more news from the crime scene

The first time that I went to Europe was in the summer of 2000 when I spent three weeks in Parma studying Italian. I returned shortly after that to go to Rome, and kept lira in my wallet for a long time after that as a reminder that I wanted to go back to Europe as soon as possible. In a biting instance of dramatic irony, you all know that lira are worthless now as Italy has switched to the Euro, so I had put my pretty little lira in a tin that read “Baseball: America’s Favorite Pastime” into which I also tossed pennies and Euros. I discovered yesterday that was taken in the theft also. Did the thief know that my brother gave me that tin?

Everyone keeps saying “You are handling this so well!”, but I don’t really know how I am supposed to handle it, or how they expected me to handle it. I cry about once a day over losing my Add-A-Pearl necklace, and I was a little creeped out to discover that all of my clean cloth rags had been put in the bin labeled ‘dirty’ and vice versa. Other than that, I haven’t had much emotional turbulence about the whole thing. Until yesterday that is…

Just before I was about to embark on my training run I realized that the radio I use when I run had been taken. That’s right, I listen to a Sony Walkman radio when I go running, and I hope the fact that it attaches to an armband makes other runners think it’s an Ipod. It cost about $40, and that creep who broke into my house took it. Congratulations, you’re just a jerk for stealing something that is worth next to nothing, the theft of which only serves to inconvenience me, not benefit you. That, combined with my recent discovery that my chapstick was also stolen because it was in the top of my jewelry box, set me off, and I screamed and shouted alone in my apartment. Then I went to Target and bought a new radio and chapstick.

last night

Usually I can think of a clever zinger or hook to start these things, but for some reason today one is eluding me. So let’s start with the headline: Religion Teacher’s Apartment Burglarized: Only Losses are Gifts from Dead People.

I can only imagine how disappointed our intrepid thief was as he or she rifled through old shoeboxes filled with cards from my mom, old pairs of glasses, stacks of headshots, useless keys. Searching for ipods and flatscreens, what he or she found were an old “boom box” and a 15 year old TV with bunny ears.

So what do you take from the girl who has very little? The handful of jewelry she keeps on top of her dresser. They’re just things, I keep telling myself. But there are reasons we become attached to things. They remind us of people who gave them to us, of times in our lives, of memories. The only jewelry I had were items that had been with me for what feels like forever.

That silly red box (on top of a piece of furniture which is worth more money than anything else in the house) held the Christmas morning I got my cross in my stocking and the 10 years that I wore it every day. It held my high school ring dance, and the weeks of having classmates turn my ring 98 times. It held a student’s parent telling me that graduation mass was the most beautiful mass she had ever attended and that she wanted to give me a thank you. It held singing at the wedding of friends (and laughing over the fact that they also gave me earrings even though my ears aren’t pierced). It held birthday after birthday of little gold boxes from Lux Bond & Green and trips to the jeweler to have the pearls added to my necklace. It held a high school friend telling me that a rosary ring had made him think of me, just before he told me it only cost a dime.

They took my camera, off of which I had already downloaded the pictures from Italy. They took an old wallet (which they probably thought was a big score – hope they enjoy my DSW Rewards Card).

What initially tipped me off that the unlocked door wasn’t a random thing was that I couldn’t find my phone charger. I have been using a hand-me-down phone with a weak battery, so I knew I would have to go back to using the cheap Best Buy phone I had been using before. Except they took that phone (which explains why they took the charger). Way to go dummy, now you have a $15 phone and a charger that doesn’t go with it. Thanks for ruining my day.

The officers who came were very nice and told me where the local pawn shops are. When I told them that I had renters insurance they were astonished. Apparently no one they ask ever has it. I called the family to commiserate (sorry to upset you guys so late at night!) At that point I needed to hit the hay. I don’t know what made me think that I would just be able to go to sleep, but half an hour later I was still wide-eyed and shaking. I’ll blame it on the cold.

So I got up and watched Conan. And rifled through all of my drawers to make sure my passport and old credit card were still there. They were.

Keeping our priorities straight

This morning on the news they mentioned that people don't like the new Facebook. This is not news! And although I respect peoples' right to protest the new Facebook, let's be clear about where this should rank on our list of priorities: they have revamped a social networking site, not the US Tax Code.

I miss The West Wing

Maureen Dowd's column occasionally makes me a bit uncomfortable, but I think today's is brilliant.

Aaron Sorkin conjures a meeting of Obama and Bartlet

I particularly liked this observation:

If you excelled academically and are able to casually use 690 SAT words then you might as well have the press shoot video of you giving the finger to the Statue of Liberty while the Dixie Chicks sing the University of the Taliban fight song.

WBZ disappoints me in the morning

They are running a segment titled "Hurricane Hipocracy". Yes, that's how they spelled it

"By some chance, here we are, all on this earth"...notes on gratitude

Last week in Godschool our teacher modeled a particular pedagogical method by doing a lesson on gratitude. She made a very interesting point: that part of gratitude is living in the moment. I had never thought of it quite that way, but all my experience points in that direction. Although I am capable of being indescribably ungracious, I often find myself having my breath taken away by gratitude in spite of myself.

Despite what seems like my constant lamenting (usually for comic effect…but often to score cheap pity points), I do have a lot to be grateful for. Excuse me, ‘for which to be grateful’. My family is healthy and fun and we all get along. I have considerable musical skills. I was able to get into a good college and then get a great job. I live in an apartment by myself in a wonderful city. I go running in the morning and watch the sunrise over the water, which is pretty darn gorgeous.

