Comfortable is a relative term...

Internet dating. There are so many pitfalls and traps. And it's so easy to get sucked into cliches when putting your profile together.

For example, does every guy out there aged 25-45 really like long walks on the beach? Is it really that universal? Isn't there someone out there like me who thinks that sand in your shoes is overrated?

Also, do that many people enjoy badminton so much that they are compelled to list it as a hobby? Cause I don't see badminton clubs sweeping the nation.

Then there are the people who like to work hard and also like to play hard. Is it me, or is that code for I-love-getting-drunk-and-throwing-up-in-some-random-stranger's-garden? Okay, that may be a bit cynical, and since I don't claim to either work hard OR play hard, it's probably not fair to judge. But I remember my old boss used to use that line all the time, and as far as I could tell, playing hard for him meant meeting the other power biz chino and polo shirt guys out for drinks for a few hours and talking on the phone to clients the entire time. So maybe my impression is incorrect.

But my fav of all the fav cliches are the guys who are looking for girls who are equally comfortable in black-tie or sweats.

Ok, um, what? EQUALLY comfortable? Let's evaluate that for a moment. Because is anyone EVER comfortable when they dress up to go out somewhere? I mean, maybe men can be comfortable in ties and suits, if they wear them everyday, and I guess tuxedos aren't that much different. But seriously, guys? Have you ever seen the shoes we wear when we wear black-tie attire? Do they look comfortable to you?Do Spanx, or panty hose, or anything else we wear to keep our bodies in check while wearing fabulous clothes look as comfy as sweats to you?

Let's see these two scenarios side-by-side, shall we? Do a little side-by-side comparison.






















"Honey, let's stay in tonight and watch some TV."
"Oh, fantastic idea sweetheart. I'm so tired and I have been waiting for the chance to wear my new strapless bra with underwire under my new black tie gown. Let me just throw my hair into a chignon and I'll be all ready to get comfy."

Am I ranting? Of course. Am I exaggerating? Uh huh. Do I think that perhaps I am taking it all a bit too literally? Well, duh. Am I completely wrong? Possibly. Am I amused by the idea? Abso-freakin-lutely.

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go put on my new stilettos and do some gardening. Have a lovely evening!

Take a Moment Friday

I'd like to start a new tradition here at the blog. Each Friday, I am going to pick one thing and Take a Moment to Appreciate It. So here goes today's.

I am doing a party for a woman tonight who is folding me into her birthday celebration. She has rented a hotel suite and invited all of her friends. She is having Ladies' Time from 5:30-8:30 and I will be attending as part of that portion.

She gave me an invitation so that I would know the details and where everything is. It's a pretty straightforward invitation, mostly unremarkable. Exept for this one part, which is my favorite.

At the bottom, under the directions, it says "Please bring a gift."

I love that! She wants gifts. So rather than leaving any mention of gifts off, in the hope that people will just assume to bring them, or being socially correct and saying "no gifts" and then hoping people will ignore that directive and bring them anyway, she's putting it out there. Please bring a gift.

Someone who actually asks for what they want. Huh. Doesn't hope, doesn't hint, doesn't fantasize about it. Just asks. How often do we actually do that in life? I can't speak for everyone, but I know I don't do it all that often. So it shouldn't be surprising to me when people don't read my mind, but it always seems to shock me.

So, on this Take a Moment Friday, let's take a moment to appreciate someone who is willing to risk putting themselves out there and asking for something they want.

I shall now follow the lead and ask people to forward my blog on to people you think may enjoy it. And maybe leave a comment.

(That was scarier than I thought. Better hit Publish Now before I change my mind.)

Richie's Bid for Freedom

So, the first time was a week ago today. No, you know what? Let's start a bit further back.

My sister's dog, Ernie, made his first attempt at freedom early last week. Somehow, he got out of the gate in the backyard and went off to check out the neighborhood on his own. My sister lept in her car and chased him down, luring him into the backseat with hot dogs.

My poor sister. She lives on a main street and her dog is lovable and sweet and very endearing, but not the brightest bulb in the box. We're talking about a dog who tried to eat a skunk and then looked so sad when it sprayed him right in the face. You could practically hear him thinking, "Well, what did you do that for? I just wanted to eat you! Why would you hurt me?" So, when my sister said to me that she was grateful she had the presence of mind to take along hot dogs to tempt him into the car, I agreed. It was a smart move. And I said a silent prayer of thanks in my head that Richie has spent hours upon hours in the backyard and never gotten out or tried to eat a skunk. See? I willed it into being! Stupid, stupid, stupid.

