Maybe I have this figured out. I'm BigCityBabe (aka Janie). My Daddy nicknamed me Babe when I was little because I loved Babe the Blue Ox (Paul Bunyon's ox). When I moved to Dallas, Daddy started calling me his BigCityBabe. So there you have it.
Are we meeting Wednesday night - before Thanksgiving? Probably not but let me know, please. Anxious to see everyone and get back into Circle mode.
Saturday, November 17, 2007
Can You Find Yourself
An Empty Wednesday
She bit into her lunch and was surprised to taste salt and fish. But more surprised to see a table full of clowns eating next to her. Well not exactly full of clowns, one lady was simply in a sweater. Odd.
She wondered as she ate if it was true what she heard on the morning talk show that she wasn’t really watching. Some gauze-clad lady was speaking of signs and that these signs “were all around us.”
It seemed silly, almost insane, but she had a gnawing feeling inside her that there was a bit of truth here. So if the signs were everywhere, why did she not make better choices? And she couldn’t remember any of these signs speaking to her at the crossroads of her life. Or is every day and every second a crossroad?
This was getting annoying but not as annoying as the pink clad guitarist who spelled her name with a K and ended in an “I” – probably trying to distance herself from the bloody prom queen of a homophonic name. “I mean why does she keep talking to her guitars and it sounds like they have a name. She probably draws a little heart over the “I” when she signs her autograph.
She left the restaurant not quite please with her meal and thought, “These chain restaurants suck. And they keep popping up everywhere. I mean really who needs another Chili’s. I bet we’d all be better off without them – even the folks who work there.”
She began driving back to work and decided to take a side road. More annoyance as she was forced to slow down and follow an odd site in the city; a short woman on a tall horse. The horse looked like Mr. Ed.
“I wonder how she ever got on that horse, mist have had a step ladder. And how come she gets to ride horses in the middle of a Thursday. I wish some people would just get a job.”
Slowly following Mr. Ed and the short chick, she decides the radio might be enough of a diversion to calm her frustration or at least distract her. She must have hit an 80’s station as some old song, familiar but annoyingly. “Saaaa-raaah, Saaa-raah….”
She was on the point of screaming and reached too quickly for the dial and pulled it off, throwing it into the floor of the passenger seat. Reaching over to pick it up, losing sight of the road, she hit the accelerator and ran into Mr. Ed and the white haired short chick. Throwing her from his back and into a patch of puppies, softening her landing.
The lady began screaming at her while holding one limp furry beast in her hand, “The puppies! We’ve got to save the puppies.”
She felt so bad that she let the crazed lady into her car and drove furiously to a vet office she remembered just down the street, leaving Mr. Ed behind. This did not seem so important as he was not always around anyway – and seemed to be such a free spirit with his long grey mane.
They careened into the vet parking lot and she ran together with the crazed lady and poor puppy to the front door which was locked with a sign taped to the front. Their spirits dropped as they read the sign, “Closed. Out Painting. See you later Cats!”
“Great, just what we need,” she thought “Some artist hippy chick vet!”
She looked at the crazed white-haired chick who was actually smiling. She held up the puppy who was wagging his tail and said, “He’s fine. Thank God. Now I guess I better find him a home.”
“I’m really late for work,” she told the lady. “Can you get back to your horse on your own?”
“I guess,” the lady said, “But I really wish I brought my bike.”
She was glad to leave the chaos of the afternoon and head back to the sanity and safety of her office. She went to the break room on the way to her cubicle to get a lift of caffeine. As she poured milk into her cup, she noticed that there was a woman, not a child on the side of the milk.
“Have you seen this woman? Deborah. Missing since…”
“How odd,” she thought.
She went back to her cubicle and began sifting through her email. 23 messages since she left for lunch. Her eyes glazed over by about the 8th message and reply when a ceiling tile fell directly on her desk.
Looking up she saw a white Snoop Doggy Dog maintenance man on a ladder.
“What the hell are you doing?” she asked.
“Just trying to turn the lights on for some folks,” he replied.
