You’ll Pay Me Back in Kind and Reap What You Have Sown

I’m sure by now you have realized that the jam-packed birthday shenanigans wouldn’t end there. That would be too easy. Nope. Instead, I woke up the next day to four text messages. The first was from Daisy from 3:44 AM (mercifully, I was sleeping off the evening at that point) telling me that Mr. S was still texting her insults – 3 hours after he started. Next, I had his and her apologies from Zee and Hubby. They were both so sorry for the way the evening turned and what their contributions to the chaos might have been. The fourth was from Mr. S, himself, letting me know that Daisy was a phony friend. I again apologized to Daisy for the drama I was not causing. I let Hubby know that his apology was unnecessary, but sweet and fully accepted. I called Zee and let her know that we were also all good. As for Mr. S, I thanked him for his vigilance, but said that he didn’t have to worry; Daisy and I were all good. And that’s when the s*#t really hit the fan. Mr. S was not down with this response at all. Because, of course, HE was THERE for me last night; HE went to BUCKTOWN; HE left HIS FRIENDS to be there for ME. How dare I give Daisy a free pass? Now, logic will step in and point out that I never said I was going to give Daisy a free pass. I simply said that we were all good. I didn’t say how we reached that point, because frankly, it is none of his business. He presumed that I gave her a free pass. God forbid that perhaps Daisy and I had an adult conversation about it and worked it out. Nope, that would be crazy.

Rather than engage in a text battle, I decided to be a grown up, call Mr. S and talk about the crapfest that was the evening before. Surely, a brief conversation between two friends would sort everything out. I couldn’t have been more wrong. I think I was able to get 2 sentences out before Mr. S went on the attack. In his perception, I was in the wrong. I was not grateful enough for his presence and his sacrifice and I was not mad enough at Daisy. Really, Mr. S was pissed at Daisy for missing his birthday, but since he couldn’t say that, he used me. Tired of being told I was a horrible person, I tried to interject. It got heated and I said that if he felt this way, then I would sever our friendship. Shocked? Me too. A stupid, birthday celebration turned into crazy, uncalled for, over-the-top drama. I called Hubby to tell him about it, almost immediately bursting into tears. I just needed someone else to weigh in on this mess. Mind you, no one else saw it Mr. S’s way, but still I worried that I was in the wrong.  While talking to Hubby, Mr. S, called me and texted me and then called both Zee and Hubby, too. I responded to his text by saying that I was grateful that he was looking out for me and that I didn’t want to fight. He replied that Daisy was phony. What am I supposed to do with that? I didn’t respond. Instead, I took Zee and her Hubby up on their breakfast offer. I was reminded of what it is like to spend time with friends as Zee, Hubby, Meghan and I had breakfast, went shoe shopping and then got pedicures (not Hubby, he parted ways then). It was great. It washed the bad taste of Friday out of my mouth and I relaxed a bit. Of course, at this point Mr. S was freezing me out and giving me the silent treatment. (He punishes by resigning from Word Feud games and posting not so veiled “statuses” on FB). While Zee and her Hubby brought me birthday cupcakes, Mr. S took to FB – talking about how some places just bring out the worst in people and how he is going to avoid those places (and by that he means one place). Apparently to put a point on it, he took one more jab in the faux positive statement of starting a new chapter, because he was done with negative people and places. My only response was to like both statuses, because I did. I agreed wholeheartedly. There should be no place in life for negativity-fueled drama. I quite frankly had enough in 24 hours to last a lifetime.

Thus wraps my birthday 2011. I sang with Paul, celebrated with friends, purged some negativity and came out a bit stronger for it. Looking forward to seeing what else 35 has to offer.

Rolling in the Deep

I'd normally make excuses for my long absence from this forum, but really, sometimes my life just gets in the way of writing. I realized though that I miss this forum, as it seems to be a lifeline of sorts. It is especially missed when my life gets super complicated or painfully stressful. (Which seems to be my current state). So much has happened lately that I wondered if I needed therapy and some really good drugs. Then I figured out that I was just really hormonal and that it was time to purge some bad juju from my life.

Where to begin? Let’s call 2011 a transitional year for me. I have been coming to grips with turning 35, having shrinking ovaries and no man prospects in sight. I have dipped my toe in the online dating venue (again) and am struggling to figure out what cupid is just OK? My younger sister gave birth to probably the most perfect baby I have ever met. (I may be a bit biased, but I will say that my niece is a pretty amazing little lady). My dad finally left the hellish job of his that cut and burned him and made him think that not working on Saturday and Sunday meant he was on vacation. My dad leaving that job was the best thing ever – except that it meant my parents would be moving. To Ohio. I haven’t lived at home for over 10 years, but it is weird to think of there no long being a home. I mean, I still struggle with going there and not being greeted by the dogs of my childhood. But now, I can’t just pop over on a whim and have some chill time with my parents. I am thrilled for them (they are closer to their granddaughter and closer to my mom’s sister), but I am a little sad for me. Of course this move means that this has been the summer of Packapolooza.

Packing a house that your parents lived in for 36 years is not fun. Not really at all. My dad doesn’t want to help all that much and since he is working 12 hour days and living in another state. My mom has been working her tail off, but there is a lot to do and she reminisces about every little thing, so it takes a long time to sort through a box. My mom is also a bit of a HIT (“hoarder-in-training”). I blame growing up with not a lot of money for her want to save everything. She is not a big fan of Deb and me as we have been forcing her to purge some things. It is a tight rope we are walking as we spend our summer weekends packing, spackling, painting and repairing. If I were to write a story about my summer vacation, for the most part it would be about packing.

Aside from packing, I got to take a relaxing family mini-vacation (no Portland ’08 incidences). On that trip, my parents and I visited a good friend of mine. She has lived by my Ohio relatives for over a decade, but every time I have tried to visit, family has gotten in the way – you know how it is when visiting family, it seems that every minute of every day is scheduled. Never have I been so glad that I made time, because less than a week later my friend was in a severe boating accident on her birthday (which happens to be the day after mine). She is on the road to recovery, thank God, but there is nothing like a tragedy (her dog and close friend were lost in the accident) to shake you to the core and remind you what truly is important. I am devastated for my friend and the losses she has suffered, but grateful for the reminder that life is to be treasured and not taken for granted.

This was a helpful lesson as my own birthday celebration was a colossal disappointment. I say disappoint, because it didn’t go the way I hoped. It was nothing more than that though. What happened to my friend was a tragedy, my own drama (well really, someone else’s drama) was merely annoying – not life altering.

