As the granddaughter and
daughter of two fabulous cooks, I really want to keep the legacy up. I
finally moved into this apartment and have a kitchen and a lot of
reasonable cookware to use.
I've done well making simple
dinners, regular college fare and more than my fair share of microwave
popcorn. But I decided that this Valentines Day, instead of candy, I'm
going to give all my friends a sugar shock by baking up a storm.
So I went grocery shopping and
bought every variation of cookie, brownie, lemon bar and cupcake item I
could get my hands on. The look on the cashier's face was priceless.
Here is my point folks: Do you have any favorite baked good recipe that you want to share? I'm taking any and all suggestions.
It's amazing how much can happen in a 24-hour period.
From Sunday night to Monday afternoon I went from the deepest depths of
anger, sorrow and fear to the highest reaches of joy, exhilaration and
pride.
I went home over the weekend to tie up some loose ends and parked my
car outside our house. We live in a very normal, safe neighborhood so I
figured it would be fine if I ran out later to move the car into our
driveway.
I went out there Sunday to unpack a chair I brought home and noticed my
glove compartment was torn open and all of it's contents thrown about
the car.
All of my CDs, all 55 of them, were inside a black case -- stolen.
I know it's not a lot but a wave of emotion washed over me thinking
someone else was inside my car, touching and invading my space.
Then I started thinking about the CD cases contents. Fourteen CDs were
Dave Matthews Band. It's not like I'm a mega-fan anymore but there is a
lot of sentimental value in that collection. It took 10 years to build
that up. I devoted hours listening, dissecting lyrics and drawing
connections to my life. Now they are all in someone else's grips.
And there were other "valuables" in there.
CDs I borrowed from my parents.
CDs my boyfriend crafted for me. Although they had silly songs on them,
they were still made for me or listened to with him in the car, a
joyful moment that is just a memory now.
The worse part is that I have all of their cases, mocking me from my closet.
I cried and felt violated. I doubt we can claim it on insurance. It's the worse feeling. To me, it's not just CDs.
The next morning, still jaded from the night before, I packed my car and started the hour trek back to MSU.
The wintery conditions made the inside of the car fog up or made ice
blurry the windows. There were moments that I thought, "Pull over, it's
not worth getting into an accident."
Luckily I made it back safely and got to work.
Two hours later, a representative from the Columbus Dispatch called me
and offered me a summer internship. This would be a huge step in my
career, so no doubt I accepted.
I felt so proud of myself. I went after something and I proved myself.
Although it would be moving to a new city, again, and not moving home, for another summer, I felt like I needed the challenge.
In the grand scheme of things, I think a higher power knew that these
events had to be grouped together. The low-lows made the higher-highs
that much more special. Count your blessings, I know I am.
Ever since I was very little, I knew what the phrase "pack rat" meant because I had been dubbed one by everyone close to me. I keep everything. I peek into my closet at my parent's house reveals 1st grade workbooks, half used crayons, bags of stuffed animals, clothes breeding new clothes.
On the highest shelf of that vault of nostalgia is a shoe box full of cards. I keep every single card ever given to me. I know I started this collection when I was 8-years-old and received 100+ cards for my First Communion. Since then, I've had 12 birthdays, graduated from high school and had other life moments that garner a Hallmark moment.
I got to thinking about this box of cards last night. On the one hand, I convince myself they are just paper folder over and decorated. Granted, some have a dash of glitter or other embellishment, they are just hard-stock paper with a rushed saying of congratulations and a signature probably purchased at a Walgreens on the way to its delivery. And aren't cards a standard addition to gifts and special occasions? How special can they be?
But on the other hand, the person who gave me the card cared enough about me to accompany maybe a gift or something with a note. Several of the notes have long messages to me, about me that really drive this notion home. These are also moments frozen in time that I will always remember. Even looking at certain cards jogs a memory of the day and the feeling or even the relationship I have with the person/people. How could I throw away something with such emotional bearing?
I guess I was thinking about this more and more because in a few years, I am going to have to totally purge a lot of the things that represent my childhood as I move on to my own home and start to put down my own roots. A lot of people around me are getting engaged and starting families and, although I am excited and happy for them, it's so surreal. Wasn't it a little bit ago that we were just excited to move into a 12x12 dorm room and start being "independent" at college?
Do I throw away most of the contents of my closet or do I cling to them to retain the emotional value? I have no clue.
