Pickup Lines at 9am on the Way to Work

I was on my way to work the other morning. I happened to be running a bit late (what's new?), but I was still catching the end of the morning rush hour, so it felt like the normal business crowd around me as I worked my way through the metro cars.

My mornings aren't usually interesting. I get to the metro, I jump on a train, I get to work. Occasionally, I see some elbows get thrown. But that usually happens more at 8:30am, when the trains are fullest and people still have a chance of making it to work on time. Not at 8:50am, when all of us boarding already know we're going to be late, so we don't fight it.

Anyway, mornings aren't usually interesting.

But the other day, I was heading down from one train platform to another, to switch trains, and I got to the platform, where a train, of course, had just closed its door and pulled out (jerk train). So I started walking down the platform to "my spot" where I place myself on the train at the door that lets me out right at the escalator at my stop. Time savers - the more you ride the metro, the more you learn prime locations to save time getting out of the metro for when you're running late.

Anyway, this is too long of an introduction to a very short story. Let's start over.

The other day, I was on my way to work, and I was walking along the platform for a train, and I passed this guy - I barely saw him there; definitely didn't make eye contact - and I had almost completely passed him when I heard, "How you doin,' sexy?"

And I kept right on walking, with no visible or vocal response.

First, it took him a while to get that comment out - I was practically completely beyond him, and I only just caught that mumble as I walked away. Dude, if you want a response, you've got to speak up while I'm still around to respond.

Second, I had the thought that maybe he was calling his girlfriend or someone, and happened to say that on the phone at a time when I could've taken it as being directed toward me. Which just makes me look foolish to take affront at such a comment. But it was 9:10am, so that just didn't seem likely.

Second.5, it was 9:10 IN THE MORNING. Who even says the word "sexy" that early in the morning?  Doesn't that just seem too early to be saying such comments? I'm barely awake, I don't have time to be hit or focus to be hit on by some dirty stranger, okay? It just seemed silly.

Third, I was in work clothes with air-dried frizzy hair and a Tuesday morning scowl. I guess that's sexy to some guys - dude didn't seem at all like one of those guys.

I mean, I get it, I'm a very attractive, strong, confident, interesting, smart, twenty-something single female. Dude's gonna be attracted to that, naturally. It's just life.

But 9am is no time to express it. Because all you're gonna get is a non-responsive, scowl-faced-because-I-don't-want-to-be-going-to-work-right-now, grumpy, not-a-morning-person, girl walking right past you with no glance back to acknowledge the "compliment."

Try me later, when I'm coming back from work. Depending on the day, I could really use the laugh.

But if you're really hitting on me in the metro, chances are you're actually likely just to get my metro face.


*I actually am just naturally friendlier in the evenings than I am in the mornings. I'm not a morning person. I can barely talk to friends coherently/interestedly in the mornings. But evenings generally work okay. A few weeks ago, I even got invited to a Nationals baseball game by two strangers who were waiting for a less crowded train to the stadium (like that even exists!). The invite came after I had made friends with 3 women also looking to get on a less-crowded train, so they could go home - these guys heard us chatting, and I made sure they helped the women squeeze onto a train, after they had asked if I was hoping to board and I responded I was going a different direction. Once my new friends had safely boarded their train, one of the guys, probably about 40 years old, told me I should come to the game with them. All I wanted was to go home and stop sweating (mid-Summer, what can you do?), so I declined their invitation...but I considered it. Because how often do any of us just go to baseball games with random strangers? Never. That's how often. One day, I'll be brave and do something random. One day...

The Perks of Befriending the Mail Lady

One day, the very sweet, rather boisterous lady who delivers the mail to our office twice daily asked me if I read People magazine.

I responded that, sure, I'd read it sometimes.

She now makes sure to bring me one of the extra People magazines that come in the mail to one of the non-existent offices and would otherwise go in the trash. Waste not.

