Connecting the dots

It's been a really weird week or so. Last Friday, I got my hair cut the shortest it's ever been and donated five little 8-inch ponytails to Children with Hair Loss. (As John Green points out: It grows back. If you've got 8 inches to spare, consider donating.)

Saturday was a month since my sisters and I scattered my mom's ashes. I still haven't fully processed this experience (maybe I never will).

Sunday, I rode a bike for the first time in five years, all around Peaks Island. I did it wearing a tutu. And then I danced to What Cheer? Brigade. It was my third time seeing them, and I finally bought one of their CDs. I've been playing it in the car all week, and so I've had their songs stuck in my head ALL WEEK. It's one thing to get a song from the radio or something from your childhood or whathaveyou stuck in your head. It's a whole other thing to get something like WC?B stuck in your head. You can't help feeling like you're living in a movie with an epic soundtrack pushing you to do something great when their horns crackle in the background of your every thought. 

I've already broken my own rules in the Postal Ninjery Project by mailing six packages out over the course of this week without having received any yet myself. (But, at least two of the people who have received theirs so far have reported that they came when they really needed them. And the project is already branching off to include others, so screw the rules. Or, rule, as it were.)

On Wednesday, I went to the dentist to get my teeth cleaned. The hygienist was one of those chatty ones (I hate the chatty ones). She asked me how my summer was, if I'd taken a vacation. Partly, I wanted to give an honest answer. Partly, I hoped my answer might make her a little uncomfortable and get her to stop asking me questions while she had her hands in my mouth. I said, "Kind of. My sisters and I took my mom's ashes to the Jersey shore to scatter them."

The hygienist didn't miss a beat. She asked me if I'd kept any of Mom's ashes. I said something like, "ewlibt" and then she took her hands out of my mouth and had me repeat myself: "A little bit."

Then she told me that her son had died, that she and her ex-husband had had to pull the plug, that she'd cut just a tiny bit of his hair (now she regrets not taking more), that she'd taken an impression of his hands but they didn't come out very good because she was worried about hurting him, that even though the medical people said he couldn't feel anything, she still saw pain responses.

She said all of this conversationally while she worked on my teeth. I don't know how old her son was. I don't know what happened to him. I don't know how long ago he died. I don't know if she has other children. All I know is that this lady had walked through hell and you'd never know to look at her, to talk to her (not unless you happened to mention something like scattering your mom's ashes).

Yesterday, I was talking to a co-worker at lunch. She asked me about how I was feeling after scattering Mom's ashes, and I said I hadn't fully processed it yet. I think she was worried that I was going to start crying, but what I meant is that I honestly don't know how I feel just yet. Things are different, but I can't really identify how. I think the biggest thing for me was realizing that although I don't have "this is something I want to do with Box o'Ma" as an excuse any more, that I still want -- need -- to keep having misadventures. But this time, I guess, it's for me.

This morning, I had a very odd dream that I don't totally remember, but that included a part where a friend of mine basically transformed into Jiminy Cricket. Only, instead of being my conscience, this Jiminy kept pushing me to do more, be more, to not let opportunity pass me by.

Today, my friend Anne posted this on Facebook with the directive: "read it, think on it, put it into practice." (Seriously, go read it. I'll wait.)

See the part where he writes, "Always wanted to go to Iceland? Go to Iceland." Yeah. You may remember Anne from my post back in January -- when I described how we'd pretty spontaneously agreed to go to Iceland together. (The trip had to be pushed to fall of 2014, but WE ARE GOING, DAMMIT.)

About an hour ago, I finally finished my initial re-read and edit of Only Now and sent copies of the manuscript to a handful of beta readers. (I still have to READ whole sections of the sequel, much less do a thorough re-read and edit, but I'm feeling pretty good about having one of the books in shape for beta readers.)

