Hope

I love this picture.

It was taken about 26 years ago, of a friend of mine, but it's timeless. To me, it represents hope.

I've been wanting to write something about this photo for a while now, but I couldn't really put it into words. "Hope" was about all I could come up with. Up until last night I kept relating hope as an escape from the impending winter, the dark and the cold that is already here and is still coming at us. I look at this picture and I think about promise, the promise of light and Spring, but also the promise of a future and what lies ahead. Baseball is so symbolic of that to me because I remember back when I was a kid, toiling through a bleak February, knowing Spring was coming, wishing for baseball, wishing for Spring.

I still feel that way.

But last night I spoke on the phone to a very good friend from days gone by. We've been in touch, it wasn't a reconnect. It was a checking in. We live miles apart, and I know how her life has been since we lived next door to each other. I know the challenges she has faced and continues to face. But last night for the first time I heard something in her voice that I hadn't really heard since we've reconnected. In her voice I heard despair. Her challenges are huge, enormous, nothing I could ever have handled had it been me in her place. I admire her strength, and I will never fault her weakness. In her failures I see successes, and I don't know that I can find the right words to make her really believe that, to make her have as much faith in herself as I do. I think she fears the loss of hope, and I don't know how to help her get it back. Except to show her, maybe, my symbol of hope, and pray she finds her own.

Hope is never gone. It hides, it hides a lot, even if it isn't trying to. But it's always there. It has to be, because without it we couldn't possibly survive.

This picture makes me smile, it makes me feel happy, a longing for earlier Springs, and hope for impending ones. For an instant it brightens a dark night, breaks through the rain clouds that can weigh on my soul. It helps me find my hope.

I just wish I could help my friend find hers.

I just wonder what the other drivers thought I was doing.

The iPhone has an app for Google where you can search for whatever you are Googling like a normal person, and it also has voice search function. The voice search function rocks for those occasions where you find yourself speeding down Scholls Ferry Road and need the number for the Rain salon because you just caught a look at your eyebrows in the rear view mirror and thought, Holy crap, something needs to be done about THAT and I mean pronto, and you are driving too fast to see if you still have their card in your wallet or type out R-A-I-N on the keypad. Just hit the voice search button and say "Rain Salon Beaverton" into the phone and it will give you the best matches. It really works. Just make sure the radio is turned down. And that you have a firm grasp on the pronunciation of the English language.

Tuesday I was discussing via email with Shelia about Thanksgiving options. When I'm at work I have all these grand ideas of getting non-work-related things done so that I don't have to do them when I get home. They rarely get done because I am easily distracted, but Shelia pointed me in the direction of the Haggen's supermarket pre-cooked holiday meals. You simply order one, go pick it up, slap it on the table and presto! Dinner. Now, for those out there that might be thinking, Wow, how sad for her, please do not. I really have never liked this holiday. The local family is sort of diminishing and the last few Thanksgivings that I have been around Tom, mom and I have just gone out to dinner. But good Lord I hate crowds. So when Shelia suggested the Haggens I thought, wow, right up my alley. I told myself I would call the Haggens when I got home from work that night and order one.

Of course I forgot all about it. But it came back to me yesterday morning on my drive in (since it's like 20 feet from my house and I pass by it daily), so, speeding down Murray Road I thought I would use my Google voice search situation and call the Haggens.

To my ears there is nothing wrong with the way I pronounce things, so when I calmly said "Haggens" in to the phone, I was mildly surprised to see that it came up with "Higgins". No worries, perhaps I wasn't clear enough. I tried again. "Haggens", a little louder, a little more emphasis on the "a". Higgins came up again. I turned down the radio volume a little bit more and much more forcefully said "Ha-ggens!". I didn't get "Higgins" again, instead I got "Denver", which sort of pissed me off because I'm thinking now the phone is just making fun of me. At this point I am driving 52 miles per hour down TV Hwy yelling every variation of the pronunciation of "Haggens Supermarket" into the phone and getting responses like "Hayden", "What is a supermarket?", "Denver Supermarkets" and even a "What is a Denver?" Seriously? The beauty of all of this was that I certainly wasn't giving up and by the time I got to 185th and Baseline I was actually given a choice for "Hagen's" (and the suggestion that Google gives you - Did you mean "Haggens"? Um, yeah, I did.).

