Draft day, with a twist

Here is a draft of a post I started writing in late July of 2012…

I did wake up on Sunday morning with a slight sense of relief. My 25th high school reunion festivities were over. There was no more agonizing over whether I was willing to find my big girl panties and actually show up. There was also no wondering if I was going to get blown off by the same old friend a fourth day in a row. As it turns out, the only person I was reunited with was the insecure teenager who often paced along the edge wondering where, or if, she fit in.

And now...

I just got off the phone with that "same old friend", and fortunately, or unfortunately, she has become well aware in the years since that summer that she will have to drag/escort/lure/bribe me to next summer's 35th. She called from several states away because she saw evidence on social media that I had stepped outside my comfort zone and she needed more information regarding how that had happened. So here's what caused the twist...I was invited.

My friend, who had called last month to check in, said she might be coming to town for the homecoming game at our high school (which is near where I live). She later sent confirmation that her plans had been firmed up and she would be here. We were supposed to have company that weekend, so I initially declined. I was disappointed that I was not going to see her, but admittedly relieved that the decision process could be completely avoided. Then our company cancelled, then my son was headed out of town, then my husband was assigned to referee a football game that same night...that same homecoming game. I messaged my friend as soon as all of those pieces came together before I could change my mind or even really think too much about it. I had to accept the fact that not every reunion can be a quiet table for two at Panera. I made one small attempt to bail, sending a text that I did not want to crash their gathering. The response was that I would not be crashing and to please come. Despite the dueling forces swirling within me, I knew I would regret staying home on my couch even more than whatever fate was in store for me on the grounds of so much, oh so very much, teenage angst.

My husband was suited up in his assigned striped wardrobe, so it was time for me to get my act together. Sadly I couldn't ask the beautiful bracelet to do the heavy lifting this time because I needed something more suitable! I could have grabbed some of my typical duds that are comfortable enough on an average day of being me, but instead found strength in hand me downs. The shirt was a recent cast off from a friend's closet, and I was hoping it still had some of her confidence in its fibers. The jeans came to me via another friend awhile back, so I wished for those threads to still hold some of her ability to pull off fashion. The sneakers? Well, those came from my mom, so of course the vibes would be useful. Obviously I still had my usual ill fitting bra to remind me who I was. A little makeup, a little hairspray, a little grateful for the rain that would excuse any shortcomings on those fronts. And just like that we were in the car, where my husband knew to ignore my insecurities and nervous chatter. Pulling into the high school parking lot, there were too many memories to focus on anything in particular. Mostly I was just relieved that only one of us had to brave the locker room. 

I made my way to the alternate, out of the rain and indoor, meet up spot. My friend was right inside the door, so I didn't even have to do that dreaded "looking around for a place to land" thing. Breathe...relief! And so began four plus hours of relaxed and easy conversation as various others joined us. Contrary to any misguided beliefs and nagging thoughts that still clung to some corners of my mind, nobody asked why I was there nor did they kick me out of any group photos. I was right there next to somebody whose name I was able to conjure, but only a vague sense of familiarity crossed our faces beyond that. I remarked to one woman about her popularity in high school, and she did not share that recollection. Looking back, I am unclear as to how exactly I would have defined "popular", other than to say it was a realm I did not find myself in. I was very concerned about belonging, or more importantly, staying away from places I thought I did not belong. Always thinking, always caught up in the details. After another group photo, I introduced myself to one of the women saying I was not sure if she remembered me, but that of course I knew her because she was a legend (soccer player). The "popular" girl laughed and commented on my sense of who people were in high school as I had now doled out "legend" status. I had not lost sight of who I was and, while accepting that, felt more at ease about letting others accept me as well. 

And never mind which teenagers were going home with any of these football players, as that guy in the stripes is all mine!

There's something randomly creepy in the air

It's Tuesday again, isn't it? Hm, come to think of it, last week probably had a Tuesday in it as well. No need to get concerned about the details of how calendars work. We can just pick up right where the random left off. Were we just hopping around?

...or did I just buzz off?

Can you tell which photo is the real bee...

...and which is an angry imposter? Sometimes you have to sit and wonder...

...how someone can discard such treasures, or...

...DEAR LORD! HAVE THE CREEPY MONKEYS* FINALLY RETURNED?!?!?! It is October, so 'tis the season! I can't look away, despite knowing they are trying to steal my soul. Those eyes, those creepy-ass eyes! Hide!!

(Yeah, I'm just gonna leave her there with no explanation.) Let's all just calm down, maybe have a drink or two...