I am going to attempt the short version of the 35^th birthday not-so-fun shenanigans otherwise known as Mr. S and his drama caravan. In my gut, I knew that this birthday was going to be off. I should say flat out, I love a birthday. Not just my birthday, but anyone’s birthday. I love to celebrate a birthday. I love to honor someone’s birthday. I just simply love a birthday. My birthday plans for many years have been hanging with my mom during the day and then something with friends at night. I thought 35^th was a biggie, so I was looking forward to doing something big. I should’ve known when Hallmark didn’t make a 35^th birthday card that things were not going to go as planned. My mom was in Ohio for my birthday, so I took a surrogate birthday date to the Paul McCartney concert at Wrigley Field. I should’ve stopped with that. It was a great show! (Paul is awesome and he even remembered it was my birthday. I appreciated the “Happy Birthday” singing telegram!)

Mr. S had said that I needed to do something for my birthday with friends. Since I was out of town the weekend before, I was going to the concert on my birthday and I work on Saturday nights, this left Friday after my birthday. While I love a big party and have thrown myself some great ones, I just wasn’t feeling it this year. I tested out a million ideas and settled on Navy Pier’s beer garden for some dancing to cheesy cover tunes and a bar in BUCKTOWN (can you believe I went so far out of the neighborhood?). I invited a few friends, thinking that it would be a fun, chill evening. I couldn’t have been more wrong.

Thankfully my friend Meghan didn’t have to work and the Bears canceled Family Fest, because that meant that 3 whole people met me out at Navy Pier. Mr. S was supposed to head there with me and Zee and her husband. Instead, Mr. S got trashed and required sobering up food at 7 PM. The plan was to be on the pier until around 9:30 and then head to BUCKTOWN. (I am going to keep shouting this, because it was apparently a big deal for people to go there). Daisy, who was working, was going to meet us there.

I kind of had a bad taste in mouth because of the sobering Mr. S up debacle that made it so I a) went to my birthday “party” alone and b) would’ve been alone if not for the aforementioned circumstances. However, I am an optimist, so I still herded everyone off the pier and we headed to BUCKTOWN to meet up with my friends. In a tragicomedy sort of way, I walked into the establishment, pooh-poohing the need to be shown to a table because my friends were already there and took a lap through the establishment. Then I took another. Then I acknowledge that though they were there 15 minutes before, my friends had all left. Apparently Mr. S spent too much money waiting for me and waited too long for me to actually stay and celebrate my birthday with me. So Mr. S, Zee and Hubby were at another location. Daisy was texting reasons why she was so delayed. At this point, I was pretty much done with the whole evening and ready to just call it a Friday night and not a birthday thing. Which is of course, when Mr. S, Zee and Hubby decided to make a return appearance.

Mr. S made a to-do about being there, leaving HIS FRIENDS to go to BUCKTOWN to celebrate with me. Mind you, it is now 11:15 PM, 4 + hours after we were meeting up. With their entrance, I stuck a fork into the idea of actually salvaging the evening. I took a moment outside to collect myself. This moment was disrupted by Mr. S extolling his virtues – how he went to BUCKTOWN, for ME; left his friends, for ME…et cetera, et cetera – these statements were thrown in my face several times over the next 24-hours. You can just assume that if I mention Mr. S, he is pointing these things out to me.

So, Mr. S is a legend in his own mind, Zee and Hubby are fighting (again) and I am trying to figure out how the night went to hell in a hand basket. A lot of shouting and tears later, we go back to the neighborhood (because though Mr. S has gone all the way to BUCKTOWN, I just want to go home) and head to a Mr. S loved bar. Where the girls have low IQs, the music is too loud and the overall vibe is drunk, post Cubs. Good times. This is when Mr. S decides to be a marriage counselor and he forces Zee and Hubby to talk. And by talk, I mean shout. Meghan and I drink our warm-ish beers as fast as possible, so that we can get out of dodge. We do and head to Mr. S place #2. Thankfully, though I love them, we lose Zee and Hubby. Of course, this is when Daisy decides to call and check in, knowing the night is a train wreck. Cue Mr. S deciding that the evening will now be about Daisy’s lack of friendship, as she has missed 4 BIRTHDAYS and is a PHONEY friend. (It goes without saying that one of these birthdays is his, which is the crux of the issue). And so now we have drunk Mr. S trying to pick a fight with Daisy, on “my” (his) behalf.

We end up seeing Daisy at the very end of the night; because I was seeking a quiet night cap, a bathroom and some cigarettes (can you blame a girl?) Mr. S runs out of the bar – yelling at her and begins drunk, angry-texting her. I apologize to Daisy for this, because although I am upset about her missing my birthday, that is my business, not Mr. S’s. I stick a fork in a lame, drama-packed misadventure and head home --thankful that the night has finally come to a close.

PSA for Readers Everywhere

If I told you to think of an mp3 player, I think it is safe to assume that your mind would immediately go to the iPod. Though the Google Operating System parallels the iPhone in quality (dare, I be so bold as to say it surpasses it?!?), if I ask you to name a SmartPhone, more often than not, the iPhone will be thought of first. It is the same with eReaders. If I say eReader, you say Kindle. What I can't figure out is why?!?

I realize that it was on the market first. But the original Kindles were overpriced and clunky. There were bugs galore. That is what happens when you are first. You get noticed. And then, while everyone is basking in the glow of your awesome technological advance, you quietly clean up the kinks, clear out the bugs and push out a bunch of version releases – each one an "improvement."

The Kindle is nice. It has a decent, readable screen. You can read books you purchased from Amazon on it. It has name recognition. Ok, that's all I can think of to say about it. Side-by-side compare eReaders and the Kindle doesn't stand out. Yet, over and over, I keep hearing people utter "I love my NEW Kindle." Why? What is it that you love?

Is it the technology that allows you to share books with others? Is it the fact that you can "check out" eLibrary Books from your local library and read them? Is it the color screen? Is it the Apps Market? Is it the ability to load Google Books onto it? Or is it none of the above, because while there are eReaders in the market that can do some or all of the aforementioned things, the Kindle isn't one of them.

Amazon is touting the fact that the Kindle has out sold Harry Potter. I find that sad. All that means is that there are millions of current consumers who didn't do their eReader homework. While I thank Amazon for trailblazing, there are others who have set a far better path. I hope that people start to see the new directions they can take.

Thank You For Being My Friend

Awhile back, a high school friend sent me one of the best notes I have ever received. He said that he enjoyed my writing (something that I am always insecure about) and he encouraged me to continue. This was crazy on so many levels. A) I was pretty sure that I was writing for the great void that is the world wide web. B) I am my own worst enemy when it comes to critiques, so I tend to think I am a blathering idiot whenever I write. It seems, at least in my friend's eyes, I am wrong on both accounts. Humbled and honored by this note, I should say that I repaid his kindness by not blogging a thing for the last several weeks. In my pathetic defense, I was trying to finish up a class for school that can only be referred to as my kryptonite. Never has learning made me want to poke my eyes out more. While I learned a lot in the class and am so happy to have (successfully) completed it, the greatest lesson of all is that I will not become a copyright lawyer. At least not in this lifetime. Holy cannoli, that stuff was painful.

