Annie Waits

If you listen to Ben Folds at all this might mean something to you. A few years ago I decided to try and write a "story" to go with every song on Rockin the Suburbs. Again, if you listen to Ben Folds you probably understand why. His songs all tell some sort of crazy, convoluted, aging hippies and bi polar girls, kind of story. So I wrote one for Annie Waits - and that was the only one. But I stumbled on it today and it's kind of funny. SO - just for you blogger world.
Annie Waits
8:15 on the dot. I’m sitting at the table by the window, my back turned casually toward the window as I keep one eye on the door and one on the paper spread too neatly in front of me. People around me are eating their breakfast in silence or speaking in low harsh voices to friends or to the air. They wander in and out of the dining room aimlessly, sometimes not even bothering to finish their breakfast or conversation. One woman is sitting across the room from me, staring out the window as streams of orangey light make their way through cloudy glass. She seems to be warming her face in the dim light as every once in awhile she tips her head back and closes her eyes, imagining, maybe, that she were somewhere else. A different time, a different place. Someone coughs; a wheezing sort of cough that grabs a hold of you and makes everyone else wince with the effort. An orderly is walking around asking if anyone wants more coffee, I duck my head to avoid eye contact. When I look up again she’s there, entering the dining room slowly, both hands placed firmly on her walker. I let out a breath slowly as my heart skips just a little bit faster. She’s surveying the room for a place to sit, “Sit here, sit here,” I silently will as my eyes stay trained on her every move. She sees me, smiles with relief of recognition. She’s coming over here. She will sit with me. I smile casually when she gets closer, as if I just now realized she was coming over to my table.
“Good morning,” she says as she slowly backs up into the chair I have moved out for her. She eases down, inch by inch, holding on to the walker until the final moment when she sits back and releases. Sinking into the wood chair as if it were a doughy recliner.
“Good morning,” I answer back, trying to hide my trembling hands. “How are you this morning, Annie?” I ask formally.
“Oh,” she says and flutters her hands, “I’m fine I suppose.” She pats her hair distractedly.
“Is anything the matter?”
“Oh no, nothing’s the matter, I’m waiting for a phone call and it hasn’t come yet is all.”
“Oh?” I try to sound vaguely uninterested. “What sort of phone call?”
She looks at me and then the table and smiles that timid smile of hers that means she feels childish. When she smiles this way the creases around her eyes deepen, making her sapphire eyes bright and secretive. Her skin is smooth like creamy butterscotch. She looks up at me and I quickly shift my gaze; feeling suddenly exposed.
“Well there’s this man I’ve been hoping to hear from – a friend of mine.” Her hands twitch unconsciously at the word “friend.” “I’ve been waiting for him for quite some time now.” She laughs awkwardly, “I know him in high school even, when I was a girl, a young thing maybe sixteen or so, I used to imagine him and me, growing old together. I would imagine us traipsing around the park together, feeding pigeons and talking about our grandchildren and how quickly they’ve grown. Friday night would be bingo night of course; we would go religiously even though neither of us ever won. We would laugh and say we must’ve used up all our good luck on our three kids.” She shook her head. “Well it seems I’ve accomplished the old part of that scenario and nothing much else.” We were both silent for a moment.
