Suckers...

"Why aren't you going with Jonas to the wedding? He told me he invited you and you turned him down."

"He just broke up with his girlfriend and he doesn't want to go alone. I'd rather not be a fill in date, thank you very much."

"But you like him! You've liked him for years. This could be your shot."

"It's not. It's an 'I don't want to go alone' invite. I'd rather not be just someone he takes when his first option doesn't pan out."

"Who cares about what happened before! This is now!"

"Spoken like a red lollipop."

"What?" Grace loved her best friend Carla but sometimes she confused her.

"A red lollipop. Okay, people are like that basket of suckers at a doctor's office. Reds, oranges, yellows and greens. You are a red lollipop."

"Okay..."

"Red lollipops are always the first ones chosen. Everyone loves a red lollipop. You know you are getting cherry, or maybe strawberry, but definitely something fruity and sweet and lovely. The oranges are obviously orange so people choose them next. Yellows have their fans. They are either going to be lemon or if you are lucky pineapple which is like a nice surprise. That leaves the greens. The one nobody chooses unless all the others are gone. Because even though you really want that green to be an apple you know it's most likely a lime. And nobody chooses that on their own."

"And you think you are a green lollipop I take it?"

"Yep. I'm a green lollipop. We are the ones huddled together in gym class praying we aren't the last ones chosen. And even if we are better at kickball than Julie Smith will ever be, we know she will be picked first because she is a red lollipop and we are greens. We are the ones that go to parties as someone's plus one. We are included on guest lists to even the numbers. We are the fill in dates, the booty calls, the last minute plans. Never the first choice. Always the also ran."

"Well that sounds depressing..."

"It is. Horribly. When you are growing up. But eventually you hit a certain point in your life where you realize that being someone's last choice, the one they make when there aren't any choices left isn't good enough. I don't want to be the only sucker in the dish before I get picked. So I pulled myself out of the bowl."

"You can't just pull yourself out of the bowl. You are making yourself a green lollipop by doing that."

"You don't make yourself a green lollipop. You just are a green lollipop. And red lollipops are reds. And oranges are oranges. And yellows are yellows. That's just the way the world works. You just don't see it because you've always been a red and no matter where you go you will always be a red."

"I think you are just being negative."

"Okay, let's look at something that was always firmly the territory of the green lollipops. Comic books. We all read them. We all loved them. It was our thing. Sure, some oranges and yellows might slum it a bit, but you never saw a red in a comic book store. Until it all suddenly became cool. Which is great, don't get me wrong. I love that I have movies and books and TV shows and so much more now than 12 year old me could ever have imagined. But you would think that my years, YEARS, of knowledge would have put me at an advantage right? But that cute yellow lollipop will sit and talk with me for hours over which is the better X-Men story line and then leave to have dinner with the orange lollipop who says she is a 'geek' because she saw Spider-Man in the theater."

"Hey, I saw Spider-Man."

"I know, and it's adorable that you think that means something."

"Fine. So you think you are a green lollipop and Jonas only invited you to the wedding because his red lollipop left him?"

"Please...his ex is an orange at best. But yes, I know that's why he invited me. And I know that's not good enough for me anymore. The one thing I want in a relationship that I have decided is non-negotiable is that I be the first choice. I can work with anything else. But I have to be the first choice."

"But nobody at our age is anybody's first choice. We all have people in our past."

"I don't mean first ever. I'm not looking for someone with no history. I mean now. If they are presented with a bowl of candy they move past the reds and oranges and yellows and pick the green. No hesitation. No getting turned down by an orange and settling. When they have the choice, without hesitation, they choose green."

"I still think you should go to the wedding. So what if you are his second choice. Maybe you could show him that green is really his favorite and he just didn't know it."

"That's the point. I don't want to convince anyone anymore. I am tired of trying to up-sell lime. I am exhausted. I have spent too many years with people disappointed that I wasn't apple. I am lime. I am a green lollipop and I'm okay with that. And I don't want to spend another moment with some guy who was hoping for a red and settled for a green after being turned down by an orange."

