If you're here for the "Pay It Forward" contest, you need to go here
.
If you don't know what I'm talking about and don't care, ignore this
post. If you don't know what I'm talking about but are curious, click
on the previous link.
Ready, set, GO!
If you're here for the "Pay It Forward" contest, you need to go here.
If you don't know what I'm talking about and don't care, ignore this
post. If you don't know what I'm talking about but are curious, click
on the previous link.
Ready, set, GO!
It wasn't technically a vacation, since we stayed with friends, but there was a plane ride and then a beach and good restaurants and general merriment. I don't have the energy for full disclosure right now (after the 200+ dissertation, not my own, that I just finished editing), but here are some lovely pictures that tell a nice little story in their own right.
YOU get a blog post! Yay! Ok, don't sound so excited. Sheesh.
In other news . . .
I whole-heartedly approve of the winner of Top Chef (warning, if you click on the link, I'm not responsible for spoilers.) It's true I watch too much reality TV, hell, I watch too much TV period, but this show I somehow get emotionally invested in. You should see how much "I hate Lisa" stuff has circulated between a certain friend of mine and myself. Even though I watched through splayed fingers, my pick won. Yay! (If you're still reading, kudos!)
I should be reading a dissertation about Marketing and Design right now, but I just can't make myself do anymore tonight. I do love this job, but sometimes, I want to stick a pencil in my eye. Hence, this post.
The family and I are traveling to a lovely little city in Florida tomorrow to fit in a mini-vacation and meet the new lady in our life. I am both thrilled and anxious at the same time. I always over-pack. Really, I do. Always have. Except now I also over-pack for my son who, at merely 13 months, can't possibly need 20 outfits for the 4 days we'll be there. But there they are, in the suitcase, next to my own 30 outfits. It's a problem.
Also, the boy still rides on our laps. This was not such a big deal when he was 3 months old and slept the whole flight, held securely against my bosom. Now, all he wants to do is walk around and fling things and put everything in his mouth and scream nonsense at the top of his lungs (you should've been in the restaurant for lunch today!). So tomorrow's mere 2 hour plane ride will be . . . interesting . . . at best. I don't want to think of "at worst." Wish us luck.
Said Boy had his one-year-old check-up today, and the doctor once again declared he was "perfect." I think my mommy-hood glowed a little. At 13 months, one week, The Boy is 20 lbs. and 30 inches, tall and lean, like his daddy.
The Boy is also walking now. Just walking. He walks from one end of the living room to the next. Today, I saw him walking down the hallway to his nursery, and I caught my breath. He is such a BIG BOY. I can't believe how the time has flown. Good thing I'll be holding a 7 week old tomorrow to remind me just how much. He does resemble Frankenstein or a drunk Frat boy, but he's holding his own putting one foot in front of the other.
We had house guests last week, best friends of ours who have retreated even further south to the Mister's home turf. They stayed for 10 days, and it couldn't have been lovelier. My dear friend, the Missus, is preggo, and we had a good time rifling through baby things together. My attic is almost empty now, and I thank HER, even though she was the one leaving with all the goodies. We also caught that movie, you may have heard of it, which was a distracting afternoon for our bunch of ladies.
Philly and I spend so much of our time now just with each other and The Boy that sometimes having more people in the house is disconcerting. Except when they're your best friends, I guess. The whole time Mister and Missus were here, we felt like we had roommates again, people who would watch Primetime in the Daytime if necessary, folks to watch sports with, someone to make a delicious, or ridiculous, meal with. I felt like I was in college again, what with all the shit-talking and junkfood eating. AND there were extra arms to hug The Boy, which let me get a shower in every now and then when he WASN"T actually napping. I'm not explaining this right, but the bottom-line is that Philly and I were sorry to see them go and are already trying to plan our next trip to Red Stick.
