Why Don't We Do Crafts?

This took two people one hour.

Guess who carved 

which pumpkin?

The pumpkin on the left is a traditional Jack-o-Lantern. 

 The pumpkin on the right has a special look in his eye!

The Drive to Work

Guy skateboarding and talking on the phone in the bike lane.
Dad and son asleep in lawn chair waiting for school bus. (Four foot long stuffed lion in another  chair whether they are present or not)
Ben Folds look-a-like in a Subaru.
Group of  teens mimicking  a smoke stack around the corner from the highschool.
Three year old who has walked up to the front of the minivan, standing between the mom and dad chairs.
The one kid in highschool who wears the long black trench coat August-May.
Dogs and their runners.
Bus stop friends. People waiting for the city bus who appear to like the others at the stop.
Bus stop enemies. People waiting for the city bus who look angry with each other. They probably don't know how great it can be at the bus stop. They probably haven't been to the cool bus stop. Maybe I should drive them by the cooler stop so they can see what could be!
Or maybe they aren't morning people.

Bumper sticker, "East Nashville: We'll steal your heart and your lawn mower!"

They Don't Know What They're Missing

When starting a story, the third attempt should be the cue to stop trying.
 If they are interrupting you,  your audience must not want to hear it. It is possible they do not know about the greatness of your storytelling. They might doubt the validity of your story or they may not care.

Among new folks, I find myself losing people in the context of my story. My first sentence must not be a show stopper. Yesterday I was recounting the story of the baby snake in my classroom. Relating it to the mouse someone saw in the hall. I started. The gentleman I was trying to entertain, talked over me. Ok no problem, I think I was interrupting him. I waited, attempt two falls flat. I waited and tried again. He marches on in conversation. It was starting to feel like a fight for the attention of our other colleague.
I gave up. I couldn't win. 
Then I remembered another story about a student, let's call him Jesus, who saved the school cafeteria from a mouse. 
 Teachers and students were paralyzed by fear, but not Jesus. He trapped the mouse with his size 15 boot and gently picked him up by the tail. Everyone cheered for Jesus, the school underdog, as he released monster outside. Jesus walked a little taller that day.


I might be talking to the wrong people! Maybe the stories are not so fantastic.
Either way I will work on hooking the audience with a really flashy beginning. I don't want anyone else to miss out! I can also try to stop interrupting. Better yet, I'll stop talking to that guy!

First Response: Throw Reason Out the Window

It seems that once a thought enters my head, my first instinct is to believe. 
Bizarre? Great! 
Unrealistic? Welcome here! 
Creak in the house? Murderer
Can't find car in parking lot? Stolen

Once, when returning home from vacation, my neighbor was not around, but his car was. I smelled near his door everyday for the stinch of rotting body. I just knew he was dead on the other side of that door. Eventually, someone picked him up at the airport and he came home. He had friends, who knew? I thought he dramatically died alone in his home.

The other day I heard a "firecracker" and noted the time. I want to be as helpful as I can when they need to find the gunman.

I suppose plausibility of a thought is earned by existing. Since this grants me both poor taste in movies and the ignorance of not realizing it, you should never trust my movie or book recommendations. (Return to Me and Stephanie Meyer) 

There is an unspoken agreement with my friend, Courtney. Texting, phone calls, emails, do not require immediate feedback. There is a grace period, and a preference to quality time instead of a quick chat. All that to say, response times vary.
Even with this very enlightened and mature relationship, I can still throw reason out the window with a quickness.
Yesterday I text her, "How are you?" No response. 
My first thoughts were not, "She is busy, I'll try again later."
  Instead, my go to, "She hates me. She finally figured out how ridiculous I am. She can't stand me."
 It doesn't matter that we talked last week for an hour and a half, or that we have known each other for 11 years, or that we lived together for 7, or that we have a standing summer vacation date for the next 20 years. No, I throw all that out and hold tight to the idea that our friendship has ended. 
Somewhere in the midst of my ridiculousness, I realize what I am doing.  Then I have to walk outside and  pick up the common sense I threw out for the sake of a good story.



RFL,
 You already know this, but I'll say it for the guy with the nice shirts and for my benefit, no guilt intended.

Let Us Make a Deal

Just a thought for the day.

Be as resilient as the people on Let's Make a Deal.
Yesterday I was watching, and this girl won $200.  Not a bad score. What she turned down, also known as what was behind Curtain 2, was worth $20,000. She cheered, hands-over-head, all the way back to her seat.
 I would have forced a commercial break, falling, in tears, at the feet of Wayne Brady.

I don't know what it is that makes them go on after such a loss. I want to be able to recover so gracefully. I am determined to work toward this new goal with gusto! Well probably not gusto. I will try hard.

A Joke without a Punchline.

Optional Title:
 Just When you Thought you had that Thong Wearing Beach Walking Confidence....