"Maybe we just need to find you a guy who is color blind."

"Maybe."

Carla loved her best friend Grace but how could she not, Grace was a red lollipop after all.

Buggy...

Years ago we bought a ficus tree. It was a scrawny little thing but I thought I could bring it around. After a re-potting, some fertilizer and time it turned in to a lovely tree. Then the leaves started to drop off at an alarming rate. I picked up a few and they were sticky to the touch. Then I looked at the tree and saw that it had bumps on the undersides of the leaves as well as these little pockets of fluff where the leaf would meet the branch.

Uh oh.

Quick online research and yep. Bugs. Bugs feasting on my tree. Oh no, this was not going to happen. So I washed each leaf with a mild soap and water concoction. I treated the soil with a lovely concoction that would get rid of the bugs without adding a poison to my house. And then painstakingly nursed it back to health. Trimmed the branches that didn't survive. Cleaned up the leaves that fell anyway. Bought a dowel to help prop it up in its weakened condition. And eventually it came back nice and healthy.

Yay!

And then a few weeks ago I noticed the leaves starting to drop again. "It's fall. It's okay. Even in the house there has been a temperature shift, this is going to be fine." That was the pep talk I gave myself. Until I picked up a leaf and it was sticky. And then I looked at the tree and saw the signs that they were back.

Ugh.

Okay, well, I did this before I can do it again.

Prepped the soil for the treatment and the light caught it just right so I could see all of the little tiny wormy things that had hatched in my soil. That were going to climb my tree and lay their eggs and eat the leaves. Partly fascinated by the sheer number writhing in the soil and partly grossed out by the sheer number making the soil move with their writing I watched for a few minutes.  How long had they been breeding in that dirt before I noticed they were killing my tree again? And how long could I keep them at bay this time?

Back online to do more research and I found that they like not only the ficus but the two trees I have in another part of the house.

Uh oh.

Go to check those out and they are clear. For now.

So now I was left with a dilemma. Do I go through the wash every leaf, tend to the soil, nurse it back to health routine again or do I realize that unless I am willing to spray everything down with a good layer of poison I'm really fighting a losing battle?

So my ficus went away. Bagged and tagged and sent to the great dump in the sky.

No matter how lovely that tree had been, no matter how much work I'd already put in to making it healthy, the infestation was too great. And the chance of spreading to the healthy trees too much for me to risk.

I'm sure there's a metaphor in here someplace....

Who are your people?

This morning I stopped to get gas after dropping Brent off at work. As I pulled in to the station the sun was starting to really break over the hills and there was this just gorgeous golden glow happening in the clouds. Then to make it even more breathtaking there was a rainbow. Golden clouds, brilliant rainbow, just gorgeous. One of the attendants was walking across the lane and saw me staring ahead. He thought I was trying to get his attention so gave me one of those "what?" looks. I pointed behind him and he turned to look and...shrugged his shoulders and moved on. Not my people.

As I was pulling out of the station a man was walking out of the gym next door and he was looking toward the rainbow and tripped over his own feet he was so enthralled with the view.  I smiled. He is one of my people.

And on the drive home I picked out those that were and those that weren't. The sky got even more golden and the full rainbow was present for a bit. Stopped at a stoplight the people with their heads turned toward the left staring with a smile on their faces, my people. Those that either looked and then looked away or didn't even notice. Not my people.

I came up the hill towards home and there is an old out of business nursery next to a field. The clouds and sun were breaking in such a way that there were pockets of highlighted golden areas and then that brilliant rainbow behind. Gorgeous. I wished I had my other camera with me as well as the skill to be able to totally capture what I was seeing. It was just so lovely. There was a man pulled over digging in his trunk getting out a camera. My people. There was a woman waiting at the bus stop not even looking toward the gorgeous sky show that was going on. Not my people.