And again, again, again, it's all just a reminder to DO GOOD, to BE HAPPY, to MAKE THE MOST OF YOUR TIME HERE. I don't know why these things slip out of my head without constant reminders. But I'm glad for the reminders.

As I said at the end of the Get Busy Living post about Iceland:

Dear Universe: Thank you for being patient with me. ...And for continuing to send signs.

The Postal Ninjery Project

It suddenly hit me the other day as I was collecting the junk mail out of my mailbox that it's been a little while since I had something fun arrive in the mail. And then I realized that I also need a new project, now that my red notebook has found its way home and my Misadventures with Box o'Ma are over.

I love sending and receiving stuff in the mail. (I finally read my first Chuck Palahniuk book mostly because I found out that he's kind of famous for mailing people packages.)

Because I can't seem to do something without giving it an epic name (Operation Mailing Chocolate, Operation Flowers, the Red Notebook Conspiracy, the Misadventures with Box o'Ma....), I decided to call this the Postal Ninjery Project. (This name came from a recent conversation about the tiny plastic ninjas I've given a bunch of people and Anne Persand noting that she received hers via "postal ninjery.")

Tonight, I reffed a bout in Rockport. I grabbed the Mad Libs out of the ref appreciation basket, because those are totally going to get mailed to someone (because my friend Kim mailed me a sheet of Mad Libs a while ago and it delighted me to get them randomly tucked into a card). I stopped at the grocery store on my way home. And guess who had a bunch of quarters on her from doing laundry this morning? So many more things to get mailed to people! (Seriously, it was hard to carry all the little bubbles from the gumball machines.)

The rules I made for this game are simple: For every package I receive in the mail, I will mail one back to the sender and one to someone from my list of people who said they want to play.

(Kara mentioned a new sock swap, so that may be the next thing I take on when this project comes to its natural conclusion.)

It's so nice to have a new project to look forward to, to feel energized and excited about doing something fun with the awesome people I know.

An intervention may be forthcoming

Two years ago, I was on a work trip to DC with my cubemate. She likes cupcakes. Like, a lot. Like, a really, really lot. I mean, I'll eat cupcakes and I'll enjoy them, but they're not something I particularly love and feel the need to chase down. We'd agreed ahead of time to go to Georgetown Cupcakes. So, we're in my room and I'm looking the place up on Google maps to figure out if we can walk there or not and my cubemate notices that there's a Crumbs and a Sprinkles on the way with something close to giddiness.

And so, we embarked on what I like to call the Walking Tour of Epic Cupcakery.

And that's how this happened:

Me with the two cupcakes I bought at Georgetown Cupcakes, our third (and final) stop on the tour. I may have had a bit too much sugar by this point, if you couldn't tell....

Fast forward to nowish. Every year, my boss and I make the rounds to each of our subgrantees to ensure that they are complying with all the regulations attached to the federal dollars we give them. It's a bit overwhelming (six providers spread out all over the state, lots of chart reviews, lots of time in the car, etc). While we were talking about our plan for scheduling, my boss said she was finally going to try to get a doughnut at this place up in The County that people have been raving about for years. I had one on a solo trip up there a year or two ago. It was fine, but I've had better. I said as much. ...And that's how the idea for the Doughnut Trek Across Maine was born.

We've mapped out doughnut places in (or very near) each of the cities/towns where we have to conduct site visits, and we're going to sample and rate them.

And then yesterday at work, I saw a Foodsafety.gov blog post about food trucks. Being a good little public health educator, I figured I should check to see if we had any in the state. I did a Google search and found So. Many. Food trucks!

My good friend Mia is coming to town soon, and we had planned to meet up next Sunday but no specific plan about what we were going to do. I asked her if she wanted to find as many food trucks as we could and eat things. (Which is probably the exact opposite of what a good little public health educator should do after reading about food safety. Oh, well.)

And, that's how I planned the Great Food Truck Odyssey.

It occurs to me that one more of these grand food tours will probably be grounds for an intervention....