It should be noted that it took me about twenty minutes and maybe seven miles of stop-and-go traffic to accomplish my feat, but I did it, I beat the dang app, phoned in the order and am now that much closer to enduring my 44th Thanksgiving holiday. Sorry to those of you who like the holiday, I'm just not that in to it.

I'll close by saying that somehow last night I agreed to getting up at 4am the day after and going sock shopping at the Fred Meyer with Nicky and her daughter Ashley. I have never shopped on Black Friday and thought I never would, but I got all caught up in the hoopla of the cycle finale of "America's Next Top Model" and must have lost myself. Me, who went through all this trouble to avoid crowds.

I do this to myself. It really shouldn't surprise me.

Be thankful or else.

Thanksgiving is fast approaching, and it sort of snuck up on me this year, putting me in the uncomfortable position of not being able to bitch about it for weeks prior to the event - now I only have days. But I was thinking this morning about writing my feelings about the holiday when it dawned on me that some people really like Thanksgiving and this year I should just keep my mouth shut and be thankful I can bitch about the fact that I have to do something next Thursday. So I will. That's kind of a switch for me. I can make no promises that this feeling will last, and there are still a few more days for me to complain. Just sayin'.

I don't have much time to write this morning so I will leave you with this point to ponder. Mean people suck. You've seen the bumper stickers and t-shirts. You've even probably seen it here. But it's true. Enough cannot be said about how people with big bad it's-all-about-me attitudes are the worst kind of assholes. Just because we are in a service-related profession does not give you the right to treat us like shit. A slight mistake (I shouldn't even call it a mistake - really, "oversight" is even too strong a word) was made on Monday and I am not kidding you, I had roughly four phone calls and easily six emails regarding it on Tuesday. And it wasn't even that big of a deal. One of the girls in the office apparently didn't stroke the ego hard enough of a client and seriously the client just wouldn't let it go. I am not one to use excuses like "Oh it was a hectic day" or "She was just really busy" - it is what it is, it happened, it happened YESTERDAY and there is no changing the past, all I can do is apologize and get you to agree that it is time to MOVE ON. Because frankly, who the hell do you think you are? People make "mistakes" all the time (I really hate using that, because it wasn't a mistake, but for lack of a better word...) and look at that! Still standing! You still got your check! The buyer still got their keys! The world is still spinning! All of these things I swear I will say to the client if I have to hear about it all day again today.

So today's lesson is this - just be flipping thankful you get what you get, because 99.9999999% of the time we are giving our absolute best and you know it, you just never recognize it. And one teeny tiny misappropriation in your eyes should not make the whole system crumble before your eyes - if it does, good God. You need help. Help calling me to complain about it 17 times is not going to provide. Get over it, get over yourself, and move on to the next thing. Because at least you have one.

Windy night

It's windy outside, perhaps more windy than it's been since I've lived here but I don't really know for sure. All I know is that it's pretty dramatic noise-wise and the kitties are just going batshit. Yowling, finding dark inside corners to hide in, creeping along the floor like they're expecting the ceiling to cave in. They run out to the slider and peek through the blinds, then they bolt back down to this end of the casita, yowling and weaving between my legs. I tell them it's going to be all right, but they don't listen. Thirty-one miles per hour is nothing compared to what I've seen, but they weren't around back then. I was thinking out loud that there is nothing to worry about so long as the power is on, but then again, I'm afraid of the dark.

It's really, really loud out there. Poor little kitties - I wonder if this is their Wilma?

Organized tradition

I love the weekend, especially when I'm home. I sure hope I'm not turning into one of THOSE people.

I started to blog yesterday about a funeral I had to go to/went to but I stopped because everything I wrote sounded contrived and maybe a little bit to personal for TtheD. Not that this isn't a place I could do that. Sometimes writing things down makes them a little too tangible and I had a Duck game to watch yet later in the day, so I needed to be a little bit more on top of my game. Not all deep and introspective and reminiscent. About THAT kind of stuff. I guess I'll just skip to the moral of the story - live a good life by being considerate of others and you will pretty much accomplish what God expected of us all along.

