This Weekend's To-Do List

May 16, 2008

  • Attempt to grasp reality that move is in just over three weeks.
  • Bring boxes down from attic storage space.
  • Drink a beer in celebration of all of that box-moving progress.
  • Realize I have no packing tape with which to assemble boxes.
  • Move box pile out of the way and plan to remember about buying tape on next trip to store.
  • Congratulate self on forethought involved in not ever carrying the Christmas bins back up to the attic after Christmas was over.
  • Spend time outside in attempt to become less ghostly pale.
  • Get lazy butt out of bed and down to Cafe Soleil in time on Saturday morning to get a pain au chocolat before greedy yuppies buy all of them for their kids who probably would have rather had Pop Tarts anyway.
  • Cruise farmer's market.
  • Consider buying produce.
  • Strongly consider buying flowers.
  • Buy neither.
  • Attend birthday party.
  • Limit self to "reasonable" amount of cake.
  • Look into selling kidney on black market to finance gas for drive to Texas.
  • Do laundry.
  • No, really.  Do the damn laundry.
  • Write blog post for Monday in non-list form, with paragraphs and definite articles.
  • Start studying for teaching exam to be taken just after arrival in Texas.
  • Ha!  Good one!  Start studying.  Honestly, what will I come up with next?

Collection

May 13, 2008

It's like you collect broken people.

A book I was just reading said something about how everyone collects something.  Not me, I thought.  I'm sort of opposed to collecting, as a matter of fact.  I move a lot.  Accumulating a bunch of stuff doesn't make much sense.  I don't even have that many books, and I love books.  A lot.

Then I remembered being told that I collect broken people.  It seems apt.

When you get to know someone new, you wind up having to preface your stories with some idea of who the characters are.  I find that a lot of my descriptions start with something about how the person I'm talking about has nothing at all in common with me.  We couldn't be more different, I say more often than I had previously realized.

Looking back, it does seem that I've amassed a collection of incredibly varied people over the years.  Some of them are still in my life, some not.  But they have all been fascinating in their own ways and I have learned so much from them.  Here I am, a girl from small-town Wisconsin, having had friends from all over the country and the world.  People who have lived through things I can't begin to fathom, whose opinions and beliefs and personalities differ wildly from my own.

I'm not sure how I've been lucky enough to befriend so many people who, on paper, make no sense as the type of people who would want to hang out with me.  But that ability has always been something I've liked about myself.  I've never been the most popular person in any group, but for whatever reason, I've always managed to hang around the edges and wind up talking with the really interesting people. 

Which is all the more extraordinary, when you consider that I tend to be intimidated by a lot of people at first, so the process of even getting into that first conversation can take quite some time and a lot of effort.  Even more so when the other person is also the quiet type.  I'm also not what you might call an open book, so becoming real, actual friends with me tends to be a lengthy process.  It took months of knowing some of the people I'm thinking of to get there, but each and every time, it was worth it.

I don't mean to suggest here that "unlike me" equals "broken".  Far from it.  But in a lot of cases, broken does equal fascinating.  I love hearing people's stories and it seems that when people get that sense from you, the sense that you really, honestly want to know, they'll tell you.  Broken people usually have good stories.  And they will listen to yours and maybe even say "really?" and "wow" at the right times.  And maybe you'll become friends and then you'll have good stories to tell new friends later about that crazy road-trip or masterful prank or really amazing conversation.

It has occurred to me while writing this that you, Internet, are most likely part of my collection, aren't you?  Well, then.  Welcome.  You're in very good company.

Don't you just love it when things come together?

May 11, 2008

Say, you have no ideas at all for a post and then someone emails you the photo that she took of you specifically so you could show the internet your new haircut?

BREAKING NEWS: I CUT OFF A COUPLE OF INCHES OF MY HAIR.  FILM AT ELEVEN.

20080510_0720_2

My hair was kind of layered before and did a nice flippy thing.  So if I cut it shorter, surely it would be even more flippy.  (Flippier?)  Perhaps even TOO flippy.  Right? 

Wrong.  It was bad.  And if I encouraged it via round brush and hairdryer to curl under instead of flipping, it was worse.  Very Dutch Boy-esque.  I am therefore, becoming one with the flat iron.  Though it cost me up to five extra minutes of sleep in the morning.  Which, at a time beginning with the number 6 is a VERY BIG DEAL, OK?

I should note that none of this is the fault of my stylist, Andria.  A person should go to the salon with more information than I want to cut it about to here.  And have some layers.  But not too many layers.  I don't know.  Whatever you think.  Andria just seemed relieved not to have to be doing her one-skillionth Posh Spice cut of the day.  Apparently it is all the rage.

Never one to follow a trend, I accidentally went for the style of a different celebrity.

Photo_29

Whoops.  I suppose if I do sleep too late to allow for flat-ironing, I could always go with a nice top hat to draw the eye away from the unfortunate roundness of my hair.  No?  What about giant goggles?  Oompa Loompas?

Fine, I'll just get out of bed.  But for the record, I think I could totally pull off a top hat.

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My name is Lori. I write. I teach. I enjoy intelligent conversation, professional football, big government and the public library.

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