It was a strange answer, sort of. But she didn’t have time for this. She went back to her email and coffee, hoping the day would move more quickly and peacefully.
She started to doze off again after three more emails and chastised herself for staying awake late last night watching that “gay cowboy” movie. She wondered what her soccer mom friend Ellen saw in that movie and why she kept pestering her to watch it. Was there more to it than she saw?
The phone rings, jarring her out of her daydream of being at the shore with John.
“Hello. Marketing department,” She says.
“Yes. Yes. Yes, we do specialize in women’s issues. No. We are not looking for help. No I don’t think putting a cat on your resume is wise. Yes. I do think high energy is nice. No. I cannot hire you. And sorry I am busy on Thursday night and do not want to join a women’s group. No not even if you are going to an 80’s concert after. Bye.”
That was very strange, she thinks just as the IT consultant steps into her office and asks her questions about her computer and database and all sorts of things she is not really sure about.
Suddenly as she is listening but not, she realizes there is silence. She looks up and the IT consultant is staring at her coffee mug resting on a stained glass coaster that her mother gave her last Christmas.
“Is something the matter,” she asks.
“Could I have that coaster?” the IT person asks.
“What?”
“I just think I could melt that down into some really awesome earrings. Something that even that vixen on sex in the city would wear – or even that Maples woman, you know the one married to Trump.”
“You mean Kim?Marla?”
She screams and runs out of her office heading for the garage sure this must be what they call a psychotic snap. Getting in her car, she locks the doors and breathes with her eyes closed.
Slowly opening her eye, she catches sight of the necklace her mother sent her hanging over the mirror, “WWJD.”
An Empty Wednesday (The Church)
Reply to: pers-415042994@craigslist.orgDate: 2007-09-05, 9:25PM CDTI don't see you much anymore, not really. But it seems to me I see you everywhere. You show up in the weirdest places. And though you aren't really there It's like you've never gone. I will always remember the times together. The laughter, the lessons, the COOKIES. But sometimes, Wednesdays just have a hole.
· Location: The Church
She bit into her lunch and was surprised to taste salt and fish. But more surprised to see a table full of clowns eating next to her. Well not exactly full of clowns, one lady was simply in a sweater. Odd.
She wondered as she ate if it was true what she heard on the morning talk show that she wasn’t really watching. Some gauze-clad lady was speaking of signs and that these signs “were all around us.”
It seemed silly, almost insane, but she had a gnawing feeling inside her that there was a bit of truth here. So if the signs were everywhere, why did she not make better choices? And she couldn’t remember any of these signs speaking to her at the crossroads of her life. Or is every day and every second a crossroad?
This was getting annoying but not as annoying as the pink clad guitarist who spelled her name with a K and ended in an “I” – probably trying to distance herself from the bloody prom queen of a homophonic name. “I mean why does she keep talking to her guitars and it sounds like they have a name. She probably draws a little heart over the “I” when she signs her autograph.
She left the restaurant not quite please with her meal and thought, “These chain restaurants suck. And they keep popping up everywhere. I mean really who needs another Chili’s. I bet we’d all be better off without them – even the folks who work there.”
She began driving back to work and decided to take a side road. More annoyance as she was forced to slow down and follow an odd site in the city; a short woman on a tall horse. The horse looked like Mr. Ed.
“I wonder how she ever got on that horse, mist have had a step ladder. And how come she gets to ride horses in the middle of a Thursday. I wish some people would just get a job.”
Slowly following Mr. Ed and the short chick, she decides the radio might be enough of a diversion to calm her frustration or at least distract her. She must have hit an 80’s station as some old song, familiar but annoyingly. “Saaaa-raaah, Saaa-raah….”
She was on the point of screaming and reached too quickly for the dial and pulled it off, throwing it into the floor of the passenger seat. Reaching over to pick it up, losing sight of the road, she hit the accelerator and ran into Mr. Ed and the white haired short chick. Throwing her from his back and into a patch of puppies, softening her landing.
The lady began screaming at her while holding one limp furry beast in her hand, “The puppies! We’ve got to save the puppies.”
