Foreshadowing at its Finest

Even 24 hours later, I am still in shock. Even now, I have an urge to look outside my front window to make sure I haven't lost my mind. The second blizzard hit Thursday. Friday I was calling the snow hotline, to see if I would have to go into work. C looks out the window, "where's your car?" Annoyed I respond, "outside - out front." "no it's not." "yeah it is." Sure enough I shuffle to the window and don't see my jeep. My brain sorts through a matrix of possibilities. Could it have been towed? No, cars around it still sit where their drivers left them. Could it be that I can't see it because of the snow blowing? A quick dress and jaunt outside revealed that indeed, it was gone. Did a family member take it? Or as my mother suggested, did someone borrow it b/c they had to get somewhere in this terrible weather and will return it? Did someone hit it, tow it and is it now in an auto-shop being repaired? Did it roll away? Did I park it somewhere else and have simply lost my mind?
I couldn't even see tire tracks - which would indicate someone helped themselves last night. Was it while I sat in my apartment watching a "The Office" re-run? While I was fast asleep?
When I first called the police, they explained they couldn't even take a report while short staffed due to the weather. I called my insurance office and explained to the woman who answered the phone, "my car was stolen." She laughed and laughed and laughed...I almost started crying, but then when she said she was surprised I was so funny about it; I understood that my own stoic demeanor had encouraged her response.
I called the police back and was able to speak to an officer, whom, I of course now have a crush on. Will he be my knight in shining armor? Is this God's will - that I would meet my future husband as a result of my stolen car? Unfortunately I have no information on his physical or marital status so I need to put the reigns on it. Why does a single woman's mind always go there?
I've processed through the disbelief. Now I'm just angry. Angry at criminals, at their justification, their entitlement, they lack of conviction and remorse.

How long do I wait to see if it is found? When do I start looking at getting a new car? Will the insurance claim adjuster fight to give me nothing for my baby. Will I start over with new car payments and higher insurance? Will I get my jeep back trashed but salvageable just below or just above my $500 deductible? Will I be bitter and angry for much longer?
I suppose the stolen basket from a few weeks ago was the foreshadowing in my story. And just as typical in so many plots...it went undetected.

Snow Day!

Yesterday they let us go home around noon. Crazy blowing wind and snow. I went to the grocery store to pick up all the necessities for grilled cheese, soup, sugar cookies and chocolate chip cookies. Once safe at home, I screamed - out of jubulation, of course. I found my self dancing around, singing and smiling...warm tingly sensation pulsing through my body - almost alarming. There is marked concern that I should be so excited to get a half day off of work.
I had a wonderful lunch and then began baking. My peanut butter balls did not want to be balls. My sugar cookies looked like crackers - it was a disater, really. But, no loss. There is something about throwing on an apron and getting flour on my hands that is just right, even if the goodies aren't so good. Chris came home later in the afternoon and we watched Pride and Prejudice - the LONG BBC version. 5 hours later I was thinking in a british accent.
Today: another snow day. Woohoo! I slept in, chatted on the phone, attempted sugar cookies again and watched Pillow Talk, "and you Miss Morrow are an emergency." Life is good.

Uke

I just ran to the local guitar shop. I used to go pretty regularly and developed a strange crush on the guy who would re-string my guitar. He is older and kind of small and not very attractive, but very kind and can pick up any stringed instrument and just start strumming. Guitar players have a special place in my heart.
I eventually gave up on the dream of playing the guitar well. My strings kept breaking and it wasn't until attempting to learn how to pick that I realized I should have learned on a left-handed guitar. I originally thought I'd just get the hang of it and my hands wouldn't know any better - but when we got to plucking those strings it was evident that my right hand is a little "slower." I think my left hand got bitter and it was a whole big mess.
I went in today to buy a Christmas gift. My dad explained he wanted a beginner's book for the Ukulele. Don't ask - I've decided Christmas is a time where you should be able to put whatever on your list and not have to answer questions - good gifts are the ones you want but would never buy for yourself. And so, I was at the shop with Mr. Used-to-be-crush. There was THE sweetest older woman sitting down, holding a little ukulele or "uke" as the Mr. Used-to-be-crush calls it. Real hip on the lingo, you know. She was trying to remember chords and explained to her friend and Mr. Utbc, that when she was young she would play "Onward Christian Soldier" outside of her church. She was adorable, gray hair and bundled in a pink wool coat. Mr. Utbc, asked her how long it had been since she played. "Oh, I was 5 or 6. I just remember standing outside with a group and we would play 'Onward Christian Soldiers.' I guess it was just a couple chords, but now I can't remember what they were. They're small enough, you know, I could play it in the car." Mr. Utbc, picked up the uke she was buying and just started playing a tune. She looked at me and said, "Now, didn't he just play that so good?" It was true, I didn't explain to her that some of us have a weakness for that. We all flipped through the beginners books, trying to find the best one. I settled on "First Lessons" with a promise on the front that "it doesn't get any easier..."
We'll see how dad does with it. If he doesn't have the knack maybe I could give the uke a try, trade in the guitar for a little something smaller. Something I could play in the car. I know where to get the strings changed.