...in no particular order. Let's see what other photos I have here to share - would you like some cake?

Or some cookies my daughter made? (Favorite half moon quest is over as far as I am concerned!)

Or some cookies I made?

They were disappointing, yet still ended up on my phone. Seriously with the baked goods?!?!

Is there anything else to eat? How about a lychee?

Perfect if you like the idea of an eyeball, with a pit, and not much in the way of flavor!

Tasted a little bit like disappointment. What else seems important enough for me to add to the over 3,000 photos on my phone?

Craft ideas I think I will actually attempt...

...to never make! Pretty sure I would quit after about ten of those quilled circles, and I see, now that I look closer, that there appear to be a few more than that making up the tree.

We have reached the part of the random that is too random for me to segue into. Here's an instacart order I did not jump at the chance to do today...

...trying to cram six large pumpkins AND 113 other items into some carts, AND bags (because it was Aldi), no thank you! And also a "no thank you"...

...as well as a "what the hell are you?" to this guy my husband saw while out bike riding. Are you a rodent wearing a Halloween costume? The specs provided are that he/she was about three inches long, and was just taking a stroll across the road near the lake.

Now that I've gotten some more photos off my phone, maybe next I can tackle some of the drafts in my post pile! (Of course two of them involve finding specific, as opposed to random, photos.)

*Just in case you don't remember the creepy monkeys, or more likey simply long to see them again, there are some here, here, here, here, here, here and here. 

Random mysteries

Whatever happened to Tuesdays? I mean I know they've still been happening, but it's not like there's been a shortage of random to bring here, but these lines weren't just going to vacuum themselves!

I might do that to give the illusion that the house is clean. I am not exactly sure if it works since not many people come over, but I seem to be falling for it. I mean, I also have been kind of busy making fruit fly traps...

...sorry, I didn't mean to be all braggy and showy about my success. Make no mistake, there are still some lurking around here. That's one of the many mysteries of the drosophila melanogaster (thanks google). The short life span, but the rapid reproduction rate sure do enable these pests to linger far longer than it seems necessary. My apparent fascination with this topic is only thirty-three years too late! There was a bio major on our floor freshman year and she was obsessed with her fruit flies, so much so that her Halloween costume celebrated her love of her lab friends.

See her down there on the right? I do not recall why most of us were flipping the bird, but I suspect it had something to do with just figuring we were all that. Do you see me? (Look for the highest bird.)

Okay, here is another mystery I am guessing you've been faced with as well.

Why is the roll replacement task too much for my kids? Was that an actual skill I was supposed to demonstrate for them? I walked from that bathroom to the next one where I saw this.

This was my husband putting the towels away? Wait, that is the wrong description for the job he did. He brought the towels upstairs. The stack on the right goes under the towel under the basket. (And those are HIS towels, so I like to think he knows where he takes them from.) The stack on the left goes in the empty roll bathroom. Basically, zero towels go where he put them. At least I get more steps in walking things back where they belong, and speaking of exercise...

...can you figure out the options for exercise level on this questionnaire my daughter had to complete as a new patient? The choices are "no exercise" or triathlete?! That box for "other" is a little daunting, don't you think? Plenty of room to try to explain or justify the fitness regime! Jazzercise? Rollerskating? Speaking of...

...I was at a complete loss for what these were, and then once I scrolled down far enough, I was baffled as to WHYYYYYYYYY. I didn't even know people were back to wearing roller skates (as opposed to roller blades). As long as we are asking ourselves the question...

WHY?! Why do I need more sugar with my cereal or cereal crumbs messing with what I supposed to chocolatey delight!?

WHY? Why are potato chips trying to taste like other chips? You are enough potato chips, don't try to be somebody else. And WHY did I buy them? Why do we always have to know? Ummmm, maybe we dn't always have to know...

WHY? Nope.

WHY? Why did the powers that be think this was an appetizing look for a burrito? It looks to me like somebody put Cinnamon Toast Crunch in it. I can not unsee it and therefore do not want to eat it! We need something more appetizing to look at now...

...sometimes you wanna feel fancy, so you make fondue, and other times...

...you just want to amuse yourself by making a white trash sampler platter. 

Well that seems like enough for us to ponder for now, so I'll leave you with these parting words in the letter from my retiring gynecologist...

...ew.

Grey/Gray Days Ahead

Whoah! This entire revival was almost derailed because I wasn't sure how to spell a color? For a split second I entertained the thought of running to grab a box of Crayolas (do not even try to wave an inferior brand of colored wax at me) to see which spelling they use. In addition to getting lightheaded from the intoxicating scent of the non-toxic rainbow, I am fairly certain that would have turned into hours of coloring, but perhaps not exactly artwork to blog about. 

