Archive for July, 2006

You Know…

July 31, 2006

Sometimes I wonder if I make sense to myself.

It’s That Time Of The Year Again

July 28, 2006

The time when things go wrong and reason gets thrown out. Maybe the stars are misaligned.

Or maybe the stars ARE aligned, causing us to do things we normally wouldn’t.

Or maybe it’s just the pattern of emotional mayhem this time of the year, every year, for the past years.

Maybe the mind that remembers is especially wary. Maybe the heart that remembers mourns. Maybe the self-defense mechanism that remembers puts up walls. Maybe the self-destructive tendency that remembers consumes again.

We are just creatures of habit. How many times do we do this to ourselves before we realise that we don’t have to?

I don’t want to hear about it. Don’t tell me. I don’t need to know.

Someone hand me a spade. I need to dig a hole.

Run Run Run Run Run…

July 26, 2006

I wish I can just run. Run away. Not look back. Leave all behind. Go nowhere.

But I’ve done that already. And I’m still where I am. There’s no running from it.

I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I just couldn’t. I wish I could. But I know that if I could, I wouldn’t be who I am.

Take heart, mate. Look forward. Far forward.

This Cat Steals Gloves

July 22, 2006

Feline Stealing Gardening Gloves of Pelham

Someone (Well, a Cat) Is Stealing the Gardening Gloves of Pelham

Glove Thief

(What a very quirky cat! A kleptomaniac!)

By JIM FITZGERALD

PELHAM, N.Y. Jul 21, 2006 (AP)— A pink and white gardening glove was missing from Jeannine Goche’s front porch. But there was absolutely no mystery about who had taken it.

Willy, the cat who loves gloves, had struck again.

“It has to be him,” Goche said. “I’ve heard about him.”

As if the gardeners of Pelham don’t have enough to worry about, with the rocky soil and the slugs and the big trees that cast too much shade, a feline felon has been sneaking into their backyards and carrying off at least two dozen gardening gloves.

Goche’s flower-patterned glove may soon take its place on the clothesline that’s strung across the front fence at Willy’s home in this village just northeast of New York City, which he shares with Jennifer and Dan Pifer, their 19-month-old son, Hudson, and a mutt named Peanut Chew.

Above the line is a sign that says: “Our cat is a glove snatcher. Please take these if yours.”

Nine pairs of gardening gloves and five singles were strung up Thursday morning. Willy, looking innocent, was playing with a beetle in the driveway and occasionally dashing after Hudson.

“This all started about the time people began working in their gardens, I guess March or April,” Jennifer Pifer said. “Willy would just show up with a glove, or we’d see them on the front steps. I guess it’s better than if he was bringing home dead birds.”

She doesn’t know how far Willy goes to find a glove, but she has learned it takes him two trips to bring home a matched pair.

Willy, born to a stray last spring, appears to assemble his collection in daytime raids.

“Mostly it happens on weekends, I guess when people are out gardening,” Pifer said.

John Cassone, who lives and gardens across the street, said he isn’t missing any gloves. He uses “the big, heavy leather kind” and figures Willy isn’t strong enough to drag them away.

Guess again: There’s a pair of the big, heavy leather kind among Willy’s trophies.

In winter, when gardening gloves are hard to find, Willy doesn’t become a mitten kitten. His offseason prey is dirty socks from the laundry room.

Despite his criminal nature, neighbors get a kick out of Willy. Cassone said the cat likes to accompany the mailman up and down the block, all the way to each front door.

Since Pifer grows flowers, vegetables and herbs herself, isn’t she tempted to make use of the endless supply of garden gloves that arrive at her doorstep free, shipping included?

“No,” she said. “I do a lot of gardening but I don’t use gloves.”

It Sits On My Shelf

July 21, 2006

I see it every day when I re-arrange and straighten my bric-a-brac. I don’t know why it bothers me. Why I even think about it.

No, it doesn’t bother me. It just stirs up mild pangs of wistfulness.

I’m not terribly upset. Not now. I was rather disappointed. I guess I still am, to be thinking about it even now.

Maybe you meant well. Maybe you just didn’t know how to go about it. Maybe you just couldn’t bring yourself to say it. You knew it was too little too late. You said so yourself. By the time you told me, you knew that there was no going back. You knew that this was the one thing you owed her.

What were you trying to save? What were you trying to protect? Was it the one thing that you have now lost?

You were my friend for all this time. My soul mate and my security blanket. Was I asking for too much, thinking that I’d have this for all my life? I think so.

Was I not the same to you? Did you not trust me to always be on your side, as I had trusted that you will? I don’t ask for you to be by my side. That would be too much. I only ask that we communicate.

How can you think that she’s the perfect one when she’s made you give this up? Or is this not that important after all? I guess so. I mean, in the grand scheme of “happily ever after” things, this is but a small glitch. Who am I to keep you from your perfect one? I guess you owe her that much. After all, it isn’t her fault it came to this. And it must have been awful being her for all those months.

How could you ask so much of me when I was in your shoes? And not even repay but a bit of it now? I guess true friendship doesn’t ask for repayment. But surely, there must be some kind of reciprocity.

You are my biggest disappointment.

Early Sunday Morning

July 16, 2006

Went to the movies in my jammies.  With my pink polka dotted fleece blanket.  At the new theatre downtown.  It was a mighty fine theatre.

French fries at 4 a.m.  It was good.

Letter to …

July 15, 2006

I brought back a quirky something for you. Something I picked up at Swap Meet when I visited one last time before I left. It’s been months and I still have it. How’s your mom doing?

We’ve been through so much together but I knew it was going to happen one day, when we are not going to be what we’ve always been. I was hoping that it was something that people do not grow out of.

I understand why it has to be. But I wish it wasn’t so. I wish you’d handled it a little better.

I sometimes wish you’d stick to your guns, just as I did for you, just as you had expected of me.

Oh well.

Here I Go Again

July 12, 2006

Text message to BGF:

“Maybe we should make plans to go somewhere for our MA.  Imagine, you and I, at the prime of our lives, in college, somewhere happening, cool apartment.”

Then, the realization.

“Oh no!  I’m in my early 30’s crisis.  Feel the need to keep moving.  Will the crises never end?”

Had to make a schedule for the programs I run.  Pulled up my old timetable file from college to use as a template.  Replaced “REC 304 in SH 341” with “xx Group, xx Class”.  Looks the same, except now I’m on the other side of the desk.

I miss college.  I miss that safe place where everything is what I want it to be.  But I must look forward.  Keep going forward.  No more running away.

Is it ok to feel just a teeny bit scared?  To always have to be grounded in reality?

Letter to Joseph

July 11, 2006

Dear Joseph,

No one cuts hair like you do. I had planned to grow my hair out, now that I’m here. But you know me, can never resist a haircut.

The first time I had it cut, I was soo horrified by the bangs that I went right home and lobbed it off. Gave myself a cute blunt thing. Tried to get it as close as I could to how you would have done it. Wasn’t anywhere close, but I think you still would have been proud of me. I guess all those hours spent watching you, I did pick up something.

I’ll always remember opposite-equal reaction. And how to blow dry my hair so it wraps nicely around my head.

I miss you. Come visit me. And cut my hair.

I Finally Found It

July 11, 2006

The perfect huge mug I can use for my emergency breakfast of 3-1 coffee + Milo + Nestum.

It’s the perfect size, shape and colour.

And it holds dinner nicely too. And matches my funky chopsticks.

Cup of Dinner

Cool.