I am currently addicted to and distracted by (see above mention of dissertation that's taxing my reserves) to the website Celebrity Baby Blog. Now, I love me some celebrity gossip, and I love babies. Voila! All rolled into one. And this site doesn't just cover Jessica Alba and Brangelina and Gwen and Gavin. Here you can find info on anyone and anything, from Clay Aiken's artificial insemination baby-making to Radio DJs you've (I've) never even heard of. The world of celebrity baby-making does not rest solely with Angelina and Tori and Gwen. No, no, they are ALL propagating. Go ahead, I know you want to check it out.
Finally, MY GOD MISSISSIPPI, what is it with the fucking bugs?!? Are we hatching new species of dinosaurs here or what? Is this a new eon of evolutionary development? Because if one more crazy-shelled inch-long insect flies into my face, I am moving to Vermont and not looking back. You hear ME? VERMONT! Where I can drown in cheese. And hopefully escape the suicidal June bugs that want only to nest in my hair, apparently. (Disclaimer: I know nothing of Vermont's entomology, but I'm hoping because of the latitude that the insects are less terrifying there.)
And I'll leave you with that. Because I finally ran out of steam, and I have a little more packing to do, and, heaven help me, more of a dissertation to edit.
Peace.
I knew it was Locke in the box. Because I knew he was Jeremy Bentham, although I had my moments, I will admit, where I thought it might be Ben.
I think Sawyer whispered to Kate that if he didn't make it to find and somehow benefactor his daughter Clementine.
Charlotte (C.S. Lewis, by the way, cough) is Annie, although she may be too young.
I wonder if they want to explain Walt's fast-growing-up with the slowing of time on the island. like when he got back to the "real world," his age had to catch up with him.
Per going back to the island, Jack wants to go back. Sun seems to want to too and want Widmore to fund finding it. Hurley's crazy enough to be convinced to go back. Sayid seems game. So there's Kate to convince, Lapidus to dig up from under a barstool somewhere and Desmond to find and convince. Sounds like enough for a full season.
Well, I guess we knew Jin was going to die since Daniel Dae Kim DID get a DWI.
Also, what the hell happened to Daniel and the people in the life boat? Is there going to be a spin-off show?
Ben's zingers of the night: "time traveling bunnies," "So,?" and him chastising Locke for not finding the right flowers, and Locke's plaintive "What do they look like?" were awesome.
That's all I've got for now. I'm sure I'll update as I think on it some more.
Today, I went to Kroger to grocery shop, not an unusual event for me, since it happens at least once a week. I had my list; I had my wallet; I had my Kroger plus card. I had a stalker.
At first I thought I was paranoid. I noticed a guy behind me on the canned fruit/cereal aisle. I looked for and found the Kix (The Boy tires of Cheerios). I perused the canned fruit for peaches and pears in just water instead of the "high fructose corn syrup" they're always in. That's when I noticed him. You know when you're scanning grocery choices and you realize you're in the way of another shopper? Because you can feel them behind you, just . . . waiting? That's what he was doing (or so I thought).
He was middle-aged, whitish hair sticking out from under his baseball cap. He wore mirrored sunglasses (I should've recognized the creepy factor THEN!). He had on a white tee shirt, khaki cargo shorts and sneakers. Not exceptionally weird (except for the mirrored sunglasses, of course). So I picked out my sugar-free fruit and continued onto the next aisle.
As I was again perusing the soup choices, trying to find several varieties with minimal carbohydrates (it's all about the diet, people), I noticed the same guy was once again lingering near me in the aisle. I thought, again, that I was merely in front of the soups he wanted to choose from. I glanced back at him once, then again, realizing it was the same guy. On the second glance, he pretended to be interested in the Raman Noodles in front of him.