In life we find all sorts of ways to divide those around us in to "my people" and "not my people." I like artists. But I don't like mopey artists. I like people who create because they feel it bursting out of them. That they just cannot contain their ideas, or the beauty they see or what ever it is they want to share and it just bubbles out. I like that. My people.

I like smart people. But more importantly I like people who are not content with what they already know. I want to be around people who are not only willing to listen to new ideas but driven to do so. I have very little patience for people who are set in what they believe with no room for discussion. No matter how intelligently they can argue their point. Not my people.

I like funny people. If you can make me laugh then you are in. But I don't like people who make jokes at the expense of those who already have a hard time in life. My friends and I tease each other constantly. About egos, odd personality traits, weird shoe fetishes, whatever. All of it is fair game. But if you make a joke or post a meme or think it's fine to laugh at someone who is truly at a disadvantage in life already? I have no time for you. You are not my people.

Sometimes it takes awhile to really discover who your people are. You get to know people through work or online or through friends and think, are you my people or aren't you? It can be tricky sometimes. But there are shortcuts. Like coming home and finding a picture on your newsfeed like this.

Charles is my people. 

Mourning...

Tom Magliozzi died yesterday. For some of you this means nothing. For others if I said Click and Clack the Car Talk brothers then you would know who that was. He died from complications due to Alzheimer's disease. Which then explains why the show went off the air two years ago. When the show ended it made me sad. When I heard the news yesterday about Tom's death I was sad again. Over a car show.

I discovered Car Talk in the early 90s. It was on Saturday afternoons. Someone recommended it to me but I can't remember who that was. At first I thought, why would I listen to this? I don't care about this. But after one time listening I understood. It wasn't about cars. It was about relationships. And bad jokes. And corny puns. Now, don't get me wrong, there was a lot of knowledge there as well, they really did know cars. But it was the rest of it that hooked me. Because for me it was like spending an afternoon working on my car with my dad.

Knowledge and corny jokes and car talk.

And I missed that when I left home. When you drive a beater of a car it needs work. And most of our cars were beaters. And when you have the smallest hands you get to work in the tighter engine areas. It's very important that you fish out that screw that was dropped or hold that nut still. Or whatever the very important job was that only you could do because Dad said so and then the car would work again.

My dad fixed pretty much everything. He was handy. He was also an inventor. If there was a problem that needed fixed he figured out a way to fix it. I've told the story about my first car and how no one could start it but me because it had a manual throttle. It was easier and cheaper for my dad to invent a way for me to open the line and close the line in the car than it was to replace the entire system. So he did. That was my dad.

So when I first started listening to Click and Clack I didn't just hear two brothers sharing car repair stories and bad jokes I heard my dad.

When they would tell the same joke every week and laugh just as hard as the first time. I didn't just hear them laughing I heard my dad.

When they were truly concerned about the people that called in and wanted to help them with their problems, but still found a way to make it fun and light I didn't just hear them. I heard my dad.

The show wasn't just about cars. It wasn't just about jokes. It was a way for me to spend time with my dad when I moved away. And a way to spend time with my dad once he was gone. I cried a bit two years ago when they cancelled the show. And I cried even more yesterday when I heard Tom had passed.

It wasn't just about the show. It was about my dad.

And that's a wrap...

Last year at this time I was starting to really stress out about the challenge I had set up for myself for November. This year I am breathing a sigh of relief at finishing October's challenge.  Thirty one blogs in 31 days. Originally I thought it was going to be even harder. I had two trips planned with a total of 7 days out of town. So a lot of make up work to do and double blog days. But then the second trip fell through so I was on easy street. Except for the constant colds. When I am sick I do not want to write. And I was sick all month.

But I wrote anyway.

Now what did that teach me? Well that when I'm sick and I write anyway I tend to write a little darker. Yesterday's combination of TBT blog and current blog showed that. Essentially it was the same blog (I am only slightly embarrassed by that) written two years apart. One written when I was in my regular state of mind and one written after weeks of being sick. The second is grouchy. Shockingly so when you read them back to back. But that's okay. A little grouchy is okay.