A week ago today, I was out all morning. As I was driving home, the sky was just starting to return to normal after several hours of rain and thunderstorm. I was relieved that it was ending before I got home because, as previously discussed, Richie can get quite manic when thunderstorms roll into town.

I pulled down my street and noticed that the woman who cleans my house had parked in my driveway. So I pulled up to the curb and parked. As I was getting out, a very nice man who was getting into his minivan down the street yelled hello to me. Then he asked me if I knew anyone in the neighborhood who had a Corgi. I yelled back that I had one, as my heart started to beat faster.

I walked toward the man who was yelling to me that he had just seen a corgi trailing a red leash (which I leave on him when my cleaning person is here so she can get him back into his room when she leaves with little difficulty) walking down the street. Naturally, I instantly began to panic and started running down the street toward the car, my mind already trying to calculate where he might have gone.

Fortunately, this lovely man had realized that a dog walking down the street with his leash on and no owner didn't seem right and had picked him up and put him in the car. The man got out and opened his back door. "Come here, buddy," he said and I saw Richie's head pop out of the door and look around with interest to see what was going on. Very nonchalant. 'Oh gee, what's happening out here?' I wanted to kill him and hug him at the same time. He caught sight of me and smiled before jumping out of the car and walking toward me. I grabbed his leash, gushing thanks to this wonderful, wonderful man (who was a little scary for a second when he said that his wife had always wanted a corgi and he had been about to call her and tell her he found one... um...) Richie started pulling on the leash like he thought we would go for a walk now. As if my legs were still working and not shaking like crazy. Sorry, buddy. We had to go home right away so I could have a quiet nervous breakdown and try very hard not to yell at my cleaning person for letting him out when the gate was open. Which I know was not her fault, but I wanted to yell anyway.

Anyhow, we all recovered and it became a funny story to tell for the next few days. I tried not to think about what could have happened and just focused on how fortunate I was that the timing worked out the way it did.

Two days ago, Ernie, apparently having gotten a taste of freedom and liking it, streaked out the side door of my sister's house while someone was leaving and ran off down the street. My poor sister had to run after him and finally caught up with him when he was a couple blocks down. Now she's worried that every time she opens the door, he's going to make a run for it. And I don't blame her. Again, as she told me what happened, I stupidly said a silent prayer of thanks that Richie didn't get any further on his freedom run and that I had learned my lesson. Jinxed it again!!!

This afternoon, I came home during a thunderstorm. I let Richie out to pee but he was so freaked out by the storm, he refused to go. I shut the back door and walked away for a second thinking if I wasn't standing there, maybe he would go on his own. Um... I thought wrong.

No, instead he made a break for it, no doubt looking for somewhere to get away from the storm. If the storm is in his house and in his backyard, then surely he can get away from it by leaving those places.

I returned to the door less than a minute later and he was nowhere in sight. Completely panicked, I got in the car, stalled, and then backed out, terrified that he would come running up the driveway and I wouldn't be able to see him. (He's REALLY SHORT!) I drove around the block, stopping at a park near my house, where I very enthusiastically and loudly, screamed "RICHIEEEEEEE" at the top of my lungs several times. (Think STELLLAAAAA. That's about right.) I turned around to get back in the car with absolutely no idea what direction to head next when I saw two ears crest the hill of the block next to the park. I hoped against hope that it was him. That he had heard me scream and was running to me.

It was, although I don't think he heard me yell. I think he was just still trying to outrun the storm. He was running, running, running, ears flat back, in the rain. He was, of course, just to torture me as much as possible, running down the middle of the friggin' road, just so a car could not see him and run him over as they drove by. I was standing there yelling, "Come to me Richie! That's a good boy, come on Richie." I didn't want to back the car up for fear of running him over and I was afraid if I wasn't right next to the car when he got to me, he would take off again before I could reach down and grab his collar. So I just stood next to the car, yelling his name and clapping my hands together (our signal for "come.") He got to the end of the block and I was just about to stop freaking out when I realized he wasn't running at me. He didn't seem to know it was me. Like Forrest Gump before him, he was just running. He turned the corner and started heading toward the house.

Fortunately (how many times can I use that word in this post), when I yelled his name again, he realized it was me and changed course. I opened the car door and he jumped in, shaking and panting (which made two of us.) I got in the car and sat behind the wheel, trying to calm myself down. My legs were shaking too much to put the clutch in. I kept seeing everything that could have gone wrong flashing behind my eyes. A car. Another dog. Him getting lost and not knowing how to get home.

