Final Stretch.
Whoa, we're getting into the final stretch here, that's a baseball term for those of you who don't know when the game's coming near a close. Yep. If the bases are loaded in my life, then I want to swing the bat when I get up to plate. Now the thing is if I swing it too hard the ball pops up and is easily caught, if I don't hit hard enough than no one will move and there will be no where for me too run. Bases loaded in the final stretch is only complicated more so if it's a 3-2 count with 2 outs. And if in my life the bases are loaded and I have a 3-2 count with 2 outs, I'll just close my eyes and swing the bat. Best case scenario it'll be a grand slam. Worst it'll be an out. Now, I'd be willing to settle for a base hit. All I'm going to say is that when you hit a home run...you know it.
I'm just a tad anxious about moving out this fall incase you couldn't tell. I'm hiding behind baseball euphanisms to make myself feel better. I suppose the reality of moving out hit me last night. My family went on a mini-vacation to the Mall of America and my Ma bought me everything I could possibly need or want to move out. I've got new clothes, hair-care products, lip gloss, pots, pans, measuring cups and spoons, vases, fake flowers, scented candles, a watch, hair bands, mismatched place settings, cups, glasses, bowls, plates, and flatware...oh these things in my life. My single serving life. Anway, last night the reality hit me as I unpacked my things in my room. There is no room in the kitchen cabinets for my flatware...I've really got to move out...they won't fit in the cabinets and I don't fit here anymore. Yep...it's time to go...me and my flatware.
I sat down in the floor of my room and set up how I imagined my kitchen table would look. I made a place setting with one of my plates, a coffee cup, a spoon, a knife, a fork, I brought out my jacked salt and pepper shakers. I put my fake daisy in my vase. I set up and lit my scented candle. Than I stood up and took a step back and admired it for a minute. It didn't look like home but it didn't look bad either.
Glenn's moving out this year too, and I'm so envious of him. He and Liz are moving out together. They have each other. They don't have to feel this overwhelmingly alone feeling that I do. Everything in the world is better when you experience it with someone else. Me? I only have myself. Myself and my flatware. And somehow I don't think network producers are clamoring over a TV show about a single gal living in the city with her flatware. It's scary shit. But I think in a way I've got to be terrified. Infact, I'd be worried about myself if I wasn't terrified. It's me and my flatware hittin' the city baby! Look for us on fall sweeps.
Anyway as I mentioned before Glenn is moving out this Saturday. I think we're both feeling this sort of miserable tug at our hearts. He and I will never live under the same roof again and yeah that's pretty strange after seventeen going on eighteen years. It's also pretty strange to be saying goodbye to one of your dearest friends after seventeen going on eighteen years. He and I have been each others constant companions and we're going to miss each other. Our conversation about it went as follows yesterday:
"What we say"
What we mean
Glenn: "I'm moving out this Saturday"
It's not that easy guys
Me: "Oh"
This part of life really sucks
Glenn: "But Liz isn't coming this weekend to help...she's got plans. I'll be back on like Wednesday. You know I want to be home for your birthday and all"
Not sure if I'm really ready for this...
Me: "Oh, that's good I would've missed you"
I'd be pissed if you missed my birthday
Glenn: "Hey if you wanted you could come with this weekend to help me move in"
Please come with this is lonely stuff
Me: "Huh? Oh yeah sure, I'll go if Liz isn't going."
I would've hidden in a bag if your luggage if you hadn't invited me.
Yeah. This part of life is hard. But that's all it is a part of life. Growing up with siblings you know there's going to be a day when you only see your siblings on Thanksgiving and Christmas.
This is scary stuff for me and my flatware. But at the same time I'm so excited. I love the city and I'm thrilled at the idea of spending every day in it (the more and more time I spend in this little town I the more and more I'm convinced that this town is just a suicide note that's been writing itself for a very long time). I'm excited about the new people I'm going to meet. I'm so excited about all the new techniques and skills I'm going to learn at school. And in the silly way that I I'm, I'm insanely exicted and all the ways I'm going to freak my room mates the fuck out. The plates I bought were a Jewel special on sale for 25 cents a piece. They're cheap but they look cool and I like 'em. But lemme tell you one thing I can't wait to do with them. I just can't wait for ike one day when I'm sitting in my kitchenette maybe eating like dinner off my 25 cent plate when one of my room mates comes in and breaks like some small piece of bad news to me. Like let's say my roomie comes in and says,
"Bad news, MFB, we're all out of shampoo."
At this point I will pick up my 25 cent plate and smash it in half on the counter,
"WHAT THE FUCK!?" I will scream while dangerously brandishing the remaining half a plate in my hands. I will make a few threatening gesutres than run a hand through my hair take a deep breath and say in an alarmingly calm tone,
"Well, you best go get some more then."
*siiiiigh* I've been planning that ever since I decided to move out. I can't wait for the day to arrive when I'm finally in the right place at the right time to smasg a plate and scream. Everyone needs something to believe in right? We've all got to have hopes and dreams. Smashy, smashy.
So now I sit here I'm watching my good guys play the KC Royals...the first team I ever saw them play at the ball park. We're up and looking sharp. And then my PK gets hit in the arm by a pitch, right above the elbow. They had to take him out of the game to send him to go get X-rays (I really, really hope he's uninjured). But you know something, before he left the game he stayed in until the end of the inning and thanks to some good hits by his team mates he crossed home and got a run for us. You have to love them. They play like they're perpetually in the final stretch of the 7th game of the World Series. And even if they don't win, simply watching them play the way they do is a joy. I don't think I could love them as much as I do if they were afraid to swing the bat. I watched PK round home and I suddenly I felt good about packing up my flatware and moving to the city.
