roller skating

when i was young, my best friend, e, lived directly across the street from me.  during summer vacation, we  pretty much spent every waking moment together.  the only questions we had to answer were whether to play at my house or hers and whether to play inside or outside.  these may seem like simple questions, but to eight-year-olds, it would often take us hours to come to a decision.

one summer morning, e called me to see if i wanted to come over and play.  i told her to hold on while i went to ask my mother for permission.  somewhere along the way from the phone to my mother, i got distracted.  i totally forgot about e, the phone, her request, everything.  instead, i went into my room, put on my red and white roller skates and went outside.

e was such a good friend that she continued to wait for me on the phone.  a good half hour must have gone by and finally e’s sister asked e what she was doing on the phone.  e explained that she was waiting to hear if i could come over to play, to which her sister responded, “heather’s outside roller skating.”

like only a best friend could do, e hung up the phone, put on her skates, and joined me outside without a word.

i miss that kind of friendship.

thousand word thursday

this little piggy was a gift for my mother’s little brother, mark. sadly, he was stillborn and so the pig was given to me, the first grandchild.

bathroom renovation, part II

the new sink is finally in its new home. the old sink has moved on and was remembered with a moment of silence on saturday afternoon.

the wonderful building maintenance man, mark, did the removal and installation while i was out. as i was leaving saturday morning, i left mark a note of thanks and a friendly reminder to make sure he didn’t accidentally let my cats out during his time in my condo.

if you know me, you know that i have two cats, sophie, the young and outgoing girl who is white with grey and orange stripes (and wears a collar) and chloe, the old and shy girl who is a seal point siamese (and doesn’t wear a collar). most visitors to my condo think i only have one cat because chloe tends to hide under my bed when unfamiliar people arrive (this stems from her history of abuse and neglect before she found her way to me — a story for another time).

back to the bathroom. saturday afternoon, i received a call from mark.

“hi heather, this is mark,” he began, “everything is going fine with your vanity. i did want to ask you one thing: you only have one cat, right?”

i replied, “well, actually, i have two cats, but one is probably under my bed, so you will only see the one.”

“you mean sophie?” he asked.

“yes,” i responded, wondering how he knew her name.

“i saw that on her collar,” he started, “but the other one doesn’t have a collar, right?”

“right,” i answered, beginning to sense that something was amiss.

“okay, and that one is grey?” he asked.

“well, she’s a siamese. her body is sort of gray,” i started.

he interrupted, “with stripes on her sides?”

“no, no stripes,” i said, “there’s a picture of chloe by my computer, if you want to see.”

“okay. let me check that out,” he said.

silence.

“hmmmm. yeah, this is definitely NOT your cat,” he finally said.

yes, my worst fears were confirmed. mark noticed a cat out in the hallway and assumed that one of my cats had gotten out of my condo. trying to do the right thing, he brought the cat inside. but it wasn’t my cat. it was a grey striped cat and now it was loose in my condo. and he couldn’t get it out.

“okay. ummm, now that i know this is not your cat, i’ll take care of things. don’t worry. bye,” he said and he hung up the phone.

i had to finish my day out with visions of fighting cats swirling in my mind.

i was relieved to return home that evening and find exactly two cats and one new vanity in my condo.

i’ll never know exactly what went on that afternoon, but based on the looks i received, chloe and sophie blamed me for everything — from the strange man to the loud noises to the striped invader — it was all my fault.

they may or may not let me share the sofa with them again.

district of columbia

i spent saturday in our nation’s capital with my sister.  the weather was unbelievable — sunny and in the 80s.  being a red-haired, fair-skinned, green-eyed girl, my shoulders were burned by noon, even though i was wearing sunscreen.

despite the unusually warm weather and the large crowds, the city was absolutely beautiful.  i live so close that sometimes i think i take it for granted.  i see the monuments and memorials every day on my drive to and from work.  they are a fixture, a constant on my daily horizon. 

seeing them up close this weekend reminded me how truly lucky i am to be surrounded by the capitol skyline — the history and tradition that binds us as a nation, reminds us of our shared past, and gives us a glimpse of our future.

 

all or nothing

i’ve come to accept the fact that my life is a convergence of events separated by long stretches of absolutely nothing.

here’s a prime example:  i have plans this weekend, awesome plans with my sister.  it is something i’ve been looking forward to for months.  this morning, at approximately the same time, i received two offers from two different people interested in doing things with me this weekend.  bear in mind that i have no committments for the preceeding few weekends or for the following few weekends, but this is the only weekend that things are happening. 

this is not an isolated event.  in fact, this is pretty much the standard pattern of my life.  i’ve accepted the curse of ‘all or nothing.’

i know that somewhere, someone in the universe is laughing.

thousand word thursday

even though these flowers will never wilt or die, they looked especially alive amidst the 70-degree sunlight of this spring afternoon.

we are virginia tech

one year later and my heart still breaks when i think of the tragedy of april 16, 2007.

blacksburg and virginia tech will never be the same.

that one senseless act has forever changed the world.

read this book

sunday, may 31, 1992

( clare is 21, henry is 28 )

we laugh, and laugh, and nothing can ever be sad, no one can be lost, or dead, or far away: right now we are here, and nothing can mar our perfection, or steal the joy of this perfect moment.