Though I started a new class today, I figured that I owed my friend and myself some needless ramblings about life.

In approximately five weeks, I am about to become an aunt for the first time. I have been counting down to this event with more enthusiasm than I have counted down to anything. Though this little baby will not be my child, I can already feel that I love her more than anything. It is strange to be so excited over someone you have never met. It has been an honor to watch my sister blossom throughout this pregnancy, even when her legs swelled up and like memory foam and the alien baby was poking out of her belly. As far as I am concerned, February can't get here fast enough!

Christmas is my favorite time of year. I throw a Christmas party every year. In my dreams, this is a classy affair with good food, fancy cocktails, well-dressed friends and old-fashioned fun. With my friend's that is not really the case at all, as things like Franzia-stands (think keg stand with a bladder of boxed wine) and Fan Ball (involving a waffle ball and my living room ceiling fan) seem to always happen. This year, it was drinking shots out of an inflatable sheep. Please don't make me explain that one any further! In all that craziness though, friends from all walks of my life come together to celebrate my favorite holiday and that really is all I have ever wanted for Christmas.

If you're still reading, the next several sentences will seem like an about face, but I have a little venting to do. I have a friend, well, actually it seems right now, he's not my friend….it is hard to keep track, since he turns on a dime. Let's start at the beginning….way back when, I was friend's with a girl. For the purposes of this story, we shall call her Zee. Zee was dating my friend and friends with another guy, whom we will call Mr. S. Because of my friendship with Zee, I got to know and become good friends with Mr. S. It got to a place in which I was always hanging out with Mr. S, in a friend way. (I feel that I should clarify, because this dilemma has nothing to do with romantic feelings – at least not between me and Mr. S – or me and Zee for that matter!) Back on track, I had another female friend, we shall call her Daisy who was friends with all of the aforementioned characters. In some strange way, I found myself in a Huey, Louie and Dewey trio with Mr. S and Daisy. Until Mr. S had a thing for Daisy and they decided to try each other on – on the sly of course.

I went through this lonely transition of having lost my partners-in-crime, as well as an awkward place in which neither of them were being very honest with any of our friends about their current foray into each other. This went on for forever and then some. I finally confronted Mr. S about the relationship that wasn't at a Halloween Party – 9 months into the chaos. Of course this made things harder for me, as I now had confirmed a lot of truth from Mr. S and had to deal with the hurt of having Daisy not be honest with me. That stung, as Daisy and I have been friends for a long time. Fast forward a year, same old same old – still a DL relationship, only now Mr. S is pissed at me, because I am a lousy friend to Daisy. I confess, I wasn't always there for her during this time, but she constantly had plans with Mr. S, I was feeling monumentally excluded and I was frustrated, because I knew there was something going on, but Daisy wouldn't talk about it. Mr. S tried to blacklist me, talking a lot of crap about me and attempting to omit me from things. It was a delightful time in my life. I should mention that during this time, I had told Mr. S a bunch of times that I didn't think this relationship was good for either him or Daisy. I initially thought they were good for each other, but over time, thought they should both cut their loses and find some real happiness.

Anyway, Mr. S would say some lovely things about me to all of our mutual friends – apparently missing the idea that they then told me. It was a lovely return to high school. Actually, nope, people in high school didn't act this ridiculously immature. It continued until Mr. S and Daisy went down in a blaze of glory. Their relationship imploding early this summer. Suddenly, I was Mr. S's friend again. The voice of reason. The loyal friend. I fielded multiple calls / texts a day, doling out support and sage advice. Trying to be the shoulder of support. I listened. I reassured. I said all the right things. I tried to do this in the face of feeling truly uncomfortable, because in his anger he was cruelly bashing a friend of mine. Daisy and I may have drifted, but she was still a friend. For that, I tried to listen to both sides (the worst kept secret, finally not a secret anymore) and stay as Switzerland. You can imagine that it didn't really work that way.

I eventually became uncomfortable with Mr. S's trash-talking of Daisy. Daisy and I were working on our friendship and being on the listening end of Mr. S's anger made me feel disloyal. I also thought all that venom was a bit toxic to say the least. And so I said to Mr. S one day, maybe he should stop exhausting himself with all this anger and move on toward better things in his life. This advice was, of course, met with juvenile anger and me being blacklisted again by Mr. S. Hilariously, I have been called "Team Daisy" now, as if we are tweens in Twilight-ville. The only difference in this blacklisting, is that I feel that I am losing friends in the process. Well, at least one in Zee. (Did you forget about her after all this drivel?) Zee and I had gotten really close over the years. I would venture to have called her one of my closest friends. Until the Mr. S debacle of August 2010. Then she staunchly went to Team Mr. S. With him blacklisting me, it seems that I lost Zee in the divorce. Which is weird, since I wasn't even in the crazy relationship with Mr. S (I now think the S stands for S&*#storm.) I don't think it is intentional. But, since she hangs out with him on the weekends, because he is sad and lonely (aka pathetic and needy) and he won't acknowledge me anymore, it makes it so that I never see her.

I don't care about losing Mr. S. I have come to the realization that he is an immature, selfish a$$. His on-again, off-again (when-I-feel-like-it) friendship is nothing I need in my life anymore. I'd feel bad about saying that, but he has trashed talked me to anyone who will listen for so long, that quite frankly, I think it is my right to respond. And to be honest, this is a safe space for me. Mr. S's concern is for himself only. I am positive he doesn't even know this blog exists. But I do miss Zee and I am not a fan of the fact that I never see her. I wonder if she misses me at all?!

Ok. Ranting complete. Needed to get it all out, so I can purge it. 2011 will be different. No more high school drama. I have been out of high school for half my life. I have no desire to continue to channel the childishness.

Empty Promises

So, I've lied up one and down another, pretending that I was going to maintain this blog, but a madcap rash of writer's block and a seemingly infinite streak of nothingness a.k.a my dating life made it hard to come up with things to say. Sure, I could have blathered on mindlessly about my daily activities, but if they were boring me, I assumed that they would bore you, those faceless / nameless 3 readers that may still check this blog, too.

You're probably wondering why now? Why pick up this silliness again? And in all honesty, I don't know. I just think it is time again. Maybe it is because I missed it. Maybe it is because I have been waxing yogic philosophical while reading Eat, Pray, Love, thinking that I could take myself on that same journey -- but really, knowing full well that I wouldn't have made it out of Italy. Maybe it's because I am tired of telling people one day I will go back to writing on this damn blog. Or maybe it is simply that I now believe that I miss it. I will say this, no more empty promises. I will write as I am moved - no schedule and no theme.

To catch you up on me, here's the Reader's Digest version of my life these days...

* Still in school slowly plugging away at my Master's. When I apply myself, I pretty much kick a$$, the problem is that I lack motivation in topics like Intellectual Property and Copyright Law in Higher Education. This makes finishing the course on time a bit of a challenge. We shall see how fall goes -- here's hoping I don't choose football over homework.

