Conversation with a Vendor

Me: I need to get a quote for encapsulating trade-show graphics with a total width of 70 inches at 50 inches of height.

Vendor: Hmm, that's not within our standard size so I'll have Mr. So and So work up a quote and give you a call.

Me: Thanks.

Vendor: Do we have your number?

Me: Yes, but my direct line is 704-555...

Vendor: Wait, wait, let me get a Crayon....

Me: (speechless)

Well, as long as my message is written in maize or raw umber—now retired colors—I'll be a happy camper.

Angst-less Birthday

Well, It is again the anniversary of my birth and this year there was no birthday angst about turning 34. Odd. I don't understand why I had such a problem with 30, 31, 32, and 33 and absolutely no problem with 34. However, I'm happy about it. I guess I feel a little older and a wee bit more wise as well.

The car problem has been alleviated, at least for now. I will be taking a flight from Charlotte, NC to Chattanooga, TN where my parents will meet me with my Dad's Chevy Blazer. He is graciously loaning this one to me until I can find what I want for the price I am willing to pay. I'm getting small, but decent amount of money for my car considering it was 8 years old and had almost 120,000 on it. My rental car is due back on Monday the 24th and I'm simply not ready to purchas another car. I don't want to rush into anything without thinking it through and for me, at least, the purchase of a vehicle, the incurring of new debt, etc. is not taken lightly. I need to weight and balance everything first. (I know—trait of a Libra—even if I don't believe in astrology) Being able to drive his car until I'm ready to purchase one of my own is a HUGE relief.

Tonight I'll be celebrating my 34th birthday with a lot more peace of mind.

Crash

On my way to work Thursday, October 13 I was rear-ended by an 18-wheeler carrying 65,000 pounds of cargo. I'm quite thankful we were in rush hour because the 18-wheeler was only going about 25 to 30 miles an hour. If he'd been traveling much faster he would have rolled right over me. I'm also thankful that the crumple zones on my 1998 Honda Civic worked like a dream and kept me alive.

When I went to retreive the items from my car I noticed the drivers seat had been twisted. The only thing I can think is that I had my right foot so hard on the break that the left side just shifted forward. I went to the hospital but they didn't take x-rays. I'm still in a significant amount of pain in my neck, back, and running down my left arm and left leg. I'm going to my primary care and then to the Chiropractor.

I am in a rental car, Dodge Magnum, and everytime I go outside I keep looking for my little silver Civic first before I realize it's no longer here. When I purchased the car it had 17 miles on it; now it has 117,000. I can't believe I actually drove all those miles. When you think about it that's a lot of time behind the wheel. I've spoken with the insurance agent and she believes it will be totaled out I guess that means I'll be looking for a new car soon.

Grief

My grandmother passed away in her sleep early this morning. She was an amazing woman.

Epiphany

Were I an epiphany
I’d open up
All you’ve locked inside.
That’s truth;
But it won’t set you free.
Living waters fine,
you’ve found
an unending well.
Well then,
How easily you could drown.

Why do you hide reality
In this place so hallowed,
Insecure.
Flaunting your freshly-graven,
Red and angry scars.
When your eyes, so battle-weary,
Belie their blue tranquility.

White Christmas

I'm taking a well-needed break and heading to Arkansas for the holidays both Christmas and New Years. I haven't been home since February. I'm feeling particularly nostalgic toward the homestead since my mother called today to tell me they were expecting between six and eight inches of snow! I haven't seen a White Christmas in years and I simply cannot wait to enjoy the snow.

I think I have the writing bug again. I'm formulating a lot of things in my head I want to discuss/write about but I have been so busy I haven't had time to get them down. I suppose some thingshave just been too personal in the last year to put them out on the web even if it is somewhat anonymously. If you really tried you could find out who I am. I'm taking an actual journal home with me and intend to find catharsis there. I'm sure transpose at least some of it when I arrive back in Charlotte.

Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to everyone.

A Cube with a View



At the very least, I have something beautiful to gaze at while working. It’s Wednesday before the Thanksgiving holiday and I’m at work—and for once in my life, I don’t mind. I’ve now been here six months and am absolutely loving my job. I couldn’t ask for a better boss, company, or working environment.

I arrived at the polls at 5:55am this morning for a 6:30am opening. My Precinct was delayed until 6:45am due to "technical difficulties with the voter boxes." Hmm, can we say Conspiracy? Just kidding.



at 7:32am and was Voter #67.