What have you all been up to for the past few months? What do you think I've been up to? Come on, delight me with possibilities! I am willing to bet you'll come up with something more glamorous than the reality. If I had written even half as much as I THOUGHT about writing, you'd have been inundated with my minutiae! This morning, I pondered what I would think about to replace thinking about, or feeling badly for not, writing. Nine hours of driving around in my Instacarting frenzy left me slightly less enthusiastic, but not without a single spark. Then came the lighter fluid...

The house phone rang, and just a first name showed up on the caller ID. I immediately thought of only one person by that name, who I haven't talked to other than online since high school graduation days, so I figured it was just an update on my car's warranty. When the landline stopped ringing, my cellphone sprang to life with the same name, and I figured it was some sort of urgent matter (yes, possibly still warranty related). Holy cannoli! It was the one person I thought of. Ever the optimist, I immediately wondered if there was some bad news she wanted to deliver directly about a classmate. That wasn't it. Her voice sounded the same as I remembered from all those years ago, and she said she'd been thinking of me, noticed my online absence, and wanted to check in to see if I was doing okay. Being seen, and being heard are amazing, but having someone notice your void can give you the feels too. It is time to come back.

There really isn't a solid explanation for where I wandered off to. I think sometimes I was afraid that this would become a sort of Eeyore blog. I mean, I have always loved Eeyore, tacked on tail and all, but I think he usually projects as far more sad than he truly feels. His color doesn't exactly give off a radiant vibe either...just sort of gray...oh bother!

Which leads me to a point, the point rather, to which I had arrived. I sort of decided to let my hair go on to become whatever color it wanted to be. The "sort of" is not terribly surprising because I only dabbled in the wash out hair color to begin with because I couldn't take the pressure of regularly scheduled maintenance. The decision itself is also not very surprising if you've been hanging around here long enough to stumble on some of my other beauty regimes (here, here, and over here, and several others I am sure, but if I try to find them I might run out of steam). For me, this was not a stand I was taking, nor an indication that I was giving up. Well, that is not completely accurate, as I was ready to give up trying to be anything other than who I am. You see, somewhere along this crazy line over the past year, I became comfortable with this person I am. All of the heartbreak, anxiety, love and laughter just kept swirling together, bubbling up and over, and I just kept stirring. We can be complicated recipes and a little bit messy - well this sounds like a cookie metaphor baking, so now I'm hungry and slightly distracted.

For as long as I can remember, I tried, and usually fell short of masterpiece coiffures. One fine day in eighth grade art class, my less frizzy than usual hair was acknowledged by a peer. Thank you Finesse for your conditioner whose smell I can still conjure if I try hard enough. In ninth grade algebra class, Mike Hughes remarked that I had three hairstyles-frizz, part up with frizz and regular. I do not recall what my response was, but I can assure you that I have a better one now over three decades later. Don't you just hate it when the perfect comeback comes to you after the fact? Anywhoodles, my grandmother always wanted me to do something more with my hair and makeup, but wasn't offering up any after school tutorials (I assume because she was too busy dusting, but we'll save that for a book chapter). Aside from the dark eyeliner and frosted shadows of middle school that were pretty hard to mess up, I never really got the hang of what came next. I dabbled in bits and pieces of makeup that were comfortable to me, and that somehow sufficed. 

Hair though? That was a never ending battle. (This seems lengthy. Are you still there? Maybe go get some candy.) Even on good hair days, something as crazy as a walk down the stairs could throw everything off. Humidity be damned! Or dry air? Where's the body? Do other people have magical hair dryers? Product? Even the word stresses me out. The defeat I used to feel on days when I put in the most effort? (Sigh.) I was not destined to be someone's hot wife, or hot mom (ew). I just wanted to be me. Coming back around to the other side of the mask wearing and not really going many places, I gently eased into becoming myself, minus the pressure of looking like someone else. This does not mean I have given up. It is something so much better. It is walking by a mirror in my house and thinking "hey, that's me!" It's being satisfied with some waves with a mascara wand and whatever hair wrangling makes sense for the day. Was that pretty during all of the heat waves this past summer? No, no my friends, it was not. When the darker days of winter come back, I will introduce some light foundation to bare more resemblance to the living. I will wear sweatpants when my day calls for such, but will not wear pajama pants in public. Like I said, I have not given up.