Every other week, she pops in, drops off our mail, then turns to me, hands me the magazine, and says, "take it home!" and then turns around and walks back out with a quick "have a good evening, Sugar!"

Today, she dropped off the mail, then left. Then came back 5 minutes later to hand me the magazine, having forgotten to give it to me when she was in. I smiled and expressed me surprise and gratitude, and she waved in acceptance and told me to "have a good weekend, Baby."

Be nice to your local mail person. Become friends. And maybe you too will start to get the leftover People magazines to read on your commute home.

I mainly enjoy it for the crossword puzzle :).

Happy Birthday, Roald Dahl!!

By the time I will have posted this, the holiday will be over, but I want to celebrate it anyway. So this late post will have to do.

Yes, I know, it was Friday the 13th. Personally, I don't really care about that one. It's like, meh, whatever.

What I do care about is that Friday was also the magical Roald Dahl's birthday! Happy birthday to one of my very favorite authors! He would've been 97 today. But he passed away in 1990 - though that didn't stop me as a child from wanting him to come out with new publications once I'd read all of his children's books.

When I told Staff Assistant Sean earlier today that it was Roald Dahl's birthday, he smiled indulgently (as he often does when I tell him really important facts - honestly, why didn't he want to learn all about Bastille Day when I was so ready to teach him?!), and said, "You're such an English major!" And I replied, "Excuse me? This is not an 'English major' thing - this is my childhood! Roald Dahl practically raised me. I read all of his children's books!" He asked me, the hint of a dare in his tone, to name all of his children's books. When I got to about the 12th book, he looked away, humbled, finally believing that this man was an active participant in shaping my life during my younger years. I could've gone on, but I spared him his afternoon after indulging in a dramatic sum-up of Esio Trot.

I can't say I've read much of his adult works, though. He will always be the author of my youth, and I'm not sure I'm ready to grow up to his adult fare. I read a few parts of Boy and The Wonderful Story of Henry Sugar (more YA than adult or children, I suppose). And the stories he selected from other writers in Roald Dahl's Book of Ghost Stories. Those were maybe a little scary for my young age at the time; Rosemary Timperley's "Harry" will always give me the creeps.

But there are a handful of his children stories that I list among my favorite books of all time - they are listed next to Anna Karenina and the Count of Monte Cristo and the Great Gatsby and the Catcher in the Rye.

So would you mind allowing me to indulge in discussing them a little bit? Roald Dahl shaped my childhood, so in discussing his books, I feel like I'm just writing a little bit about myself for you all anyway - which is what I do here anyway, right?

Our unofficial family book was Fantastic Mr. Fox. So it was, of course, my favorite of his. This is how I remember coming upon this book. We were on a family vacation, I think a local vacation, somewhere in Wisconsin. So maybe we were going to a State Track meet or something. And I remember it was a darker, gloomy day. Though that could be wrong. Anyway, none of that matters. I just remember that my oldest brother Chris was there, so I must've been really young. And we were at an outlet mall or something. And Chris really wanted to find this book, and I hadn't ever heard of it before. But it seemed excruciatingly important that we bought a copy. So we bought two. I associate this book with my dad, who read it to me a number of times, and would recite the limerick from the book, which the kids would sing about the local farmers in the town (and which I sometimes sing to myself still, on random walks down the street):

Boggis, Bunce, and Bean

One Fat, One Short, One Lean.

These Horrible Crooks,

So Different in Looks,

Are None the Less Equally Mean!

I think Chris took one of the copies for himself, as it was at his request that we bought them. And I'm pretty sure that second copy is currently sitting on my bookshelf in my room, an arm's length from where I am right now. Slightly tattered, extremely loved. I held on to that book from the moment we bought it, adoring it unconditionally and treasuring it above most of my other belongings.