We got home and I was too afraid to put him down outside so I carried him into the house. Did I mention he doesn't enjoy being carried? He squirms and squirms until he either falls out of my arms or I put him down. Which I did and then flopped down on the couch.

I wanted to be mad. I wanted to punish him. But all I could feel was grateful. So I sat down on the floor next to him, petting him and telling him I love him. I started to lecture him about never leaving the house again, but he was apparently not interested, because he got up and walked to the other corner of the room and laid down, panting, drooling and staring at the ceiling, no doubt wondering why he couldn't get away from the storm.

'What is it with my Granddogs,' my mother asked me. I honestly don't know. But I am choosing to blame Ernie for being a bad influence on Richie. Now granted, they live in seperate states and have only ever met once since Richie doesn't know how to play nicely with others. But still, let's blame Ernie. It's less stressful for me.

And I've had enough stress today.

Year 35

So... 36 looms. In two more days, I will be closer to 40 than to 30. Which is fine. I'm not worried about age. But as the day gets closer, I've been doing some evaluation of the previous year. I've been making a mental list of my accomplishments (such as they are) over the year that was 35.

• Recruited four new consultants. All of whom are still active, which is exciting. Still dangle on the precipice of Director level where I have been hanging since November, waiting to find one more recruit. Frustrating!
• Read at least 20 books. Started and never finished significantly more than that, however. Let's not do the math to see how much I spent on these. Re-read Time Traveler's Wife for possibly the 5th time. Stay tuned for a later blog on that book and the special place it holds in my heart.
  
• Learned to teach Pilates and taught over 60 hours of free classes for friends and family.
• Attempted to understand the anatomy of the human body for Pilates. Ongoing process.
• Attended PR annual training in Cincinnati and PR Convention in Las Vegas. Guess which one I enjoyed more.
  
• Held more than 50 PR parties. Had three women tell me I helped save their marriage.
• Took Richie for significantly fewer walks that I should have. Poor Richie.
• Ten haircuts and six cut/color.
• Countless mani/pedis.
• Spent many hours with my fantastic niece singing songs from Sesame Street and impersonating the Count.
• Finally brought a 20 year relationship to its inevitable conclusion, simultaneously purging myself of two decades of regret and what-ifing while also creating a whole new world of pain. Thankfully, it abated quicker than the previous times.
• Replaced the broken tile on the kitchen floor finally freeing the house from the last of many stupid home improvement mistakes the previous owners made.
• Accrued an additional $10,000 in ViewU debt.
• Got to see my Mother recognized and thanked for her many, many years of service to the Alzheimer's Association.
• Saw "Love" by Cirque Du Soleil twice. (Fully intend to see it again this August.)
• Abandoned one knitting project mid-process and replaced it with a different one several months later.
• Wrote way less blogs than I meant to and plan to do better in year 36.
• Joined Twitter. Pretty much stopped at joining however.
• Bought a new dishwasher. It's sooooo quiet!
• Drove to Nashville for NYE.
• Cleveland for Thanksgiving.
  
• Girls' Weekend in Asheville.
• Family vacation in Hilton Head.
• Telethon in Vegas.
• Some stupid gospel show in Sept.
• Inaugural Event in DC.
• Laryngitis
• Bronchitis bordering on Pneumonia
• Read lots and lots and lots of Twilight Fan Fiction (and I'm only slightly ashamed...)
• Walked 26 miles and raised $1900 for the Avon Walk 2008!
• Worked three or four Panther's games for Kara.
• Bought a Wii and joined a book club at the same time!
• Watched a fantastic season of Lost! And even though I wanted to throw the TV at the wall in frustration after the season finale, I loved every minute of it. I'm sure I will sob next year when it really does end for real real (as Molly would say)

I'm sure I accomplished a ton of other things during the course of this year. But those appear to be the highlights. All in all, I think the good things far outnumber the bad things.

I've spent a lot of time in the last few months thinking and worrying about the things I don't have. But looking at this list now, it reminds me of so many things I do. Which is important to do, especially when your own personal calendar is set to flip to the next year.

It's a good time to make resolutions, many of which are not appropriate for sharing with the outside world. But one thing I will let everyone in on... I plan to update this blog once a week from now on. Don't know what day and don't know for sure I will always be able to pull it off, but I am going to do my best. Entries will probably be a lot shorter (which is probably a relief to everyone) but they'll be there.

And with that, I'm off. See you next week!

