Diggin' Up Bones, Episode 1

I've been diggin' up bones with Doc and we've come up with some treasure.

That's our Corona tray we found at our local head shop/record store, the Quonset Hut. Unfortunately, this quirky little shop no longer sells music, but it still sells funky stuff and smoking devices. Worth a trip, if you're ever in the area. But I digress...

That's not a mole on her neck, though. That's a penny Doc and I stretched at the House of Blues at Disney. We went there back in '99 with my parents and had a lovely time. It was when I first learned that Doc can't pass a bathroom without stopping and that my love also has stealth powers. One minute, he's standing next to you, the next: gone. I swear, we nearly turned the music resort upside down looking for him. This was before the days of cell phones, but that doesn't really matter; he wouldn't answer it if you called anyway. That's just how he rolls.

But I didn't bring this up to crab about Doc's excentricities; they are so few and most of them are charming. What I want to know is, how in the hell were we able to hang on to this little odd penny for going on nine years?!? In that span of time, we moved from Newark to New Albany to Canton to University Heights and back to Canton. We gave birth to two children. We've held five or more different jobs between us and I can barely keep track of my keys from day to day.

As I write this, my Doc is displaying one of his excentricities: the ability to recite Rudyard Kipling poems on command. I am currently enjoying Gunga Din. See? He is charming. He can also wail out Classified Ad by C.W. McCall, something I usually command after a few beers.

I'm amazed going through the relics of our life together. In one box, I found five bathing suits, a box of '80's Trivial Pursuit cards, several coffee mugs, a jug of pencils wanting sharpening, pictures, my mother-in-law's tole painting stencils, a marble and a saki jar. It really captures a moment of stressed out packing. We were probably at the "just throw that shit in a box and let's get the hell out of here!"

One of the grand things about my life right now is that I'm in no hurry to leave. I've got time to quarden off the basement and sift through the ages of my married life and sent time traveling to not what I'd call the good old days. Yes, there were good times, but we were always looking around the corner like a Shiite looking for the 12th Imam.

Now I'm not looking. In the evenings, my eyes turn to the horizon and see the sun setting in the valley where we courted and hope to someday return. But not any time too soon. We're going to let it ride. I can't speak for Doc, who longs sorely for his home, but for now, I appreciate the time to stop, take a breath, let the paychecks roll in and plan my next move.