I also know that when I force myself to publish something every day the content is uneven. Some days I write well and some days well, I write. And I actually kind of like that. I think seeing how bad I can be makes you appreciate when I do a good piece. You know how lucky you are. (I need an emoticon here so you can tell I was just kidding)

It's also a much more varied month when I am churning out that many pieces. You got mundane non-fiction, ranty non-fiction, a variety of fiction short tales and even a poem. Not a bad month for variety really.  And this puts me at ten more blogs for the year to reach the 2014 goal. Not going to hit the stretch. It was a bit overly ambitious I think, but the actual goal is well within reach. Heck, holidays, elections, travel, and I could always tuck the Christmas letter in here if I need some padding.

You know padding, like doing a wrap up blog when you are sitting at 30 on the 31st.  That sort of padding.

So November goals? Let's see...

Get over this month long cold. That would be the top goal.

The rest will be gravy.

mmmm....gravy....

Trick or Treat....

She had been nervous all night. It was the bane of the modern parent right? So many boogeymen to look out for. She remembered when she was a child getting dressed up in homemade costumes and being released upon the neighborhood to trick or treat until their pillowcases could hold no more. Where was the parental supervision then? Only for the babies. And they were off the streets by the time the big kids were allowed to go out. But not until after dinner. Waiting. Watching the clock. Now? Can we go now? And then finally, Yes! Off they went!

There were the McPhersons who always gave out full size candy bars. You hit them first. No way did you want to reach their house and see the porch light out. The international signal for "you lose, no candy left." There was old Mrs. Domingo who made homemade popcorn balls. Normally you weren't allowed to eat homemade treats but Mrs. Domingo was "safe" so as long as you knew which treat you got from her you could have it. But no one else. That was the start of parents worrying about razor blades in apples and poison in the popcorn. Before she had kids of her own she realized what a ridiculous fear that was, it didn't really happen, she wasn't going to be that mom.

But then she had kids and no matter how ridiculous she thought it was 10 years earlier that first Halloween night she sat on the floor and sorted the candy into "tightly wrapped safe to eat" and "torn this must be killed with fire" piles. And there was no way a popcorn ball from Mrs. Domingo would even make it in to the house. Just watch the news, the neighbors always said, "they looked like such nice people." Never trust the nice people.

So much changed when she became a mother. The things you thought your parents were silly for worrying about now filled your nightmares. Plus all new ones. Online predators. Social media bullying. The pressure to pass standardized tests that started in kindergarten! It was insane. So much to worry about all the time. She wasn't as worried about Caleb as she was Natalie. Not just because boys seemed to have an easier time than girls. Though that was part of it. But Caleb had always been more easy going. Natalie was unique. She needed handled a little differently and it was hard to get people to understand.

Everyone thinks their child is special, different, exceptional. But until you had a child who was really different you just didn't get it. They had thought Caleb was gifted, until they had Natalie. And now they knew that though Caleb was smarter than most of his second grade class and probably most of the third grade as well, Natalie was in a whole different league than her kindergarten classmates. Her mind just worked on a different level. She saw things they would never even imagine. It was challenging.

This was the first year they had let Natalie go trick or treating in the neighborhood. Before this they had gotten away with convincing her that a quick run through the mall and then home to watch Halloween movies was more fun. It was definitely more controlled. Bored mall employees handing out candy to hordes of children walking in a circle. You knew each store would have something. You knew it would be well lit. You knew the candy was safe. It was all safe. But Natalie had figured out that Caleb got to go out through the neighborhood with his friends so she wanted to go as well. The mall was suddenly baby time and she was no baby.

So this year when Caleb joined his best friends and their parent chaperones she and Barry took a deep breath and headed out with Natalie. They had a plan of attack. They would go out for an hour and then head back to pass out candy at their own place. It would be fine.

