Day Ninety Five

Normal Street

Many years ago, Andy and I lived on Normal Street. Yep, there actually is a Normal Street, and we lived on it. Well, to be precise, it was West Normal Street. I don't think there was an East Normal; just Normal and west of it. We were definitely west of normal; pretty much south of it, too.

Here's how we came to be West Normalites:

We met in college and got married a year later. Two weeks after our wedding (which was a simple affair in front of a drunk Notary and his assistant who wore white anklets - don't ask me why I remember that - and stood on his desk to take pictures of the event) Andy's father died suddenly from a heart attack - during my wedding shower. See what I mean by being shy of normal?

September 3, 1971
Andy had cut off his long hair
to get a job...

One of the last pictures of Andy's father

It was decided, by everybody but me, we would move in with his widowed mother. This turned out to be good and bad - Good in that, being her caretaker got him a draft deferment; bad in that newlywed me had to live with my mother-in-law, who loved her son to pieces.

She was nice enough, and taught me how to cook - his favorite foods. She did his laundry because I was dumb as dirt and couldn't do his jeans properly. Please note that, back in the 70's, jeans were supposed to be disgusting. They were definitely not meant to be ironed. But in her mind, she wanted her boy to look spic and span.

To my husband's credit, he loved both of us and just wanted us to get along. I learned decades later how all the best intentions of a mother-in-law can be horribly misinterpreted, but I digress. Anyway, there we were, one guy living with two vastly different women. After a year of this, it was decided we would go back to school. Yay!!!

We found an apartment near campus, and moved in with Heidi (German Shepherd) and Two (Border Collie.) Eventually a tiny Pekingese named, Molly, joined our ranks. I was in heaven, with my three dogs, a hamster and my husband - all to myself. We both took classes and worked.

top to bottom - Heidi, Two and my baby, Molly

During that time, however, family visited - a lot. We lived in half of a duplex, with one bedroom, a living room, kitchen and one bathroom. But, both of our extended families loved to move in on us. His brother visited often, with his wife, two kids and Granny in tow. Imagine a tiny apartment with five adults, two kids, three dogs and a hamster. The thing was, we loved Andy's brother and it was fun. I did learn the hard way to never buy Mateus wine again for the guys. Long story.

Friends - in front of one of Andy's paintings

I remember one night that wasn't so fun. We gave up our bedroom to his brother and their kids. Andy's mother was sleeping on the couch and we were on something we jerry-rigged in the kitchen. Heidi, the GSD, had eaten something that upset her and she - well - she got diarrhea and pooped everywhere. On top of that, half of our "bed" collapsed, so we were now sleeping on an angle, about a foot away from the most disgusting mess I've ever had to deal with. In the middle of it all, I got the giggles. It was so surreal, the only thing to do was laugh.

We laughed a lot during that time. This was when Sam, the terrier, would come for a visit. We had lots of parties, where everybody would pitch in. This was the time period when we lived from paycheck to paycheck and loved every minute of it. We were young and in love with our whole lives ahead of us. Losing his father at an early age made Andy realize he was on his own - we were on our own - and if we were going to survive, we had to work for it. We worked hard and played hard. It was wonderful living on Normal Street.