*Still working the same job - year #6 is fast approaching. I can now say that I have been doing what I have been doing for the past 10 years, which is nice on a resume, but terrifying in reality. Not too sure what I have to show for it. I'm still a long way away from teaching Romantic Poetry on an idyllic lawn to idealistic Lit Majors.

* Still serving the same drunk people at the same local tavern. Only now, they may be born in 1989. That thought it a little daunting. I remember 1989. Hell, I remember 1981. The scary thing is that I don't remember looking that young and I certainly don't know when I got this old.

* Still single. Hate to say "I'm looking," because everyone says you find it when you are not looking for it, but honestly, I think most of us are looking. I don't know what exactly it is that I am looking for, but I am hoping someone will clue me in when I find it. In the interim, I am still enjoying making more bad decisions than good ones, having Clark Kent crushes from afar on guys that would fit in at Comic Con and practicing my flirting on one unsuspecting guy per bar shift.

* Still waking up every morning to a cup of coffee that's half-full and a day where anything is possible.

I'm Back (and, hopefully, better than ever)

It has been more than a year since I posted anything on this page and I think that was mostly because I was feeling a bit uninspired. I didn't want to force observations and so I quit, cold turkey.

Lately, however, there is a whole hell of a lot going on in my head and I am feeling the need for an outlet and so, I am resurrecting myself and Mourning the Wicked and I am going to start writing again.

At lot has happened in the time that I have been gone (and a lot has stayed the same. I won't even try to write it all in one sitting. I will say this though:

• My sister and Jason got married (it was beautiful) and have since celebrated their 1-year anniversary.

• I attended the rotation of weddings throughout 2008 and am now the last one standing.

• This Facebook thing exploded, at least in my world, and I have found myself slightly (mostly) addicted to it. The best surprise was finding friends that I had lost through the years -- some whom I had missed very much.

• Though I have dated a bit here and there, I am still single and still trying to figure out / find my "missing piece." Though I am not planning on embarking on the Year of Yes, I am going to be a bit more open-minded and approachable. My only plan is to see where it all takes me.

So, that's it in a nutshell. At least for this moment.

11 o'clock Tick Tock

On the 11th day of the 11th month, at the 11th hour, it is time to take a moment and thank those that served our country and those that continue to serve our country. Though taking just a moment doesn't seem like enough time to thank these men and women.

On a day like today, I think of those who sparked a revolution. Those who fought for emancipation. Those who stormed the beaches. Those who who took to the air. Those who trudged through the jungles. Those who stormed the desert. Those who sacrificed everything so that we can live in a country that promises us life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. Those who made this a land of the free and a home of the brave. Those who made this the place that welcomes the huddle masses yearning to breathe free.

It is because of them, that we all live the lives that we do - free and able to effect change. To honor them, we should take more than just a moment to remember. But for today, this Veteran's Day, let us especially take this moment to say thank you.

Special thank you to my Grandpa Dean, my Uncle Riggy, my dad and my friend Jimmy for their service (and continued service). I am proud to the be the daughter, granddaughter and great niece of a veteran. I am proud to be the friend of a career navy man. God Bless You All. God Bless America.

August and Everything After

Pardon my inadvertent sebatacle. For the last few weeks (okay, months), I feel like I have been running in circles with no direction. Since my last post, there have been birthdays and weddings and baseball and football and playoffs and work and life hasn't seemed to slow down. And it has been awesome and exhausting simultaneously.

My apartment looks like a tornado went through it and all I am left with is clutter, piles of laundry (clean and folded, just never seem to get it put away) and recycling. For a long stretch, I was coming home, changing clothes and bags and leaving again. Never really getting a moment of quiet. And in aiming for the quiet and, let's be honest, my tivo, I have stayed up later and later these days.

And none of this sounds like a problem, I realize, but in a way it is. Because, as busy as I have been, as much fun as I have had and as many stories I now have to tell, there is still something missing.

A long time ago, my best friend talked to me about my lack of dating and she asked me if I was lonely. And I, in my single snobbery, laughed her off (she has always been a serial monogamist) and told her boldly that I wasn't. I had family and friends and an apartment and a job I loved and no curfew and I was free to do what I wanted and all was great. What more could a person want?

And yet, the older I get and the more cynical I become (and I hate that I am in fact becoming a bit cynical), the more I realize that I am lonely. I am surrounded by wonderful people and yet I don't have that person. And while the feminist in me refuses to define myself by another, the romantic in me knows that another only enhances my self.

Slowly but surely, all the people in my life are finding their missing piece and more and more the invitations are piling up. And I love it. I love that the people most important to me are finding happiness. I just wish I knew how to find it for myself. Better yet, I wish I knew how to find it.

I know, I know. I written this all before. I just wonder when I am going to stop writing it.

And in case you are wondering what I have done since I last wrote, here it is...

• Attended 8 Cubs games (including my first playoff game, which was gut wrenching - though I still cried a bit when they presented the flag).
• Attended my first college football game in seventeen years.
• Attended my first Bears game in the new stadium, as well as my first home opener and my first tailgate.
• Celebrated my 31st birthday (or, as I like to call it, "the 10th Anniversary of my 21st Birthday").
• Attended 2 weddings - 1 in Vermont, which led to my first trip there, as well as my first trip to Boston.
• Celebrated multitudinous birthdays - including Nat's, which involved a hula hoop and pin the tail on the donkey.
• Paid off the computer on which I am currently writing.
• Watched almost 2 seasons of Without a Trace from Netflix - obsessed with it as Jen is obsessed with The Wire.
• Lost the dog that I have had since I was 13. (That was heartbreaking).
• Tried to negotiate Ken Griffey Jr. coming to the Cubs - offered him $10,000, a box of Cracker Jacks, a Super Rope and a place to stay while he was getting settled in Chicago. This was while I was sitting first row for the first time at the Cubs game.
• Met a few potential guys who never called. (That is a post in and of itself).
• Dealt Texas Hold 'Em at a charity Casino Night.
• Finally watched (and subsequently returned to Netflix) The Illusionist, which I had at home since March 6. That might be my new record for slacking on a movie. (By the way, it was a great movie!)
• Bought my bridesmaid dress for my sister's wedding and only cried a little.

And when that was all said and done and my beloved Cubs were out of the playoffs and the temperature dropped so that I had to wear shoes with toes all week long, I rested and unwound. Which is what I am about to do now.

P.S. I dedicate this post to Jen G., who has probably given up on me when it comes to posting, but will be proud of me nonetheless.

I'm not sleeping

Once again, I have taken a few weeks off and am feeling remorseful. Kind of like the guy who said he'd call and never did. Maybe he meant to call, but now it’s been too long and the window of opportunity has passed. Right now, I’m that guy.


For days, I had a certain song trapped in my head. This is my attempt at an exorcism.