And it was. Mostly. Natalie had been very excited and practiced her "Trick or treat" over and over as well as her, "Thank you, happy Halloween!" She knew that if a house had its light off that meant they didn't have candy. She knew that sometimes people would answer the door in costumes and there might even be a scary surprise at a house or two. Maybe some spooky decorations or even something that would jump out at you just for a little safe scare. She was ready. She was no baby.

The first house had gone extremely well. But they knew that it would. It was Miss Jennings' place and she was excellent with children. Even, and maybe especially, with the exceptional ones like Natalie.

"Trick or Treat!" Natalie practically shouted it at her.

"Oh and who are you today?"

"I'm Marie Antoinette, see my neck?" And with that she cocked her head to the side to show the red line all the way around her throat.

"I see, very authentic." Miss Jennings never missed a beat.

"Did you know that Marie Antoinette never said 'Let them eat cake?'"

"I did know that. Did you know that cake in those days wasn't cake like we eat now but really a very expensive egg bread?"

"I did! Did you...."

And with that they rescued Miss Jennings from a night of trivia, "Say thank you, Natalie, so we can keep going."

Natalie laughed, "Thank you! Happy Halloween! Eat some cake!"

And the night went on. Most people marveled at her costume. She really did look very pretty in her princess style dress. Those that asked who she was were shown the neck and most people got the joke right away. She got many compliments for creativity. Though it was assumed it was her parents who were the creative ones. What five year old would add the decapitation touch? They just didn't know Natalie.

They had one tense moment where Mr. Peterson had asked to speak to them after Natalie had received her candy. "Do you think it's appropriate for her to have that costume? Don't you think it's in bad taste for a young girl?'

"This is who she wanted to dress up as. It's Halloween."

"She's a little girl. You are the parents. You need to put your foot down for what is and is not appropriate."

She had smiled at Mr. Peterson, "Yes, thank you for your opinion. We will take it under advisement. Happy Halloween."

As they were walking to the next house Natalie had asked why he was upset. "He just thinks maybe your costume might be a little scary for a young child."

"I'm not a baby."

"We know that, Nat. You are not a baby. But some kids your age might be a little frightened of the thought of having their heads chopped off."

"They should be. It is scary. That's why it's a good Halloween costume! People should be a little scared."

They decided this was a good place to call it a night and went home to sort candy. Not a bad haul really. Natalie wasn't much a candy lover she much preferred salty treats so this would probably last her until Easter. Or until it got bundled up and taken in to the office to get it out of the house. Caleb's candy would have to be locked away and doled out piece by piece or he would eat the entire bag in one night. They had learned that the hard way.

But when Caleb came home he didn't have his candy. His friend James' parents were full of apologies, they had let the boys go ahead a few houses, just to feel like they weren't being chaperoned. They had loved it. Until a couple of older boys had jumped out at them and stolen their bags of candy. The dads had given chase but couldn't catch them. They were so sorry.

Caleb was devastated. A whole evening's haul gone. Natalie listened to the whole story with wide eyes. "Why did they take your candy? Why didn't they just get their own? That's not nice at all." How do you explain to your five year old that there were people out there like that. They watched as she went to Caleb and they whispered together. Normally it was the big brother comforting his little sister but tonight she was the one to go to him. It made them feel good. They were doing something right as parents. Natalie handed Caleb her bag of candy. "You can have mine, we will share."

After they got the kids cleaned up and tucked in they sat on the couch with a glass of wine. They watched a little TV and then she said, "Kids. I would have thought the snatch and grab candy thieves wouldn't be out with so many parents around."

"It just makes it more challenging. They know they have to do it fast. Get the candy and move on. And scare them badly enough that nobody tells."

"What do you mean, nobody tells? The kids had their candy snatched, they told."

"No, I mean, nobody tells who it was. You know Caleb knows at least one of the boys. They are the older brothers of the kids he was trick or treating with. Had to be. That's always the way it works."

"You think he recognized them? Really?" She was starting to feel the panic rise in her chest.

He looked at her face and the realization hit him as well. "Oh my god..."