After FMF, a very close second favorite has always been The Witches. The chapters explaining what a witch looks like, and how a witch masks her true form to blend in will go down as some of my favorite passages to re-read, no matter how old I am. I was scared and exhilarated every time I read that book. The little girl who was magicked into the painting in the story has made me forever skeptical about any people portrayed in scenic paintings. One of my nieces is currently reading that book, and my sister just told me that niece recently mentioned that maybe she shouldn't read it right before bed. I think I learned that lesson the hard way, too. It freaked me out completely, and I was absolutely delighted by it.

A shorter story of his that I absolutely love is Esio Trot. I mentioned it above - this story also includes a limerick/poem/magic spell that must be read aloud, much like FMF, and it's so fun to read. Esio Trot is tortoise spelled backwards (if you didn't notice already), and the poem is all written backwards. One day, while sister Abby was visiting from college, she came into my room, collapsed on my bed, and demanded that I read something from our beloved Dahl out loud to her. Being the obliging younger sister that I am (oh, how I've suffered!), I quickly picked up Esio Trot and gave it my best rendering. I think that moment, with that book, made me decide I wanted to read books for people - record audiobooks - for a living. Of course, I didn't get involved in any sort of theater or anything that would've given me training, but the dream has never fully died. And thinking about/re-reading Esio Trot just fans the flames!

This sounds strange, but seriously - Revolting Rhymes always made me laugh. Especially Dahl's version of Cinderella. Disney's Cinderella has always been my favorite movie. And this is just so completely opposite. The language is probably not quite "child-like,"but I love that the Prince cuts off the heads of the ugly step-sisters and Cindy decides she could be so much happier with a simple man and a simple life, so she marries a jam-maker instead. It's slightly violent, but I think the moral is good!

There are so many more that I really love and enjoy - Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, the BFG, The Magic Finger, James and the Giant Peach (ironically, since I abhor bugs, and half of the characters are giant bugs/insects) - but the last one that I think really stuck with me is Matilda. Miss Trunchbull is one of the greatest villains of all time, a terrible child abuser by today's standards, who strikes fear in all those who look at her. She hammer-tossed a little girl across a field by her braids! She kicked children! The Chokey, my goodness, the Chokey!! She was a monster. And she tormented all the children, and poor sweet Ms. Honey, an angel. Miss Trunchbull is an under-rated villain in literature. And then comes little Matilda, a genius child who, at a very young age, found that she had magic powers of telekinesis. And that with this power, she could do great things to right the wrongs of the world around her, or some of the wrongs, at least. There's just so much good in this book. It makes me so happy to read. And then there's chocolate cake. Anytime I see a large chocolate cake, I smile and think of Matilda. And Bruce Bogtrotter. And the GIANT chocolate cake he had to eat as punishment for stealing a piece of the Trunchbull's chocolate cake earlier. And the triumph of Bruce, as he taps into his reserves of perseverance and eats. the. whole. cake. I'm exhilarated (and waiting to get diabetes) just thinking about it! Matilda just makes me happy. The book does. The movie does. One day, I expect the musical will. You go, girl.

I should note, all of these books were favorites of mine for the stories - the story was so delicious to me. But most of them really came alive around me through the rough, scratchy drawings of Quentin Blake. I know a few other illustrators collaborated on some of his stories, but Quentin Blake was the staple - he was the go-to illustrator. And his course, pencil drawings were the perfect amount of strange, unique, revolting, sweet, silly personality for all of these strange, unique, revolting, sweet, silly characters Roald Dahl imagined into life. So I adore my Roald Dahl, but he's not really complete without Quentin Blake defining the picture. So, thanks Quentin. I adore you, too.

Matilda. {source}

The BFG {source}

Fantastic Mr. Fox - he was a stamp!! {source}

The Witches {source}

So, I think I've proved a little bit of my infatuation with the man who went from fighting in WWII as a fighter pilot to writing lovably twisted children's stories (and adult stories, too). Roald will always have a large part of my heart. Sorry, future husband - you'll always be chasing my complete love, because part of me is already eternally taken.

I can't think of many more ways to express my love for this man. So maybe I'll leave you with a few remarks the man himself made in his life. He's just my favorite. Have I mentioned that?

