elise

Stuff Takes Time

January 1, 2009 by krisis

I rung in 2009 the same way I spent December 25th – quietly at home with Elise. The reality is that every other day has become its own holiday spectacle, so the actual holidays are one of the few chances we have to lay low and relax.

Our wedding is a scant 16 days away. When we set the date for January I was concerned that it would compound all of the craziness of December. Now that we’ve crossed over to a new year I feel exactly the opposite. We’re changing in a time of change. The wedding extends the exfoliation of a prior year, as though our NYE kiss will last from midnight yesterday through when we touch down back in Philadelphia after honeymoon.

My mantra in 2008 was “stuff takes time.” If it sounds unspecific, good – that’s the point. The point that everything in life – my education, my music, my blog, our relationship, our music festival, my career, and our band – has taken a lot of time and effort to get to this point. The point is that no goal worth attaining is instantaneous. I didn’t have a senior position at work and four CDs with my band in 2004, yet here we are. We couldn’t have gotten married in 2004 or rented a farm for our music festival in 2006, but that’s where we’re headed.

It would be pointless to spend the rest of the post back-patting for all of my accomplishments in ’08 – I sortof already do that once a year, anyway.

Let’s not look back. Let’s just devote our time to the people and the things we love, and move inexorably closer to our goals, one year at a time.

fear and loathing in the back yard

November 23, 2008 by krisis

Our neighbors are keeping two small dogs in their back yard. They look like they could be puppy dobermans, but I’m really not sure. However, they’re definitely being kept – they’re not strays.

As far as Elise and I can tell they are living exclusively in the yard – to the point that it’s been cleared of various detritus and set up as a dog-proof enclosure that’s protected from access via the alley.

I wouldn’t mind any of that, except:

(A) Our bedroom is at the rear of the house, and I have been having trouble sleeping this month. It only takes a few barks to rouse me.

(B) It has been hovering near the freezing point for several days (it’s currently 29), and the dogs seem to have only a small carrier to retreat to for a respite.

These are not neighbors we ever speak to – usually they’re just standing around outside smoking blunts when we walk up to the house. At the same time, they’ve never been unfriendly or threatening, and they’ve never once complained about us playing music.

Elise looked into Philadelphia’s policies on animal control, and we’re within our rights to submit a report about the barking if it persists more than 15 minutes on an hour. Also, clearly we can call at any time about the cruelty situation.

I know what normal Peter – mouthy, empowered Peter – would do. I would ask them about the dogs when I come home from work tomorrow, advise them cheerily that the barking is keeping me up and that I’m worried that the dogs are cold at night, and advise them that I could call the SPCA on their behalf of they can’t find a solution.

Except, that Peter doesn’t live here anymore. Not since this summer, when a slight mouthiness resulted in our home being vandalized in a hate crime.

I haven’t talked about it much, here or to anyone else, including Elise. But, for the first time in my life, I’m afraid of being me. I don’t know how to speak up. In fact, I don’t really feel safe anywhere unless I’m surrounded by friends. I’m afraid to sing karaoke or talk to people in bars or on buses or travel to any suburban or rural area because if I am the wrong combination of soft and assertive and they don’t like me they’ll just try to degrade me or something that I hold valuable.

I’m stuck. I’m afraid to talk to the neighbors, even though signs point to their being at least a little friendly. I’m afraid if I call in the dogs the neighbors will assume it’s me, even though it could be any of the five yards adjacent to them.

I’m afraid if I’m me people will hate me.

It was hard enough to sleep for a month after what happened – constantly bolting upright every time I heard a sound anywhere adjacent to the house. I’m already nauseous every time I walk up to my door for fear of what it might contain. And, unrelated to that, I’m already ragged and tired at home and at work, verging on sick.

I don’t need barking dogs to compound the situation.

November 21, 2008 by krisis

The state of me at the moment is outstandingly tired.