I've been to church twice in the last week, the most I have been to church collectively in probably five years. I only go when there is a (Catholic) funeral or (Catholic) wedding. I was raised Catholic, did the whole Catholic grade school gig and even was forced to go to CCD when I switched over to public high school. I think I know that religion pretty well. It's not a bad religion, as they go, but I was raised with the idea that if you didn't go to church, missed a week or two, and didn't go to confession about it, you were in trouble. You also shouldn't go to communion until you went to confession.

Last Sunday Barbie and I were in Ontario and we went with Helen (and AJ Feely's dad). We sat in the very last row, and I think that I was the only person in the joint who sat out communion. Everyone noticed. Everyone sort of looked me over and wondered what sin I committed that kept me from participating (well, at least that was my perception of it). Barbie went, despite my whispering in her ear about how she was going to hell for the sin of pride (she's not a church-goer either and my theory was that she just wanted to be seen), but as it turns out the body of Christ didn't turn to fire on her tongue and there were no lightening strikes in the church parking lot on the way out, either, though I kept my distance from her. She went yesterday for the funeral mass, too (I didn't - again, people noticed. I told a woman behind me I wasn't going because I hadn't been to confession in 30 years - she looked like she wanted an explanation), but again, no gigantic condemning finger pointing down at her from the heavens at the end of it. Maybe God doesn't care. My mom does, but maybe God doesn't.

So I guess what the point to all of this might be is that religion is for the people, not God. I honestly don't think that God expects us to meet in groups and worship if it isn't our gig. I think what God wants is just that we be considerate and nice and try not to be too selfish and give of ourselves what and when we can. I'm sure he probably likes the worship part, all those different services to the same guy, I mean, that's gotta be fairly flattering (except for the whacky stuff like snake handling and speaking in tongues, he probably pops a bowl of popcorn and settles in to watch THAT stuff), but I don't think he is separating out the church-goers from the non-church-goers and saying, These ones are more holy. I think that if people just go to church because they HAVE to, or because there are certain rules associated with going to church, that might actually have the opposite effect on God. He's probably thinking, Go because you want to, not because you feel like you have to.

So why won't I go to communion? Because I still believe in the sacraments. Some things just stick in your head. I think if you are going to join in the organized religion tradition you have to play by the rules. Just like football (we all know God is in Eugene loving the Ducks right now, I mean, who isn't?). It's not necessarily out of respect for God, it's more out of respect for the priest (and the three monsignors and two bishops who attended this funeral mass yesterday).

In other news, did I mention I finally went to El Pollo Loco? Twice, no less. It was fine. It's expensive-ish for lunch. All that hoopla (on my part) for some grilled chicken. I have also been pretty good at tanning but not this weekend for some reason, and I have just under three weeks before vacation. Did I mention that? And did I mention my hand is still killing me? And also that after day one of the crow I never heard it again, which means either it flew away or it it died and I will hear from it once it starts to smell? And that for some reason I keep having dreams about rats and I'm not really sure what THAT means? And that it is cold out, I mean really cold and I can't wear a coat or socks until December 1st? And that after writing that it dawns on me that during the course of a winter I slowing lose socks and that I should probably do some kind of pre-season sock inventory and replace what has been lost before December 1 rolls around and I am fired up to have warm feet but have a drawer full of mismatched socks? And that now that I'm thinking about December 1 I'm realizing it's also flannel sheet season and if I recall it's time to get some new ones?

I guess we all have our traditions, and it's Sunday (no Browns game though so no draining the battery on my iPhone watching Gamecast; no, this week the Browns get to show their no-talent selves get the complete shit kicked out of them by the Ravens on Monday Night Football for all the world to see...), so I'll get some errands out of the way, tan (I swear) and then perhaps nap (ha ha, I said "perhaps"). But because it's Sunday, I promise to keep the road rage to a minimum.

Events of the day

I know it's only 6:54am.

It all started yesterday morning at around 7:25am, while I was getting ready to get my purse and go to work. I walked by the fireplace and heard the "Caw! Caw!" of a crow; not an unexpected sound around here, but this one sounded really close. Really really close. Like it was in the house. I paused for a moment and it cawed again. Yep. It's in the house. More specifically, behind the wall above the fireplace (or as it's more commonly known, the chimney). What. The fuck.