Overheard

Background: the front-desk receptionist announced it was my birthday and in my honor, cake would be served in the break-room.

“So, which one is (insert my name here)?”

“I don’t know, is she the pregnant one or one of the other two?”

I am one of the other two; clearly, I do not get out enough.

Birthday Shmirthday

Today I turned 33. However, I had actually forgotten it was my birthday until my husband called during my morning commute and wished me a happy day.

Epiphany

Well, I suppose you could say I had somewhat of an epiphany. I realized where some of the anger I've had is coming from. No, I'm not going to tell you.

Suffice it to say I've spent a considerable amount of time trying to quash these feelings but being unable to pinpoint the origins of said anger it's been very difficult to release or diffuse it.

The birthday is fast approaching and the usual angst is here but it's brought along its pals—sorrow and regret. If you have read this blog or you know me at all you know a lot about my background my inability at times to make a decision. I admit to being stuck in analysis mode for far too long on many an occasion.

I use music, art or poetry as a calming or alternatively as an incendiary device depending on what I need. This poem struck me when I first read it when I was 15 and now—almost 18 years later—it has hit me again. In my life it works for both dreams and anger.

The balance of who we are is comprised, in my opinion, not just of what we’ve done but also of what we’ve not done and there are still times I wish I’d followed the sprite muse and dared to be carefree. Then again, there are things I wish I’d never done.

A Dream Deferred
by Langston Hughes

What happens to a dream deferred?
Does it dry up like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore— And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over— like a syrupy sweet?
Maybe it just sags like a heavy load.
Or does it explode?

Only the Young

I spent about an hour on the phone the other day with friend and former college roommate, T; we both graduated from Baylor University in Waco, Texas. (Yes, that Waco.) T was the first person I met at Baylor—within 10 minutes of arriving at Russell Dormitory. Baylor’s freshman orientation divides the entire freshman class, all 2900 or so, into small groups of about 12 – 15 with two upper class leaders. T, a junior, was one of my leaders. We quickly discovered we were in the same French class and were pretty much fast friends from then on.

I guess I’ve known her now for 14 years. Her birthday is this week; she turns 35. I’m fast approaching 33 and feeling terribly old; my annual-birthday angst is rearing its ugly head and again.

We’ve been playing phone tag for about 2 months now. Sad, isn’t it? She has a not-quite-three-year-old and a not-quite-one-year-old—both boys. She feels fortunate to be a stay-at-home Mom but as we spoke I could hear the exhaustion and frustration in her voice. I could hear the whining, crying, squealing, and screaming in the background. I could hear “Mommy, Mommy, Momma, Mommy” over and over and over.

Try as I might I could not picture this life of hers. She was always so headstrong, ambitious, and ready to take on the world. We spent hours talking about business we wanted to start together, dreams of spending summers in Paris, and how we were ready to conquer the world. We planned how grand our life would be when we were well and truly grown-up. Career girls we would be. Somehow I can’t picture her at home surrounded by toys, stuffed animals, Barney videos, and sippy cups. It’s simply too incongruous.

I really can’t think of much that makes being “all grown up” very special. Sure, I can set my own bedtime, imbibe on any number and or quantity alcoholic beverages if I so choose, or have a candy bar and a coke for breakfast if I want. However, being an adult also means you know the consequences of sleeping too little, drinking too much, and poor nutrition. Sure, we all break the rules on occasion but for me at least, the negative effect of those actions tends to outweigh the “fun” of being able to do whatever I want whenever I want to do it. I want to call in sick from work, stay in bed and watch movies all day but I get out of bed anyway and get in the shower. I want to take a road-trip just for the hell of it but I think about gasoline at $1.85 a gallon and money for a hotel and choose to pay the electric bill instead. Sometimes, being well and truly grown up just sucks. I guess we all change; I just wonder why we have to.

My friendship with T has had its ups and downs and we’ve been in and out of touch throughout recent years but I guess I’ve always known that if I really needed her she would be there for me. It was so nice to hear her voice. I often think back to those carefree college days when I want to go back to a time when my whole life was in front of me and the possibilities were endless.

If you’ve never been to central Texas in August, let me tell you it’s only a degree or two cooler than hell and on those days when the air conditioner just couldn’t put out enough cold air we would get in my car, a white, 1990, Ford Probe and drive to Sonic where would each order Cherry Limeaides. We’d sit and talk about our plans for a fabulous life and then we would put on Journey’s Greatest Hits and drive down the never-ending street that was Valley Mills, toward the lake, with the windows down, radio blaring, blonde hair blowing, singing about small-town girls, or open arms, never dreaming we were “only the young.”

Another night in any town
You can hear the thunder of their cry
Ahead of their time
They wonder why

In the shadows of a golden age
A generation waits for dawn
Brave carry on
Bold and the strong

Only the young can say
They're free to fly away
Sharing the same desires
Burnin' like wildfire

They're seein' through the promises
And all the lies they dare to tell
Is it heaven or hell
They know very well

nly the young can say
Only the young can say
Only the young can say
Only the young can say

–Journey

Happy Days

My family is in town to visit and I'm quite happy. It's my Dad's birthday on Saturday and it's always a pleasure to spend it with him. We may head up to Boone, NC tomorrow just to look around or we may just relax around the house.

They've not been here in a long time and I'm thrilled they are are. I love them so very, very much.

A Spade a Spade

I am not well today. I’m up and down and generally all over the place. Mood swings, God how I hate them. I’d say it was the caffeine and sugar but I’ve had only one Dr. Pepper. I don’t know what is wrong but I feel as if I am going to come unglued. I cannot, for more than one minute at a time, concentrate on anything. I cannot, for more than thirty seconds, sit still. I cannot stay focused. I keep reliving certain moments over and over in my head and it’s messing with me big time.

About a week ago I was working on producing trade-show graphics, sending them to the large-format printer and etc. and when they were through printing I took them to be encapsulated. So, I walked into the service provider and introduced myself to the man behind the counter and the conversation we had went something like this.

Him: “Well, you must be new.”
Me: “Yes, I’m (name).
Him: “I can’t keep up with the changes over there, you Marketing*
people must just be a dime a dozen.”
Me: fake smile plastered “Well, there have been a few changes.”

*I’m a graphic designer with a writing and editorial background.

I can’t keep his statement from running on auto-replay over, and over, and over, and over in my head—it’s even invading my dreams.

While I realize this man does not know me, or anything at all about me, what he said cut like the proverbial knife. It has been the catalyst for a lot of restlessness and time spent analyzing, as if I didn’t do enough already. I know I am not such a rarity that I am unique but I’d like to think I’m a little better than your average bear. I’d like to think that I have talent and whatever talent(s) I do possess count for something.

Maybe, they don’t. Maybe I am worth only .083 cents.

Moe's

Ahh, I've a new-found favorite for fast Mexican food, Moe's. It's cheap, fast, and it's got great flavor.

The best thing of all is they have salsa verde, or tomatillo salsa; I could drink it like water.

My World

Clink-a, swoosh-a, clink-a, swoosh-a, my blinker and windshield wipers were in prefect sync. Something so simple should be nothing. But nothing is always something when nothing else in life can even begin to come that close to the harmony of blades and blinks I noticed while sitting in the rain and waiting to make a left-hand turn.

Amazing how those sounds can be both soothing and unnerving.

I’ve always been appreciative of the little things in life but lately my reality has been more and more defined by those seemingly innocuous moments of observation and understanding. Those moments where the proverbial light bulb comes on and there should be a distinct ‘ding’ to the accompanying soundtrack of my life.

Sometimes I feel this life, which is supposedly mine, is just out of reach. It’s actually on the other side of the windshield and I can see bits and pieces of it when the wipers come and swoosh the circumstances away long enough for me to get a glimpse at what I could be doing. I suppose it is he height of irony to be observing all of these things from the driver’s seat.

I think perhaps sometimes we coast so long we awake to find our lives on autopilot. The everyday becomes more mundane and the extraordinary no longer seems so. Perhaps I’ve turned inward in defense or self-preservation as I try to remember when was the last time I had complete control over my own life. Is it possible to sustain this detachment at length? What are the consequences of doing so?

I suppose you could say I’ve adopted the philosophy of “no expectations means no disappointments” but in attempting to level have I also disallowed pleasure-full and joyous moments from being?

I keep reliving certain childhood memories over and over in my head; it’s the last time I remember being truly happy. It’s also the last time I remember having a true sense of self.

Why is it when my world was the smallest and possibilities most assuredly finite I had the most secure sense of who I was and all I wanted was the infinite.

License to Parent

I haven’t written much in the last year. I know. I want to write and get everything off my chest but sometimes talking about a situation makes it more real. Honestly, I haven’t wanted much of reality to intrude on my life of late and suffice it to say that 2003 was the worst year of my life, bar none. A lot happened and unfortunately I don’t want to get into all of it for the aforementioned reason. It’s real enough, putting in on paper won’t make much difference and I have neither the time nor the inclination to chronicle the details of my life in the last 18 months.

I’ve been giving a lot of thought to the whole parenting thing lately and something I overheard last Saturday night just lit a spark in me and I feel the need to get it off my chest. I guess it hit home because what it all boils down to is selfishness.

Let’s start with what I overheard.

“I wouldn’t let my kids play any sports because I didn’t want to give up my Saturdays and here I am now that they’re grown working the games.”

I was quite astounded.

Enough so that I had to make sure I didn’t stare this woman down with daggers coming out of my eyes because it is definitely what I was thinking. What kind of Mother doesn’t let her children play sports because she doesn’t want to give up her Saturdays? I am not a parent yet, partially because I know that to be the “right” kind of parent one must always put their children first—parents must make sacrifices for their children. I’m not talking the life or death kind, although sometimes those are called for. I’m simply talking about giving up certain material things, or personal time of your own for the greater good of your child.

How is being selfish going to help your child? What is that teaching them? Life is hard and you can’t always get what you want, thank you Mick Jagger. Observing a selfish parent might lead one into thinking that one can actually do whatever it is one wants to do whenever one wants to do it. However, recognizing that selfishness leads to resentment, not only on the part of the child but also on the part of the spouse of the child once the child is an adult. Oops, that was a bit telling wasn’t it?

Part Deux—the other part—the part that hits closer to home.

When I observe the life of my husband I am always amazed he turned out as wonderfully as he did. He was definitely lacking both direction and constructive discipline. However, the thing that gets me is the one overriding quality both of his parents possessed in spades: selfishness. I love his Mom and Dad because they are a part of him but let me qualify that with I’ve never met more selfish people in my entire life.

To this day his Mother is still quite self-obsessed. His Dad has mellowed with age and is a little better but as of this moment no one on his Dad’s side of the family wants anything to do with me. And his Mom and step-dad are generous of heart with well-meaning intentions but still completely incapable of acting like responsible adults when it comes to planning anything ahead of say five minutes. Trying to get them to organize and plan ANYTHING from Thanksgiving holidays to what time everyone will eat dinner is impossible. They don’t think ahead and therefore they inconvenience everyone all the time.

I could go on and on with example after example about their selfishness and how they always put their own needs ahead of the needs of their son but I don’t want to because it makes me ill when I think about it for too long. It is not something I will ever understand. The sad part about all of it is I wouldn’t want them anywhere near my own children. It’s part of the reason we have not started a family. I wouldn’t want that kind of influence on their young lives.

The Car Connection

To legally drive a car you have to take both a written and a driving test. I have no problem with this legality it’s to ensure the safety of yourself and the other drivers on the road. You must learn to obey traffic laws, signs, have an understanding of the “rules of the road” so-to-speak and you must have liability insurance to cover any damages in the event of an accident. All of this just to drive a car. Yet anyone, regardless of his or her background or capabilities, can become a parent.

What about those who bring a child into the world and leave him or her to fend for themselves? The way I see it a parent is responsible for gently introducing a child into the world, teaching him or her right from wrong and for providing, to the best of their ability, a nurturing, loving and caring atmosphere. Yes, I know there are people for whom the best of their ability is still, in my opinion, somewhat substandard. I cannot account or speak for those circumstances. I am speaking of my husband’s family. A mother with a master’s degree in counseling should know better.

Am I suggesting we police sex, marriage, and procreation? Hell, no! I am exceedingly liberal on those issues. I simply find it ironic that’s all.

There is a man walking around the office today in a long-sleeved, thick, wool sweater and a turtleneck underneath. I’m not sure he is aware that it is June.

Thing I like most about my new job...

Listening to music while working. Right now I've got Boz Skaggs--Hits--in and I'm so relaxed. He makes a great way to start the work week. I'd forgotten how much I love this CD.

I'love my new job and I'll write more about it later. I've also got a rant I'm working on regarding parenting but I'll get into that later.

Happy Monday!

I GOT THE JOB!!!!

Ok, so today was my first day -- not bad -- just a lot of information to take in but I really think I am going to like this place. The atmosphere is laid back and quite relaxed, what with a rather large lot of creatives around. I'm quite pleased.

I'm also tired. I'm trying to go to bed at a decent hour so I can get up in the morning and start walking before I head into work so I can jump-start my metabolism. We'll see.

Well...

I had an interview yesterday with a great company for a graphic design position. I really think it would be a good match and so hope that I get it. It pays less than the job I interviewed for last week but I think this one would be a better fit personality wise.

I'll keep you updated.

Job Interview Update...

Well, the interview went really welll today and they want me to meet with the head of their Marketing operations. My interview was at 11am this morning and they called me back at 6:30 to tell me they want to at least have a phone interview tomorrow if I cannot come in. I'm excited at the prospect of having a job again. It seems like something I might enjoy.

Life Update

Well, I finally got a bite on my resume and I have an interview tomorrow morning. I'm spending tonight updating my portfolio and pulling out the summer work clothes.

I've started working out again--it's been since June of last year that I worked out with any regularity due to my ACL replacement. I went through some physical therapy but had to stop because I didn't have insurance and it was astoundingly expensive without it. I was quite please to know that in that time I had not gained any weight but had indeed lost five pounds and 2.3 inches. So, the plan is to go daily and also to walk every night or morning as well. So far, so good. I've been walking at night listening to great music which just keeps my mind occupied and 30 minutes goes by in a flash.

Libraries

Well, I'm still in Ohio. It's been quite a while and we've been delayed by circumstances but all is well I suppose. I've started laying vocals for one demo and will soon move on to another. I'll let you know when it's finished.

I'm using a computer at the local library and being amidst both poetry and prose am feeling quite maudlin. I'd forgotten how much I love libraries, particularly when they're old. I was an anomaly in college--I actually enjoyed spending time in the library. I would even venture into the huge building for pleasure to research a topic which had piqued my interest. The first year I was there they still had the old card catalogue system whose cards were smudged and grubby with many a Baylor student's fingerprints long before mine touched them. Those days are long-gone. Yes, we have the internet where a wealth of information is but a mouse click away--and I am eternally thankful for it--but for someone as kinesthetic as I am, a place where I can indulge my tactile nature is sometimes more stimulating.

I love the smell of old books, mixed with new ones. Love the worn, mottled tile on the floor and the fresh smell of new wax upon it. Love the feel of the stones and bricks that have been mortered for years. Love the discolorations on the walls where old artwork has been removed to allow for new. Love the new artwork--an assortment of renderings, some inept and some quite promising, from a 3rd grade class on the hazzards of smoking and drugs.

I love being surrounded by books; I am often more comfortable in this environment than many others. I feel like a kid in the candy store, I don't know which one I want to read first. There are so many to choose from and I just get a little tickle in my tummy at the thought of being able to transport myself to worlds unknown with merely my forefinger and thumb.

I love the doting older blue-haired ladies behind the reference counter, their pinched noses holding spectacles, like their coiffures, reminiscent of the 1960s. They always make me feel as if I've done something I shouldn't have and am therefore being watched.

I love how the halls are sometimes cold and have an oddly musky smell. I wonder how many people have walked this path between the shelves before I have. I wonder how many people have touched the spine of this book on the shelf between Brown and Browning. I wonder whose life this book may have touched.

Most of all I wonder why everyone doesn't love these places as much as I do.

Back in Ohio

Well, we're back in Ohio and have been since late Tuesday evening and yet again I'm on a borrowed computer. Fun.

We'll be here til next Tuesday I believe. I suppose I haven't told you what we're doing here.

We're recording an album-or cd if you wish. I'm going to be singing, Hub is playing guitar, and S is playing Drums. So far so good I guess. It's going a little slow but there have been complications as well.

I'll let you know more later. Until then, Happy Easter.

Headache from Hell

I've had one off and on now for about two weeks. This isn't even the one I've had for about 12 years, this is one I have ON TOP of that one. It borders on Migraine and sometimes crosses over but no matter what I cannot seem to get rid of it regardless of the amount of Alleve or Lortab I take. Just when I think it's gone it comes back again. I hate having to give it consideration whenever I plan to do something. I have to compensate for it and it just infuriates me to no end.

I'm really sick and tired of always being in pain.

Addition...

Well, this isn't exactly an advertisement sign but a sign for a breakfast place in Wooster, Ohio...

Cafe Doughnot Restaurant

Notice the spelling. Just in case you didn't know that a cafe was an establishment where people eat they added the word restaurant as so to clear things right up.

I couldn't help but laugh yet again.

Southern Signs

As Seen in Rural North Carolina

HEY For Sale -- Call 555 . . .

As Seen in Houston, Texas at a Dry Cleaners

Comfoter Special 9.99 -- Limited Timed

These are the little things that brighten up my day.

Still in Ohio

- amid 10 inches of snow but hopefully heading out tonight. After taking a break from writing for a while I feel I'm about ready to speak again. I've got quite a few things on my mind.

Until then, a funny story for you...

We're in a restaurant and the server comes up to take our order, the name on the tag is Kathi. S asks if it's short for Kathleen; I mistakenly think he says Katherine/Kathryn and she answers in the affirmative. She says she actually spells it with a Y instead of an I but her boss put in on wrong and she never got around to changing it.

I said so, is your name spelled with an "erine" or a "ryn" (remember, I think her name is Katherine/Kathryn).

This is actually what she says, no joke, "Uh, it's been so long I don't remember how to spell it."

We all just sat there, dumbfounded, trying our damnedest not to laugh.

Ahh, you just have to love the "Heartland of America."

Ohio - well, I thought I'd have time to write for a bit but since I'm on a borrowed computer I'll have to get back to you later. Suffice it to say I'm in Ohio.

Hollywood Endings

As I am living just this side of broke at the moment when I want to indulge myself I have to do it cheaply. So last night's dinner and a movie consisted of woefully-unhealthy McDonalds and the Dollar Theater. Much to my surprise on Friday and Saturday evenings it becomes the Two Dollar Theater (while I'll refrain from making any comments about Two Dollar Anythings you may infer what you wish) and saw Ben Affleck and Uma Thurman in Paycheck.

As I have an affinity for action movies with explosions and gratuitous violence I'll have to say I liked it. Something has been lurking in the back of my mind though, rather like a small piece of rock stuck in your shoe?agitating and annoying. After all the bullets dodged, felonies committed, needless deaths, and unnecessary chase scenes the resolution was tidy, neat, predictable and, well, totally unrealistic.

Life is, pardon my homage to teenagers as I roll my eyes, sooooooooo not like that and I guess a part of me feels cheated. Life is messy, complicated, unfair, and sometimes the results of our actions can be disastrous. I don't understand it and am constantly confounded by the strange twists and turns my path takes.

I wanted a big plot twist or some sort of irony but it never appeared. I think it would have made the movie better if Affleck had really turned out to be the bad guy--but he didn't. Also, you really have to suspend reality if you want to enjoy this type of movie because if you follow things to their logical and consistent conclusion you will know it could never end up the way it does. Maybe that doesn't bother anyone else but it does bother me. I keep thinking about the damage to the FBI offices, downed police officers, destroyed police cars, and all other manner of collateral damage. Who pays for that? Are the insurance companies responsible and wouldn't the law seek someone's pound of flesh in return for everything? I know our hero was "wronged" but what about all the other people who were "wronged" is there no recompense for them?

I know, I know, like I said earlier you have to suspend reality to enjoy the movie. I just find it interesting how we will do the very same thing in real life--suspend reality--and expect a Hollywood-happy ending in our own lives. It's almost as if we think of it as our Hollywood-given right.

What was...

1. ...your first grade teacher's name?

Mrs. Harrison, who was expecting a baby and had to leave in the middle of the year. Her replacement was Mrs. Broughton. I was selected as Ambassador which means I was a glorified hall moniter. Woo Hoo.

2. ...your favorite Saturday morning cartoon?

Superfriends and Scooby Doo definitely rank at the top. I pretended to be Wonder Woman for years with my mother's tiara, gold rope belt, and huge brass cuff bracelets (God Bless the 70s).


3. ...the name of your very first best friend?

I think my very first best friend was Angel. I don't remember her last name and she was only at my school during racing season each year. Her father was a jockey for the horseracing club. She was so much fun.

In Jr. High and High School my best friend was Melissa Moore. She moved to Fort Worth, Texas when we were in the 10th grade and we kept in touch through college but have subsequently lost contact. She embraced life to the fullest while I was usually on the sidelines watching it. I miss her vivaciousness and lust for life. It took me a long, long time to learn to relax and enjoy life. I still don't do it all the time but on the whole I'm a lot more mellow than I was at 16.

4. ...your favorite breakfast cereal?

Any cereal made with sugar since my mom didn't believe in letting us eat ANYTHING with sugar in it.

5. ...your favorite thing to do after school?

Ride my bike, watch Bewitched or I Dream of Jeanie, or play Fort with the neighbors Mark Sanders and Jason Morphew.