Dearly beloved,
We are gathered here today to mourn the loss of a good friend. A woman of independence and individuality. Someone who was always so quick to listen, to be there for her friend, and who could plan or attend a party at a moment’s notice.
It was not a sudden loss, we saw it coming. Her big smile that usually was turned towards us started to face another, permission needed to be asked when invited for an adventure....or even coffee. Suddenly we felt more like a tricycle than a bicycle. The third wheel. The beginning of the end.
She was a good woman, but today we must not weep for her crossing to the other side - to the world of couples and togetherness. Until we cross over ourselves or she get’s flung back to us - we will miss her.
Good luck over there.
Sunday, August 31, 2008
Friday, August 15, 2008
For the Love of Tact!
Yesterday I had a real winner at my window.
A lady, trying to exude the air of importance, came up to my window with a few checks and a blank deposit form in hand. I took the form and began writing.
"Wow! You have really bad hand writing".......I just sat there, looking at her deposit form that I was filling out for her.
"Excuse me?" Staring at her thinking maybe it would sink in that she just said a really rude thing.
"I'm not insulting you, just making commentary. It just seems like an odd thing, for a bank teller to have bad handwriting. I've never seen that!"
"Gee, I don't know what to say. Thanks?" And I really didn't. I tried wracking my brain for some witty comment to fly under the radar till it dawned on her after she walked out of the bank - but alas, I thought of nothing.
I let the tension sit there at the window as I silently filled out the rest of her deposit form and cashed her check. Handing her the money and saying have a good one.
A good boot to the face!
I don't know about you, but I was taught that if you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all.
Socially retarded. That better be her only excuse.
A lady, trying to exude the air of importance, came up to my window with a few checks and a blank deposit form in hand. I took the form and began writing.
"Wow! You have really bad hand writing".......I just sat there, looking at her deposit form that I was filling out for her.
"Excuse me?" Staring at her thinking maybe it would sink in that she just said a really rude thing.
"I'm not insulting you, just making commentary. It just seems like an odd thing, for a bank teller to have bad handwriting. I've never seen that!"
"Gee, I don't know what to say. Thanks?" And I really didn't. I tried wracking my brain for some witty comment to fly under the radar till it dawned on her after she walked out of the bank - but alas, I thought of nothing.
I let the tension sit there at the window as I silently filled out the rest of her deposit form and cashed her check. Handing her the money and saying have a good one.
A good boot to the face!
I don't know about you, but I was taught that if you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all.
Socially retarded. That better be her only excuse.
Monday, August 11, 2008
Dating L.A
Sometimes I feel like living in Southern California is like dating that popular guy in high school. You see him leading the teams to finals, wind in his blond hair, shiny white teeth smiling wide, and oh so adorable.
And by some odd chance he asks you out. You, the head of the photo club and improv troup. Him captain of the football, basketball, and soccer team... and voted best hair.
It's fun for awhile. The hype, the gossip, the semi popularity. But in your heart of hearts you know this isn't forever. He's a fun-for-now fling while that perfect fit waits somewhere out in the big world. Tall buildings, brooding skies, and wickedly smart sense of humor. A multi-cultured city. The tall dark and handsome guy who sips his earl grey while doing the New York Times crossword in pen.
But for now I take to the surf, wind in my own hair, and enjoy the ride....till hitting the sandy shore of a new land.
And by some odd chance he asks you out. You, the head of the photo club and improv troup. Him captain of the football, basketball, and soccer team... and voted best hair.
It's fun for awhile. The hype, the gossip, the semi popularity. But in your heart of hearts you know this isn't forever. He's a fun-for-now fling while that perfect fit waits somewhere out in the big world. Tall buildings, brooding skies, and wickedly smart sense of humor. A multi-cultured city. The tall dark and handsome guy who sips his earl grey while doing the New York Times crossword in pen.
But for now I take to the surf, wind in my own hair, and enjoy the ride....till hitting the sandy shore of a new land.
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