Shameless

So... as I type this, I am sitting in a pool side chair on the last day of my family's week long vacation to Hilton Head.

I just watched my own Aunt bribe her 1.5 year old granddaughter with a goldfish cracker to get a kiss. Which, sadly, she did not receive. But young Sara got a cracker anyway. Cause that's how grandkids roll. And grandparents who live in a different city from their grandkids are only too happy to do whatever it takes to get some affection and attention. Much like Cool Aunts.

Earlier today, we were sitting at the table eating lunch and I decided it would be fun to start counting like The Count from Sesame Street. I'll be honest, it didn't seem like fun so much as a promising attempt to draw my niece's attention with overt Sesame Street references. And it worked like gangbusters. I was the hit of the lunch. We counted mouthfuls of mac 'n cheese (one mouthful of mac n cheese in zoe's mouth mwah ah ah! TWO mouthfuls of mac n cheese in zoe's mouth mwah ha ha ha!) and then we counted pieces of cantelope. We counted flowers on her shirt. We counted the number of forks on the table. (There was only one, so that was a short game.) It was a shining moment of attention for me and only one of the many I have attempted over the course of this week long vacation. "Aunt Sheri, you so funny!" YES!!!!

At the beginning of the week, I tried some succesful methods I scored with on my last visit home. That included my own special rendition of "C" is for Cookie... "Z" is for Zoe, that's good enough for me." Then there was Little Bunny Foo Foo. She loved LBFF last time I was home. This time, not so much. I got a very emphatic "Aunt Sheri no can sing!" most times when I tried.

I tried to play "Pass the Zoe" in the pool with her mother. That died a quick and painful death and put me in a two day time-out. "Aunt Sheri is taking a break!" she announced to my sister, implying that it was time for me to take a break from swimming with her. I must have really needed that break, because when I woke up the next day and came down to the pool, she announced that I would be taking a break again before I even said good morning. "Aunt Sheri is taking a break," she said cheerfully to my sister. Boo says Aunt Sheri. But what my niece wants, she gets. At least, from Aunt Sheri!

Finally, yesterday I achieved success. Dubious success, but success none the less. We were in the pool together at the end of the day and I was struck with inspiration. "Zoe," I shouted with drama. "Wanna see Aunt Sheri disappear?" She was enthusiastic at the prospect, which I decided not to take personally. I swam on my back to the center of the pool and, after counting to three, lifted one leg and both arms into the air and sank below the water.

I returned triumphantly to the surface and was met with the desired reaction. She was excited, she was laughing, she was PAYING ATTENTION TO ME! So, naturally, when she said "again" I was down!

And that was the rest of the day. "Aunt Sheri can disappear again!" okay... only if you count to three for me. "Aunt Sheri can disappear again!" okaaaaayyyyy... "Aunt Sheri can disappear again! One two threeeeee!"

I'm not gonna lie. I thought it would get old. I did. To stave off the boredom, I spiced it up occasionally with a mid-water somersault and handstand. They were met with mild delight, but nothing was as great as Aunt Sheri disappearing. Again, I tried not to read too much into it and performed like the trained aunt I am over and over and over and over. And it didn't get old. It really didn't ever get old.

We got out of the pool later that afternoon after countless disappearances. First thing this morning, when I walked out to the pool in my workout clothes, Zoe shouted "Aunt Sheri can disappear again!"

I gotta say, it's a real feeling of accomplishment to have carved out a place in my niece's mental list of fun things to watch and do. I only get to see her a few times a year and I like knowing that she might remember me when I'm not around. Until I can take her shopping and sympathize with her when her mother is unreasonable, this kind of stuff is all I have that may make a lasting impression. So if I have to repeat the same impressions over and over, whistle on occasion, (which always commands her attention and prompts her "tweet tweet" as she tries to imitate me) and sink into the pool time and again until my eyes burn with chlorine, (see how I get to do the Jewish martyr thing?) I will do it any chance I get.

Cause tomorrow, Aunt Sheri disappears for real. At least until August. When she will have to start from scratch and look for new methods of inspiring her niece's delight.

Gotta start watching Dora so I can do a Dora impression. See? I will do ANYTHING!

Ode to me mom

So... as I mentioned in today's earlier post, tonight my Mother received an award from The Alzheimer's Association.