So we're good, right? It seemed so until a couple of weeks ago. I was out with a friend who I really hadn't gotten to see in person since the before times. After chatting for awhile, she turned the conversation turned to my hair. She was not in agreement with my decision and approached it from a place of love I'm sure, and as if it was up for debate. I understood that on some level she thought my "being" would be better if the outside was pulled together a little, or yes, a lot, better. I didn't have the fight in me. I tried to dig my heels in, but she dug in equally as hard. I felt myself getting rattled and shifting, as I guess my new foundation hadn't quite solidified yet. There is so much more I could elaborate on here, but I am not looking to paint a villain or find sympathy. It's just a story about two friends and how the best of intentions can get tangled.

I am a work in progress like the rest of us - always something that can be tweaked, finessed, figured out. Letting the grays grow out for me is sort of embracing the life I've led up to this point...storms that have been weathered, flaws I am less consumed or embarrassed by. What's to come? Well that is absolutely terrifying in its great unknown-ness. I do know that the simple act of being here makes me feel even more grounded, and I hope it sets some other writing projects back in motion. Thanks to the "end of the alphabetter" for the phone call, and for not once asking about my car's extended warranty.

Random on a weekend

You're here?! I'm here?! My mind is sifting through a few possible comments I can make regarding how long this particular space has been dormant, but I feel like I've used them before...dusting the cobwebs and the like. Let's just see where the thoughts take us...

I've had plenty of thoughts I wanted to share, but I let myself get wrapped up in basically the general minutiae of it all. So many things were best descried as bittersweet, but all that was lingering was the bitter. You know that sense when you've just brushed your teeth, and even though that minty freshness has some appeal, it still makes your orange juice taste lousy! Looking around and trying stuff with a level of anticipation for an expected outcome, and just falling short, feeling bitter. Not exactly the place I thought my writing should come from, or at least not if I wanted anybody to read it.

Let's not try to make this a big thing, maybe just some random bits and pieces of some things I've been up to in order to get things rolling? These two were not even silently judging me...

...and had no regard for personal space. (Their plans were promptly foiled-literally.)

I know duct tape holds the universe together, but that doesn't mean it is always impressive to see first hand.

At some point the sneakers just get thrown away, not spruced up to be relegated for lawn shoes.

Let's add a little flavor to the mix here...

...with the annual tasting of the Lay's diabolical summer contest. This year was more about deciding on the least gross as opposed to the most tasty. Just grab yourself some barbecue chips if you're feeling too fancy for plain, or maybe just some rippled ones will suffice. 

I consider myself very well versed in the candy realm, with a special focus on the gummy varieties. I beg to differ with the notion of these being the "most popular"...

...not even top ten! Gummi (I thought it was gummy) pizza slices? What's the actual flavor, and which part of it is natural? It's all just wrong! It should come as no surprise that these offerings were shelved right next to circus peanuts. Circus peanuts! In the checkout lane? Because so many people were forgetting to get them with the rest of their shopping? Because gathering groceries sucks so much of our souls, that a tub of packing circus peanuts will seem like a flotation device to carry us home? I wish I could say that was the most baffling thing I saw at the supermarket, but I was in awe of how much of this situation was upright...

...the gravity defying hair on top of a body sized like a barbie doll! It still fascinates me to look at. I need to tear myself away...PIE, that'll do it!

...the lesson here was that if you put too much pudding in the crust, you wont be able to spread the meringue, no matter how much effort you put into elevating your meringue game. (Perhaps you'd like to check out the second post I ever wrote here that featured a lemon meringue pie!? Seriously, my meringue stylings have gotten much better even with this messy offering.)

I've also been busy with crossword puzzles. I find them sort of relaxing, until things like this happen...

Excuse me, but even if a Wookie is an alien in some intergalactic dictionary, that is not the go to clue. However, I was not as upset on Chewbacca's behalf as I was for a very near and dear...

YOU TAKE THAT BACK!!!!! Like he needs some high falootin' crossword creator misunderstanding him.

Other times I've just been waiting to see how things play out...

...sometimes with more hope than others...

...and sometimes waiting feels like the worst. This was the view from the holding pen at my mammogram...

...it was already a hot day outside, and I had already been waiting a bit, so I did not need another reminder of hell.

I don't want to make any promises, but can we agree to come back? I do miss you when we aren't here. (At least you know I've done the phone photo dump, so we have that out of the way.)