They ran down the hallway to check the kids' rooms. Caleb was sleeping soundly, tucked in just how they had left him. And next to him on his nightstand sat his missing bag of candy.

They walked to Natalie's room. She was sound asleep. An angelic smile on her face. Peaceful dreams. A smear of dark on her mouth. "Please let it be chocolate, please let it be chocolate," was the mantra repeating in her mind. Though she knew it wouldn't be.

Everyone thinks their child is unique. Different. Special.

They had no idea...

Boo!

So the picture I have up on Facebook today for Throw Back Thursday is the Halloween costume I wore my sophomore year of high school. Much to the chagrin of my locker mate. "Why are you dressed up?" was how she greeted me that morning, "Because it's Halloween, why aren't you?" was my reply.

We weren't locker mates for much longer after that. The friendship had already suffered more hits than it could really sustain. I was just not going to be who she needed me to be and had proven over and over again that I had no use in trying. Although we actually did keep a lower key friendship of sorts up, and she is the only person to have signed my yearbook all four years. I think there was a part of her that felt like maybe I could still be saved. The problem was I didn't really feel like I was lost at the time.

The year before I had worn a French Maid Costume and my best friend had worn a black cat one. We got them at a ballet studio. You could get the base parts cheaply there and just add them to leotards and tights and a few handmade extras and BOOM! costume. Which for us was the important part, not a lot of money. The one in the picture was similar. The collar you can see and the jester's hat were the costume. I made a matching skirt and shoes and wore it all over a green leotard and white tights. Cheap costume.

A few years later I discovered the joys of Goodwill for costumes. Senior year when I was a vampire I bought a black dress that was, let's say a little snug up top, cut some slits in the front and paired that with an inexpensive cloak and a band of lace to cover up a bit of the running over cups. Added some white makeup and red marks for the neck and Ta Da! Costume. We even made a grand entrance with me in a coffin and my best friend dressed as Morgana who would be "raising the dead", we had a whole theme. (drama kids)

See a week before the boy I was interested in had dressed as a vampire for a party he was going to. He stopped by another party I was at before heading to his costume party, we spent a little bit of time together, he left. So for this one I was going to be a newly made vampire. Rocking enough cleavage to finally snag the boy in vampire costume. Except he didn't show up. He went to the Entertainer's party instead of the Drama party. So I spent the night alone pining...or I moved on to a new victim. It was one of those.

Though I did end up snagging the vampire a few weeks later and he got to see the dress from the costume when it was re-purposed into a sorceress the next year. And we used the cape for a variety of costumes over the next few years. Undead love never dies?

We did a few parties as adults, had a few places of work where you dressed up for the holiday, but mostly it shifted over the years to being about C and what he was going to be, and taking him trick-or-treating. I used to decorate the house pretty heavily. Did outside spppoooookkkyyy stuff and even played music to greet the kids when they would come. I love seeing the little ones in their costumes! But now we don't get a lot of kids in our neighborhood. Maybe a dozen in a good year and I got tired of chasing my decorations down when the wind would carry them away so I stopped. And then I pared down to just the few decorations I really love inside the house. And costumes for us have gone the way to a few pairs of festive earrings. It's just something that has been put aside.

We could get dressed up and go out but I don't think Brent wants to risk me lecturing someone dressed as a sexy girl scout as to how inappropriate that costume is and how fucking creepy any dude who thinks 7 year old fetish wear is...so for the most part we aren't big Halloween people anymore. Which is so weird. I would never have guessed that I would be the one to pass on Halloween. But the holiday has changed. Sure you still see some people who do something creative and I still LOVE that. But mostly you get people who buy completely pre-made costumes and don't add a bit to them to make them better or more interesting. You get women who dress like fairy tale hookers, men who find new and odd ways to make you look at their fake dicks and everyone drinks way too much. It's not about creativity and fun anymore. It's about dressing trashy and getting trashed. The holiday has changed. Or maybe I just have.

I guess my locker mate just needed to wait a few decades...