Now, I don't know why or how, although I think it must have been the furtive glance at the Raman Noodles, like I had "caught him" or something. My heart started pounding a little harder, and I realized, irrationally I thought, that he was following me. I had first noticed him on the aisle before, when I FELT LIKE he was watching me and glanced back at him several times. Damn those mirrored sunglasses! I realized then that he hadn't even stopped on the canned fruit aisle, but just followed me onto the soup aisle. As I made my way past the soup, I peripherally noticed he did not stop in front of it either. I thought I must be overreacting. It was just coincidence. But when I had ventured the first glance, he was looking STRAIGHT at me with those mirrored sunglasses. Uber-creepy. What on earth was this guy going to do to me in the middle of the afternoon in Kroger with a bazillion other grocery shoppers milling in the aisles around us? What indeed?
As I pondered this question on my hurried trek down the soup aisle, I realized my wallet was just lying there in the child seat of the shopping cart. Perhaps he saw an opportunity to snatch my wallet? I picked it up and shoved it under my arm. Never had I wanted my huge purse on my shoulder more.
When I rounded the end of the soup aisle, I booked it to the baby aisle. I needed a Diaper Genie refill, some bubble bath, shampoo. As I got onto the baby aisle, I could see that creepy dude hadn't yet cleared the soup aisle. I thought I'd slipped my possible over-active imagination. The middle of the baby aisle was blocked by stockers. There were big boxes and at least 5 employees stocking diapers and school supplies (housed across from the diapers in this particular Krogie-Kroges). As I stood there, pretending to stare at baby food products and temper my rapidly beating heart. He rounded the end of the aisle. I was stuck between stock-boys and creepier-than-ever Stalker Guy. He stopped his cart less than 5 feet from me; there was NOTHING in it. I grabbed my wallet again (sometime in the previous 30 seconds of relief in his absence, I had put it back in the child-seat) and looked him full in the face. Then I looked to my left, where the stock-boys were and planted a determined foot in their direction. I immediately had an adrenaline rush.
Who the HELL did this guy think he was? Making me feel like a frightened girl in MY grocery store, in MY town, in the MIDDLE of the FUCKING DAY? And with the adrenaline came anger. I am not a meek little girl, scared of any intimidating man coming toward me. I am a GROWN ASS WOMAN with a son and a Love of My Life who need me to stand up for myself. So the second I planted the foot away from him, I turned, ready to confront him and ask him just what the every-loving FUCK was he doing stalking me around the grocery store. As I turned, he was leaving the aisle, backing his cart out, head down. I stood there, watching him go, facing him. I hoped he got the message. Then I started to shake. I stood there composing myself, staring blankly at the baby bubble bath and shampoo I still needed, still convinced I was overreacting to a situation that had to be explainable, when one of the stockers asked me if she could help me find anything. I thought I was going to cry in relief.
I got her to retrieve a Diaper Genie refill from behind a big-ass box and briefly considered telling her about Stalker Guy. I decided against it, thinking that if I was overreacting, wouldn't I just turn out to be the world's biggest typical prejudiced misandrist ass? Before I left the baby aisle, I called a friend. She answered on the second ring. After the hurried pleasantries, I told her some creepy guy was following me around the grocery store and could I just talk to her while I finished shopping. (Running through all my attack-avoidance precautions, I knew no one would attack someone on the phone. Would they? She could call 911, couldn't she? See my thought-patterns?) She sympathized, and we tried to talk about other things while I kept a look-out for Stalker Guy and attempted to finish my shopping. Talk about multi-tasking. I will say the second half of my list suffered a bit, with me just throwing the closest thing I could find into the cart, trying to stay jovial on the phone and keeping a sharp eye out for mirrored glasses. I passed him three more times. Once, he passed me as I exited the baby aisle. The second time, he was lurking at the end of an aisle I passed right by. Every time, I looked straight at him, my wallet shoved into my armpit, daring him to come near me. I know to scream FIRE when in need. I did not for a moment think of the illogicality of there being a fire in the middle of a Kroger's on a Tuesday afternoon. Indeed, who would've thought a guy would've stalked me in that same Kroger's on a Tuesday afternoon?