Sometimes it is About the Things

There are so many things I have been wanting to tell you all/both of you about, but I just keep running. Chasing shiny things or slipping away from some other varieties of nonsense, but either way, not conducive to sitting down for a few minutes to sort through my snow globe of thoughts. Before I prattle on about myself though, how are you? Loaded question I am guessing? Maybe a little tired? Are you anxious to put this pandemic behind you? As this blog's name implies, maybe it's just me, but are you anxious about putting this pandemic behind you? With every step we appear to be taking forward, I feel myself trying to let some of the weight lift, while pushing down the panic of just how to move beyond. A lot of what I miss from the "before times" simply does not exist anymore, or has been so drastically altered that I am not positive what actually remains, let alone how I feel about it. The moments when I recognize growth within myself are so fleeting as I start to shrink back into who I was, or think others expect me to be. 

What to do? 

Celebrate the small victories. I painted a bathroom that has needed a second coat for over five years. New color, different things on the walls. Touched up the paint in another room that was also in need of repair for years. Painted a piece of furniture because I had been wanting to. Have I told you how much I dislike painting? Apparently not as much as standing still! (And I was running the risk of getting Instacart burnout.) The holiday was approaching, and with so many of us fortunate enough to be vaccinated, we were going to be able to open our doors and sit around the dining room table again. The least I could do was give these people change to gaze upon, in the event that looking at four walls that were not in their own houses wasn't enough pizzazz.

Find the comfort wherever we can, which for me is often in tradition, especially in navigating these times that look so very different. There was this lazy Susan (sorry to any Susans, but at least you aren't Karens...and sorry to the Karens who aren't actually Karens) at my grandparents' house that had ceramic dishes that fit, just so, on it. It made its majestic appearance at the holidays, and I thought it was one of the most magnificent things. Five receptacles for some combination of black olives, sweet gherkin pickles, cubes of cheddar cheese, pineapple chunks cottage cheese and applesauce. I did not like olives or pickles, nor do I understand how these items fit in with our meals, but that is irrelevant, and one should not underestimate how many pineapple chunks in heavy syrup a young girl could eat. That piece was a symbol for family gathering together. This is Easter 1973, with my grandmother on the left.

You can see all of the toothpicks sticking up out of the cheddar cheese cubes opposite those pickles. I am not sure why only the cheese was deemed worthy of being stabbed. Oh, that is me in the lower right corner, looking like perhaps someone tried to feed me one of said pickles. Here is a better look from a seventies Thanksgiving...

...with my grandmother in her usual seat again, and my mom next to her. This photo amuses me because I am trying to make sense out of the spread on that table and what void those cheese cubes could possibly be filling. The candied sweet potatoes no doubt did a lot of the heavy lifting, despite how gross I thought they looked back then. (It goes without saying how eager I would be to try them now.) 

My love for that blue ceramic was no secret, and my grandmother let me take it home just over fifteen years ago. I promptly took it to our basement to be stored, because seriously, where was I putting that thing? This was no chip and dip holder, although such fillers might make more sense in some ways. Every time a holiday rolled around, I would consider bringing the spinner out, but logic won each time. This year though?

I gave her the whole kitchen table to herself. I tried one of those totally unappetizing miniature pickles and my son ate nearly the entire can of pineapple. I told my mom that the next time the family all gathered I would modernize the offerings, but this year it needed to be the way it was.

Got time for another? When I wasn't busy longing for the day I could escape with some mysterious and impractical whirling ceramic ensemble, I spent a lot of time pining away after this table.

I can only assume I chose to pose with the table as if it was a dear chum because it meant that much to me even back in 1974. I also feel compelled to mention that my thighs still stick together like that ,but back to the table. I used to take such care when dusting the table, all of those spindles and whatever tsotchkes were having their five minutes of fame. Of course I kept that finish shiny and clean with plenty of Pledge, dreaming of the day when it would be mine. And then in 2018, as my grandparents' house was being emptied to be sold, the table was mine. Oh. My. Gosh. And I don't mean that in a good way. I brought the table home and had no idea what to do with it, where to put it, or what trinkets to put in those spaces. I had spent forty-five years hoping that table could be mine someday and was having a classic "be careful what you wish for" moment. I was too stubborn and attached to the memories to let it go though. 

One day, as we were looking up some of my grandparents' other furniture online, we saw the table...and it was called a "book table". Of all the things that were never on that table! Suddenly the odd cubbies of sorts made sense.

It is filled primarily with books I will never read, but whose spines I recognize from being on my grandparents' bookcase. I will admit that I was a much better duster back when I was under ten years old, but looking at this table soothes me.