My mom started volunteering for the Association around the time my grandmother was diagnosed. Since then, she has become an incredibly active part of the organization, going to meeting after meeting, dripping blood, sweat and tears over every detail of her involvement. Although I know she loves this work, I often wished she would cut back, just because it seemed to be so stressful to her. Last year, when she was required to resign from the board (term limits) I was so excited that she was going to get her life back. So when she told me she was going to re-join the board as soon as she was eligible, I thought she was crazy. But tonight, I finally understand.

I have never seen someone so beloved as my Mom in that ballroom tonight. And it was more than the three tables of friends who joined us in helping her celebrate. I always know how much she means to her friends. She is always the rock in their lives. She is the one they always turn to, the one everyone trusts with their darkest secrets. The one that everyone most respects. It's an incredible thing to have a role model like that. I always aim to be the same kind of friend as my mother.

But, tonight, I saw the respect, the gratitude and the appreciation that my mom inspired in all the employees and volunteers at the Association. I saw how she is their support system and their friend. I had so many people introduce themselves to me tonight and say, "We just love your mother! She is such a wonderful person." And I would agree.

My mom isn't comfortable with the spotlight. She's been anxious for this night to be over for a while, possibly since the day she learned she would be receiving the award. I, in my attempts to make sure she appreciates tonight, have been badgering her mercilessly since I got to town the other day. I've been making her swear that she would accept every compliment graciously, that she would save the self-deprecating comments for another night. And she has agreed, although reluctantly. I told her we would give her standing ovations and she begged me not to. I made jokes about creating a cheer with her name in it and spelling her name with our bodies, which made her turn white with fear and say "You better not!" But when they introduced her, it didn't matter what I did, because half the ballroom was on their feet anyway. I have never been so proud of her or so grateful to be her daughter (and that's saying a lot because I have always looked up to my mom.)

So Mom, congrats again for tonight. I am so pleased that you finally got the attention and thanks that you so richly deserve. And I know Grandma and Poppa are too.

From the program book: "Marsha's involvement began in the late 1990s when she casually mentioned to an acquaintance, "let me know if there's anything I can do to help with the Alzheimer's Association." Since then, she has served as a member of the board of trustees, is a member of the development and finance committees, has served on the executive committee, has chaired A Celebration of Hope and Memory Walk and has been an active member of countless event committees. Marsha is known as a real go-getter who is always willing to take on roles of responsibility and leadership...

When asked to describe her, Chris Stevens, the current chair of the association's board of trustees, said, "We have all benefited from Marsha's grace, dedication to the mission of the organization and hard work. She has always been very generous with her time, energy and talents and is our serene leader."

That's my mom!

Pack-rat or Archivist? You decide

So... my mother is receiving an award tonight from the Alzheimer's Association (I will be writing a blog later with the details from the program) and I flew home this week to go to the event. I'm so proud of her and everything she's done, but that's for a later post.

No, today's post is about my childhood desk. It sits on the wall of my childhood bedroom, below a faded yellow post-it note on my wall that says (in all caps and underlined, no doubt for emphasis) "STUDY!" The note is a relic of my long-ago days of school-dom. I asked my mother yesterday how it can still be on the wall. They stripped the wallpaper since I moved out and painted the room white. She says she liked to leave it there because it was so iconoclastic.

Anyway, I was getting dressed yesterday and happened to glance over at my desk and noticed a little round piece of plastic sitting there. I realized it was one of those plastic discs that you put in the center of a 45 record to play it on a normal record player. As I was looking at the little disc of yester-year, suddenly, as though I had blinders on before, my entire desk and everything sitting on it (including the yellow post-it reminder to study) materialized. I realized that since I moved out of this house in 1991, I have never really looked at that desk. So, I decided to dig in and discover it's contents. Here's what I found...

On top of the desk:

• A jar full of pennies in a mug that says "Please don't bother me, I'm studying." (Yeah, I'm sure...)
• 8 different coffee mugs with various sayings... "Official Left-Handed Mug" (which had a small hole on one side so if you tried to drink with your right hand it would dump the liquid all over you) "Coffee and Cruellers will hold back the honk" (That's a Wayne's World mug, of course) and one with a pretty unicorn leaping over a rainbow.
• A Giant Guinness mug filled with hair combs.
• Four, count them, FOUR pencil cups jammed full of writing implements (including some Crayola markers) which no longer have any hope of working. (And I know they don't work, cause I tried several of them as I began my inventory of the desk. None of them were up to the job. I just put them back, naturally.)
  
• A Guinness bottle with a red and white pom sticking out of it from my Shaker Heights Red Raiders days.

And that's just what's been sitting on top...