“But you’re expecting a phone call from him?” I finally asked, my voice breaking slightly. This question caused another flurry of activity as her hands smoother her skirt and then once again patted her hair. “Well, yes, I hope so. The funny thing is,” she smiled again that timid smile, “All those years ago we were supposed to go on a date together. We were going to meet at this hamburger place just down the hill from the high school and have a milkshake together or something silly like that.” She tried to dismiss the thought with a wave of her hand but I could see from the way her shoulders sort of drooped and the corners of her mouth turned down that it was not silly to her; not silly in the slightest. “Anyway,” she continued, “He never showed. I waited for five hours that night, my parents were terrible mad when I came home late, but he never showed up. The funny thing is, the next day in my locker I found a note, it said, “Annie, I could be the one forevermore if we’re still lonely when we’re old.”
I started to say something and then decided against it. “I realized then this was his way of telling me that it just wasn’t right for us to be together now. So here I am, waiting still, but I know it will be soon. Any day now he’ll call me up and invite me out for a cup of coffee and it will be like we’ve been together all these years.” Her smile was forced this time, causing the crinkles by her eyes to form harsh ridges – giving the expression of someone who life has somehow managed to pass completely by.
“What if….” I begin and then stop, unsure of how to ask her.
“What if he doesn’t call?” she finished. I nodded my head. “Well, funny you should ask, I decided just this morning that this was my last day of waiting. If he doesn’t call today, why, then I’d say I’ve had enough.” She leans in conspiringly and whispered, “To be honest, there’s a man up in 3B that I’ve had my eye on for a little while now. If he doesn’t call today, I may just have to move on.” She lifted her chin defiantly though it quivered slightly.
“Well,” I answered, “I wish you the best of luck. I stood up abruptly and she smiled the straight mouth smile that means she feels like she’s been talking too much. “Thank you,” She replied. “Have a lovely day.”
“You too.”
Back in my room, I shut the door and lean against it, feeling the safety of darkness and refreshing coolness against my skin. I sigh and walk slowly to my bed, as I sink into the mattress the scene flashes before my eyes as it has a million times before. Annie is sitting there, back straight, alert in her seat – a table for two. She’s wearing a red dress with purple flowers on it, the sleeves stick out just a little and her knees poke out from beneath. Her brown straight hair blows faintly in the sweet April air. Her hands flit mindlessly, dabbing at her lipstick and then smoothing her skirt over her knees. She is nervous. Waiting. I am sitting just a few tables behind her. Alone and watching every move. Headlights crest the hill and she stands up quickly. The car passes by and out of sight. She plops back into her seat, twirling her hair around her first finger and biting her lip. She checks her watch and then sits up again. A shadow of someone falls over the table, Annie looks up, eyes full and brimming, the shadow moves on. I wonder to myself if maybe something happened to him, whoever it is she is waiting for. Would it be worse, I muse silently, to be stood up, or to find out something happened to him. At least if something happened to him it would be possible to hold on to what could have been. Memories of what could have been are remembered warmly, while the sharp edged truth of a person in all their details and flaws can be disappointing and bittersweet. What never was may be a warm fantasy to hold on to, what really is can leave you feeling cold.
I watch as she shifts to her feet, looking at her watch one last time she turns, head bowed in defeat, and walks slowly away from the table. As she passes me without so much as a glance I smell the faintest hint of peppermint, feel the wake of the wind she stirred with her body as it blows by my face. The next day at school I leave an anonymous note in her locker, “Annie, I could be the one forevermore if we’re still lonely when we’re old.” I’ve treated that note like a sacred covenant, a promise I made and will always keep. I will wait for Annie just as she waits. But not for me.