When I was ready to check out, I finished my chat with my friend and proceeded to the check-out lanes with a sharp, if (hopefully) nonchalant eye out for Stalker Guy. Admittedly, I was a little anxious that he was waiting for me to leave, to carjack me, to rob me, to rape and murder me (see: over-active imagination). I saw him, on my way to the check-out, in the middle of the Health and Beauty aisle, among numerous women who seemed to take no notice he was there. He was looking at nothing in particular, and his cart still appeared to be empty. My head reeled for a moment. Was I in the middle of a bad Lifetime movie? Would I end up begging for my life in the back-waters of the deep South? If he was in that aisle, he was away from me. I made for the check-out lane the farthest from Health and Beauty and with, thankfully, no one in it.
As the clerk rang up my items, I swiped my card and fidgeted, all the while looking over my shoulder for Stalker Guy. I saw him leave the Health and Beauty aisle (by then my eyes had memorized even what the top of his hat and the back of his shoulders looked like) and head in the opposite direction. I breathed a sigh of relief as the bagger put the last of my items in a bag. Then, the bagger asked me if I needed help getting my groceries to the car. I don't know why I declined, except my adrenaline was still pumping, and I still felt some (perhaps foolish) need to stand up for myself if the situation arose. I did lean over and tell him in a hurried and low voice, "No, but I need to tell you something. I don't want to file a complaint or anything. In fact, I just want to put my groceries in my car and get the hell out of here. But I think there was a guy following me around the store. He gave me the creeps. I last saw him on the Health and Beauty aisle, just in case." (That's pretty much verbatim what I said. I was in a bad Lifetime movie.) The bagger looked at me like I was crazy and seemed like he was going to delay me for more information, but I just grabbed my cart and got the hell out of the store. I wanted the openness of the parking lot to soothe me, where, in the open air, I could see my surroundings better and know if Stalker Guy was anywhere near me. (In which case, I will have you know, I had already planned to dive BACK into Kroger's and dial 911--that's how freaked out I was.)
As I put my groceries in my trunk, all the while with a hawk's eye trained on everything and everyone that was going on around me, I started to calm down. I remembered that we needed some booze at the house, and made my way to the liquor store next to the Kroger's. At least, I thought, if I see him again, I can wallop him with a bottle of wine. I had no weapon(s) but cans of soup in the store. I made it back to my car and eventually home without incident, although I have to admit I looked in my rear view mirror quite a few too many times on the way home, looking for a busted up child-molester van with no windows barreling up behind me.
Now, for analysis. I had a long drive home to think about what had just happened, whether it had really happened, and how I reacted to it. When I was young, my biggest fear was being raped. Once I learned what the word "rape" meant, at maybe age 12 or so, it haunted me. I was afraid of any man who happened to be in my immediate vicinity if no one else was around, anywhere: store aisles, walking my dog on a neighborhood street, in the lonely hallways of public bathrooms (one reason I didn't use them for YEARS). The worst occasion happened when my dad sent me to the hardware store once when I had just gotten my license. My dad was working on some home project and had sent me to fetch the one last screw (or whatever) he needed. I went to the local hardware store and, since the clerks were nowhere to be found, started perusing the aisle myself in search of whatever intricate piece of hardware my dad needed. Then, there was a man in the aisle near me, looking for something equally intricate, probably ignoring me completely. But I froze. My blood pumped in my ears. I was already envisioning how he would drag me into the farthest corner of the store and start ripping at my clothes. I'm telling you, it was an intense fear. I pretty much ran out of the store, waited in the clear light of the parking lot for THAT man to leave, then went back in, asked the clerk for what my dad needed, and hightailed it home. I don't think my dad ever noticed, doting father that he always has been, that I was still shaking when I handed him the brown paper bag that had almost cost me my sanity.
