our parents to sit while everyone else stood behind them to watch (except Misty who officiated and Kim who was running around taking pictures).  And I’m pretty sure it was pretty close for the standing people even though there weren’t that many there.

This is from the angle where we stood to get married. The inset mosaic actually had a triangular platform over it that Misty stood on facing us, while we stood facing the direction you see here (facing toward our guests because I HATE it when you only see people's butts get married). Family sat/stood along the two sides you see there. © JDGR

Another angle for you here from above. Misty and we stood in the lower right hand corner. My paternal grandparents were sitting in the lower left corner section; my parents in the left upper section; Neal's parents in the top left side. Everyone else stood behind them where they could best see us around the pillars. The mosaic pool WAS filled with water, so Misty was hanging out over the pool during the entire ceremony. © JDGR

A couple more pictures of the place can be seen on my old photoblog here.  Bear in mind that I personally took these pictures in early 2005 sometime, right after Neal and I started dating and way before we became engaged or even knew we’d be getting married, let alone knowing WHERE we’d be getting married.  I had a bunch more pictures of this place but I unfortunately lost them when my laptop crashed, so the only ones I have left from my excursion this touristy day (free tours this day, so I went and decided to take pictures) are the ones on my old photoblog.

I have to say that we apparently got a GREAT deal on the place, though, since prices have risen quite a bit since our wedding there.  *wipes forehead*  I’m aghast at the prices now, even though I’m sure they aren’t that bad for a wedding or reception place in comparison to other places.  Bear in mind that I’m just a frugal person by nature.  *grins*  We did the entire wedding on a fairly tight budget (since I wouldn’t have a job when I first moved up here, budgeting was KEY to the entire thing going off well in order for me to also be able to move up here to actually, you know, live with my new husband), and I’m glad to say that we did tons better than anyone would think.

Anyway, just a trip down memory lane.  Neal and I were ordering pictures for our new apartment (we have a long hallway to fill) and happened upon a few of the Villa that Neal had downloaded from my blog those many years ago after I put them up there.  A Moorish “castle” overlooking the Mississippi River is a unique sight, but I wish the view from there to the river was pretty instead of industrial.  Ah, well.  I’d show you current pictures of where we had our personal wedding pictures taken, but the park is currently under water since it’s right on the banks of the Mississippi.  Hmmmm…actually, I can.  Here you go (the hexagonal item in these pictures, near the center, is a walled fountain where we had many of our pictures taken):

An almost level view of the fountain and a nice view of the Bayview Bridge.

And for your viewing pleasure, here is a picture I took several years ago of the fountain:

© JDGR

And Neal in the same park when we were dating, with the Bayview Bridge also in the background:

© JDGR

A few more pictures, since this is apparently a picture post. The ones below are of two places I’ve been to many times. The Pier is a local restaurant that I have a strong connection to for a variety of reasons: prom dates, romantic dates with my now-husband, etc.  The Dock is a local watering hole that I used to go to after work with some co-workers every once in a while.  Neal has also been there with me (and a couple of these co-workers) when he was visiting before, so all of these places have memories for both of us.

The Pier. As you can see, the entire lower level is under water and only the upper dining area can be seen.

The Pier, lower level.

The Dock was a local biker (mainly Harley riders, such as my co-worker) hangout as well. Here it is as seen from the direction of the road (as the river was on the far side, obviously).

This side shows the parking lot and the covered outside "hangout" area. Off to the left of the covered deck area was a makeshift stage for live bands.

I was only 14 during the flood of 1993, so I hadn’t made as many memories down on the waterfront on my own. I had family memories of Fourth of July celebrations in that park, but not very many of ones I had made on my own. This year, I can look back at so many things on the waterfront and feel a sense of loss when I see pictures of these places underwater. Sure, they’ll come back and dry out, I know, but it just reminds me of how much living I crammed in my three-and-a-half years living there as an adult. I made friends and hung out down there on many occasions (and I have many pictures of that area with many different people, such as when the Nina replicate visited on its trip down the River or the many times I hung out at The Dock with different people, listening to bands or playing pool or shuffleboard.) Most of all, I think of all the times Neal and I were down there, walking on the waterfront while talking about life and the future, taking pictures of the wonderful view together (or my coercing Neal to let me take pictures of him there), crossing the rickety, one-lane wooden bridge to the Quinsippi Island to hike around (or to look for mushrooms with friends at other times), having dates at The Pier, or just hanging out with friends. I made my own memories there as an adult, and my husband helped create a fair share of them and slipped seamlessly into my life and my love of the riverfront.

