Lost and Found

True.

I'm aggressive. Not in the "cut you off in traffic, then steal your boyfriend" sense, but in a sort of "see a problem and fix it - ask no questions, do it now, apologize later" sense. It's gotten me in trouble throughout the years, but it's also gotten me respect in my job and the ability to brag about getting things done. I'm definitely not lazy. Even my leisure time is busy, whether I'm crocheting a blanket in a week, or seeing how many beers I can drink at a time while gabbing away with old friends.

I don't like to fail. I don't. I hate it. I grew up with a goal-oriented mindset. If I had an inkling that I wasn't great at something, I would either switch to something else, or act like I didn't care. Hence the change from the clarinet to marimba in marching band in high school, and the switch from photojournalism to multimedia in college. If my weakness was going to show, it's better to just get out before anyone else noticed.

I like to see the results of my work. I want to know that at the end of the week, I've made a difference. Did the register ads work? We'll check next Friday. If so, I'm a genius. If not, what else can I do to get the point across?

Relationships don't work this way.

Pieces and Parts.



I did a photo scavenger hunt with the high school kids last weekend. The hardest image to find? A photograph with one of the participants and a little person eating a lollipop. (I didn't make up the list.) This is as close as anyone got, with the help of my dad's big screen television and a digitally remastered copy of The Wizard of Oz.

So. I don't know who won, because I had to rush off to have coffee with Laddan and then get ready for the Women's Club Winter Social. I've joined the local Women's Club for work, to get to know the customers, to get a feel of the community. This part of my life will be interesting for sure, as I am at least two decades younger than the youngest woman in the social club. I'm sure that I'll learn stuff, though.

And speaking of learning stuff... Today someone found a bag of cocaine in the women's restroom at work. Very exciting! Not quite sure what we're going to do with it, but the general rule of thumb in the company is that all gifts go on the desk of the President. It belongs, of course, either to an employee, a customer, or the cleaning lady, and we've ruled out the latter, because she works too slow to be under the influence.

Oh, life is interesting.

Midnight Texts.

"Come visit. I need you to teach me how to purl." This was the text that I got from Miss Mollie in San Francisco last night. There are hundreds of reasons to visit California, but I have to agree with Mollie that teaching knitting skills is probably on the higher end of the travel agenda.

A trip will most definitely happen soon, and although I'm dying to go back to Maine, or Oregon or any place with real snow, the people I want to see are in foggy San Francisco.

The last trip to the city was short, a day or two visiting on our way up the west coast. And the previous trip was decadent and fun. This trip? I'd be happy just hanging out for awhile. No crazy plans. Just coffee, and grocery stores and a visit up north to see Louann. And yarn.

Who's ready?

Losers.

So Columbus, Ohio is walking around in a daze today. As if someone died. Because we lost a football game. A plague of depression caused by sweaty guys and a pigskin.

I just wanted to see the band.

I've had several - two - dreams about alligators in the last week. In the first one, while I was walking around in Oregon, a gator and a wolverine both jumped out of a ditch and tried to eat me. I kept walking and they went away. Later in that dream, someone said, "The reason the Buckeyes lost the championship game is because..." I can't remember the cause, just the fact that I dreamed that they lost. And the fact that football had somehow entered my unconscious. Yuck.

The second dream was last night. Baby alligators kept sneaking into my kitchen, which was actually the kitchen from my junior year of college, but with a garbage disposal and a dishwasher. (Both of which would have been extremely handy in a house with five girls.) At any rate, I freaked out about the baby alligators, and a wise older woman showed me what to do with them. All you have to do to rid your kitchen of unwanted live alligators is to pick them up by their tails and push them head-first into your garbage disposal while it's running. Pretty disgusting, but it did the trick.

Unfortunately, the Buckeyes didn't have garbage disposals with them last night as they played the Florida Gators. Or something like that.

Week One.

So, one year into 2007, and I thought that I'd let you know how the resolutions are going.

While I haven't attained salt and pepper shakers, I did think about buying a pair of wooden shakers from the thrift store. I decided against it because I didn't want to complete my resolution the first week of the year and then find myself bored the rest of the time.

As far as cooking beef goes, I really haven't cooked anything in 2007. I've been surviving off of NYE leftovers and Taco Bell. (Yeah, I know. Yuck.)

