Memory Well: The Times I Was Beside Myself

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There's a thing going around Facebook today that examines your name and tells you "approximately" how many people in the US are named the same as you are.  Oddly enough, there aren't a lot of Deci Reynolds out there (1 or fewer, it says), although if I go with Denise Reynolds, there are 308 of us.  But today's post is about my name prior to Roger - Denise Humphries.  Distinctly more uncommon, in fact, there are (supposedly) only 28 of us.  And yet, I've had run-ins (of a sort) with two of them.

First one - back in the 80s, I was in Job Corps in Astoria (for non-Americans, it's a sort of live-in occupational training type thing).  I had gone home to Springfield for a week for home leave, and when I got back to the base, I was getting funny looks from the guards when I checked back in.  When I finally tackled one by himself and asked what was up, he showed me a newspaper article from the Eugene Register-Guard that mentioned that a Denise Humphries had been arrested during a bank robbery, and was being charged with assault for pistol-whipping one of the tellers.  I, of course, said "Come on - can you really imagine me pistol-whipping a teller?"  I was secretly a little gratified when he said yep.  He could.  Fortunately, it turns out that the Denise in the article was also 35 years old, so I was in the clear.

A couple of years later, I was in Fairfax, VA, working for a Government contractor in a mixed use complex called Circle Towers (offices in the front, apartments in the back.)  I kept getting personal mail (electric bills, phone bills, etc...) addressed to Denise Humphries at work for accounts I'd never signed up for.  Turns out that there was a Denise J Humphries who lived in the apartments in back of us - very nice woman.  We went out for drinks a couple of times after I tracked her down and dropped off her mail.

Once Google took off, I tried googling my name a couple of times - turns out there's also a dog trainer in Australia.  So, two out of the three other Denise Humphries seem to be a good sort - but I think I'll stick to using Deci outside of work. 

Me And My Shadow

My guys - I think I'll keep them

A friend posted today about a dream she had - her doxie had jumped out of a hot air balloon over water, and swam to shore.  It made me wonder why I never dream about Moose, but then I realized - I'm not entirely certain anymore that my subconscious registers him as a separate entity.

He's always been a lap dog extraordinaire - but ever since I have been mostly working from home, he is always there.  It's almost like I had a procedure - an addapuptome, if you will, where he was surgically implanted.  Not that I'm complaining, you understand.  He's generally twirled around my midsection like a comma of love, a furry brown tutu generating warmth and oxytocin molecules in equal amounts when we're sitting down, and if we're laying down, he's cuddled up at the small of my back, or the joint of my knees (or occasionally vulturing from the top of the pillow over my head.) 

So even when I'm dreaming and he's not the star of the show, his warmth still anchors me to reality - the lifeline that lets me wander as far as I want, knowing that there will always be a beacon back home.  His father does the same thing for me emotionally - when I'm wandering off into the fields of frustration and despair, Roger brings me back, calms me down and reminds me of all the good in the world (and how lucky I am to have found it.)  I am truly a blessed woman. 

So Long, Farewell, Auf Weidersehen, Goodbye...

Me Receiving A Desk Set From Lieutenant General Flowers - I wanted a Commander's Coin, but I settled.

After lots of fits and starts (and delays, and turnbacks, and…)  Ok, let’s start again.  I’m finally doing it.  My paperwork is in, and it’s official – my last day with the Corps is April 30^th.  Right now, they’re planning my retirement party for April 25^th – not sure where or what time, but the date is pretty firm.

I just realized that I’ve had the same phone number (three different offices, two different buildings, but the same phone number) for over half of my life.  That’s definitely the longest constant in my life by far.  (It also explains why I get all the weird phone calls – not sure where they’re going to be sending them now.) 

I’ve been going through and cleaning out my desk, throwing out the detritus of a long career.  Date stamps that only went up through 1999, dried out Wite-out bottles, rub-on letters, 410 business cards of a 500 business card order (somehow, I just never seemed to be the business card handing out type.)  Enough pens to sink your average battleship, only half of which ever worked properly (and the half that didn’t work always ended up in my hands when I needed to take a message).  A bottle of WD40 and a couple of rolls of duct tape.  My carefully collated list of NAICS codes and size standards (let’s face it, no one uses the notebooks anymore, but I started here before this stuff was available online – pre-AOL, even.)

There are some things I’m taking with me – the nameplate that my Grandfather carved for me from a chunk of wood from Zion Canyon, various moose memorabilia that my friends have given me over the years, my Group W Bench sign, many coffee cups… which is odd, considering that I don’t drink coffee, but I think they automatically populate in any office environment.  I’m giving away more stuff – passing down my quilted art to Patty, some vases to Jim, my snark sign to Farrell.  I’m not sure who is going to inherit my Mt Hood keyboard – whoever calls dibs, I suppose. 

But mostly, I’m throwing out and getting rid of.  Heck, I’m even getting rid of my “Let go of the banana” sign.  That sign has gotten me through a lot of tough situations – it was a reminder that you can trap any monkey by putting a banana in a box with a hand-sized hole, as long as the monkey involved (and yes, I was usually the monkey) didn’t remember that some rewards just weren’t worth the pain of sticking around.  Which sort of wraps this whole thing up nicely – it’s been a wonderful home, but it’s time to let go of the banana and head off to other pursuits. 

Moose - Nature's Birth Control

I love my boy, but he is rather determined to make sure that the world revolves around him.  For example, when we go to bed, I can generally count on one hand the number of seconds between Roger laying down next to me and snuggling in, and Moose's shoving on in between us.  He's not subtle about it, either - he will stomp his way up our bodies and shove his nose in under Roger's hand, if necessary.  His preferred sleeping spot is right between us, making sure that any contact includes him.

But today, Moose took it to a new height (or possibly depth, depending on how you look at it.)  He was asleep on my lap, snoozing away on my right side.  Roger and I were watching Elementary, and I got a little sentimental.  The episode had an incidental story line about a man sticking around when things got problematic (MS in the case of the story), but I had to thank Roger for being such a mensch - not all men would handle Hank the way he has.  But anyway... I reached out to hold his hand (this would be on my left side), and suddenly Moose almost levitated around to the other side of my lap, nose at the ready.  If there was any affection being given out, my boy was going to be in the middle of it. 

That's one of the best things about having rescued Moose (or having him rescue us - whichever way it went.)  Even when things are sappy and dark, he can still make us laugh.