Since I'm Here

I might as well post another one that's been floating around my brain.

Baking.

I love to bake. Cookies, pies, cakes. Sweet, gooey parcels of deliciousness.

And I finally figured out why. I read it in a book, and it was an epiphany. It also totally relates to why I don't like to cook.

To bake something and have it come out close to perfection, you absolutely MUST follow the directions. Sure, you can deviate *a little*; throw in some toasted coconut here, some pecans there, but the basic of the recipe cannot be fucked with or it will be a disaster. Perfectly portioned teaspoonfuls must be put in in the correct amount and order. Mixing and baking instructions have got to be followed as well or it won't turn out right. There's a well written plan, and it has to be adhered to.

Baking feeds my obsessive need for order. Cooking is chaos. A pinch of this, toss in some of that... That no work for me.

Also, baked goods make people happy. And underneath it all, we all just want to be happy, non?

Universe, Meet Shoebox

I think this one MUST have to fall under the heading of Six Degrees of Separation (Plus or minus a degree). It's a little convoluted, so try to keep up. It starts in October 2006 and ends in December 2008. With lots of time gaps in between.

Let's begin in Oct. 06.

Lisa Wigger & I did the Breast Cancer 3 Day walk. 3 days, 60 miles. Lots of pain, lots of fun, all for a good cause. There are walkers and there are crew members. The crew are fantastic motivators. Some of them drive around in what are called Sweep Vans, dressed up in themes. They check on each & every one of the walkers, and if you can't make it any further, give them the thumbs down, and they'll take you back to camp. There's also motivator type members, who pop up at intervals throughout the course, and clap, shout, dance, etc- anything to give you that third, fourth, hundredth wind to keep you going. They're mostly women, but there was one guy that really stuck out to me. He was about my age, big, build, bald dude who was always in some kind of crazy get up that usually involved a bra. Just standing on the sidelines, cheering us on, in his bra (bro?). Lisa, myself, and I'm pretty sure everyone else, really got a kick out of him.

January 07:

Lisa moves away to Puerto Rico and I miss her like crazy.

Next, rewind (or fast forward to, depends on how you look at things) to July 07:

I'm living in Hilton Head, and came down to visit for the July 4th weekend. Stayed with my friends Dana & Mike in St. Pete. We've organized a girls night out in St. Pete. Among other friends are Shannon (who is my friend Adam's fiancee) and her friend Laura. Long story short, the night was a bit of a disaster- too many Chiefs, not enough Indians, but I still had a good time; met some new people, had some laughs, whatevs.

Now we're in 2008. October, I believe.

I find out Shannon and Laura are doing the 3 Day. I'm thrilled for them, because I know that even though it's one of the hardest things to do, it's worth it all. I wasn't able to get down to closing ceremonies for a solid cryfest, but I was there in spirit, shoe raised in my backyard. I'm sure my neighbors think I'm nuts.

November 08:

I am friends with Shannon also on Facebook, and some pictures of the 3 Day get posted by her friend Laura. I remember Laura & send a friend request, and start looking through the pictures; they brought back so many memories, and the moments are captured beautifully. But who's one there, but the big bra(o?) wearing dude. And he's tagged, which means he's on Facebook. I make a comment that he was at ours as well, and he was awesome. I get a friend request from him and accept it. I am now friends with Dusty Showers, which it says on my home page.
Lisa Wigger chimes in and makes a comment about his name (pot, meet kettle). There's a bit of friendly back & forth, when I hop in & tell her that she knows him too!!
Just when I thought the universe COULDN'T get any smaller, a picture comment comes through on one of my snaps from my Scottish friend, Ryan. Ryan is a superintendent at the same property as my husband. He & his wife are friends of ours for many years. And. He plays soccer with Dusty.
And, like the best of all infomercials say, WAIT! There's more. I do believe I initially met Lisa at Ryan's Christmas party.

....Shoebox....