I have always suspected that my family is as good at receiving gifts as we are at getting them. That came out wrong – when we receive gifts that excite us we often go nuts and come about as close as you can to barfing up gratitude all over the floor. One year my brother got a fabulously fuzzy Red Sox blanket from some dear family members and he immediately tore it open, wrapped himself up in it, and lay down on the floor.

Last night at rehearsal for Schicchi we were rehearsing one of the lovely parts (Addio, Firenze… for those of you who are into this sort of thing). The lovely parts of Schicchi tend to sneak up on me. We will be expostulating and shrieking for ten pages and then sing some of the most beautiful, lyric lines imaginable. I was looking around the room (because this is one of the few spots I have memorized) and was absolutely bowled over with gratitude. So many of my best friends were in that room, and even the people who I wouldn’t consider best friends are wonderful colleagues who I have known so long that they are almost like family to me. We know each other in and out, have had marvelously good times together and have had knock-down, drag-out fights. By some sort of magic or Providence we were all brought together, and on a random Thursday night in Somerville we made something heavenly, together.

I woke up this morning with a serious case of cooties, brought on no doubt by the recent return to work (and the change in seasons). I decided to treat the sniffles with this course of action I had only heard about before. It's called "taking it easy".

So I ditched/postponed my long run (10 miles with a fever? I'm too old for that) and lay on the couch for most of the morning. I had to go out in the afternoon, but came back and napped on the couch before going out this evening.

I had a pretty typical Meg moment out at the pub. I had ordered a drink and given my name to the waitress to open a tab. A very handsome bartender came over and started chatting, and I asked him for a water as well. He asked me my name, and my first thought, which, thank heavens did not come out of my mouth, was "Are you seriously going to charge a tap water to my tab?" Then I noticed he had stuck his hand out. To shake mine. Like normal men and women do when they are meeting each other.

Don't yell at people when they ask your name, don't shout "what the hell is that?" when someone puts his arm around you. BE COOL!



Refer to minute 1:00.

The Cleanliness Chronicles

As soon as I put on a white shirt I knew I would spill my coffee on it at some point. Ignoring my premonition, I left the house with my morning Joe in a “Connecticut River Community Bank” travel mug and was on my way…without a back up shirt.

I was all the way to JFK/UMass when I missed my mouth with the mug (or the mug with my mouth?) and splashed coffee on my shirt. I pulled my sweater tight, but it wasn’t tight enough to cover the splash. Tide StainStick-less, I walked to work.

When I got to work I headed straight to a women’s bathroom. Leaning over the sink wasn’t doing the trick, so off the shirt came (it was a private bathroom) and I did my best to rinse only the soiled part. Those of you familiar with “my best” when it comes to cleanliness know that it is not very good. I soaked the entire front of my white T-shirt. And for what it’s worth, I still don’t think I got the coffee out.

So right now I have my t-shirt on backwards with my sweater tied as tight around me as it can be. I’ll let you know when it dries.

Anniversaries and more bus madness

I have very particular ideas of the best ways to commemorate things like 9/11. Like most particular aims, they fail to be met by the vast majority. All I will say is that the memory that sticks out the most is of an Arab Muslim friend who told me her mother suggested that she not leave her apartment because it wouldn't be safe.

Yesterday I taught 5 in a row, had 2 meetings, and had 2 rehearsals, and by 10 pm I was still able to speak and sing comfortably. Maybe I have turned a corner. Thank heavens.

The movie that is being filmed across the street is called "Edge of Darkness" with Mel Gibson, DeNiro (who reportedly backed out recently) and Cameron Diaz (who a bus driver described as 'very laid back', having seen her on the route). That same driver went on to tell me how "none of these Boston movies has told the real story" and to describe what growing up in Southie was like under Whitey. He then took issue with The Departed; his major criticism seemed to be that the movie depicted them using the telephone.

How city living has me jaded, in two parts

I. Today they were setting up a film shoot across the street. Rather than trying to sneak a peek at Mel Gibson or whoever was out there, all I could think was "I hope this doesn't mess up my bus route".

II. I accidentally ran 12.5 miles on Saturday (should have been 9 - don't ask). At about mile 12 I was running around the park and an old senile woman in the busstop shouted out to me. I turned down my music and she screamed "Can you wait with me to make sure the bus picks me up?"

Those of you who don't have these encounters often are imagining your virtue right now. I know, I know, you would stop and wait. You would make sure she had bus fare. You would keep her company. Not me. I told her I had to get home and kept running.

Both of these have to do with buses.

Tough crowd in Southie

Last night's adventures included a trip to the pharmacy. While in line the woman behind me began commenting loudly about the various inefficiencies she perceived in the running of the CVS pharmacy. After lamenting that there was only one register open and commending the cashier for her frequent good work, she gestured to the head pharmacist and shouted "and that guy back there: he's a lazy piece of sh*t! he doesn't do anything! he's a f*cking a**hole too!"

Fulfillment

Yesterday I started this semester's "God-school" class. During introductions I noticed a lot of people who ran businesses, had MBAs, worked lucrative jobs, but who "just weren't fulfilled". When it came my turn I told them I had plenty of fulfillment to go around, but if anyone could lend me twenty bucks, that would be great.