Desperation – Why, oh, why are there ants in my apartment? Where are they from? Seriously. Last summer, they were there every so often. This summer, they seemed to have made it their home. It is unnerving. I have sprayed the baseboards with Raid – the 30-Day kind. I don’t leave food out, but still I see them. 1 in the living room. 1 in the bathroom. 1 on my bedroom floor. 2 even came to work with me last week. I am irked. I am also wondering what the building exterminator that visited and worked on every apartment 2 weeks ago did, because, whatever it was, it didn’t work.


Dislocation - What’s with the waving? I worked at the bar all weekend and was subjected to people in groups constantly waving to get my attention. Usually, waving to me while I was A) in the middle of serving 5 other customers, B) in the middle of doing every dish in the bar or C) carrying cases of beers to re-stock the coolers. At no point was I standing around eating bonbons. At no point was I standing around drinking a beer, which is what the other bartender was doing. Which exacerbates the situation a bit more…why weren’t they waving at him?

Separation – I worked on Saturday afternoon and therefore missed being with my sister on her birthday. I worked Friday night and missed calling her at midnight. She missed being home to sign for her present on Friday. All in all, I just missed her this weekend! Hope that she had a wonderful birthday!

Condemnation – The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting the same results. Sometimes, in the dating ring, I think we forget that.

Side note, I remember being a 20-something and dating the 30-year olds. Why is it now that I am a 30-year old, I am perplexed that the guys my age are dating the 20-somethings? It seems like the proverbial “what goes around comes around.” And since the 40-year olds seem to be dating the 20-year olds too, why can’t I go for the 20-something guy? I mean if Demi did it, why can’t I?

Revelation – As of July 2008, I will be the last one standing -- the last un-married person on either side of my family. (Well, at least until 2 of my cousins finalize their divorces). It is a little daunting. If you had asked me at 10 or at 23 if I would be on the verge of the 10th Anniversary of my 21st birthday and still not married, I would’ve emphatically disagreed. And yet, here I stand. Part of me really wants to be married and part of me is glad that I haven’t settled yet. My sister teases me about my late nights and crazy stories and tells me that I am regressing a bit. That may be true, but I would easily trade a late night of drinking for a movie and a walk for ice cream. I just don’t think I am willing to settle for just anything.

I want the crazy relationship my parents have. Where they have a date night on Saturdays and spend a lovely Sunday afternoon at Costco. Where the little weirdo things my mom does makes my dad just shrug and smile a bit and say, “yep, that list-writing, slightly (well, really totally) anal-retentive, kind of bossy, completely lovely lady is my wife.” Where the little weirdo things that my dad does makes my mom just shrug a bit and say, “yep, that guy wearing a dirty baseball hat, napping in the chair, snoring louder than a chainsaw, completely caring guy is my husband.” I don’t believe in a lot of dating rules. I think if you like someone you tell them. There shouldn't be a strict protocol for things. I don’t believe in telling someone how they should or should not act. I don’t believe in molding someone into what I want them to be. I do believe in finding the person that will be my partner-in-crime and my best friend. And until then, this cheese stands alone.

In Temptation – Sometimes, I just want to do the wrong thing. Kiss the wrong person. Go after the wrong guy. Go out on a work night and stay out too late and call in sick. Every now and then, I want to stir up some trouble.

Isolation – Being single in the city is fun, until your toilet decides to flood your bathroom. And you are mopping the bathroom mostly not dressed. And you are buying a plunger, because you can’t imagine that you don’t own one. (Actually, Tom came along for that part, and it was nice to have some company.) And you are plunging the toilet hoping to holy hell you know what you are doing. And then you have fixed the problem and there is no one there to celebrate the mini-victory.

Desolation – It seems that though we keep getting rain, my plants aren’t benefiting. If I forget to water them just 1 day, they get limp and mopey. I missed a few days last week and my cilantro looked thoroughly depressed. It’s hard to cultivate foliage. I mean, heck, I don’t remember to drink enough water for myself.

I just wanna say something worthwhile

Writer's block has been prohibiting me from posting the last few days. It seems that my head has been filled with everything and nothing. Rather than go missing again, I made the executive decision to post a few random things that I have been thinking.

Almost a week ago, Mr. Wizard died. My desire to craft a fitting tribute to the man who essentially fostered my love of science seems to have been the start of my writer's block. I couldn't find the right words.

When I was little, science was my thing. I wanted to be an astronaut. I wanted to conduct experiments. I wanted to invent things. I loved it all.


Mr. Wizard's show fueled that passion. He took science and made it reachable for me. He made it easy to understand and fascinating to learn. I wanted to be one of the kids on the show conducting experiments with him. I wanted to be like him when I grew up.

And so, when I heard of his passing, I was saddened. He was truly a teacher to many and he will be missed.

Other random things...

* I started watching Sex in the City reruns again, mostly because I miss it. I miss its intelligence, brashness and relatability. Because, while the characters may have been to the extreme at times, every woman can say she has a little Samantha, Carrie, Charlotte and Miranda in them.

* A hula-hoop, swim goggles, water wings and a stoop can make for a perfectly acceptable (if not completely fun) Saturday night.

* How is it that one of my closest friend's in college had another baby (well, he didn't, but his wife did) and I missed the entire pregnancy? Why do I feel like I can never keep up? (And on that note, congratulations Tom and Amie - he is absolutely beautiful)!

* Speaking of never keeping up, why do I always have dishes in my sink - though I swear I am not home enough to cook, clothes on my bathroom floor and books strewn everywhere? (Not to mention a broken TV in my living room that has been there for 8 months). I am so cluttery.

* Finally, my friend from high school writes fantastic reviews of the music world and he joined the blogging scene a while ago. (And in keeping me my falling behind theme, I have been meaning to link to him for ages). That being said, I am added him to my links: http://the-screen-door.blogspot.com/. I know you will all enjoy it!

Frak That

I am a messy girl. I would like to believe that I have a place for everything and I think I do, but like my mind, my apartment is a bit cluttered. Still, if something was moved, I would know it. My chaos has some semblance of order.

My sister is the yin to my yang (or the Frick to my Frak as my Dad used to call us). She is neat and orderly; organized and detailed; a planner and a saver. So, when she came home at lunch for a ham sandwich (as opposed to me who was probably eating out again) and to load her dishwasher (we won't even talk about my dishes) and saw her front window missing, she knew something was wrong.

She called her fiancé and the police and they all entered the apartment together and confirmed her fears - she had been robbed. The perpetrator was slow and methodical. He (sorry for the sexist assumption) rifled through her dresser drawers, her jewelry box and even her refrigerator.

He stole her digital camera with her Mother's Day photos still on it, her DVD player, all her movies, her Ipod, her jewelry, some clothes and her beer. To add insult to injury, he used her luggage to take out his haul.

