Kate's Motel

What you don't know about your bedspread won't hurt you.

The Best Thing About Me Is You.

I had previously decided that Andy was going to be referred to from here on out as “The Cable Guy”. While that is highly comical for me, since he works for the cable company and it’s fun to joke that I’m only with him for the free cable, the nickname just doesn’t work for me anymore. Andy is “Doo”.
Fifteen years ago during my high school years, we lived in an awesome neighborhood that was just outside the city limits. The individual lots were huge, averaging 2.5 acres each so that it wasn’t really possible to string two cans together between the 2nd floor windows of each house and pretend you had an actual walkie talkie. We had privacy. Not long after we moved into our house, building commenced on the lot next door to us. A family was moving in. It was interesting to me that I knew the boy. We were in the same grade at the same school. Not really friends, but we were aware of each other. His name was Andy. My hetero lifemate Liz and I tried once to get him to come over to my house one afternoon when we saw him outside raking leaves, but I think he must have been afraid of us. He dropped the rake and ran inside without even speaking.

When I turned 16 and got my first car, it was arranged between our parents that we would ride to school together each morning and home together on some afternoons. It worked fine until I totalled my poor Ford Tempo on the rear bumper of a 1938 pickup truck made out of cast iron. That’s another sad story best saved for another day. After my car was no longer in commission, my new carpooling friend, Andy, managed to get himself a Bronco. (I secretly thought it was hot.) He’d bring me home sometimes, but because he was also taking home his good friend John, and John was apparently more important than some silly girl, Andy made me sit in the back seat. (Coincidentally, that’s when I am ashamed to admit that I learned all the words to Shaggy’s Boombastic song. Andy listened to it on his car stereo set to repeat all the way home from school.)

My senior year, I never went to prom. I wanted to go SO BADLY. But I refused to be silently pitied for being the girl that no one would ask out because yeah she’s nice and all and she’s not UGLY per se but she’s not exactly hot either and she’s way more fun to be friends with and I don’t want her to get the wrong idea if I ask her to be my date so there’s no way I’m going to the prom with her. I had tortured myself plenty by attending all the homecoming dances and watching everyone else dance with their guys and slowly dripping into a suicidal state because it seemed like the only guy NOT dancing with someone was the unibrow kid with the weird last name.

Mom told me I should ask the boy next door. I couldn’t ask HIM!! HE had to ask me!! I told mom he had a girlfriend. Turns out Andy never went to that prom, either.

We left high school and our lives separated. He’d moved in with a girlfriend, and I was on my way to becoming a mother. Before we’d blinked good, 10 years had passed. We both had children. We’d both been through some SERIOUSLY hard trials. We both had joined Myspace.

“What does ANY of this have to do with his nickname being Doo?”

Nothing. I just wanted to tell you. 😛

I found out that no one called him Andy anymore. He had matured to Andrew. There was no way I was calling him Andrew. He was Andy to me. But when the impossibly sweet 2 year old daughter of Andy’s roomates began calling him ‘Doo’ because she couldn’t say ‘Andrew’, I knew it was going to stick. And it has.

Doo works hard at the cable company to take care of me and Ryan, Doo reminds me that stuff needs to be done around the house and I try not to forget to do it because I like when Doo is happy but sometimes I can’t help it, Doo makes me laugh, and Doo loves me good. Even though Doo sometimes does things that I want to be mad at him for, like using ALL of my expensive cinnamon and replacing it with craft purpose cinnamon because he wanted to make cinnamon toast, I love him so good right back.  And I think Doo owes me a prom date.

Now Ryan needs a name.



November 8, 2009 - Posted by | Uncategorized | , , ,


  1. Doooooooo…..

    I do hope he likes Cinnamon toast.

    Comment by Liz Sanders | November 8, 2009 | Reply

    • He’s going to be eating it for a while.

      He did feed some to the boys for breakfast yesterday…

      Comment by Kate | November 8, 2009 | Reply

  2. Awwwwwww…Love that story. I kind of liked calling him the Cable Guy though. Can’t you combine them and start calling him Cable Doo?

    Comment by Janet Krueger | November 9, 2009 | Reply

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