She felt so bad that she let the crazed lady into her car and drove furiously to a vet office she remembered just down the street, leaving Mr. Ed behind. This did not seem so important as he was not always around anyway – and seemed to be such a free spirit with his long grey mane.
They careened into the vet parking lot and she ran together with the crazed lady and poor puppy to the front door which was locked with a sign taped to the front. Their spirits dropped as they read the sign, “Closed. Out Painting. See you later Cats!”
“Great, just what we need,” she thought “Some artist hippy chick vet!”
She looked at the crazed white-haired chick who was actually smiling. She held up the puppy who was wagging his tail and said, “He’s fine. Thank God. Now I guess I better find him a home.”
“I’m really late for work,” she told the lady. “Can you get back to your horse on your own?”
“I guess,” the lady said, “But I really wish I brought my bike.”
She was glad to leave the chaos of the afternoon and head back to the sanity and safety of her office. She went to the break room on the way to her cubicle to get a lift of caffeine. As she poured milk into her cup, she noticed that there was a woman, not a child on the side of the milk.
“Have you seen this woman? Deborah. Missing since…”
“How odd,” she thought.
She went back to her cubicle and began sifting through her email. 23 messages since she left for lunch. Her eyes glazed over by about the 8th message and reply when a ceiling tile fell directly on her desk.
Looking up she saw a white Snoop Doggy Dog maintenance man on a ladder.
“What the hell are you doing?” she asked.
“Just trying to turn the lights on for some folks,” he replied.
It was a strange answer, sort of. But she didn’t have time for this. She went back to her email and coffee, hoping the day would move more quickly and peacefully.
She started to doze off again after three more emails and chastised herself for staying awake late last night watching that “gay cowboy” movie. She wondered what her soccer mom friend Ellen saw in that movie and why she kept pestering her to watch it. Was there more to it than she saw?
The phone rings, jarring her out of her daydream of being at the shore with John.
“Hello. Marketing department,” She says.
“Yes. Yes. Yes, we do specialize in women’s issues. No. We are not looking for help. No I don’t think putting a cat on your resume is wise. Yes. I do think high energy is nice. No. I cannot hire you. And sorry I am busy on Thursday night and do not want to join a women’s group. No not even if you are going to an 80’s concert after. Bye.”
That was very strange, she thinks just as the IT consultant steps into her office and asks her questions about her computer and database and all sorts of things she is not really sure about.
Suddenly as she is listening but not, she realizes there is silence. She looks up and the IT consultant is staring at her coffee mug resting on a stained glass coaster that her mother gave her last Christmas.
“Is something the matter,” she asks.
“Could I have that coaster?” the IT person asks.
“What?”
“I just think I could melt that down into some really awesome earrings. Something that even that vixen on sex in the city would wear – or even that Maples woman, you know the one married to Trump.”
“You mean Kim?Marla?”
She screams and runs out of her office heading for the garage sure this must be what they call a psychotic snap. Getting in her car, she locks the doors and breathes with her eyes closed.
Slowly opening her eye, she catches sight of the necklace her mother sent her hanging over the mirror, “WWJD.”
An Empty Wednesday (The Church)
Reply to: pers-415042994@craigslist.orgDate: 2007-09-05, 9:25PM CDTI don't see you much anymore, not really. But it seems to me I see you everywhere. You show up in the weirdest places. And though you aren't really there It's like you've never gone. I will always remember the times together. The laughter, the lessons, the COOKIES. But sometimes, Wednesdays just have a hole.
· Location: The Church
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
Post-Circle Note
Hi, everyone. I just now am getting access to the WIW blog. I don't see me on the list but maybe I will be next time I log onto the blog. I love that word-blog. Log-on the blog....hmm. Circle was challenging for me! Forgiveness was the topic and I was more into 'boundaries' as my topic. So now that I see everyone brings pictures I wonder about how to do that, etc. Is it boring with no pictures? Anyway, we missed those of you that weren't there. Which was almost everyone. Ha!
Monday, November 12, 2007
Sorry I'll need to miss on Wednesday
I'll miss you - and I hope you have a wonderful and productive circle! See you next week!
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