There's a friend at work who, every week or so, comes in with a big ol' hickey on her neck and a mock turtleneck which does absolutely nothing to hide it. Today she was sporting an even skin tone, which prompted me to say "No hickey? I'm disappointed. Life's too short to walk around without a hickey on your neck!"
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I was over at my soon-to-be house dropping off another box o'stuff, and there was a program on the Travel Channel which took a camera crew the entire length of the Appalachian Trail documenting the hostels, sights, and landmarks along its 14-state span. I want to hike it so bad my back surgery aches at the thought. The loving and open fellowship and cameraderie among hikers, whether in a group, in passing, or sharing a meal or campsite at a hostel, is the stuff my dreams are made of.
"A.T." hikers give themselves pseudonyms, as they consider themselves reborn through the gruelling trial. I often wonder if the tribulation I'm going through now would warrant me the status of "reborn" when I emerge. What would your hiker name be? I think I'd be "King Tut". Not sure why.
(That, and you know passing hikers hook up at night. They have to. There out there for months at a time, and they're mostly hippies with dudes sporting Jesus beards and women with thick sexy thighs. Free love, man!)
---
Last night my mom calls me with news: She ran into a girl I went to high school with while at the Troy Civic Theatre (as she was working the hospitality desk), and with whom I was on an extracurricular team which my mom coached. Her name is Amita Patel, and she was only ever an acquaintance. We'd pass each other in the halls with a "Hi Amita!", "Hi Andy-Bob!" And very little beyond that. Well, we've bumped into each other every couple of years (this is small-town Ohio, after all), and she got married, her new name being Plantz. Anyway, she asked my mom for my number since she and another girl from my class are trying to organize the class of '96's ten-year reunion. Mom gave Amita her number instead of mine, describing my situation and saying that I'll be moving in with her in about a week.
Amita told Mom that she just went through a divorce herself... and then gave Mom her cell number and asked that she make sure I get it, in case I want to talk about it or get together over a drink or something. I know my mom. Most likely, she probably over-dramatized and "poor Andy"'ed it in a match-making effort, because she made sure to tell me that Amita stressed twice to make sure I got her number.
So I called her tonight. And we talked for a few minutes, and I explained how things are near psychotic with Caro and I being in the middle of moving, but that I wanted to return the call, and that being social was pretty much impossible until I am fully moved into Mom's. I thanked her, though, for her thoughtfulness, and said that I would definitely like to get together sometime after I'm settled in next week.
I called Angela at work all excited about what I just did, which is 100% uncharacteristic of me. She's happy for me. It was nice to talk to her, it's been far too long since we last had a thursday night at Avalanche, and I had begun to miss her.
Now, before you start thinking I'm some playa' trying to rack up multiple girlfriends, there were no romantic overtones between Amita and me. She's just an old acquaintance with a common link (mom, who's active in the theatre, despite her many attempts to quit), who's been through a very similar situation and probably needs to talk with somebody who can empathize, not just sympathize, with what she's saying.
Either way, I'm definitely looking forward to the chance of making a new good friend in a week or two.
---
I was over at my soon-to-be house dropping off another box o'stuff, and there was a program on the Travel Channel which took a camera crew the entire length of the Appalachian Trail documenting the hostels, sights, and landmarks along its 14-state span. I want to hike it so bad my back surgery aches at the thought. The loving and open fellowship and cameraderie among hikers, whether in a group, in passing, or sharing a meal or campsite at a hostel, is the stuff my dreams are made of.
"A.T." hikers give themselves pseudonyms, as they consider themselves reborn through the gruelling trial. I often wonder if the tribulation I'm going through now would warrant me the status of "reborn" when I emerge. What would your hiker name be? I think I'd be "King Tut". Not sure why.
(That, and you know passing hikers hook up at night. They have to. There out there for months at a time, and they're mostly hippies with dudes sporting Jesus beards and women with thick sexy thighs. Free love, man!)
---
Last night my mom calls me with news: She ran into a girl I went to high school with while at the Troy Civic Theatre (as she was working the hospitality desk), and with whom I was on an extracurricular team which my mom coached. Her name is Amita Patel, and she was only ever an acquaintance. We'd pass each other in the halls with a "Hi Amita!", "Hi Andy-Bob!" And very little beyond that. Well, we've bumped into each other every couple of years (this is small-town Ohio, after all), and she got married, her new name being Plantz. Anyway, she asked my mom for my number since she and another girl from my class are trying to organize the class of '96's ten-year reunion. Mom gave Amita her number instead of mine, describing my situation and saying that I'll be moving in with her in about a week.
Amita told Mom that she just went through a divorce herself... and then gave Mom her cell number and asked that she make sure I get it, in case I want to talk about it or get together over a drink or something. I know my mom. Most likely, she probably over-dramatized and "poor Andy"'ed it in a match-making effort, because she made sure to tell me that Amita stressed twice to make sure I got her number.
So I called her tonight. And we talked for a few minutes, and I explained how things are near psychotic with Caro and I being in the middle of moving, but that I wanted to return the call, and that being social was pretty much impossible until I am fully moved into Mom's. I thanked her, though, for her thoughtfulness, and said that I would definitely like to get together sometime after I'm settled in next week.
I called Angela at work all excited about what I just did, which is 100% uncharacteristic of me. She's happy for me. It was nice to talk to her, it's been far too long since we last had a thursday night at Avalanche, and I had begun to miss her.
Now, before you start thinking I'm some playa' trying to rack up multiple girlfriends, there were no romantic overtones between Amita and me. She's just an old acquaintance with a common link (mom, who's active in the theatre, despite her many attempts to quit), who's been through a very similar situation and probably needs to talk with somebody who can empathize, not just sympathize, with what she's saying.
Either way, I'm definitely looking forward to the chance of making a new good friend in a week or two.
posted by Grover at 11/08/2005 09:41:00 PM
2 Comments:
Have you 'grabbed a drink' with Amita yet? If so how did it go? If not, good luck and I hope you have fun, playa. :)
No, nothing yet. I may ask if she's free saturday night, or maybe sunday to grab a bite for lunch.
Me, a player. *snicker* Yeah, I'm a regular Bill Bellamy. :-)
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