Entertaining Angels

Once again, today found me at my happy place (Borders) for a few hours. I like to sit in a cushy chair near the kids' section. The atmosphere is fun and kids are so charming to eavesdrop on! Anyway, there are four of these cushy chairs where I sit, arranged around a small table, and usually full of adults. Today was no exception.
I sat, with my wedding magazine (hey, one of my best buds is getting married) and my crochet (my cousin is having twins!) and joined the three men already seated in 'my spot' for some much needed Jess time.
Pretty immediately, I began to notice that the man diagonally across from me kept staring. He was maybe late 40s, very average, and not even trying to be discreet. EVERY time I looked up from the magazine, he was staring. Later, when I had resumed work on my crochet and would glance up, he was staring. Taking a sip of coffee? Staring. You get the point. Each time I glanced up, I was struck with a different thought. At first, I felt sure there was something in my teeth or on my face. Gradually, though, my thoughts moved away from myself to him. Was he a stalker? A serial killer? Oh, no! He was a serial killer stalker and he was studying me! It seems silly, sure, but after two hours of a strange dude staring at you, you might start to go a little crazy, too.
Finally, he got up to leave. I was about to breathe a huge sigh of relief until he stopped just short of my chair and hesitated. He cleared his thoat and leaned down.
"Excuse me, I-I'm sorry. I never do this. It's just, well, you have such a pretty smile." And with that, he smiled shyly, and walked away.
Stunned, it took me a second to call 'thank you!' to him.
Serial killer stalker indeed. :-)
Immediately, I thought of this scripture passage:
Hebrews 13:2Forget not to show love unto strangers: for thereby some have entertained angels unawares.
Sometimes, church happens at Borders.

Cooking for One

I stopped by my happy place (Borders) today after work to bask in the smell of coffee and new books and let the chattering of strangers flow over me for a while.

On the way in, I noticed a book on the discount rack called 'Alone in the Kitchen with an Eggplant' whch turned out to be a FABULOUS non-fiction book of essays wherein two dozen or so writers talk about meals, rituals, and secrets of dining alone. The reason that after reading only the introduction and two essays, the book has me hooked, is that it's honest and hilarious. It's not a snooty book of fabulous single serve lamb and prosciutto. Rather, it spills the secrets of who we are in the kitchen, alone, with no accountability to anyone. Beans from the can, saltines with jelly, only white food, the same meal for a week straight.....we all have odd food habits, and the beauty of singleness is that we have more time than others to explore and enjoy that part of ourselves. Most of the people in the book, from what I gather, are competant if not excellent cooks. The thing is, sometimes, cooking is more about doing things for others. That is certainly true for me. Occasionally, I go all out for myself, presentation and all. Usually? Usually I open a couple of cans or slap a sandwich together. Sometimes, I eat that sandwich over the sink. And I like it.

This book celebrates the fun of these nights while also admitting the sadness and melancholy of them. It is not an indictment of those of us who dine alone, but a from the gut, honest, and endearing work that screams 'You are not alone, saltine queen!'

I plan to head back to Borders tomorrow and probably buy the book. It's inspiring me to write my own 'strange foods' essay.

To those we love who have gone on

Today is the anniversary of my dad's death.

There are days throughout the year that make me miss him more, and this, most certainly, is one of them.

Mostly I miss my little girl idea of him: the sound of his boots on the floor, him tricking me into eating calf fries by telling me they were chicken nuggets, me snuggled with him and my big bro splitting one gigantic bowl of cereal.....

I'm sad that I never got to know him as a grown up. People say I'm a talker like he was. I kind of have the shape of his eyes. But periodically, I wonder about what all we missed out on: what would we have faught about when I was a teenager? What kinds of inside jokes would we have? Would he be totally bald yet? Would I roll my eyes with indulgent embarassment because he insists on wearing his 80s short shorts out in the summer?

It's a bittersweet guessing game at best, but for those of us left behind, it's the best we can do for now. So I'll say 'I miss ya, Dad. And for all of the fights we would have had and all of the jokes we would have shared, I guess I'll just never really know. But I am looking forward to splitting a bowl of cereal with you when I see you again ;-)'

Pity, it's a party

So in the last week alone, two friends have gotten engaged, one friend announced their pregnancy, I bought my wedding gift for another friend, and an old acquantance of mine found me online and sent me a ton of pics of herself and her new baby. This is not even counting last week where I went wedding dress shopping with one friend and celebrated the engagement of another.

Let me be VERY clear. I'm SO happy and thrilled for all of the people in my life who are in these situations. They are wonderful folks and I wish them every happiness.

But I'm 26. And single. And feeling increasingly....blank.

I'm starting to feel like Most Likely to Succeed was a joke played on me by my highschool classmates who all secretly knew that I was absent on the day of the 'How to really have a life and get what you've always wanted' seminar.

There is an incredible irony in the fact that I, the girl who has always been the responsible one, the girl who takes care of everyone, is more and more looking like the last one to have a family of her own. In fact, I'm feeling like the very definition of Ironic.

And so, my private pity party continues. Pity, party of One.

But for the rest of the world: congratulations, everyone, on everything. I will continue to smile and laugh and pick out dresses and coo over babies, don't worry. Loving you all is too much a part of me not to.

I'm just having one of those days where I don't understand God's timing, that's all.