Went down to Clackamas yesterday to close out all my accounts at my old credit union. I never get down there anymore now that I don’t work next door, and all our current accounts are at the credit union associated with grrlpup
’s work place. I should have closed out these unused accounts years ago, but I’m super-good at putting off things I don’t want to do.
Going down there was fairly emotional: I spent ten years working on that campus, I had keys to all but two rooms in the whole complex, and I left on that uncomfortable mix of good terms and bad terms that I tend to leave behind everywhere. I have enough feelings about it that I timed the errand so that I would miss lunch and shift change; I didn’t want to run into anyone I knew and have to navigate small talk.
I also had some documents I needed notarized while I was there, and the notary spent the entire conversation calling me “honey” and “hon.” There’s a significant culture difference between Clackamas and Portland — Clackamas is much more rural/red-state/working-class — and every time she called me “honey,” I had a moment of "Aw, Clackamas, where people are affectionately forward with strangers!"
I really miss
And then she mentioned Kate Brown’s promotion to Governor from Secretary of State — I guess it’s relevant to the notary commission? — and I got treated to a spontaneous rant about Kate’s bisexuality. “I don’t know why everyone has to talk about her sexuality all the time, it shouldn’t even come into it! She’ll be a fine governor anyway! Her sexuality is irrelevant! It shouldn’t even be mentioned!” And I nodded and smiled tightly and thought, "Aw, Clackamas, where even the LGBT-supporters are as homophobic as fuck."
Despite having driven that route for ten years, I managed to get lost on the way back home, because there’s no sensible interface of through-streets between Portland and Milwaukie. The culture divide between Portland and Clackamas is 100% reflected in the odd way that Milwaukie-side thoroughfares are not Portland-side thoroughfares, and the way that the streets of abutting neighborhoods don’t punch through very often. I swear it's nothing but solid development from here to Milwaukie, with a fuck-ton of streets of all sizes and lengths, but there’s almost no sensible way through from here to there. Somehow, no longer being able to navigate the route depressed me even more than all the rest had.
But then I stopped at the library to pick up my holds, and I could smell daphne when I got out of the car, so that was all right.***
In other news, when I was going through the documents file looking for paperwork for the notary, I found grrlpup
’s page of calculus notes tucked in with our birth certificates and marriage license and passports. I can only assume it’s there in case she ever needs to prove that she still knows calculus. *sentimental sniff*
I felt like calling her up on the spot and reassuring her that I’m never gonna divorce her just because she forgot how to differentiate ex
. I’m really, really not.
…and huh, I was trying to find the link, but it seems I never actually said anything here? So there's probably only five of you who know what that previous two paragraphs were about? Please allow me to correct my error:
Back in 2009, grrlpup made me promise that I wouldn’t marry her until she had learned calculus
. I promptly forgot about it -- we were always making ridiculous plans about getting married back then, because it was clear there was going to be a long string of ceremonies that would be constantly overturned by the courts, so what did it matter? -- but then last year Oregon made same-sex marriage for-reals legal, and suddenly grrlpup
was refreshing all her math prereqs so she could use her employer’s education credit on a calculus class. So we could get married.
I tell you, it was the most mind-breakingly romantic gesture I had ever been the recipient of in my entire life. She wanted to marry me so much that she was learning calculus for it.
I’d look across at her in an evening, and there she’d be, drawing unit circles and working through her trig functions in radians, and I’d go misty-eyed with the unbearable romance
of it all.
(And all summer long, she had me help her with her calculus homework! We went for long walks and had heartfelt conversations about limits! *is starry-eyed at the memory of that magical summer*)
She even brought her final exam's one-page-of-notes to the ceremony, just in case someone felt the need to give her a pop-quiz during the “if anyone objects” bit. (No one did. But I had given her a pop-quiz in bed the night before — this is what passes for pillow-talk in our household! — so it was all copacetic.)
…so now that you have the proper context:
I was going through our personal documents file, and there with our marriage license and birth certificates and passports and such, was her one-page-of-notes calculus cheat-sheet. Just in case she needs to prove to someone that yes, she really did meet the calculus qualification for marrying me.
And I went starry-eyed all over again that she would file that away as such a very important document.