Two full months have elapsed. GB is doing very well. His three major issues: shuffling/walking/balance, incontinence, and cognition have all improved! He’s walking normally, still a bit tentative but that’s okay, he lifts his feet and walks. All good. Not so much with me, though. My August fall did something wrong to my spine and I’m going in for an MRI to see what’s happening. I can cope with the pain but I’m having trouble coping with the fact that I probably won’t ski this year. That, plus the Inauguration, well, what can I say. Nothing.
So, I’ll reminisce a bit. I’ll take some of my own medicine: I can be in pain happy or sad but I’ll be in pain either way so I might as well opt for happy. This is one of my favorite stories: how we met.
My 10th high school reunion was happening in June 1975. Like probably everyone, I had mixed feelings about going. I hadn’t been the most popular girl in school. I wasn’t in one of the high school sororities. I didn’t get good grades. I hated my hair because it was kinky/curly/out of control (right, it still is). Teachers weren’t particularly fond of me. I had a few friends and most of them weren’t interested in seeing what happened 10 years later.
I asked a friend to be my date. He was perfect: blond, tanned and drove a Mercedes two-seater convertible. I was also perfect: straight hair, tanned, in shape wearing a gorgeous pair of white pants with a flower print halter top. I was feeling rather self-important as I had been interviewed for a Denver Post article the week before and my career as a lobbyist was taking off.
My date and I strode past the new mothers, newlyweds, and other classmates. He and I were full of confidence and superior airs. As I walked up to the reception table, there sat the usual group of former cheerleaders, prom queens and student council mavens and a very cute man sporting a full beard and cheerful, sparkling eyes. It was Gene Bloom. My jaw dropped. Genebloom! Wow. I thought, wasn’t he the total nerd in school? Didn’t he walk around wearing his slide rule on his belt? Wasn’t he the dentist that my mother wanted me to meet? I had never spoken to him in school and here he was, just being adorable. I chatted with him throughout the evening and eventually suggested he give me a call.
If I feel the vibes he said. Well, that almost ended it for me right then, but I decided to give him a chance.
By the end of the weekend, he hadn’t called so I decided to call him. He picked up the phone, I announced myself and asked him if he hadn’t received any vibes. He laughed. Easy going guy, I thought. He suggested we meet for coffee the following Thursday. I said, well, I don’t want to waste my time. Let me ask you some questions first. I proceeded to grill him about politics, travel, food, and dogs. Mainly about dogs.
He then moved our Thursday date to the next evening.
I lived in a duplex with Cruiser R Roozer and my two cats, Mean Beanie Diamond and Mr. Wackett. I was peeking out the window to see how he would respond to Roozer who was sleeping on the front lawn. GB bent down and petted him. Hmmm, I thought. Good sign. I opened the front door, invited him in and he immediately petted the two cats. All was going well. He suggested we go downtown to Josephina’s for dinner. Very good. Dinner was easy, the conversation flowed without uncomfortable breaks and then it came time for dessert. Now, this was a critical moment for me. My entire life had been plagued by men who wouldn’t buy me enough food. I once went out with a guy who told me to order from the left side of the menu (appetizer side). Another guy took me to a high-end place known for lobster and then objected when I ordered lobster. So, by the time I was 28, I had determined that stingy men would not win me over.
I was thinking dessert, so I said, I’m still a little bit hungry.
Oh, he said order another entrée.
And that was it. I knew I would marry that man. No man had ever said such beautiful words to me. Order another entrée.
He didn’t have a chance.
We got married three months later in a backyard ceremony. His brother was his best man.
Cruiser R Roozer was mine.
Air. 
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