From our first “real date-date” (complete with a new dress and the whole shebang) to our wedding, the Mississippi River waterfront in Quincy saw a lot of our journey (just as the Duluth beach saw a lot of it up here). A lot of our romance has been witnessed by water: Fall Creek, Mississippi River, Lake Superior, Gooseberry Falls and River, and so on. As literature majors both, we really love symbolism and treat the water that surrounds our life together as a wonderful symbol of life and renewal, which was why we used it at our wedding. Using a sand ceremony three-vase set, I poured water from Fall Creek (where Neal proposed) into the center vase and Neal poured water from Lake Superior (where we first met AND where Neal lugged sand from to propose to me on: see my version of the story here and Neal’s version here) to intermingle with mine—water from two places that saw our friendship begin, our love blossom, and our future together begin.

Just ask

I recently wrote about wanting change and my request was quite nicely answered.  In the past few weeks, I’ve been given the chance at two jobs, both of which I would be happy in.  One was part time, to become full time at an undetermined later date.  My coworkers were wonderful and helpful and supportive, which was a nice change of pace for me.  When I decided to take the other job, they all told me how sad they were I was leaving and were very sorry to see me go, as I was the best worker they’d had there.  That was nice to hear, of course, but nicer was that if the second job didn’t work out as I would like, I was more than welcome to come back and resume my place there.

So I started the second job this week, and I am very happy with the position.  I’m finally making a decent living wage for pretty much the first time in my entire life, and I’m happy to state my position when people ask what I do.  I’m still not sure how I got my foot in the door on this one, as I’ve had no previous training really on this position, but I was lucky to be in the right place at the right time to meet with a company who is willing to train “the right person”.  I interviewed for a completely different position at first, one that I wasn’t too terribly excited about (and probably wouldn’t have taken, staying intead at the other position and forgoing more hours and more pay to be happier with what I was doing), but the interview soon took a turn regarding another position for which I was then interviewed a second time the next day.  Two days later I was hired and here I am.  There is a lot to learn, a lot of protocol, and this job isn’t one that I can slack on, ever.  I have to be on and thinking critically about everything I do, which I’m going to absolutely love.  I’m happy with these changes.

We are soon to move to the former apartment of the “nice boys” who lived next to us.  We decided to move there to get away from the front stairs where people try to stomp our pictures and lithographs off the wall and to get away from the front entrance where people blow their illegal smoke into our apartment and yell, scream, and chase each other around at three in the morning.  I won’t miss the drunk people who did all three: Come home yelling and screaming only to smoke a few by the front door and then stumble-stomp up the stairs to their apartment.  Sure, we’ll have more traffic noise from the busier road out our new windows, but anything will be better than all the issues we’ve dealt with in this particular apartment (including the drunk, thumpy girls upstairs who tend to have many loud and obnoxious gentleman callers).  Even if our upstairs neighbor is loud there, I’ll be able to deal with it better for lack of all the other annoying noises and issues that we will no longer deal with.  Ah, relief.

Neal is starting a new class, finally.  He has asked for this for a few years now only to hear this past year, “Oh, you’re willing to teach that class?  Why didn’t you tell me this?”  Ummmm…maybe because he DID but you didn’t listen?  Or read emails closely?  I’m hoping this breaks up the monotony for him and makes this coming year a bit easier to deal with, especially given last semester and some issues that nearly caused him to burn out.

Sure, we’re still here and hoping to go elsewhere, and I’m still wanting to go to grad school, but I’m willing to be patient for now, especially since things are looking up finally. Who knows what the next year holds?  I am looking forward to it—for once.