Lost & Found

This evening after work I stopped over at a friend’s house to help her a bit with a bike. She recently acquired a bike but couldn’t figure out how to raise the seat and the handle bars to fit her more comfortably. I looked at the piece of rusted metal a week or so ago when she first brought it to my attention. It needed a special tool that I could picture in my head but not name. This one tool is all she needed to work with before she could pull her bike out in this warm weather.

Wearing a black blazer with my jeans I was stooping over the bike to take a good look at the size of the nut and bolt looking item that needed this special tool. Again, I knew what the tool looked like I just couldn’t name it.

Arriving at the super-store we walked around a few isles unable to find the tool section. We eventually stumbled into the ‘sports and outdoors’ section which meant we were not going the right direction but instead were standing near the fish tanks full of fish. I have a fear of fish tanks. I cannot walk down that particular isle in any store. I have a fear that at the exact moment I walk by the tanks the glass will shatter and all the water and fish will come my direction. I can’t stand to be near all that sparkling water in the event that all that glass will shatter. I am not afraid of water. I am afraid of fish.

After asking a nearby employee for the specific tool section my friend led the way until we stood among the Black and Decker filled shelves. As we scanned the various items I started realizing that I had no idea what I was looking for. I knew what this desired tool looked like; I had no idea where to begin looking for it. Frustrated I looked over to my friend and said, “I feel like I am losing my manhood in this isle. I should know more about all these tools and what we’re looking for.” Trying to hide her giggling she mumbled something back about my lack of manhood at that exact moment and how she could possibly forgive me.

As we handled several items and opened a few more we finally caved in and went to look at the bike section to find a similar looking piece to show an employee. We were obviously going nowhere in our current isle as I tried to teach myself something new while my friend only picked up tools that she liked the name of. She could care less about what each tool was for, she only liked the quirky names and which ones were the biggest. With her size mattered.

I didn’t want to show the male employee standing nearby that I didn’t know what tool I needed, and instead told my friend what she needed to say as I pulled out one bike to use as our example. I turned around just as the employee asked me directly what we were looking for and I realized I was stuck. Trying not to sound stupid I managed to get my question out as he turned around and grabbed the tool from the shelf behind him. While it wasn’t the exact tool I was looking for a few isles over it was one that would work perfectly. Eventually I learned it was a socket-wrench that we needed, or so I thought.

Shortly after arriving home we worked on her bike together trying to unscrew the handlebars first so that they could be raised. My friend tried but was unsuccessful even after she remembered lefty loosey, righty tighty. I gave it all my strength but was unable to loosen it at first but eventually noticed the screw starting to move slightly to the left the more I tried. I didn't want to mess up my good clothes and stood at an awkward position to not get any grease and rust on me. As I kept unscrewing the bike, old grease leaked out of the sockets forming a puddle on the garage floor. At this point my main concern became my clothes. Finally after quite some time had passed and the further we got along in trying to fix up her bike my friend stood up and said, “You got your manhood back.”

I believe that was my thanks for helping her get half the project complete. We eventually raised her seat, but we never figured out how to raise the handlebars, only loosen them. After we gave up I took it for a ride down her driveway and back up it only to get a rip in my jeans down around my ankle. My jean leg got caught on the water bottle holder. I think I was more upset about the damage done to my jeans than my lack of knowledge in the tool isle.

The Art of Life

I spent the night with my grandma last night as I hadn't seen her in a few months. She will achieve the grand age of 86 this year to which she asked me if I thought she would live long past that? I didn't know exactly what to say but I let my answer roll of my tongue as if I wasn't thinking too much about her question.

I eventually turned my attention to a stack of magazines she had read that were catered to an audience of 'old timers.' Thinking I would skim thru a few I crawled down off the couch and sat myself next to the pile of magazines. I was hoping to find a few 'old timer' things I could ask my grandma about since she loves to talk and has a good memory of things gone by.

We chatted back and forth a bit talking about her days as a young mother in Arkansas to the days she used to get out about town a bit more. These days she sits at home in silence until a telemarketer calls to break the silence.

After turning the pages of the slick magazines I found a small book advertising some odd number of household secrets using anything you have laying around your house. I'm a sucker for some gimmicks and this is one of them.

I quickly turned the pages and learned that a banana peel can shine your shoes, while a paste of water and baking soda can eliminate the rust stains in your stainless steel sink. Before I closed the book for the night I found a section on decorating secrets. I came across one so called secret that had me laughing in disgust.

"A decorator's tip that would cost a fortune," it stated. "It's very chic to accent walls, furniture and other areas with carpet. A decorator would charge thousands of dollars for this idea. If you've got leftover carpeting, cut it into strips and glue it onto the wall like wallpaper. Or, cut out matching seat mats, or face a desk with leftover carpet."

I can't wait to get home and try this idea out. In fact from now on anytime someone spills something on my carpet I'll just cut that stain out of my carpet and hang it up on my wall. And that my friend is art!

Windshield Words

Before I shut my car door this morning on my way to work I glanced up and noticed that a piece of paper sat purposely placed between my wiper and windshield. Throwing my computer bag over to the passenger seat I pulled myself back out of the car to reach over and grab the piece of torn paper. I opened it to read, "Have a great day at work. I'm sure you always do!"

Thinking this was from my neighbor is who is extremely kind and bubbly I thought nothing more and continued on to work this morning and carried about my usual self.

