Grocery Store Mayhem

I thought she was going to throw a chicken at me. 

I worry. Sometimes I think that I worry for the sake of worrying.  My brain goes in circles and makes something out of nothing.  It has been six years since I last saw my best friend and I worry that we won’t be able to connect in person.

Faye and I met in elementary school. We saw each other everyday and had frequent sleep overs and joined each other on family trips.  Then I moved when I was fourteen and we have spent the next twenty four years keeping in touch through letter writing and sporadic visits.  The last time I saw her in person, was six years ago. A lot can change in six years. My head whirled over whether or not we would actually get a long in real life.  After all, how was I to know if I had some annoying habit that would drive her up the wall?  Maybe I snort when I laugh or twitch weirdly or worse yet, not get her sense of humor.  Or what if she licks her envelopes? What if we just can’t relate to each other?

Like a true worrywart, it was all for nothing.  We were in the grocery store, picking up supplies for cookies and the she threatened to throw a chicken at me.  I’ll admit I was being a brat. I was twisting her words like an angsty teenager in the middle of a story, and  I was working on her last nerve.  She threatened to throw something at me and happened to have a chicken handy. The crazy look in here her eyes and mirth around the mouth was a definite sign that we hadn’t lost a beat.  I told her to bring it. I was not afraid to get kicked out of a mid west grocery store I’ll never see again.  The kid manning the checkout was not amused with either one of us.  We were causing a scene at checkout number five and the line was beginning to build up. We had confirmed our friendship in the weirdest way. 

My Cats are Jerks

My cats are jerks.  

The other day I decided to start making a quilt. The down stairs is set up like a giant square. All of the rooms can be opened into the next room through thanks to a couple of clear pocket doors. The sewing machine is set up on the dining room table next to the air conditioner and I kept the rooms mostly closed up to keep it cool. I find it very important to be comfortable when working with fabric.  I am getting side tracked. This story isn’t about the quilt. It is about my cats being jerks. Let’s talk about the cats. 

The Dib Cat was relaxing as a giant ball of fur in the cat tree next to me as the sewing machine hummed.  From where I was sitting I could see that Iggins was sprawled out like a giant orange star fish belly up on the living room rug.  For the most part everything is peaceful.  

Suddenly both cats go from maximum relaxing mode to predator in the night mode. They are crouched down and intently staring in to the hallway.  I can see nothing but a darkened hall way from where I am sitting.  My attempts to get their attention fail.  Their attention is on the hallway. 

I should probably mention that I am alone in the house.  This is where in every horror movie cliché you have ever seen where the lone female is in the house and a serial killer shows up.  Just as I am beginning to let my imagination run away from me, my husband texts me from the airport as he is waiting on his connecting flight. 

My cats are jerks.  There was nothing upstairs, and thankfully no bat or serial killer in the kitchen.  The rain was hitting the window and the cats were fascinated by the sound.  

Throwback Highschool

What is high school like?

My niece inquired of me recently.   My first response was an exploitive, which thankfully wasn’t heard, since she had asked via text.   I have been free of the strains of high school longer than she has been alive.  Part of me can still remember where my locker was located and that awkward way the band uniform fit, where it was a half strangle with my neck strap to my saxophone.

I needed more information, before I answered the question. Was she looking for what my entire high school career experience or just what it was like to be a freshmen? Those are two different answers, and both of them are long, and much longer than I would ever put in a text message.  Of course she wanted to know it all, as if I had all the secrets to the universe or just the secret to surviving high school unscathed.  I figured I would take my time and really answer the question instead of answering her that high school is one of the circles of hell, because while it may be partially true, it isn’t the whole truth.

What is it like to be a Freshmen?

A lot of people will attend high school with the same people that they attended intermediate and elementary school. I was not that lucky, or perhaps unlucky.  I hailed from the west coast, the land of sunshine, earthquakes and tacos. Moving to a new school and new state and not knowing a single soul was daunting as a freshman. That first year was awkward and full of me playing catch up, socially and educationally. Core curriculum is not universal and things that were assumed to be taught in previous grades for me had at best been glossed over. I felt like an idiot most of the time. Overall from what I can remember, being a freshman is like going from a big fish in a little pond to a little fish in a big pond. It is a change a perspective that as much as you mentally gird yourself for the change, you will still find yourself floundering from time to time.

What was my high school career like?

The things I learned in high school I didn’t know I learned until I got out of high school.  High school is about the experience and during high school there is the pressure to escape the prison of forced education and peer groups and live your life the way you want to live it.  The friends you have in high school very rarely follow you for the rest of your life once you leave and who you are in high school does not define who you will be the rest of your life, it just add perspective. You will have your heart broken and possibly break someone else’s heart. You will be stressed and things will seem terribly large and important that in hindsight may not be that way and you won’t be able to tell it isn’t important because it is happening right at that moment.  You will wish you died of embarrassment on multiple occasions, between your parents being lame and just not understanding or your friends being lame and immature. I think that Charles Dickens may have described high school most accurately with the first line out of Tale of Two Cities.

“IT WAS the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way- in short, the period was so far like the present period, that some of its noisiest authorities insisted on its being received, for good or for evil, in the superlative degree of comparison only.”

I wanted to be sure that I covered everything without going overboard. I texted my niece to inquire if there was something specific that I should cover about my time in high school. My gut clenched thinking that she would ask me about boys, sex, drinking or pranks that went on when I was in high school. She did have one question.

“How much homework is there?”

My head could have hit my desk with a loud thunk. I have obviously over thought all of this, but seeing as it is already composed and “Throw Back Thursday”, I’ll give her all the answers she didn’t know to ask and answer the one question she did ask.  Homework is going to be there and at times there is going to be a lot of it, but out of all the things that will give you nightmares and daydreams, homework is not one of them.  I hardly remember the home work I did and have no regrets over the home work I didn’t, but am certainly glad for the depth and perceptions that were granted to me with home work I did do. 

Hyperbole and a Half

This book was a gift from my brother in law. I was confused by the many different colored pages, and all the pictures and I have come the conclusion that I have a flawed concept of art.  I didn't immediately gravitate to Hyperbole and  Half by Allie Brosh, because I was being judgmental about artistic quality. It could be because the art style is similar to a lot of popular memes out there, and I am really tired of memes and I didn't want to read a book full of them. I didn't want to read something that would be vapid and self gratuitous.  I can be a real jerk sometimes, and I did the one thing that a person should never do and that is judge a book by the cover.

Thankfully I got over myself, and cracked open the book. Hyperbole and a Half is not a book full of memes. It is a charming book full cleverly drawn antidotes.  They aren't your usual stories of everything is fine and nothing every really happens. Some of the stories talk about serious mental health subjects in a self deprecating manner that any one who has ever been touched by depression or anxiety can easy relate to and understand.  Not all of the antidotes have to do with depression or anxiety, but there is a mix of stories from childhood and current adventures and the confusing nature of dogs, which brings a well rounded depth to this book.  I found myself crossed between laughing and crying in more than one section of the book.

"Packing all of your belongings into a U-Haul and then transporting them across several states is

nearly as stressful and futile as trying to run away from lava in swim fins." -Allie Brosh

The confusing many different colored pages made sense once I started reading the book. Each section of colors is a different antidote and that little bit of genius made this book really easy to find my place if I had to put the book down and resume reading it later.   I wish more collections where set up this way, but then the odd bits of scrap paper and wayward receipts and movie stubs wouldn't be utilized as bookmarks as much.  The confusing art and style isn't confusing when you actually sit down and read the book, the style is perfect.  This book was the perfect gift that I didn't know that I wanted until I had it.  I have never been so happy to be wrong about something.