******

“If a person has ugly thoughts, it begins to show on the face. And when that person has ugly thoughts every day, every week, every year, the face gets uglier and uglier until you can hardly bear to look at it.

A person who has good thoughts cannot ever be ugly. You can have a wonky nose and a crooked mouth and a double chin and stick-out teeth, but if you have good thoughts it will shine out of your face like sunbeams and you will always look lovely.” 
― Roald Dahl, The Twits

“So Matilda’s strong young mind continued to grow, nurtured by the voices of all those authors who had sent their books out into the world like ships on the sea. These books gave Matilda a hopeful and comforting message: You are not alone.” 
― Roald Dahl, Matilda

“And above all, watch with glittering eyes the whole world around you because the greatest secrets are always hidden in the most unlikely places. Those who don't believe in magic will never find it.” 
― Roald Dahl

I Just Really Love Reading Writing

I was waiting for a train tonight, coming home from a reception after work. It was about a 10 minute wait, so I pulled out my book (I always have one in my purse - for moments just like these. It's the only way waiting for a train for 10 minutes doesn't make me want to gauge my eyes out) and spent the time reading a bit.

And I read a passage of one of the chapters of the novel I'm currently digesting. It was about 4 paragraphs in size.

And it was really beautiful. The imagery was gorgeous, and the sentences just rolled over each other like waves, and the vision I had in my mind of what was happening just completely blotted out the dingy metro station and muffled the echoing noises, and all too quickly my train was there in front of me.

So I put my book away and got on to go home.

I didn't read any more of the book then - partially as a rule, because I get motion sickness easily on the train. But mostly because I just really loved what I had read, and I thought about it the whole rest of my way home, the feelings I had smoldering in my mind.

And I will probably re-read that passage when I open my book again, before moving on to the rest of the story.

Has that ever happened to you? No? Yes? Am I just super weird? Because it really, truly made my day!

Which I think was a legitimate, purposeful blessing from above, because today was a tough one otherwise.

I hate when Congress goes back in to Session after a long recess. Working is hard, y'all!

Eeek! It's a Mouse!

I found a baby mouse stuck in a sticky trap by my desk the other day.

I was sitting there, minding my own business, maybe even working a little, when I noticed the trap, which had been stuck between my desk and the wall, and wondered if it had caught anything in the last few weeks, since it was put there.

We've had a problem with mice recently - the whole building has. In our office, we came across a mouse in a trap behind our couch about a month ago. And we've spotted one or two in the back office over the last few months. So we're pretty wary of them.

I don't know why I thought I'd check the trap this time, but I had enjoyed the thought that the mice weren't running around my corner of the office, so I hoped to prove myself right.

I bent down from my chair and looked in, and saw a shadow, which I hoped was really all it was - a shadow of the box, the dark space behind the trap, or something like that.

I called Staff Assistant Sean over, though, to confirm.

He crouched over, and then picked up the trap - complete with a teeny tiny, baby mouse. Dead, stuck to the trap.

!!!!

I was drowned in a mixture of sorrow (for the poor baby) and revulsion (it's a freaking dead mouse by my desk!), and I just wanted Sean to get the trap out of the office immediately.

Being the good staff assistant, he did just that - after first chasing me around the front office with it.

BOYS. Why?!?!

I felt so bad that the poor, innocent little thing might've sat there forever, slowly dying. I'm not a fan of the snap traps, but these sticky traps don't seem that much nicer.

Mice, take some advice from me, please. DO NOT come in to our building! I don't want to kill you, but we just can't have you running amok in our offices. We could peacefully co-exist, if only you'd exist outside, not anywhere I am.

Also, those sticky traps really are sticky. My chief of staff's dog found that out the hard way, when he stuck his nose in one, and it didn't come off until a pair of scissors got it off him - with part of his fur attached...his little face fuzz was rather uneven for the next several weeks...