The reading is going well. Here are the five books I'm currently reading.

French Women Don't Get Fat by Mirelle Guiliano. I bought this book last year, and decided to read it while doing the whole "gym thing." I think that one reason that French women don't get fat is that they don't have a Taco Bell a quarter mile away that is open 24 hours. Just a thought.

Prayer: Does It Make Any Difference? by Philip Yancey. This book was due back to the Grandview Library on November 22. I just started reading it this week. It's very good. I like Yancey's writing style - intelligent, yet applicable. Perhaps I should renew. Just a thought.

On the subject of communicating with God, I'm reading 1 John in the New Testament. It's a short chapter. Full of good stuff though. I guess that's why they call it "The Good Book." I'll be teaching high schoolers about "the boastful pride of life" in a few weeks. While part of the human experience, pride and self-importance is, I believe, elevated in these here United States of America. Writes the girl who publishes a blog about herself. But still. Moving on.

White Noise by Don Delillo. I've read this before and let Bryan borrow it a few months ago. When he gave it back, I remembered one of my short-lived book clubs. They never last, but the first one introduced me to Mr. Delillo, and I'm very grateful for that. I love his writing. Bryan says I write like him. Probably true.

Finally, I'm reading Scottish Woolens, a trade publication from the 1930's that I picked up for a dollar at a "treasure store" with my Mom when she was in town. This book is fascinating, and makes me want to learn everything that I can about knitting, crocheting and weaving. It also makes me miss Scotland and my grandmother, who had three looms and plenty of real wool in her craft room.

I'll let you know if I finish any - or all - of these. If I do, I will hopefully be a thinner, with more knowledge of the fiberarts, more prayerful, more humble and more literary. Right. Weird sentence. I think I'm going to watch a movie now.

Catch-Up.

It's been an exciting day in the e-mail land. I received e-mails from a college friend in Seattle, a co-worker from the London restaurant, and pictures from a reunion of Chicago friends over New Years. It's somewhat bittersweet to hear from Traci, Dan, Lucas. They represent parts of my life that I can no longer revisit.

My roommate, Elen, leaves for Honduras on Sunday, and she and I were lamenting the loss of times and groups of the past. I separate my memory into categories that include a place, a group of friends, my regular bar and the music that I listened to in those days.

In Athens, it was Tom Waits, Nina Simone, the Papermill Group, the people in my department (including Dan) and the locals at my bar(s). I had more than one regular bar in those days.

In London, it was Tom Waits, Cat Stevens, 80's Pop and Traci, Ricky, Maya (for a short, but fun time) and a random assortment of others from Mezzo. The bar? I can't remember the name, but there were specials on Tuesdays. Nice.

In Chicago, it was Tom Waits (and the Food Network) with Andy, Lucas, Mike and Joe, always at the L&L. That group has dispersed, with Lucas in Boston, Joe in LA (see the new blog link) and Andy and Mike in different worlds within the city.

And now, in Columbus, it's Damien Jurado (today, anyway), with Bryan, folks from the church, Sarah, Maya (long-distance) and O'Reilley's, which is very close to my house but maybe a little overpriced, though a little cheaper than London and Chicago.

So, at any rate, I'm all nostalgia-ey. Things change, people change. We move to different cities, start new careers, get new hobbies (like knitting and quilting). But we stay in touch, sometimes. Sometimes I hear how Traci has moved to my old King's Cross neighborhood. Sometimes I read how Joe auditioned for Grey's Anatomy. Sometimes I read Maya's texts of dinner parties that include oxtails. Sometimes I see pictures of Lucas from a Chicago that has changed since I was last there.

And sometimes I'm sad that I won't go back, but I'm happy I have those memories.

When Elen comes back to Columbus, some things will have changed, some will have stayed the same. But that doesn't mean that I'll love her any less than I do now.

Pass Me a Tissue.

I spent the most of yesterday organizing my life. And weeping.

For about eight months, I've been having box spring and bed issues. I had piss-poor support beams under my bed, and would roll every night into the valley that was the center of my mattress. That is, until yesterday. I finally, after thinking about it every morning since April, went to my trusty Ace Hardware and purchased boards to build a bottom to my bed. After lots of hammering (and another trip to the store) my bed is now flat.