Last weekend was our trip to NJ, and the weekend before a crazy deadline for Trio and arranging. Just now Elise was whisked away by our darling Mary in top secrecy for her bachelorette party … which you would think is a recipe for a restful, sleepy weekend.

But, hello, this is Crushing Krisis. Either we’re crushed or we’re having a crisis.

So, with a spare thirty minutes after Elise’s departure I am due at the Dark Horse South Street with Gina to play a benefit for Stand Up For Kids alongside plenty of our favorite musical friends: Joshua Popejoy, Bill Butler, Dante Bucci, Jon Glaubitz, and Andra Taylor.

(I was actually just mentioning to a co-worker that I’ve played more spots this year as Arcati Crisis or individually than I had played combined as either in my life to date. That kindof blows my mind.)

And, um, i was going to write more but Dante is in my living room to pick me up and I haven’t packed a bag yet for the second half of the odessey: staying over in East Falls to help Kate and Lindsay MOVE INTO THEIR NEW HOUSE tomorrow before escaping for the Amanda Palmer concert oh my god do i even have any clean socks okay now i am going to hit publish

https://crushingkrisis.com/2008/11/3410/

Bridezilla vs. The Groomlin

November 17, 2008 by krisis

As we hit the two-month mark on our wedding plans it’s becoming increasingly clear that Elise is the calm, measured one, and I am the rational, demanding one.

In layman’s terms, that would make me “Bridezilla.” Or, as we deemed me almost a year ago, “The Groomlin.”

Except, I don’t think my behavior has been all that monstrous. This is the most expensive endeavor I’ve undertaken in my personal life, but it pales in comparison to the cost of my projects at work. I’m being just as detail-oriented about the wedding as I would about a 300m-piece mailing, and there are plenty of details to orient to in both.

Part of being rational and demanding means holding the line when presented with unacceptal options. I carefully vetted caterers for ones who would take requests for vegetarian and vegan meals seriously. I had firm words with my jeweler when they nicked up Elise’s engagement ring without noticing. I refused to sign a contract with our first shuttle company because they were evasive and rude to Elise when she asked them to clarify their deposit policy.

Which brings me to the story of this weekend, my erstwhile wedding band, and the double-standard of “Bridezilla.”

Elise knows I like unusual, modern design, and early in the band-shopping process she turned me on to tension-set rings. They’re typically titanium or stainless steel bands, and the strength of the band holds a jewel without any prongs or inset.

Since I don’t wear much jewelry I liked the utilitarian idea of a stainless steel band, and I loved that I could finally have an excuse to wear a sapphire, my birth stone. I picked a sample setting, and we set out to find a store that carried something like it.

We found said store in New Hope – awesome, since that’s one of my favorite places in the area to spend the day. We visited once to nail down the exact ring and jewel – a thin stainless steel band with tension set princess cut sapphire almost the exact height of the band.

The store didn’t have it in stock, but it wasn’t a custom design – just a more obscure band/jewel combination. They told us they’d order it from the company headquarters in Europe, and that it would be in shortly. Sure enough, they rang us barely a week later to let us know that the ring was in, which is what brought us back to New Hope on Saturday.

Once we were at the counter I was so aflutter with excitement to get the band on my finger that I didn’t really look at it before I slipped it on. As I turned it round my knuckle, admiring its fit, Elise immediately exclaimed, “That’s not it!”

I looked down, and saw that though the band was right the stone was wrong – round cut, not princess.

Of course, at the point you’re paying hundreds of dollars for a ring you’ll spend the rest of your life wearing you want the stone that you asked for. The jeweler’s wife understood completely, and she told us she’d ship the ring with the correct stone directly to us.

That’s essentially how we recounted the story in Elise’s father’s kitchen later in the day, but as I told it I saw something in my mind that I hadn’t noticed earlier. As I turned the wrong ring round on my finger the company’s logo was etched on the rear of the band. But, why would it be marked visibly on the outside of my ring?

Elise, she of the eagle eyes, had no recollection of said branding. Maybe I had seen it on the inside of the band?

