Sunday, July 7, 2013

How I Met the Marz

Today is the second anniversary of Marz's arrival here in 2011.

We'd first met almost two years before that––November 3, 2009, to be exact––on the William Shatner fan blog Look At His Butt!, where the Butt Girls had reposted a macro I'd made (the tag line from a Priceline ad––Shatner urging a bidder to "go lower, cupcake"––on a screencap of Captain Kirk). 


Marz had discovered the original Star Trek that summer, after a friend had taken her to see the ST reboot shortly after high school graduation. She started commenting on my blog and then blogging herself, smoothable (now somewhat gutted by the author exercising her bloggership prerogative....).

She was living with her family and her trumpet in the High Desert.
In the way of these online connections, we soon got talking on e-mail. I don't like the phone, and we never called.

She told me I reminded her of a baby rhino. (Talkative, jumpative, cuter than you'd think.)

I told her her brain generated ideas like an exploding pink grapefruit. (Fourth photo down. Not quite what I meant though.)

In the fall of 2010, I e-mailed inviting her to join me and bink on Camino (links to my favorite post about the pilgrimage).
She wrote back within half an hour, WHEN DO WE LEAVE?

I told her that if we didn't get along, it's easy on Camino to split off, to find other walking partners or to walk alone.
But I wasn't really worried; I pretty much trusted we'd like each other. 

We met in Spain, unwittingly in the same colors. I'd recently turned fifty, she'd just turned twenty.
The first night, we stayed up late laughing about Bill. bink told us go to sleep: "Tomorrow we have to walk 500 miles."

One evening after after a box of wine, a few hundred miles along, bink said to Marz, "Why don't you change your return ticket to Minneapolis?" 

It didn't quite turn out that way.
Marz was going to skip her connecting flight in Toronto and take a bus here, but Canadian customs officials thought differently. I guess it didn't help Marz's case that a can of tuna fish had exploded on her in the Madrid airport.
So she went back home, hitchhiked to the bus station on the Fourth of July, and rode 48 hours across the country.

So, here it is, two years later. Living with Marz is a good thing–– like living with the love child of Tintin and Tinkerbell (1953 edition).



(Hipster Tintin by Gráinne Tynan)








My only regret is that she doesn't make me birthday macros like this on her blog anymore.

5 comments:

poodletail said...

Baby rhino/exploding pink grapefruit! It took Marz to describe you in a nutshell. We're you at all apprehensive about meeting this person with whom you'd be spending weeks on your Camino?

The Crow said...

Delightful story, Fresca

I like the new look of your blog - fresh!

momo said...

Such an occasion deserves cake! or ice cream! or both!cu

Fresca said...

POODLE: I added a line about how I wasn't really worried about meeting Marz in person:
I'd seen her sing a lullaby to emus (on youtube), so I thought she'd probably be OK.

But I did wonder if we'd get along in person, so I kept telling her she should be free to walk alone or with others. And we DID have some fights, but always stayed together anyway.

CROW: Thanks! I've been trying to catch up with blogging, including playing with new templates, culling my outdated blogroll, etc.

MOMO: In fact, we had a picnic in the park, with Panda licorice (from Finland)!

Laura B said...

yes, yes, i'm here- GREAT owls!!!!