Except now I kind of miss the valley. Drat.

The sobbing started with my drive home from work. I was listening to NPR's description of the Ford funeral, and couldn't help from breaking loose as I listened to a bagpipe play "Amazing Grace," as I heard stories of Kissinger becoming a pallbearer, even as I heard our nitwit president talk about Ford's role in our past. Truth be told, I know absolutely nothing about this former leader of the free world, except that he pardoned Nixon and he had a good golf game. But something in the way that the story was told by my beloved NPR, the way people spoke about Ford, the way that they celebrated his normalness broke me. I fell in love with funeral music, democracy and history all at once as I searched my glove compartment for tissues.

I got home to Elen's going-away hooley. The irish band would play music to honor my roommate's trip to Honduras. As I cleaned my room and built my bed, I found reasons to be pissed at her for going on her humanitarian jaunt down south. How selfish of her to do microlending in South America when we needed her in our house. Who will do the dishes? Who will speak Portuguese on the phone? Who will do the other stuff that Elen does? By the end of my project, I was again weeping.

And then the news from Sarah. My best friend in the world got engaged yesterday. As she told me the story over the phone (during my second trip to the hardware store), I wanted to sob with joy. She asked me to be her maid of honor and I said yes, trying not to choke up with tears. I've been a bridesmaid more times than I can count, but I've never climbed the taffeta ladder to such a splendid position. Sarah and Ryan are some of my favorite people in the world, and I couldn't be happier for them. Tears, again.

So. It was a slightly ridiculous day. Very emotional, yet productive. Yesterday, I think, is why men secretly (or blatantly) fear women.

2007 Already?

I've been out of high school ten years. I feel like I should point that out before I move on to more pressing issues. I imagine there will be a reunion. But then again, who needs reunions when you have myspace? The only person that I'd want to see that I'm not regularly in contact with is Ricky Gold. Richard Gold, if you're out there, googling yourself, shoot me an e-mail. We have a lot to talk about, including but not limited to: Woody Allen (is he as funny as he used to be), London (just because), "Babel", and Tom Jones (I still sing "Sex Bomb" to myself in a Scottish accent, whenever I hear his name.)

Moving on. I got the digital camera. I've been taking horrible pictures for a week or so. I'll start posting when I start remembering something - anything - from my three years as a photojournalism major.

I seem to have stolen a scent from my senior year roommate. Laura wore Fendi, and for the longest time, I didn't realize it was a perfume. I just thought that that was how she *smelled.* The scent is truly trademarked to this friend (who once broke a bone while dancing to the song "Dancing with Myself"), but it's been several years and she lives in another state. Hopefully she won't mind.

I had a dinner party for New Years. Fifteen people. Friends new and old. I almost fell asleep at ten. While I enjoyed making the food and serving it, I've decided to keep my guest list to a minimum for future shindigs. It's not as fun when a quarter of your guests have to sit at a second table. Plus, this stuff starts to get pretty expensive. ("Why don't you have people bring a dish," people always suggest. Because this is a dinner party. Not a potluck. Potlucks are for funerals, the fourth of July and other people. Not me. Call me pretentious. Or controlling. But I want the food to coincide, the dishes to match and the credit to be mine. All mine!)(Note to self for 2007, try to humble yourself and law low with the martyrdom, already.)

So I have a few resolutions. 2005 was the year of learning the average weight and length of a baby. Small, easily measureable and attainable goals. 2006 was a little more difficult. No double chins in photographs of myself. I tried, but it's difficult to attain this goal. It's all about the head tilt. Most of my pictures ended up with me looking coy or with my eyes peering over my glasses or both. The rest featured multiple chins. Whatever.

So 2007 resolutions. I have three. 1) Get salt and pepper shakers. 2) Learn how to cook beef. 3) Read more and finish books. I realized that I'd started about 30 books in 2006 and finished one:"A Tree Grows in Brooklyn." So, in between dinner parties, knitting and quilting (yes, I wrote "quilting"), dating, friends, church, my highschoolers and everything else, I'll also be reading in 2007. Nice.

I'm starting to get that dizzy feeling from too much coffee and not enough food. Over and out. And Happy New Year!