Today, in the soup aisle, I felt all that fear come flooding back when I realized (assumed?) that Stalker Guy was, in fact, stalking me. But apparently I've grown up a lot since then. Despite all the Law&Order SVU reruns I can't seem to stop watching (note to self), I decided I DID NOT HAVE TO BE ANY KIND OF VICTIM, whether he was just an innocent weirdo following me around in Kroger's or a criminal mastermind already planning the ransom note (not that there's anything to get.) I have never felt more determined than when I turned mid-step to face the creepy guy I thought was following me. I don't know what would have happened had he not retreated (realized he had turned up the wrong aisle?), but I like to think I would've stood my ground and told him he COULD NOT intimidate me any longer. Despite what that man in Kroger's was or WAS NOT doing today, it was a breakthrough for me as a person, as a woman. That I don't have to just cower and take whatever violation and/or violence the world has gunning for me.
I am an observant person. I notice the people and events around me. If I had been less observant today, maybe nothing would have happened. Maybe I would've had my wallet stolen. Maybe I would have been begging for my life somewhere on a county road. Regardless, I was not going to let that happen. And I don't think I ever will. And it's a good thing to know that now, as I start this decade of my life, that I can stand up for myself if I need to. I tell my son and myself everyday as we watch the news (it doesn't have to be the sensationalized world of Law&Order) that the world is a scary place. But it's also the only place I, we, have. So we have to be ready to take it in full stride. I think.
I know this probably all sounds like the ramblings of a paranoid person (believe me, I just re-read it), but I cannot express how definitely I KNEW that guy was following me today. Call it instinct, call it sixth sense, call it good observational skills. I simply KNEW. And I'm not reneging on that even though I've just re-read my words and realize how crazy it may sound. There was something intrinsically creepy about that guy in Kroger's today, whether he was just an "innocent" creep or more sinister. Even if he was just after my wallet (or not), I felt the indistinguishable taint of danger on my romp through the grocery store. And, over-active or not, I like to trust my instincts and be better safe than sorry.
Now, the self-doubt. Why didn't I do something sooner? Why didn't I say something to the stockers in the baby aisle? Why didn't I go straight to the manager and point out Suspicious Stalker Guy Numero Uno? Probably because I didn't want to be taken for crazy. Well, no probably about it. But, if I read in the news tomorrow about a robbery or worse at the local Kroger's, I'm going to feel reeeaaaalllly shitty. Really. What would you have done?
*UPDATE (5.28.08): Yesterday, as I drove out of the parking lot of Kroger's, I called Philly. I needed to tell him what had just happened. In the back of my mind, I knew he would not like to hear it, but my adrenaline was still pumping and, as I mentioned, I was a little wary of what car/truck/van was behind me. I wanted him to know I was on my way home, and I was, in fact, a little scared. He said little on the phone. Told me to be careful. When I got home, we didn't speak about it because it was dinner time and then bath time and then bed time for The Boy. Finally, over a "night cap," (and after I'd written this long, involved post) I told him just how bothered I was by what had happened at the grocery store. (Truly, my heart started racing again as I typed this post.)
Philly told me, and I knew it myself, that I should have spoken up, should have done something. He wasn't criticizing me for the lack of personal confrontation with Stalker Guy, but he thought I should have spoken to someone in the store in an official capacity. I agreed, in hindsight and all. (At the time, I know I just wanted to get THE HELL OUT OF THERE.)
I went back to Kroger's today. I had an errand near the store and felt bad enough about my reticence yesterday to work up the nerve to go back in there. And I did have to work up the nerve. I thought the manager would think me crazy, would chastise me for not saying anything yesterday, might even accuse me of being paranoid. None were the case.
I went in today and bought a bag of cotton balls, the only thing I'd neglected from my list yesterday, and after paying for them, asked to talk to a manager. The clerk called one to the front with her speaker phone (I cringed a little at the loudness of my request). (I also have to point out that the whole 5 minutes I was in the store, I was on the look-out for mirrored-sunglasses, in case the guy decided to stage a repeat. There were none.) The manager came up, looked concerned--I guess they always expect a complaint or something, and I moved off to the side to speak with him. I was shaking. As much as I don't shy from a confrontation with people I know and love or if I know I am IN THE RIGHT, the idea that this man would patronize me scared me a little. I needn't have worried.