We stood there for a minute, me and the cats, just looking at the wall and wondering what came next. The crow cawed again, and I took the flashlight that sits on the mantle (for such occasions as this) and shined it (cautiously) into the fireplace itself. I don't know if I was looking for the crow specifically (because what in the holy hell would I have done if it was actually IN there) or some kind of crow evidence: black feather? poo? shiny object? There was nothing, but apparently the light attracted the crow and it cawed a couple more times for effect. I put the flashlight back and walked away, thinking to myself, Wow, I sure hope the flue is closed. Now what?

"Now what" was go to work and think about it. Maybe it wasn't really IN the chimney but ON the chimney and the chimney style just carried the sound really well. Maybe it would find its way out. Maybe the upstairs neighbor lady heard it and will actually do something about it because I think she's home all day and a couple of hours of that cawing might possible drive one mad.

I called the property management people and they told me to call the association (nobody really wants to be involved, and I don't blame them, but it's easier for the association to get that poor maintenance guy over there and figure it out). We all had a good laugh over it, thinking about the flue being opened and the crow set free to fly all over my house, but the reality is I really, really don't want a crow flying all over my house. The verdict, ultimately, was to give it a day and see if I heard the bird again. So far, nothing, but you can bet when I got home from work last night I was very cautious, just in case that flue really IS open and the crow got out.

So as I sit here the next day, I haven't heard anything yet. But remember I didn't hear anything by this time yesterday either, and it's not like I am not constantly walking by the fireplace. But because it is morning and I am expecting to hear it, I've been walking around really quietly so as not to wake it, and in the silence of the morning, I accidentally stepped on Seca in the kitchen, which caused her to do that RRRREEEEERRRR cat thing and me to scream, which if anything is going to wake that damn crow up it would be that, and it also scared the shit out of me, so now I am all shaky and nervous and wondering what is going to happen when I walk by the fireplace to go at 7:25. So it's now 7:07am and I am all jangly and jumpy and FUCK I hope yesterday was just a fluke because I am learning about WAY too many things lately, and I just don't think I need to know how to get a crow out of my chimney.

Random things from mid-week Beaverton

I meant to mention, since it's a pretty gigantic occasion, that the (flipping) El Pollo Loco finally opened in Beaverton. Imagine my shock when I drove past it Monday morning expecting to scream "OPEN!" like I have done for roughly two years. Have I been there for lunch yet? Well, no. I'm pretty low on funds due to the fact that I have just stopped charging stuff and am back to a strict pay-that-crap-off-and-pay-cash-for-everything-again game plan. I do it to myself. And though I might have $60 in my wallet right now I still haven't had Starbucks or Dutch Bros all week. Discipline. I don't know that it will last.

But one of the biggest reasons for that, if we're going to be honest here, is because it's been raining or threatening rain or whatever every morning (and day) this week, and Beaverton is the only branch where the parking situation makes getting a coffee on the way in problematic. Let me explain: If it's raining, or might rain, or starts to rain the minute I cut the engine, with the fact that Beaverton has no covered parking, I'd have to battle my purse, my coffee, and an umbrella to avoid hair disaster. Lincoln Tower and the KOIN have underground parking, and Orenco has a Starbucks on the corner (so I don't stop. I park, go in, get settled, then take my umbrella to the Starbucks and carrying a coffee and an umbrella is no battle), so those are easy. Beaverton has that God-awful Rae's Cafe on the first floor but their coffee tastes like foot and it's ridiculously expensive and just a stupid cafe. So in closing, I might say I haven't gotten coffee this week because of discipline, but it's really about pride. I don't want to look like a jackass walking in the building.

Other than that, no real updates. Tanning is not going well, I've been inconsistant and am trying to rectify that situation. The desk I'm on is not the busiest, so I have some down time in the day, and that makes the day sort of drag on. I need to get to thinking about what I have to bring on my trip (which is fast approaching - what is it, like 21 days away? Remember when I used to do these elaborate countdowns at work and talk about it constantly? I'm not doing that. I'll look up and realize the date and go, oh shit, I need to be tanner!). It's not that I am not fired up about it, I am (but it's been so long since I've been there it's almost not real). I think I just have too much else going on mentally that I can't focus on the get-excited part of it.

I'll close by saying it's Veterans' Day. Thank a soldier. I am currently thanking (everyone but specifically) my nephew Matt and my dad Joe. Way to throw yourselves out there and take one (or twenty) for the team and my ability to complain about the most mundane of things. Cheers.