I go on record as saying I hate this guy. I hate him for violating her home. I hate him for invading her life like this and taking away her security. I hate the 500 miles that separated us and made me unable to reach out and hug her when she told me the story. I hate that I can’t protect her and spare her from this.

Now, my sister will be the first to read this and get mad at me. She will protest my view of her and for the millionth time, remind met that is 27, has lived on her own for 9 years and that she is engaged. I know all this. Sometimes, I think she is more of a grown up than I am. She has handled this with the intelligence, grace and beauty that she possess and with which constantly amazes me. And yet as her big sister (chronologically), I want to beat up the bully that did this to her, hug her and take her for an ice cream.

Folsom Prison Blues

I have a million things to say about a million things from the last few weeks and I will get to all of them soon. However, I thought that I would comment on a little 'celebutante' (who knew that was a word) known as Miss. Paris Hilton.

Today, "A judge has ordered Paris Hilton returned to jail and she was taken from court screaming." (from www.nbc5.com)

Before I continue, I state the following:

1) I am not jealous of Paris Hilton – I think she is vacuous, wasteful and oblivious to the world around her.
2) I do not wish to be Paris Hilton – While I would like her $$, I couldn’t stand living such an unfulfilled life.

I find Paris Hilton to be the annoying faux-celebrity that just doesn’t go away. She offers nothing important to society – except for her advocacy of small dogs and weird pets. She has all the money in the world and she does nothing to make it a better place. Imagine if Paris sent her clothing budget for a year to help in the Sudan or Darfur or for a woman’s shelter or for a soup kitchen. Imagine what she could do if she attempted to be a contributing member of society. But she doesn’t even try. Instead, she lives “The Simple Life.”

Now, most days, I wouldn’t even bother with a Paris Hilton. I don’t look for her on a red carpet. I don’t watch her and Nicole make fun of local people who work for a living. I don’t even want to stay in a Hilton anymore. Most days, I don’t even care what she does. Except for the days when she breaks the law. Because, here’s the thing, money doesn’t put you above the law. Just ask Michael Jackson, Robert Downey Jr., Ken Lay, Jeff Skilling, Martha Stewart, etc… The only thing that money buys you is a good defense team.

I thought that it was great that a judge sentenced her to prison. Not because the little pampered girl was going to have to eat turkey-bologna on white for lunch (though, admittedly, that was an added bonus), but the sentence was appropriate to the infraction.

And let me side note for a quick second and ask this: Why the hell does the Hilton heiress ever find cause to drive drunk? You have billions! Hire a driver! Rent a helicopter! Hell, take a damn taxi! But, she didn’t. More than once, she didn’t. And because she didn’t, she found herself getting sentenced to 45-days in prison. (Personally, I think her mom should’ve joined her, given her completely disrespectful outbursts within the courtroom. Like mother, like daughter, I guess).

Let’s be honest, 45 days in prison sucks, but it is only 45 days. And really, she only had to do half of it. And when she was done, she could return to her vacuous life and have a great story to tell all the girls at the club. I think had she served her time Martha-style, we would’ve all gained a smidge of respect for the girl. Instead, she faked a cramp (I am only speculating) and got the sheriff to send her home early – 20 days early. Much to the chagrin of the judge who sentenced her.

Which brings us to this morning’s shenanigans in the courtroom, culminating in Paris getting led out, kicking and screaming her way back to prison.

Part of me feels bad for her, because nothing in her life has prepared her for this. Part of me wonders (thanks to my lovely, empathetic and sweet sister), whether this isn’t an over-punishment. Part of me is glad that a judge treated her like any other person. All of me hopes that there is a moral to this story.

On the right side of life...

Several years ago, I was looking for a new apartment. It was to be my first one-bedroom and I was looking for a diamond in the rough, as much as I was looking forward to the possibility of no roommates. I searched high and low for a new apartment and finally found what I was looking for (shameless U2 reference, sorry).

After viewing the place and gathering the paperwork, I walked back to my car. I called my friend Tif to tell her all about my potential new home. As I walked around to the driver's side to get into my car, I realized that a huge chunk of my front end was missing. It seems that my parked car was the unfortunate victim of a clipping violation called on a rental truck. I was lucky that the driver of the truck left a note. Believe me, that is a rarity. I took some pics of the car (my dad made me, just in case) and called the number on the note.

The gentleman who hit my car was shocked that I wasn't angry. I told him, there wasn't any point to getting mad. The car was already damaged. I was just grateful that the person who hit the car was honest and left a note. He was surprised by my reaction. Which is sad. Why do we let ourselves worry, get frustrated and angry over things that have happened or those things that are out of our control? What good does it bring?

In that regard, what do you do when you sleep through your alarm and miss your flight? A flight destined for sunnier climates, relaxation and fun with friends? And the standby list is long? And you waited in the airport for nothing? And your luggage is en route on the vacation you are supposed to be taking, because it didn't have to fly standby? Get angry? Why? Its too late to change the course of the day? I say embrace the hilarity of it all and move forward. Don't let the anger hold you back.
Kudos to T. for doing just that. In the face of a vacation missed, he came up with these little bits of joy...

1) I have a $299 travel voucher. (Sucks that I had to pay $399 to get it…)
2) Long Term parking only cost me $6. (This almost cancels my loss on the travel voucher)
3) I will not be discovered by a Hollywood agent and let success go to my head.
4) I will not break my neck surfing; Probably wasn't going to surf, but now I can guarantee I won't.
5) I get to watch the Bulls tonight and the hockey game on Saturday and Monday.
6) My luggage is going on a great trip to the left coast. I hope it hooks up with a hot samsonite!

On a side note, upon returning home, T. realized that he had left his deodorant, gel and razor at home. So, he also gets to smell good and be clean-shaven this weekend as well. Which is another plus – at least for all of his friends.

Here’s to a weekend filled with the little bits of joy that make it all worthwhile.

Touching a hand, wondering why

Do you know where you were on February 28, 1983? If you were of TV viewing age, you were probably watching the final episode of MASH. Watched by 125 million people it is the most watched episode of a television series history – at least according to my trusty Wikipedia. Throughout its 11 years, we grew to know the people that made up the 4077 and that 2 ½ hour episode gave us the chance to say “Goodbye, Farewell and Amen” to them.

Similarly, I remember watching the series finale of Family Ties. I remember Alex getting ready to move away from home for his first big job. I remember the packing and the crying. I remember tearing up a bit as we watched the actors come out for their final bows. It was a bit strange to say goodbye to a family that I felt like I had grown up alongside.