Maybe a Hundred, What?

Cracks me up, every time.

Also, I just discovered this "embed" thing. It's really cool.

Quilt Picture Frame

I posted a new item on Etsy and unfortunately it hasn't gotten many views. I thought it would be kind of a cool and unique thing but *shrug* If you wanna check it out and give me some feedback that would be great. Here's the link:
http://www.etsy.com/view_listing.php?listing_id=9575880

If You Know What's GOOD for you.....

You will go to this link:
http://www.chicagopublicradio.org/audio_library/sos_04audio.asp
and scroll down to “Letter to the Lady of the House” under August 21 and 29.

Here Comes the Sun

I took one of those stupid quizzes, "what beatles song are you?" and came out with Here Comes the Sun. Then a tribute video popped up and it was really beautiful. It made me nostalgic and I wasn't even alive when the Beatles were around. Anyway, here it is:

Verdict

Verdict came in. Guilty. Son of a bitch.

The Disgruntled Juror

I was called in for jury duty. I didn't really want to go - heard mostly bad things about jury duty. I heard I would wait all day, be bored out of my mind, and to bring a lot books. For the most part, it wasn't like this at all. The process of signing in and getting assigned to a case was kind of tedious and fraught with multiple explanations because no matter how simple the task or how clear the instructions, someone was always messing up. I mean, really, how difficult is it to park in the correct lot?
My favorite example of herd mentality was when we were required to fill out a survey. No one told us what to do with the survey once filled out so most of us thinking people just decided to hold on to them. Unfortunately for the human race, one person, overwhelmed by the lack of direction, put their survey in the closest "basket" they could find. This turned out to be a waste basket. And it didn't just turn out to be a waste basket, it was a waste basket. There was no mistaking it. It wasn't a waste basket disguised as a small tray for turning in survey, it was just a trash can. For trash. And after one person made this seemingly obvious mistake, OTHER PEOPLE FOLLOWED.
Seriously.
So yesterday I was chosen for a jury and heard a little bit about the case and then we were dismissed for the day. This morning we were back bright and early to start the trial. It took about three hours and was actually very interesting. I won't get into the details but it was a criminal charge of possession of marijuana with the intent to sell. By the end of the trial I was keyed up. I mean, the judge was falling asleep, but I was TOTALLY ready to go throw down in deliberation. I was pretty sure my opinions would not be popular because I was convinced he was not guilty considering the only evidence was the circumstantial evidence presented by the cop who didn't actually see anything. And basically the prosecutor was asking the jury to just listen to the cop because...he's a cop. And this kid was a teenage African American boy so of course he was lying. The cops that testified were so frickin arrogant it made my fists clench. They don't even give a damn that what they "think" they know about drug dealers and users could ruin this kids life. They don't give a damn that what they saw may or may not be the truth. They just want to be right, they want us to justify their prejudice by rendering a guilty verdict.
All throughout the trial I had that Feist song "I Feel it All" stuck in my head with the poignant line "The truth lies...." suddenly taking on a whole new meaning for me.
And then.
They had to release two people because a jury is actually only made up of 12 plus 2 alternatives in case someone gets sick. And without any notice, my name was randomly pulled...and I was dismissed. Just like that, I don't matter anymore. My vote no longer counts. I have to sit for two days and listen to this, get emotionally involved, believe I am a part of this process that I did NOT volunteer for...and then I'm out. I just have to leave.
I was livid. I still am, actually. I'll get a phone call when a verdict is reached. It's been about four hours now and still no phone call.
I guess there's more I could say about this but, really, what's the point?

SNOW!

My little one (19 months) has a hard time with new situations. So she's been pretty slow to warm up to this snow business. We took her sledding once and it was a disaster. So we were pleasantly surprised when we took her out the other day, and suddenly, she couldn't get enough snow.



And now she loves it. We had to pull her, kicking and screaming, wet and cold, into the house when it was bedtime because she wanted more snow. I'm pretty sure she would've stayed out all all night - freezing to death; and her last words would've been....more.....snow......

And of course she loves eating it. Why is it that our instinct is to eat snow? Why do people open their mouths and look up in order to catch one or two flakes on their tongues? Why do we grab it by the fistful and shove in our mouths? My little one has never seen anyone else do this - it was an instinct. Why? I'll admit there is something distinctly satisfying about the way to crunches and melts in the mouth. It even tastes good in it's own way.

We went skiing yesterday, my husband and I, to celebrate our two year anniversary. Two years! Woot! I thought cross country skiing was just glorified walking, but it turns out that when hills are involved, it's more glorified fall on your ass every two minutes. I would highly recommend it.



That's me. Ready for anything.

Too Funny

I got both of these from my favorite blogger Heather Armstrong at www.dooce.com.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HUJ4es4cY

Also:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Zo1XFz0kac0

FREE Lip Gloss!

I am now including free Nicole Miller lip gloss with the purchase of a make up travel carrier.
Check it out:
www.naturalmomma.etsy.com

Just a little political

My husband and I have been following the primaries and he has become a strong Ron Paul supporter. I think his ideas are interesting but I haven't totally jumped on that band wagon. BUT I think as far as Republicans go - he is by far the best candidate. If you watched verbal wrestling match (CNN debates) between McCain and Romney, you know what I mean. Here's a little tid bit that I just can't resist posting. Romney and McCain had just been going at it about who said what about timetables when Ron Paul finally got a word in:
http://youtube.com/watch?v=fhAokoMgSDc