Monday, January 30, 2017

This Will Make You Feel Better

The sky and the stars always do.

And in winter . . .

. . . when you look into the Eastern Sky . . .

. . . well, you can't help but see that gorgeous, world-famous belt-wearer up there . . .

. . . that's right . . .

. . . the one and only Orion.

He will always -- always -- make you feel better.

Friday, January 27, 2017

Little big stuff

I sometimes get caught up in the small stuff.

Case in point, last week I looked forward to the opportunity to spend half a day marching around downtown with about 40,000 likeminded people. There was big stuff to sweat, and somehow this felt like something I should do, although arguably an arbitrary acknowledgement* of issues that reach far beyond the understanding that my demographic makeup allows, it was something I could do, and I wanted to do it. So I did. 

In the days leading up to the march, our fair city experienced some miserable weather. Rain and then rain and then rain and then rain. Then it rained. The forecast for march day was bleak. Therefore, I commenced to spend my wakeful nights perusing the internet for perfect ponchos. We could adorn them, I thought, with clever commentary and female symbols. I will need rainy day gear for Scotland, I thought, I should invest in practical, portable outerwear. We’ll be wearing merch**, though, I thought, which needs to be seen! Thus, I narrowed my search to transparent items. But my work was not yet done… there’s a thing called a cheerleading jacket that is both practical and transparent! There are reusable clear trench coats and ponchos and even shoe covers out there in this magnificent world!

Eventually, I regained my senses and purchased lightweight, disposable, transparent rain ponchos. By this time, I needed to ensure same day delivery, which meant spending a minimum of $35. More shopping! I ended up with an entirely awesome order containing:

These socks

These dog toothbrushes

These ice packs

And of course, these rain ponchos

A 20-pack! I thought I’d be so helpful to so many wet women.

The merch*** arrived early Saturday, and we were all set!

A few of my sistahs came over for brekkie before the big event, our plan was to uber to the trolley station and meet up with a few more peeps to head downtown.  I made eggie sandwiches for everyone with our favorite Christmas present and cut up fruit, Mary brought hash browns and mimosas, and Autumn brought nothing but asked to borrow shoes.  It was fun! We heard from the trenches that trolley ticket lines were long and trains were already full, and realized that it wouldn’t cost much more to have the uber haul us straight downtown, so we gathered up our signs and our snacks and our merch and our ponchos…. but it was truly beautiful out. I asked Olivia to check the forecast and she has no choice but to admit that she said the fateful words: No rain til tomorrow!

So I took the ponchos out of my bag, and carried around a mostly empty bag all morning.

You know where this is going, right? You’ve seen the photos?

It poured.


*case in point: distracted after writing that to look for a gif of Albert Brooks saying “a lot of alliteration from anxious anchors placed in powerful posts” but couldn’t find it, although I did find a clip to remind me that “I can read, while I sing, I’m singing and reading BOTH!”

**I thought about also sharing the Story of the Merch in this post but decided to withhold the last shred of evidence of my certifiable insanity

***all you need to know is that it was not on my doorstep at 245am but was there at 6am. Leave me alone. 

Wednesday, January 25, 2017

And still they come

There was yet another letter in the office mailbox yesterday morning from my pen pal, Greg.

Do you remember him? I've not blogged about him or his letters in more than a year. It looks like the last post about his continuing unsolicited mail was from November of 2015, and the first from January of 2014.

It's kind-of humorous to think back to that first glittery Las Vegas post card in 2014 and remember the worry that it caused. Who sent this to me? How do they know these things about me? Why is my last name not included? And why no signature or return address? It was pretty creepy.

Now it's just normal, and the return address is always included. It vacillates between a San Diego and a New York address. Greg is bi-coastal.

Some envelopes contain a hand-written full page, usually recounting the past at the office complex I work at, the various close-by lunch options, including which were/are his favorites, and a little bit about what he is up to.

Other times it's just a page of paper with a question or two written on the very top. This time, for example, it was "Who are you going for in the Super Bowl?" with both teams listed below with the projected point spreads. Honestly, I didn't even know who was in the Superbowl until I read his 'letter' yesterday. And I can now only remember that New England was one of the two choices. So, I'll go for the other guys. Whoever they are.

But regardless of what's inside, they keep coming. I found 8 from last year in a pile on my desk. There were probably others from earlier in the year that I tossed, like his inquiry for the 2016 Super Bowl.

I've never replied to any of his letters, and it has never come up the few times I've seen him in person since. It's just something that is. He writes and sends, I receive and open.

Life is curious.

Monday, January 23, 2017

Thank You, Women

Thank you, Rachel and Michelle.

Thank you, Dawnie.

Thank you, Elissa.

Thank you, Colleenie. And thanks to your City of Angels. 750,000 strong.

Thank you, Concord NH.

Thank you, Denver.

Thank you, Jacquie. And Autumn and Mary and Janet.

 Thank you, Clara. And Olivia and Kendal. The next generation of awesomeness.

Thank you, Desiree. Thank you, San Diego.

Thank you, Julie and Avery.

Thank you, Karen and family. And Oakland.

 Thank you, Krissa. And all you incredible, amazing New Londoners.

 Thank you, Mary Ellen.

Thank you, Maritza.

Thank you, Christa. 

Thank you, Martha.

 Thank you, Sara and Ada.

 Thank you, Mary. And Hartford.

 Thank *you*, Mary.

Oh, thank you, Michelle.

 Thank you, Nancy.

Thank you, Jenn. And Stamford.

 Thank you, Lansing MI.

 Thank you, Lisa and Ali.

 Thank you, Noelle . . .

 . . . and Catherine and Claire.

Thank you, Olympia WA.

Thank you, kid.

Thank you, Jill and Dave. And Syracuse.

Thank you, Pammie.

 Thank you, Rachel.

 Thank you, Renee.

Thank you, Rosa.

 Thank you, Boston.

 Thank you, Helena MT.

 Thank you, Sarah and Lucas. And New York.

 Thank you, Rosemary and company.

 Thank you, Sandy.

 Thank you, Tammy and Emma.

Thank you, Angela.

Thank you, Jane. And Portsmouth NH.

Thank you, you gloriously clever Sign Makers:

Thank you, Martha and Eileen.

 Thank you, Brandi.

 Thank you, Victoria BC.

Thank you, Jennifer and Dominique.

Thank you, Celine.

Thank you, Ben. Thank you, Hartford.

Thank you, Chelle.

Thank you, White Guy.

Thank you, Asheville.

Thank you, Joseph. Thank you, Copenhagen.

Thank you, Meghan and Ginny.  And Boston.

Thank you, Sarah. Our local!

Thank you, Liz. Thank you, New York.

Thank you, Austin.

Thank you, Washington.

Thank you for your passion, your enthusiasm, your fierce determination, your hours and hours of travel, your power, your intelligence and strength, and for every one of these photos I lifted. Thank you.

Thank you.