This evening as I left work late, once again I noticed a second piece of paper conveniently placed on my windshield. Thinking for a quick second I mistakenly received a parking ticket I soon realized that it was a personal note written on college-rule paper. Once I shut my door and turned on my car to get the heater going I tore open the note to read, "Have you actually still not figured it out? I've been waiting all day for the phone to ring. I guess you're just busy at work today."

I didn't know I was supposed to figure anything out! I thought I knew who wrote the simple note this morning. I've either got the first member of my fan club coming out in full force, or I've officially got a stalker. I'd prefer to think the fan club route. Who in the world drove down to my house sometime in the night to put a note on my car? And how did they choose my car out of the hundred or so parked in my parking lot at work? Plus there are two other cars in the lot that are exactly like mine, all except for the license plate.

Now I'm really confused...and slightly scared.

Color Matters

Now that it’s Monday and I’m off to having a particularly successful work day I am realizing that I spent this weekend in a sea of grey. With the rain pounding my bedroom windows all weekend I mostly stayed in and tried to reevaluate my living conditions. I picked up two cans of paint on Saturday which will sit on my kitchen floor collecting a thin layer of dust before I ever open them. It’s the principle that I actually bought some paint that made me feel better, like I’m slowly moving in.

Secondly, I actually unpacked three boxes last night. I moved into this place last July but over the months I have let ten or so boxes just sit on my floor hiding the contents which lay in the dark taped up. I did think about throwing them out completely without opening them up, but that was me just flirting. My theory is that if I haven’t needed what’s in the boxes the last eight months then why would I need it now? If I would have fallen thru with my temptations I would have lost a ton of pictures and nothing else really. I couldn’t believe half the junk I had saved in those boxes.

But now it’s Monday and I’m back into the black and white. I’m back on my daily ‘to do’ lists as I watch the emails pile up in my inbox. My weekend of grey was covered in rain and meditation as I tried to make better the surroundings about me.

Thoughts...

As I stood waiting for the elevator to take me to my room a few floors up an older couple joined me on the marble laid floor in the hotel lobby. The woman stood closer to me than her husband as we both hoped an elevator near us to would open soon. As her husband inched closer to us the elevator closest to him, and farthest from us, opened as he hobbled in. With his back hunched over he grasped his cain even tighter as he slowly made his way to the back of the mirrored elevator. “Are you trying to leave me down here alone?” his wife said as she entered the elevator shortly behind him. I stepped in and gently pressed my floor number and asked them what floor they needed as the woman stared ahead into the mirror and recited, “Floor five young man." The old woman started messing with her hair in the mirror before saying, “of course you were trying to leave me down there, looking like this I would do the same thing too!”

It’s situations like these that make me laugh and appreciate my job of being on the road. The simple interaction between this husband and wife gave me something to smile about on what was a rather bad day. However, earlier that afternoon I witnessed this situation.

I sat in the corner booth picking at my food while I worked on a few Sudoku puzzles. My body aches were only worsening that afternoon and I couldn’t bring myself to eat much more than a few nibbles of my over-priced lunch. Ignoring my surroundings I completed a few puzzles until I eventually looked up to see a father and son sitting diagonal from me at a small table enjoying their lunch. Within a matter of minutes I began to notice that they were enjoying their lunch, but not the present company of each other. I was intrigued and couldn’t help but stare. With the fathers back to me I could only see the face of the son who had to be no older than 16. With each bite the son looked up at his father though the glance was not returned as the father kept his eyes on his plate before him. I continued moving my food around the plate with my fork as I kept my attention on the relationship across from me. Conveniently I held my Sudoku book up in case I needed to immediately return my eyes to my book. Minutes were passing briskly as the two of them continued eating but not talking. Emotions in me were telling me to stand up and go tell the father how messed up his son would be if he didn’t take the time to visit with him over a simple meal, though my muscles didn’t move from my booth. I couldn’t believe what was happening a few feet from me though I couldn’t do anything about it. It was none of my business but I was aghast that a father couldn’t take the time to talk with his child. It was obvious the kid would enjoy socializing with his father, but instead he took each bite in solemn silence until the father was finished with his meal and they could head out the door and back home.

I realize that we all communicate in various ways. Some are rather successful at saying their true feelings, while others hide behind their feelings never letting the other know what’s going on inside their head. The last week and a half was a busy trip for me and it got rather lonely towards the end. I’m happy to have my computer back up and running. I’m happy to be back in the blogging world. I’ve missed communication.

Down and Out

My laptop has crashed and I am lost without it. I am currently in Dallas for a work trip and I'm supposed to be here until the middle of next week. I don't know what to do with myself without my little keyboard buddy next to me. Life is frustrating right now. No more postings until further notice.

Thank you, Thank you

I know I have an opinion. I know I share it often. I just didn't know anyone listened.

I enjoyed the emails and phone calls I received today asking for my take on the Oscars last night. I would like to take the opportunity and remind you all that the day the Oscar nominations came out I proclaimed that "Crash" would take home the top award. And I was right. So, with that said I would like to offer up my acceptance speech on winning my own personal Oscar ballot contest.

"I would like to thank the Academy for making good movies. But more importantly I would like to thank my job for paying me once a month. Without that handly little income I would not have been able to afford the $1 it cost me to see that movie this past year at the local cheap theatre. Also to my parents for taking me to see the Gremlins when I was little. And to the theatre arcade room for providing entertainment for me when the Gremlin scenes got too intense so my mom would take me out to play Pac Man. It was too tense for her to watch.....not me."