love it

i didn't start the fire 2

I don't normally get ready for bed twice in one day, but the other night I had to. The first round was routine. But the second came out of necessity.

I was sitting at my computer ready to shut down for the night when I heard sirens. Yes, quite routine in the city, even more so in my neighborhood, but when they stop right in front of my building, it does cause some concern. So like any normal person stuck on the fifth floor of an old building I ran to the window to confirm that the commotion was indeed right outside my window. RESULT: Yes. They were right outside my window.

One, two, three, and then four fire trucks had all converged on the street below. Sirens wailing, lights flashing, and passers-by all standing on the opposite side. The situation was oddly familiar. If you'll remember the same thing happened a few years ago around the exact same time--October--when my friend Cheri was visiting. She was the one who woke up, heard the sirens, noticed the lights, and decided that she had better wake me. Strange that her whispering my name woke me up rather than the sirens outside.

Now I was faced with a real decision. The last time this happened we didn’t know whether or not we should evacuate. The same dilemma was mine this time too. Instead of dialing 911, however, I ran to get my camera and took a picture.

After I snapped my shot, I decided I should prepare for the worst and got dressed. I debated putting my make up on again. After all, if I couldn’t get back into my apartment for the night (Yes, I’m good at worst case scenarios), then I would have to be out and about until I found a place to stay. I opted to get dressed and skipped the makeup. The next decision--what to take with me?

I considered grabbing my carry on and stuffing it full of things....a change of clothing, my laptop, my purse, my camera, photos....I wondered how long I had. I was pretty sure that I could be very quick. Looking back, I find it funny that even in a questionably unsafe condition, I was more worried about my belongings and the way that I looked than my actual safety.

Anyway, before I had an opportunity to pack a bag, the lights stopped flashing and the firemen packed up and left. I was safe. No need to flee...

But I did have to get ready for bed once again.

i hate late night phone calls

I hate late night phone calls. I mean, in and of themselves, they're not a bad thing. I guess I have just had too many bad experiences with phone calls at random times--times when you shouldn't be getting any.

I was talking to a friend the other day about how I have been conditioned to think that certain calls at certain times from certain people automatically equate something negative. It's not a normal response to think that a family member calling me in the middle of the day is a bad thing. And yet, every time it happens, my heart stops and I say a prayer that everything is OK. Perhaps that speaks more to the type of communication that I have with my family than anything....but maybe it is also indicative of my irrationality in some areas.

Tonight, however, it wasn't an irrational thought and the knots in my stomach were completely justified in the end. My supervisor called me. It was after 10:00pm. He asked me to call him back. His voice was sober. I braced myself for the worst, but you are never prepared. It was just as I had expected. A co-worked had gotten into a serious car accident and was killed. He wasn't just injured, his life was taken.

Even now, a little more than 2 hours later, I am still having a difficult time believing that the phone call was real. It makes me sick to my stomach to think that I won't ever have another interaction with him. It makes me sick to think of his poor family--his wife, his children, his mother, his siblings. It makes me sick to think of how this tragedy will forever change their lives.

Those words "there's been a tragedy" are painfully familiar. My family has experienced death far more often than is fair. Normally experience and the familiarity it brings, makes things easier. But death never gets easier. My reactions are always the same...the gravity of the loss is always intense.

I'm glad that my last interaction with him was a positive one. I think that I even praised him and profusely thanked him for something that he had done for me. I am grateful to know that there is life after death, that this is not the end. He was a good man and his influence will be felt, I'm sure, for years and years to come.

Clark, you will be missed...

Children see. Children Do.

this is why i do what i do....

these are a few of my favorite things...

• the smell of soap, cologne, and rain
  
• sleep, cold room, warm fuzzy blankets piled on high
  
• Indian & Thai Food
• brutal massages
• traveling & staying in hotels
• keyboard shortcuts
• planning & executing a perfectly-timed & tasty dinner
• laughing & people that make me laugh
  
• music
• spring flowers & spring weather
• fall clothing & fall weather
• when little kids laugh uncontrollably
• people with passion
• making others happy
• movies and documentaries
• soup and appetizer parties
• fancy drinks
  
• men :)