night moves

One of my favorite books growing up, after all the Berenstein Bears ones demonstrating the consequences of rule-breaking (heeded or not... unclear), was this picture book called The Tompkin.

It was a book about a small man who lurks around checking to make sure the animals and children on the farm sleep at night, leaving footprints in the snow as the only sign he was there.

My mother has since informed me she found it "boring." Yet she didn't find my early interest in oddly voyeuristic activity alarming. I understood the Tompkin. My brother, who is known for walking home alone wasted from parties, does too. Tonight, enjoying being home alone, I stepped out to grab some eggs for the buttermilk rusks and pancakes I was making. The lawns are still winter, ice and snow, but the air is spring and the streets are slick. The best kind of night to be out in.

Buying eggs at night from a convenience store always reminds me of my favorite night with my friend Alb. He paid for his first degree by playing basketball. Midway through the degree, and negotiating not failing a mandatory math class with a prof who was a fan of the team, he started to learn about statistics. And, he started to play poker. That's how he paid for his second degree. He was the kind of guy with a lot of secrets and I think he was looking for someone to talk to; we'd have long conversations after nights out about life.

Admittedly, we tried hooking up. It started the night we ended up taking a super expensive cab ride to a Denny's only to find out it was closed for the only night it closes every year. The driver felt so sorry for the four of us the ride back was free and we stopped at an all night convenience store for groceries. Back at the house the guys made this epic midnight breakfast using everything we'd gathered. It was actually pretty fantastic. After, alone, with all the smoothness of a don juan who dunks he looked at me and said,

"Are we going to do this?"

And I shrugged and we kissed. And then the piece of furniture we were on collapsed. Neither of us were exceptionally heavy people and I took it as a sign this was a bad idea. We laughed about it and passed out; in a sobered state I Tompkins'd out of there and later he would tell me he was sad I didn't say goodbye. He had the broadest smile and this sense of calm around him for having led a somewhat crazy life.

For being a good looking ex-jock he was a genuinely respectful nice guy and something tells me he'll probably end up being one of the most successful people I've run across in my life.

*

While I'm baking, I like to have dance parties. Tonight, this is my jam.