So, I told him the story. Not as long as this post, I assure you. But I related the events of yesterday in the store. Initially, there was a slight miscommunication, wherein he thought I was talking about an employee. Once I'd cleared that up, the man became concerned and gracious. He was thankful that I'd come back to tell him about it. He was more concerned with the fact that I was upset about the situation. At the end of my summary of yesterday, he looked me straight in the eye and said
"Promise me one thing. If anything like this ever happens again, you will come straight up the customer service desk and report it, and we will call the police."
He wasn't joking around. And that made me feel better. He didn't think I was crazy. In fact, he said something similar to Mel's comment that most of the time when "you" have a "feeling" about something, it's right, and you should follow that instinct.
He told me there had been no incidents at the store the day before, thank god, and he really appreciated me coming back to tell him about what I'd experienced. As we thanked each other as polite adults do, he put his hand on my shoulder, and I felt . . . even more shitty that I didn't tell someone yesterday. But I went back today. And no one, apparently, got their wallets stolen or their lives endangered by the creepy, mirrored-sunglasses man from yesterday. I feel hugely better than I did yesterday, but the thing that still bothers me is that, he's still out there. Regardless of his intentions, he's . . . somewhere (definitely going to stop watching Law&Order TODAY.)
**Also, just a note, Philly made a good point when we were talking about this last night. As many of you know, Philly has multiple, visible tattoos. He made the point that he gets weird looks in Kroger sometimes, even when he's minding his own business, deciding just which fish he wants to pick from the butcher's area or when he's in the baby aisle, picking up diapers or wipes. HE knows he's not a menace, but people might think he is because of his appearance. What was overwhelmingly creepy about Stalker Guy was that he looked just about as normal as you could imagine.
So, for the past few days, there's been a chirping on my front porch that has been DRIVING ME MAD. Of course, though, too lazy to actually open the door and investigate (we don't use the front door much since the futon took up residence on the front porch), I have merely complained from the couch about "that damn high-pitched chirping." Well, this morning, I had had enough, and jerking open the door muttering about what kind of goddamn bird was making all that damn noise, here is what I saw:
Then, just for good measure, I scared the poor helpless birdlings into silence pointing them out to The Boy and taking the following pictures.
The one thing (or at least one of the things, to be fair) that I do love about this dirty-south-temporary home of mine is that there is the smell of Magnolia blooms on the air. May has been fair this year, despite the tornado sirens, with warm days and cool nights, and my two big Magnolia trees are blooming like they never have before. The smell is deafening and wonderful.
I have *heard* that it is illegal to cut down a Magnolia tree in this state, without a permit, of course. But I can't imagine destroying anything that emits such a scent.
Happy Mother's Day to me! Observe my awesome present from Philly and The Boy. (Yes, I had to pick it out, but I still didn't get to open it until today. It came from here, and they have lots of beautiful stuff. Hint, hint, gentlemen.)
The Front
Check out the Twitter-cast from tonight* (start from the bottom):
|
BrilliantOne Anyone got an ark? Horizontal rain here, folks. And LOTS of it. |
|
|
|
BrilliantOne Wolf spider: http://en.wikipedia.org/wik.... Because they're as big as WOLVES! |
|
|
|
BrilliantOne Just sat through a tornado warning and now a wolf spider is terrorizing me. What gives, Mother Nature? |
|
|
|
BrilliantOne @katra: the worst is past. Although the pillow nest with the boy was kinda fun. |
|
|
katra
@BrilliantOne - Stay safe from the storms!
|
|
|
|
||
|
|
BrilliantOne The dog's here too. |
|
|
|
BrilliantOne Sitting in the hall with the boy & pillows hoping we don't blow away. S made us drinks. I hate these storms. |
|
|
|
BrilliantOne Fucking tornadoes & fucking sirens. |
*P.S. In case you want to check out my Twitter HERE, look in the sidebar at the bottom on the left. (Yes, I can't figure out how to move it up yet.)
Now, I really have to get something done: