Fly Away Home

Do you know what it is like to have a friend that is so close to you that they can read your mind and anticipate your reaction before you have processed the information?  I have three go-to accomplices.  Previously you met Mindalou.  There are also, krose and Jack.  (krose is pronounced K Rose)

It is important to note that I am not always politically correct, for that matter, neither are the people that I hang out with.  People are much more interesting to me when they are unmasked and at their most primal.  That being said let me introduce you to krose.

To them a phone call from me that starts with, "Have you ever wondered if the Smurfs had a God?" is not unusual.  Most people would be caught off guard by such a question and start their own line of questioning from that point.  Most likely starting with, "Are you okay?"  krose however, just went with it and continued, "Ummmm no, but I wondered why there was only one girl."   The "ummmm" of course means she actually took time to think about the question.

Spontaneous events involving everyday occurrences are what categorize most of the times you find krose and I together on the corner of Trauma and Intrigue.  The way to know that you are about to be a part of one of those instances is the battle cry that has become infamous before said event.  If either of us calls it out, get your game face on 'cause shit could get ugly.

"Ah Hell!" (pronounced HAIL, because we live below the Mason-Dixon Line) is the sure fire way to realize you have just been cast as an extra to some kind of adventure that could end up in the morning paper.  Consider yourself warned...

Every year the Christmas holiday season involves shopping.  Some people prepare for it, some people procrastinate, and others are Jewish so they don't do it at all.  In 2010, as an only child, I got called in for elf duty by my father.  He is a man, men hate to shop, and I was asked to 'help' out.  Smack my ass, and call me Snowflake.  I put on my pointy bell shoes and obliged him.  The mission was to obtain a round fiberglass table with collapsing legs from Sam's Club for my mother's gift.  Good thing for him I had a Sam's Club membership. Being a single woman with no pets, it makes perfect sense that I belong to a bulk food and supply store.  Don't judge me- they have cheap wine, and that I buy in bulk!

Just before Christmas I was working so many hours at work that shopping and decorating for the upcoming holiday had become a chore rather than the fun I usually have with it.  They use to call those kinds of hours slavery, today society calls it salary. Regardless, krose and I had a date night where we would do some shopping for her son, go to Sam's get the table, and then catch a movie.  Triple score all the way around.

We picked up the last policeman's outfit at Toys 'R Us, headed to Sam's across the river in Ohio, and still had plenty of time to catch the movie.  Yes, we live in yet another "tri-state" area, but doesn't everyone according to the evening news?  Arriving at Sam's we sought out said table, and found it.  That is the moment in the evening where we stopped doing everything correctly.  I had measured a table at the Sam's close to my house, but the tables in another state an hour away from my house looked much larger so it became obvious that spreading the holiday shopping money across state lines had become a GREAT idea.  Since all the tables were stacked neatly with their folded legs, I tracked down a young man in a blue vest to ask how we got one down and out to the car.  The table looked big, and although it was made of fiberglass, for some reason we thought it would still be heavy. 

His first question let us know that perhaps were not the people to buy anything at Sam's Club other than the aforementioned bulk wine.  Perhaps we should have drank some of the wine, then continued.  "Do you have a flatbed cart?" were the six words that clicked in our minds that people in heels did not need to be attempting any activity with the neatly stacked tables.  In that southern hospitality way he went and got us a flatbed cart, and began putting the table on it.  Well shit, we could have done that!  I thought perhaps there was more procedure, but no, at Sam's if you want furniture of any sort, you just put it on a cart and take it to the front.  Lifting the table onto the cart its true size began to sink in.  The sign said 52".  I obviously had measured some sort of display table previously.  Being an educated person I understood the measurement, however I have no spatial reference of how that works in reality.  I drive a Toyota Highlander.  Surely it would fit in an SUV?

Once the white round 52" table was on our cart we started wheeling it to the front.  There was much more table than cart or common sense at this point.  To ensure the safety of our fellow shoppers I announced our movement with the large Christmas gift with, "UFO coming through! Make a hole and make it wide.  Excuse us, thank you."  krose wanted to ride on top of it.  While this was funny, a similar incident ended with her getting stuck in a shopping cart at another store.  If nothing else, we do learn from our time spent on the corner.  We checked out, and proceeded outside.  An employee was to help us get the table in the car.  Red flag #2 appeared as we were leaving Sam's Club and the sliding doors weren't wide enough for the table to pass through.  After I rammed the table into both sets of doors and the extra swinging out parts of the glass had to be opened, we should have stopped.  This was a Christmas gift for my Mama, and it needed to be purchased and taken to her, and I was an elf dammit!  We were met in the parking lot by Adam, the lovely Sam's Club put things in your car assistant.

Adam was in high school, and an inexperienced individual.  Both krose and I are used to experienced and capable men being involved with situations where we have no reason to even speak.  Purchasing and hauling large objects is one of those situations.  Regardless I opened the back hatch and Adam and I began lifting the table into the car. 

THUD! with the table horizontal, THUD! with it caddy cornered. 

We were lacking at least a foot of clearance of getting the table into the car.  Adam laughed in that low breathy manner, very reminiscent of Beavis and Butthead.  krose on the other hand felt the most useful thing she could do at this point was to cackle, lean herself against the car, and laugh until she cried. She'll make up for that later.  It was time for a decision, to take the table back and return it and admit defeat, or manage to get the table tied to the top of the car in some fashion.  To say that I am stubborn is an understatement.  I asked Adam if they had anything we could use to tie the table to the top of the car.

"Ah Hell!" from me, only made krose laugh even harder. 

While Adam was on the mission of procurement of the necessary tools for tying the table to car, a light bulb went off that I could drive up to my parents a day early, and my father and I could take their truck to pick up the same kind of table at their local Sam's Club.  However, this table was already at my car, and we were more than fifty feet away from the store front, and quite frankly I was an appointed elf!  Involving Santa in any package picking up was not a defeat I was willing to accept.  Momentarily after my resolve, Adam returned with twine.  Nylon twine....nylon twine to tie a fiberglass round table to luggage racks.  We would like to send a big fuck you out into the ether for this one.  Still, we proceeded. 

krose and I have done a lot of things.  Tying stuff to a vehicle that will be going down the road is not listed in either of our "Special Skills" sections on our resumes.  Our UFO was about to get its chance for flight, and this made both of use nervous.  This is the point in which experience would have helped out.  Between the three of us, we had nada.  We wrapped the twine around the table and then circled the luggage rack and realized we needed a knot.  Now, here is why all boys should belong to the Boy Scouts.  I was a Brownie when I was younger, and as a female I am fully cookie aware.  Guys should know how to tie knots.  You can "Womens Lib" me all day and night.  I don't give a shit! There are certain tasks that each sex should know how to perform.  Tying knots and killing bugs remain in the male category.  Adam apparently was never a Boy Scout, and quite frankly I am not sure that he will ever see a girl naked.  But good luck to you Adam, and thank you for the twine.

We somehow get a formation of something resembling a knot on one piece of twine.  The second piece we could never get quite tight enough.  Like a message from the heavens, I said, "Well krose, you are going to have to hold onto this one."  Here, someone who didn't know me would have thought I couldn't be serious, but krose is a seasoned accomplice.  So, she hopped in the passenger seat, cracked the window, I handed her the string, she held on tight, and continued laughing.  I walked around the car, got in, looked over at her.

"I got balloons!" was all I needed to hear from krose to know that things were going to be either really good, or really bad.  We quickly decided that the dinner we had intended to have with our saved time from earlier was out, and that we would get the table to her house, unload then go to the movie.  I would come back for the table when I had better attaching materials or a truck.  So at the Mach speed of 35 mph we headed down the road with what looked like a UFO on top of the car which was being held on by the strength of a giggling woman.  What could go wrong?

If only we had lights to put around the circumference of the table, then we would be in business.   We made it back across the state line, which is when we realized that if we had violated any moving vehicle laws we just became felons.  At the bottom of the exit ramp, we heard a loud noise of what sounded like something sliding across ice.  krose rolled down the window, stuck out her little head, looked up and said, "Oh I got a lot more UFO hanging off this side than I did before."  We pulled to the side of the road and got out to assess the situation.

With my acute observations skills, "Ah shit!" was about the only thing I could muster.  Now some people don't believe in Santa Claus.  However, lights pulled in behind us, and a man with white hair, and a large belly emerged from the car behind us.  He was dressed in a NASCAR shirt, jacket, and jeans.  He had a wife and a son.  In fact his eager son of around 10 years old was sure they could help us out.  He asked if we needed any help.  Now, here are two girls standing on the side of the road, dressed as we were with a UFO half hanging off the side of the car....the question just wasn't necessary, but more of a way of saying "Hello" I believe. He directed his son to get his mom's pocket knife, at which point I knew we were dealing with the right kind of people.  A woman who carries a pocket knife isn't going to be messing with a man who can't tie a knot.  As I watched him tie the legs of the table to the luggage rack instead of going across the entire table I felt foolish and educated all in the same moment.  After he was finished the table still was loose on top of the car, but he assured us, "It may slide around a bit, but she ain't goin' nowhere." 

He asked us how far we were going.  We told him about 20 miles up the road, but eventually the table would have to go about another 200 miles to be delivered as a Christmas gift.  Okay, that is a lie.  No one in West Virginia measures distance in miles, but rather the amount of time it takes to get there.  So we said, about 30 minutes up the road, then 3 more hours after that.  He quickly stood back on his heels, stuck out his belly, and gave half a chuckle saying, "It ain't gonna go any 3 hours, but you can make it 30 minutes with it on thar'."  We thanked him, and he told us Merry Christmas and waved goodbye returning to his pocket knife carrying wife.  You have to love southern hospitality. Thank you Santa!!!!!

krose and I continued on our journey, and the car with the UFO on top was filled with laughter reminiscent of school girls at a slumber party.  We were sure that we were going to get pulled over and sited for something.  Without missing a beat krose quickly had a plan.

"Don't worry.  If we get pulled over I will get put on the policeman's hat down here, (she threw up her hand in a stopping motion) and say don't worry officer- I got this!"  Yeah, that would keep us out of jail, but not the local mental ward.  We did make a pact long ago, that if either of us is put in a mental ward, the other will bring a bedazzler so we won't have to wear those awful white jackets- we could still be stylish.

At this point we had killed so much time we had to go straight to the movie, or miss it entirely.  Since the night was already crazy, we just decided parking the UFO topped car in the parking garage at the movie theater would be okay.  We had popcorn for dinner, and enjoyed our show.  After the show we returned to krose's house without incident and unloaded the table to store in her garage until I could return with better fastening equipment.

There were many lessons learned, no one was injurred or arrested this time.  We even met Santa Claus.  More importantly I was not demoted from elf status.

Right Where We Stand

This past year was filled with travel and adventure that may be unparalleled in my life thus far.  Never having been one for patience, I decided to have my mid-life crisis at the age of thirty.  The way I see it is, if I wait until a proper age of say, oh forty, I could have been killed in a flaming car crash or eaten by Pigmies and missed the entire event all together on account of my being dead.  Carpe diem, but really it was more of seizing an entire year and living as though life was limitless.  In complete acceptance that life was never more perfect than the moment you are in, I decided to not hold out and go for it all. 

As it turns out, I am a chicken shit and could only manage this in bursts.  To be in complete control of your existence in every given moment is better suited for the Dalai Lama or some other figure or centered individual than a thirty year old woman hell bent on reclaiming herself while holding to that Gen X belief that the world could be healed.  Not regular healed, but the evangelic "HEALED!" you would hear as the newly healed participant is falling to the stage after being graced by the touch of a self-proclaimed instrument of God.  I mean, if you are going to heal someone, why not do it in front of countless strangers in the name of self-promotion instead of a quiet setting that would more reflect the actual grace of such a being as God?  Instead, yes "HEALING" them is much more punk rock, look at me in my flashy attire, mega sound system, style of the '80s.  I digress, which I do quite often.  So with having this belief that was drilled into as a child that I could do or be anything, at the age of thirty I decided to put it to the test.  As I mentioned, I am a chicken shit, so I brought along some willing accomplices.

The award for most frequent flyer goes to Mindalou.  That isn't her name, don't be foolish.  However, she will answer to it, and that is forever as she will be known here.  Together in the span of a little more than twelve months we saw Philly, Vegas, Da Beach (twice), Pittsburgh, and San Diego.  She is my soul sista.  Life has a funny way of making us walk completely different paths only to come to a junction and find someone headed in our direction.  Our lives were/are completely different in ways that I can't begin to explain.  Despite the oddities of experience, we bonded on a level of deeper understanding and consciousness. It is in the differences that we find connection.  This was made apparent during dinner in Coastal Carolina this summer.

Just as girls do at dinner, we were gabbing about life experiences that we hadn't yet come to terms with, along with the moments that hold value from our pasts.  In swapping stories Mindalou stopped and said, "All of your memories come from happy times.  It is like your life has been the happiest of experiences, and you hold those things close to you.  In every situation you try to make it the best it can be, and make sure that the people you are with are enjoying themselves.  My memories come from traumatic events, or those moments that intrigue me.  If I found something odd, it is like that is where I put a memory marker.  It is just strange we categorize things differently, but we get along so well and have the best time together."  She then got quite, and looked down at the dinner table.  Being the person that I am I asked, "So, you have been on the corner of Trauma and Intrigue making memories?"  We laughed, and Mindalou replied, "Yeah, I guess so."

Life is nothing more than that....a continuous quest to make memories for the days near then end when it is harder to do so.  Instead, you can sit back and gaze at the markers you have placed in time.  In that, we walk everyday toward the corner of Trauma St. and Intrigue Blvd.  For it is a place you won't forget, well unless you develop Alzheimers, then you are just fucked.  You did a whole lot of walking to forget to wear pants.  In that case the best you can hope for is the person that strolled with you remembers enough for the both you, and still likes you enough to help you find your pants.