Life is hard

Old men are gross....well, maybe young guys are gross too...but old guys are grosser. I was talking to a co-worker about a very serious topic, when an old fart walks by, sees the co-worker's picture of John Wayne (with a caption, by the way, that says "Life is hard. Life is harder if you're stupid.") The old guy says to me, "John Wayne...so when you look at that, do you think he's hot?" John Wayne?! What?! I respond uncomfortably nervous, "no, not hot."

Today, I ran into an old client, who is old. We have nice chit chat. Then he says to me, "so, how do you stay looking so good? I saw you in your car the other day, you drive a jeep don't you? I was on the bus and thought, 'whose that good looking girl?' I tapped on the window but you didn't notice, probably thinking far off about a good-looking man." Right old man...good-bye.

Yesterday, Mr. is john hot, was judging the Christmas doors and joked about how they were talking about the door (not me as I walked out of it) but that they had given me a 9/10. First of all, 9? Second of all, I was flattered...until I realized it felt gross. And he's an old man...grosser.
-jlt

Office Space: Part I

The other day I passed a co-worker's office and was horrified to see what was sitting on her desk. A fishnetted leg lamp! Like in the Christmas story. We work with criminals...many of them creepy with poor social boundaries. Why the leg lamp?! I should also explain the office owner conducts her meetings with the overhead light off and the leg lamp on.
I have now found myself looking in my co-workers' offices searching for other shocking collections.
To date I have seen in the same office *gasp* pillows on a bookshelf. Two have musical notes and the third, which is placed in the middle (obviously for equality and balance), a boxer dog.
A female co-worker has hanging from her bulletin board, a string of green mardi-gras beads. How did she get those?!
Also, one single key chain hanging on a nail in the middle of an otherwise empty wall.
There is also a poster of a frothy cold beer - I should explain this poster is produced and displayed to deter drinking and driving with an explanation that the beer could cost several thousand dollars when all is said and done. My point, when I see the poster I want a cold frothy beer and so, this seems inappropriate.
Note: I have labeled this "Part I" because I fully expect (and secretly hope) to discover more inproprieties.
-jlt

It's Christmas time in the city...

I met my friend at Mimi's this week. We met for coffee at 7:45 pm. I had a gift basket in my jeep. A basket filled with food and grocery gift certificates for a friend and her family. My parent's contribution... complete with 3 festive green Christmas bows. I thought about hiding it in my jeep while getting out heading into Mimi's. I decided, however, the parking lot was not too packed, the dinner rush was over...and who was going to steal a basket of tuna fish and pringles? An hour and a half later I came out to my car...as I approached my vehicle I saw a green bow laying on the pavement by the passenger door. S*@t! Sure enough. The basket gone. Someone took a basket of food intended for a deserving family. What has this world come to? These criminals suck the life out of me all day at work...and then they rob from me at night. I was so disgusted with the world and sin.
And then - my consolation prize: My thief did not leave me empty handed. At the floorboard was a neatly stacked collection of CDs. How bizarre! Maybe this isn't so bad, maybe I'll expand my CD collection. Probably 30 CDs left, just for me. I flipped through them in the dark of my car, only to discover they are all Korean and Chinese! Every last one of them. Probably taken from some other victim's vehicle. Perhaps someone out there is blogging about losing a decade of soundtracks and favorites. I thought it might be a way for me to expand my cultural bubble. I've tried to listen to them...but I don't know what they're singing about...and I can't sing along.-jlt

Oh the Harror! The Spinal Tap!

Well, I don't recommend a spinal tap. The procedure is officially over but the pain lingers. I'm walking like an old woman...pain in the back. The doctor, radiologist, nurse all told me that compared to other procedures this would be mild - what no one realized is that I wasn't having any of the other procedures and so, in no way, shape or form, would I be relieved when experiencing the pain of this one. They told me to drink lots of fluids and caffeine. I chugged water like I was competing with Billy Bob with Pabst Blue Ribbon at the local dive. Caffeine? Perfect excuse for some extra Starbucks. I picked up a Venti coffee on my way...I had trouble lifting the cup without wobbling - no one should drink that much coffee?! I went to the bathroom at least 5 times prior to the tap. My radiologist was a comedian and there is nothing quite like fake laughing while scared and jittering from the venti. Two of the radiologist were giving each other a hard time about doing the wrong thing or putting the file in the wrong place....my consolation: as they bent over and around me, I could see their security badge photos and seeing as they received the badge while they both had more, darker hair...I figured they probably (or at least should) know what they were doing. The doctor numbed the area - why must we experience pain to eliminate pain? and then pressed hard into my back with the needle...then hit a nerve - my leg started shaking...trippy! Went at again and I totally flailed - which is frowned upon in these kind of procedures. The dr showed me the vials of my spinal fluid that would be sent to the lab, "see, looks just like water!"
I successfully spent 24 hours on my back - which was easier than expected. Thanks mom! And no bed pan!
-jlt