As I have gotten older, I have said a lot of TV goodbyes. To Cheers, Dawson Creek, 90210, Friends, Seinfeld, Sex in the City, West Wing…some stayed a bit too long, some left a bit too soon. Each one, though, gave me a finale. An ending. A culmination to all the years I had spent with them. Through the years, I saw Diane come back and each character impart one final quip or one last word of wisdom. I saw Joey and Pacey get together and Dawson write his movie. I saw David and Donna finally get married. I saw George, Jerry, Kramer and Elaine end up in prison, contemplating their lives and their impact. I saw Monica and Chandler get their babies, Ross and Rachel reunite and Joey go after his dream (too bad his dream was another bad sitcom). I saw Mr. Big a.k.a John (the only time his name is mentioned in the series) come to his senses and win Carrie back, Miranda become a loving caretaker, Charlotte get a baby and Samantha have a relationship. I saw the dawning of a new regime and a new President. For each show, I saw the end the way I had always thought it should be. I saw everything wrap up.

Thus, this recent trend of canceling long running shows with no pomp, no circumstance, no warning is killing me a bit. Not renewing the Gilmore Girls and Crossing Jordan left me with episodes that seemed like they were trying to tie up loose ends, but without enough time. While they were series finales, they felt like season finales. (The Gilmore Girls cast didn’t know the show was canceled until after they had shot the final scenes). Crossing Jordan had people just on the brink of new beginnings, but there seemed to be so many more possibilities. It seemed like it ended too soon.

And now, my Veronica Mars is gone. One of my favorite shows of the last few years and the only one I really look forward to every week. It was witty. It was fast. It was smart. It was sassy. It was doomed. And what of it now? Next week’s season finale is its series finale? To be honest, I had an inkling it was coming. The writing was on the wall. My favorite TV site, Spoiler Fix, said it might happen. But I kept holding out hope. I tried to believe that the stupid CW wouldn’t think that The Search for the Next Pussycat Doll was quality television. I hoped that they would want people to tune in for more than Beauty and the Geek and Friday Night Smackdown. I was wrong.

And now, one of the best and brightest shows out there is ending. Where is my buildup? Where is my countdown to the finale? Where is my goodbye, farewell and amen?

Back in the ring

I originally started this early-April...just finally came back and finished it. I'm back. I promise. The benefit is over with and the final details are getting wrapped up slowly, but surely. My Y-Me race goal is taking a serious hit this year, because I have played every fundraising card I had. It is only a bummer, because I realized that this year is our 10th Anniversary of doing the race. Thought that I would be a lot more fantastic. On a good note though, my dad is officially joining us this year, as is Deb's fiance and a bunch of cousins. The team will be bigger than it has ever been and that is completely exciting to me.

I am not quite sure where the month of April went, but it is now May 1st and I have been away for awhile. I apologize for that, think that my brain and body needed a break.

I went to Cleveland for Easter. I have family there and Jason's family lives there. This was the blending of the families Easter celebration. Except for the fact that it snowed for 2 straight days, it was wonderful. Who thought that Easter would bring 2 feet of snow?

The weekend was a flurry of activity and tradition. We had lentils on Friday and made Italian sausage (only 20 lbs.) and dyed Easter eggs. On Saturday, we baked 4 (yes, I said 4) Lamb cakes and a batch of kolachkies. It was a wonderful weekend.

After the weekend, I headed home and to the bar for the annual Opening Day celebration. I love that it is baseball season, just wish that it would stay warmer and that the Cubs would do better. Seems that it is always my hope in the month of April.

At any rate, I am back. Sorry to all for the vanishing act. I promise to be back for awhile.

You Find Daylight

Sorry that it has taken awhile for me to write this, but I think for once in my life, I might have been struck speechless. A few weeks ago, we thought that we would try and organize something for JC. We hoped that we could get a bit of money together for her son – our pipe dream was $5000. We wanted to remember and honor her life and offer something to her family. It became so much more than that.

The five of us, all fundraising novices, morphed into benefit planners as the outpouring of generosity and support grew to astronomical proportions. Suddenly, our raffle prizes became Silent Auction items and we had a need for a full staff of people.

People have asked us how we were able to put this together in two weeks. Honestly, we have no idea. I think it came together so beautifully, because we believed in the cause and because we are all blessed to have so many amazing people in our lives.

The five of us knew what we had signed up for (well, sort of), but throughout the planning and execution of the event, there were countless others who selflessly gave of their time and resources because they wanted to help. From soliciting businesses, making flyers and banners, organizing prizes, setting up, taking donations, tending bar, running the auction, announcing the raffles, playing the bagpipes, and cleaning up at the end, so many came together to execute the event perfectly.

And really, that’s what the night was – perfect! It was the perfect blend of friends and family in support of a beautiful cause. It was the perfect representation of the very best of our neighborhood and our bar. It was the perfect tribute to JC.

So, from the bottom of all of our hearts, we thank you for your generosity and your support. We are still getting the final numbers together, but in donations alone we met and exceeded our “pipe dream” almost four times over and that doesn’t include 2 ½ carloads filled with toys, clothes and books that were given to Blake directly.

Thank you to the entire staff of Guthries Tavern for working the event. Thank you to all of the regulars who showed up, asked what they could do and got straight to work. Thank you to the 75 companies who donated items to the event. Thank you to all of our friends and family who supported the event. Thank you to the entire neighborhood for their tremendous generosity.


Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful committed citizens can change the world. Indeed, it is the only thing that ever has.

--Margaret Mead--

Does anyone really know what time it is?

I am sorry again for my MIA-ness. I have been in full fundraising mode for the last week. The event is coming together better than any of us ever dreamed.

The weekend went by slowly, but fast simultaneously. We went to the funeral on Friday and it was a beautiful tribute to JC’s life. Her family each wrote and read a letter to her and it was nice to hear about the JC her family knew and loved.

Saturday, I went to watch the Xavier vs. OSU game. What a damn good game!! Bummed about the outcome, but it was more than I could have hoped for in a game. On Saturday, I was 3 OTs away from greatness – I took Xavier, Vandy and VCU. Risky and it almost paid off. Regardless, I am still the highest I have ever placed in my brackets and I am pretty proud of that.

After the game, we went to Howl at the Moon to listen to some music and celebrate St. Patrick’s Day. I successfully avoided the green beer, but did drink something that had leprechaun in it. I met up with Nat and Mel at Cullen’s for the evening portion of the celebration. All day I was a bit miserable, having forgotten to take my allergy pill and it only got more fun as day turned into night. My voice was a thing of the past by about midnight. Still waiting for it to decide to return.

On a side note, 8 days after we have sprung forward and the CTA Station at Sheridan still is an hour behind. I wonder, given their proclivity for running late, if they don’t ever spring forward, technically, they are always on time.

Save the Date

We are planning a fundraiser for JC's son at Guthries.

March 26, 2007 from 7 PM - 11 PM

Details to follow, but please keep the date open.

Also, if you know anyone that can help with donations, advertising or manpower in general, please let me know.