No. I could not shake the image of turning the ring around on my finger and noticing the mark as it turned. It was on the outside of ring.

Knowing me as well as she does, Elise thrust her phone at me. “Just call them,” she insisted. “Better than spending the next week wondering about it.”

So, sitting in Elise’s father’s kitchen with the entire assembly of her siblings around me, I dialed the jewelry store.

P – Hi, it’s Peter, with the tension set ring. I have sort of a strange question. When I was there earlier and I tried on the ring I thought I saw the company’s logo etched on the outside of the band. But, I’m sure it would have really been on the inside. Can you just look for me?

Jeweler’s Wife – Oh, sure, just let me get it out. (rummaging sounds) Here we are. Let’s see. Yes, yes, there’s the mark. It’s on the outside.

P – Well, that must be some sort of mistake.

JW – No, no, now that I think of it, all of the rings in the case have it on the outside as well, so it’s just like the one you tried on.

P – Yes, but they’re for display. They’re display models. Of course they would be branded. I didn’t think my actual ring would be branded.

JW – Well, that’s how their rings come to us.

P – Can’t we get one without a brand? Or, have it on the inside?

JW – I don’t think they do that.

P – Right.

…

P – Can you just hold on to our order for another day or so? I need to decide if I’m still interested in the ring.

JW – I don’t understand. You might not want to order the ring?

P – Yes.

JW – Because of the brand mark?

P – (firmer) Yes.

JW – But, why?

P – Because it’s my wedding band. It shouldn’t have any extraneous marks on it.

JW – But, it’s just the company logo…

P – It’s my wedding band, not a fucking Toyota.

…

P – So please hold our order until we call back. Thanks.

Clearly I went a little Groomlin there, but the various bystanders in the kitchen forgave me. Of course I don’t want the company’s logo to be visible on exterior of my ring. Of course I was flustered by the jeweler’s wife treating it as a non-issue. No, it wasn’t unreasonable to tell her to hold my order. Aside from dropping an F-bomb the call had been entirely rational.

So, here’s my question for you: if I was a bride, would you say that I was a Bridezilla? And, if so, what does that say about the double-standard of weddings – that a man who’s concerned about having things his way is in-control, but a woman who wants things her way is a monster?

A Year In The Life

November 15, 2008 by krisis

Elise and I spent today in New Jersey for the same weekend and reason that caused me to quit NaBloPoMo last year – my brother-to-be’s fall play.

He’s come a long way in a year. Last year was his first time acting on stage; this year he had the final bow in a challenging, thought-provoking play, The Rimers of Eldritch.

Out in the audience Elise and had come a long way too. Last year when we were here it was most people’s first time seeing her engagement ring, and they were bristling with wedding questions that we hardly had answers to, let alone opinions. Today, our planning nearing completion, we traveled to New Hope to continue shopping for my wedding band.

I’m nervous about the band. I haven’t worn jewelry for a long time, not since I was younger when I bore a perfunctory cross from my grandparents. One day it fell off somewhere between home and school, never to be seen again. My mother bought me another for graduation, and I recoiled from the box. I didn’t want another cross; I had never worn it as a cross. I wore it as my grandparents.

Since then I haven’t worn anything.

I’m nervous about the band, and excited too, because I’ll be wearing Elise. We didn’t settle on a final ring today (in fact, I backslid on my prior decision), but while we were shopping I prevailed upon Elise to buy me a plain practice ring – just a small, comfortable, stainless steel band. I’ve had it on since one, on the ring finger on my right since Elise insisted I couldn’t wear my practice band on my actual finger.

I’m not sure how I feel about it. I’m typically very conscious of my hands, of what I’m doing with them and if they are safe. Already I’m constantly fiddling – turning it, changing it from one finger to another, sliding it back and forth across my knuckle. My fingers don’t close the same way, and I rest my adjacent knuckles against it when I hold my guitar pick (it actually improves my form).

Two months from Monday I’ll put on the real thing.