This is life. Holy shit.
And the dish ran away with the spoon,
MFB
I'm just a tad anxious about moving out this fall incase you couldn't tell. I'm hiding behind baseball euphanisms to make myself feel better. I suppose the reality of moving out hit me last night. My family went on a mini-vacation to the Mall of America and my Ma bought me everything I could possibly need or want to move out. I've got new clothes, hair-care products, lip gloss, pots, pans, measuring cups and spoons, vases, fake flowers, scented candles, a watch, hair bands, mismatched place settings, cups, glasses, bowls, plates, and flatware...oh these things in my life. My single serving life. Anway, last night the reality hit me as I unpacked my things in my room. There is no room in the kitchen cabinets for my flatware...I've really got to move out...they won't fit in the cabinets and I don't fit here anymore. Yep...it's time to go...me and my flatware.
I sat down in the floor of my room and set up how I imagined my kitchen table would look. I made a place setting with one of my plates, a coffee cup, a spoon, a knife, a fork, I brought out my jacked salt and pepper shakers. I put my fake daisy in my vase. I set up and lit my scented candle. Than I stood up and took a step back and admired it for a minute. It didn't look like home but it didn't look bad either.
Glenn's moving out this year too, and I'm so envious of him. He and Liz are moving out together. They have each other. They don't have to feel this overwhelmingly alone feeling that I do. Everything in the world is better when you experience it with someone else. Me? I only have myself. Myself and my flatware. And somehow I don't think network producers are clamoring over a TV show about a single gal living in the city with her flatware. It's scary shit. But I think in a way I've got to be terrified. Infact, I'd be worried about myself if I wasn't terrified. It's me and my flatware hittin' the city baby! Look for us on fall sweeps.
Anyway as I mentioned before Glenn is moving out this Saturday. I think we're both feeling this sort of miserable tug at our hearts. He and I will never live under the same roof again and yeah that's pretty strange after seventeen going on eighteen years. It's also pretty strange to be saying goodbye to one of your dearest friends after seventeen going on eighteen years. He and I have been each others constant companions and we're going to miss each other. Our conversation about it went as follows yesterday:
"What we say"
What we mean
Glenn: "I'm moving out this Saturday"
It's not that easy guys
Me: "Oh"
This part of life really sucks
Glenn: "But Liz isn't coming this weekend to help...she's got plans. I'll be back on like Wednesday. You know I want to be home for your birthday and all"
Not sure if I'm really ready for this...
Me: "Oh, that's good I would've missed you"
I'd be pissed if you missed my birthday
Glenn: "Hey if you wanted you could come with this weekend to help me move in"
Please come with this is lonely stuff
Me: "Huh? Oh yeah sure, I'll go if Liz isn't going."
I would've hidden in a bag if your luggage if you hadn't invited me.
Yeah. This part of life is hard. But that's all it is a part of life. Growing up with siblings you know there's going to be a day when you only see your siblings on Thanksgiving and Christmas.
This is scary stuff for me and my flatware. But at the same time I'm so excited. I love the city and I'm thrilled at the idea of spending every day in it (the more and more time I spend in this little town I the more and more I'm convinced that this town is just a suicide note that's been writing itself for a very long time). I'm excited about the new people I'm going to meet. I'm so excited about all the new techniques and skills I'm going to learn at school. And in the silly way that I I'm, I'm insanely exicted and all the ways I'm going to freak my room mates the fuck out. The plates I bought were a Jewel special on sale for 25 cents a piece. They're cheap but they look cool and I like 'em. But lemme tell you one thing I can't wait to do with them. I just can't wait for ike one day when I'm sitting in my kitchenette maybe eating like dinner off my 25 cent plate when one of my room mates comes in and breaks like some small piece of bad news to me. Like let's say my roomie comes in and says,
"Bad news, MFB, we're all out of shampoo."
At this point I will pick up my 25 cent plate and smash it in half on the counter,
"WHAT THE FUCK!?" I will scream while dangerously brandishing the remaining half a plate in my hands. I will make a few threatening gesutres than run a hand through my hair take a deep breath and say in an alarmingly calm tone,
"Well, you best go get some more then."
*siiiiigh* I've been planning that ever since I decided to move out. I can't wait for the day to arrive when I'm finally in the right place at the right time to smasg a plate and scream. Everyone needs something to believe in right? We've all got to have hopes and dreams. Smashy, smashy.
So now I sit here I'm watching my good guys play the KC Royals...the first team I ever saw them play at the ball park. We're up and looking sharp. And then my PK gets hit in the arm by a pitch, right above the elbow. They had to take him out of the game to send him to go get X-rays (I really, really hope he's uninjured). But you know something, before he left the game he stayed in until the end of the inning and thanks to some good hits by his team mates he crossed home and got a run for us. You have to love them. They play like they're perpetually in the final stretch of the 7th game of the World Series. And even if they don't win, simply watching them play the way they do is a joy. I don't think I could love them as much as I do if they were afraid to swing the bat. I watched PK round home and I suddenly I felt good about packing up my flatware and moving to the city.
This is life. Holy shit.
And the dish ran away with the spoon,
MFB