A fund has been established in her son’s name:

Blake Carlson Fund

c/0 Belvidere Bank

Thankful for another Manic Monday

I hadn't posted for a few days, because I didn't seem to have much to say. After this weekend, though, I am not even sure what to say. It is a funny thing, the weekend. Most of us in corporate America look forward to the weekend. By Wednesday, we are thinking ahead, wondering what fun the few days off have in store for us. By Friday, we are in our jeans and t's, thinking of happy hour, the movies, straightening our homes, seeing friends and family or looking forward to sleeping in and lazing around. This is how I was last week. Within an hour of being home though, it all changed.

After being on the L, that once again took forever to get me home, I changed clothes and walked to the bar where I work on Friday nights. Nat had been sick all week and I was looking forward to seeing her and all my neighborhood friends and embarking on a weekend of fun. When I got to work, I found out that 2 of my friends had been struck by a car crossing the street on their way to the bar. Police and an ambulance were still outside the bar and witnesses were recounting all that had happened. I was shocked by it all.

Thankfully, while one had an overnight stay to treat a concussion, both were okay, spared from the worst of it. As the night wore on, I worked. It was really all I could I do. The bar was slow and JC, the other waitress that night, and I uttered the words, "I'm so bored" throughout the evening. It was all so very normal.

At the end of the night, we sat and did our closing work. Cleaning tables. Counting money. Entering in the Log. Tipping out. All so very rote. JC and I chatted about the Southside parade, she had been gathering flair for the event all month. We speculated about the crazy drunk people that would be out on St. Patrick's Day next weekend. She was newer to the bar and was going to work her first St. Patrick's Day. I warned her about the chaos that would most definitely ensue.

A bit later, she talked to her friends, who had come to visit her this weekend and go with her to the Southside parade. She was bummed that they had gone out that night and were all tired. She got off the phone saying that they were a bit lame and she teasingly bemoaned the fact that she was going to head home, because they didn't want to go out anymore. I walked her to the door and watched her grab a cab. I thought it was pretty funny how she dashed to the cab - almost bouncing along the way. It brought a smile to my face. Again, it was all so rote and normal.

Saturday morning, I woke up to an update about my friends. I got ready to go wedding dress shopping with my sister, my mom and my aunt. I met Nat for coffee and a bagel and then went off to shop. We stopped for lunch and it was then that my phone began to ring. Not knowing the number, I let it go to voice mail, since we were in a restaurant. When the number called back again soon after, I thought it was weird and I got up to check the message. That is when the weekend turned again for the worse. It was JC's friend looking for her. I told him about the friends staying with her and how she had headed home soon after work. It was then that he told me about the fire in her building.

The next few hours passed with a myriad of wedding dresses, phone calls, messages, and updates. In the end, it was not good. It was not only her building, but her apartment. It was not only her, but her friends as well. It was not only a fire, but an arson. In the blink of an eye, they were all lost. All I could think was that I was sad for her young son. Sad for her family. Sad for her friends. I was mad at myself for getting cranky with her earlier in the evening. (Though grateful for her sweet heart and for the fact that the moment passed quickly and that the evening ended on a series of good notes). No matter how I looked at it, it just didn't seem fair at all.

We gathered last night at the bar. Not really knowing where else to go or what else to do. For awhile, we all sat, a bit stung by all that had happened. I kept thinking about her excitement about the parade. How close she was to finishing school. How she had a ridiculously, wonderfully positive spirit. We toasted her and took a moment to acknowledge how precious life can be. I had no idea on Friday that watching her get a cab would be the last time I saw her.

And at some point in the evening, we started to sing and dance. It seemed to have evolved organically. We sang ridiculously loud and danced horribly. And when Better Days played, we hoped that its message was true. And thought it may seem inappropriate to dance and sing on a day like that, I think that JC would have liked it. In the short time I knew and worked with her, it seems like she would've liked the impromptu celebration of her life.

This morning, a few of us gathered for church. To pray about all that had happened this weekend. To thank God that Friday's accident was not worse. To pray for JC's family and friends and her friends' families. To thank God for our own families and friends and for the life that we have been given.

If there is anything good to be found in this tragedy, it is the reminder that life is an unknown and that it can never be taken for granted. Each day that we are here is one to be lived to the fullest. The little things are just that, little. Nothing matters more than those you love. I am thankful for another day.

So as you go about your busy work week and begin to look forward to your next weekend, don't put anything off until tomorrow. Don't go to bed angry. Don't forget to say I love you. Don't let a day by without realizing how great a gift it truly is.

“May the road rise up to meet you, may the wind be ever at your back. May the sun shine warm upon your face and the rain fall softly on your fields. And until we meet again, May God hold you in the hollow of his hand.”

To you I'm a toy

When I was in high school, I worked at an outdoor concert venue. Some days I would work the front gate passing out programs and garbage bags. I remember working one day at the gate and seeing this guy standing on the steps in front of the theatre that is by the main gate. He had a blanket, a bottle of wine and food for two. I remember sneaking glances at him – he was super-cute (to my hormonal, teenage, 16-year-old self) and he was just standing by himself staring into the crowd. It was a bit intriguing.

I am sure that he was searching for the person that he was supposed to meet. He stood there for hours – watching everyone that came in the gate. I felt bad for him as the time ticked by. And then it started to rain. (I couldn’t make this up if I tried.)

It rained steadily for a while and I watched this poor guy salvage his things and move under a semi-protective awning. And still he stood waiting.

I kept thinking about the person he was waiting for – Was she running late? Did he get his gates crossed? Did she stand him up? How did it come to be that he was standing there alone?

I stared at Mr. Cute boy and his soggy picnic and wondered who could do that to someone? Who could plan something with someone and then not show? Who bails with no explanation? I couldn’t imagine how someone finds himself in that kind of situation.

Until a few weeks ago, when I stood on the same precipice. I saw something seemingly good vanish into thin air. I can’t really pinpoint when it happened. Actually, that’s not really true. I am pretty perceptive when it comes to bad things happening in my life. I could feel the tides turning a bit, but couldn’t really figure out why and continued to hope that for once, I was wrong. Turns out, I wasn’t.

And here’s what frustrates me the most:

It was the unceremonious blow-off – there was no explanation. Not even an obnoxiously inappropriate, “it’s not you, it’s me” text message. Nothing. I got an article of clothing as collateral for the promise of a right and proper date. Of course, I never got the date and I am now stuck with article of clothing trying to figure out what the hell to do with it.

This person purported himself to be the honest kind. We had lengthy conversations of past interactions and relationships and hurts. We talked about the things that drove us crazy – people who cheat, people who are dishonest…. I mean it is all too cliché that he became the guy who vanished.

The worst is that he filled my head and heart with possibilities. He made me think that this was something meaningful and true. He made me believe that I was something he had been looking for. (God, in writing, it sounds like I am living my very own U2 soundtrack).

But now I sit here wondering silently to myself about the person who did this to me. Who bails with no explanation? Did I get my gates crossed? How did it come to be that I am standing here alone?

Author's Note: Just wanted to say that while this entry is dark, I am okay. Don't want any of my friends that read this to worry about me. As always, life moves forward and so do I.