 I don't enjoy reading what makes people Facebook posting angry. I dislike hearing complaints in general.
In an effort to decrease complaints, this post has been named, "A Joke without a Punchline." There is a hint of negative, simply because it isn't funny yet. 
You know how sometimes things are terrible, but you can still make a joke. I knew this girl a million years ago.  She was pregnant before we were allowed to be...anyway, as a joke, I called her Preggy. We giggled about it, even though it was a big deal. It took the some of the heaviness out of the situation, even if it was only for a moment.

Allow me to update with bullets:

• We live in Nashville
• I've been taken down a few pegs.(That will make a few people happy)
• My pride was stepped on....I mean my pride was stepped upon...uh, someone stepped on my pride. (Oh well).

When we told my father we were both quitting our jobs to move to Nashville, at first he thought we were joking.  Then he said, "Tara, I'm a Bird in the Hand  kind of guy."
At the time I thought, "Yeah, Dad, I know. You like to play it safe.  You, the father who unplugged my curling iron three seconds after I plugged it in to the wall. You who constantly check the dryer to make sure the door is open and it is turned off. You who are SO cautious. Yeah, I know. You weigh the risk, and if there is any, you don't take it."  
I am a Class A idiot. 
What I should have thought, "Yeah Dad, I know. You are cautious because you have a lot to lose. You work insanely hard to provide for situations of just in case. You didn't take the risks, so that we could"

So my father is right. A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush. I know I had a great life in Chattanooga. I was secure, happy, and healthy. I had a support system. We had a support system.
We decided to leave behind a lot of love and support, for the adventure of the unknown. 
To be honest, if I had known starting over at work would be this hard, I would have never left.  


Let me now be very clear. I do not for one second regret moving.  Just because I want to quit, does not mean I will. Let me also say my father was in full support of us even though he knew it was risky. I love him for that.



So we are here. Work is hard,  I'm not complaining. I am waiting for the punchline. 

Things People Place

We (husband and I) are moving up the road. It is not very far, but we are really excited about being there. The moving side of it is a different story.

Things
Today we were packing.  I was lost in what to pack and on the verge of an award winning freakout.*  So Chris (husband) offered a little perspective.  "Just try to find a home for everything."  If you read the post about the lonely washcloth or the Day After Christmas Tree Lot, you will understand this was genius.
Suddenly everything made sense. Storybook Tara created characters and settings for everything in the house. Cups live in this box.  Hair clips and headbands stay in this bag.  I was surprised to find how many of our belongings made their home in the trash can.  I think my wedding dress is ready to move back in with my mother.  But the RC boat and Cotton Candy Machine, where ever I go they go.  We aren't finished yet, but we are moving right along.

People
I have been more than a little nervous about getting to know new people.  I know how I look when I'm nervous or uncomfortable.  My friend Lauren actually does a really good impression of me when I am done with a situation.  So I've been thinking a lot about how to deal with this.  I can feel the next chapter taking root. How to Make Friends without Trying Too Hard  or How I Alienated all of East Nashville or The Return of Jennifer.(Jennifer was my invisible friend in 1st grade. I would pretend she was calling me on a walkie-talkie at school. I would always say, "Not now Jennifer, I'm at school. No I don't know where Peaches N Cream Barbie is, but we can look for her when I get home." I don't know why I got so mad at her for calling.)

 Last week we were visiting friends who are more like family.  It is amazing how differently you feel being around people who know you.  People who remind you of who you are and how you've grown.Who listen to what's at the heart of what you're saying, not only the words. These things only come from time and history.   
Sunday morning we packed up the car, said goodbye, and I cried like a baby.  I always do. I probably always will.  I cry because I'll miss them, and because I miss who I am when I am with them. That is the part to carry with me...I just have to figure out how.

Place
Relocating seems like a great time to reset my perspective on life and how I interact with the world.
 
 

 *Be on the look out for that award winning freakout. I can feel it brewing. I fear too much discussion of it will break my flow.

Chapter 8 'Things I should not admit' or 'Something Reba might do."

I liked the Twilight books.

I have had more than one dream that Taylor Swift was my best friend. We moved into Reba McIntyre's old house.  I knew it was Reba's place because she had painted her name like a chair rail in the hall.  I suppose it seemed like something Reba would do. I kind of liked Taylor's music, but I really just wanted to hang out with her. 
While I write this I am sitting in yoga pants, a tank top, snow boots and ear warmers.

I don't write more often because I don't want to hurt anyone's feelings.
I think I have a friend crush on Zooey De Channel. I stopped watching The New Girl in an effort to derail my feelings.  I found a website she launched with some friends. I had to walk away from the computer. 

I play a car game when I drive alone.  There are lots of rules and it is very violent.
I named my mittens. I name everything.
I felt really upset when I saw the Christmas trees left on the lot on Christmas Day. I actually felt bad enough to look away this year when we drove by.
When I was a kid I never took the top wash cloth from the stack. I did not want the guy on the top to get too cocky, thinking he was next.  I also loved the idea of surprising one lucky wash cloth in the middle with moving to the front of the line. 
Maybe this chapter should also be titled, Does that make me crazy?
It's like this, I wrote this whole thing just to write the part about Z.D.