File Under WTF

In high school I had a best friend named Gordie. For many years we palled around town, riding around in his parents' Nissan Multi getting into anything and everything. As with most friendships we lost touch over the years; though we'd reconnect every so often. He went off to music school and I went to jewelry school. He always made the effort to reconnect whenever I would fly into town, and last year he told me he was coming to Orlando on his way to South Beach for some DJ conference. So I hopped in my car and went to meet up with my old friend Gordie and his friends.
When they pulled into the parking lot where I was to meet them, the years disappeared. It was Gord, his friend Scott, and his friend Scott's girlfriend, Brenda. We decided to go grab some dinner and drinks, and sat for hours at Bahama Breeze and shot the shit. I had never met Scott or Brenda before, but it was really like sitting around with old friends- despite the fact that I was on a covert spy mission to find out if my girlfriend actually had a hope of getting back together with Scott (they had broken up years ago and she had since realized that it was a huge mistake). After dinner we went on the hunt for a hotel. A cheap hotel. We found one. It was one of those Days Inns that smell like dead hookers, and that you sleep on top of the sheets for fear of getting some kind of skin disease. There were ants on every surface and rather curious holes at opportune places in the bathroom walls. But whathtehell, it was like 50 bucks a night. So we dumped our stuff, made & drank some cocktails, then went out on foot to find something to do. We found Pirate Mini Golf. Brenda, Gord, Scott & I played and totally went back to old days in just being generally reckless goofs- throwing clubs, trying to hit balls all over the place, laughing like idiots.
When we finished our game they wouldn't even let us go pee, since they were closed and wanted us to get the hell out. Walking home, again laughing and being dorks, we not so eagerly looked forward to the Dead Hooker hotel. Went back, had a few more cocktails then went to sleep. And that was that. In the morning, I quietly woke up in the morning, showered, and drove back here and straight to work.
That was the first and last time I ever met Brenda.
Recently I called Gord when I was in Orlando. I was walking past the Pirate Mini Golf place and felt compelled to reach out to find out when we were going to hang out in Orlando again. He said that flights to Orlando were too spendy, but they were all going to South Beach again and could I make it? That was a toughie. I hate South Beach. And electronic music. But I love that crew. So I filed it under maybe. Brenda wrote on my facebook wall to let me know the same thing, and could I come to Miami to meet them? Again, filed under maybe.
Then I logged on to facebook today to see that a friend had joined the RIP Brenda Group. I only know one Brenda. I thought maybe it was a joke, alluding to her recently passed birthday. I went to the page, and it was fairly ambiguous. So I went to her page. There was lots of posts referencing Heaven being a better place today. At this point I'm freaking out, just reapeating omigodomigodomigod. My husband kept asking, "What? What? Who? Call someone to find out what's going on!"
I called Gordie. He said that he was going to call me this week; that they're still coming to Florida, to South Beach and can I meet up with them- they're having a memorial service for her. I asked Gordie what happened? I was sweating. He pauses and gets really quiet and says, "She was murdered...by her boss. He was osessed with her. She'd complained about it, but she hadn't said anything about it for a while; we really didn't think too much about it anymore," At that point, when I started breathing again, all I could say was, "Gordie, I'm so sorry. I'm shocked. I'm so sorry," He was so quiet, and said, "Scott is a mess right now. I have to go back to work, but can we talk this week? You just don't think it could happen to you. I put up a picture from that night in Orlando at her funeral, it was a really good picture of her & Scott. I've been so scatterbrained lately," "Of course, Gordie. I'm sorry, you shouldn't have to talk about this,"
Here's part 2. When said friend asked me last year about Scott's girlfriend, I told her I was so sorry, but I couldn't not like her. That my friend could be mad at me, but I really liked her (which is a total faux pas in friend alliances. But what are you gonna do?). And at Christmas, Scott bought Brenda some clothes from said friend for Brenda because he knew she'd love them. Bridges were being rebuilt.
Now what?

Resolutions, Cajun Style

I was fortunate enough to have to opportunity to meet up with an old friend and her husband recently; they're originally from Louisiana. She and her husband have moved to San Juan, PR for his work, so I don't get to see them as often as I'd like.
To set the context of our coversation, I'll describe the what's of our surroundings. We were the only patrons in one of those new, trendy wine bars. You know; stainless steel, deep purple velvet upholstered chairs, funky pendant lights. Basically the idiot's world of wine. After perusing the wine list and ordering each a glass, we settled on a bottle for the 3 of us to share. For me, at least, I cringed at the layout of their wines. Numbered categories from one to six, indicating lightest to heaviest. The seven to nine were whites and roses, I believe, and the category of ten was simply, expensive. No country of origin was given on any of the wines, so I had to ask-- each and every time. Oh. And they were out of most of them, so we were pretty irritated. The bottle comes. It's about 3 pm on a Friday. Rob, Lisa & myself start chatting. And a snippet of it went like this:
Lisa~ So, I made some New Year's resolutions.
Me~ Oh? Can't Wait to hear them...
Lisa~ Yeah. I've got three.
Me~Hit me.
Lisa~
1: Drink more whiskey
2: Get pregnant
3: Work out more.
Me~ Only you. Gawd I miss you.