Drawer #1:

• A program from my high school senior honors dinner, in which I did not receive any honors.
• My report card from the fall of '92 (Mostly Bs with an A- in Fiction writing)
• A directory of my C:/ drive from my first computer
• A Colleco Quiz Wiz with 1001 questions (I wonder if I can get money for that from eBay)
• A container of Pick Up Sticks
• A File box that says "Pick a Book" on the outside. Inside are cards describing books. For example: "This book is about all kinds of animals at a hotel. It is very funny" and "This book is about a boy who loves soccer. If you like soccer, this book is for you." (For the record, I believe this box was a class project in Elementary School and I took it upon myself to procure it secretly. Not all these descriptions were written by me, as evidenced by the fact that there is a book about soocer.)

Drawer #2:

• Two boxes of reel to reel tape from my days as a radio Production Manager on 106-VIC- the Voice of Ithaca College.
• A notebook containing questions from my first (and last) celebrity interview... yes, friends, it was Julio Iglesias.
• A folder full of fiction writing, most of it involving death and bad metaphors. I was a very, very dark writer in my youth.
• A college Viewbook from the University of Hartford. (A school which I did not visit, nor apply to, nor, obviously, attend. However, I live on a street called Hartford now, so that's something.)
• A book in which I wrote down song lyrics I liked with the title in calligraphy (or what I believed calligraphy should look like) on the facing page. Many of the titles are Beatles songs, but there is some Simon & Garfunkel thrown in for good measure. (It seems to me this was early practice for my future career. It also seems to me that I got a lot of song lyrics wrong back then.)
• A reminder on a slip of paper to call Lee Fisher's office (candidate for State Representative) on Monday for myself and Molly. Mol and I volunteered in his office in 1990, mainly because the Volunteer Coordinator was very cute and used to call us Slut-Puppy. (Which we also called ourselves, to be fair.)
  
• A yellow Yo-Yo
• The letter I earned for my letter jacket from High School Marching Band. (Which I clearly had the sense NOT to put on my jacket, cause how lame is a band letter?)
• A book of piano sheet music with TV and Movie themes. (Ex: The Theme from Ice Castles, St. Elsewhere and Happy Days.)

Drawer #3

• A Certificate of Merit from Temple Emanu El for Outstanding Scholastic Achievement in Grade 10 Judaic Studies. (Really? They must have set the bar VERY low...)
• A wall calendar from 1990 titled "PMS Attack." Complete with countdown to the day I left for my summer trip to Cambridge in England. The countdown begins 117 days from departure. (From 4/22-4/30, I wrote "Dante's 9th Level of Hell" across the dates. Which puzzled me until I saw that the SAT's were held on May 1st. Ah!!!)
• Paperback book version of the movie "Big" starring Tom Hanks.
• Flash cards for Division. (Truthfully, I should take those home and study them. I could use the practice!)
• The shooting script from the August 25, 1994 edition of Entertainment Tonight. John Tesh: "All that pushing and squeezing and pushing and squeezing and finally... rock hard thighs. Now watch Suzanne put them to work." (Ok, I'd really like to know what was happening in the tape package that came after THAT intro!)
• My Driver License that expired in June of '93
• My SISTER'S Driver License (which I was stupidly using as a fake ID even though there was a three inch height difference and we look nothing alike) which expired in January of '95.
• A recipe printed on dot matrix printer for Skyline Chili (hmmm.... can't wait to try that!)
• A copy of Cliff's Notes for Macbeth.

Now, you may be wondering to yourself, 'Self, I wonder if Sheri decided to throw out stupid things like the note to call Lee Fisher's office, or the printed 8 page description of a C:/ drive that has been taking up space in a landfill for a good 15 years... and really get something accomplished while she strolled down memory lane.' So, I'll tell you.

No.

No, when I was done looking at everything, writing it all down so I could record it here, I shoved it all back in the drawers and pushed and pushed until they closed again.

And it's not that the idea of purging the drawers and throwing things out didn't occur to me. It did. Many times. However, ultimately, the garbage bags were downstairs and the alarm was already on. And, you know, I had such a good time combing through all this crap, that who am I to deny my future self the same enjoyment 10 years from now? When I can again wonder why I'm saving that empty file box, or that yellow yo-yo, or the 15 copies of the resume I sent to LA when I was trying to find an internship for 2nd semester senior year. How sad would I feel one day to not be able to comb through pages and pages of badly written fiction with teacher's comments written in green on the side, pointing out gramatical and spelling errors?

No, I can't deny my future self this joy. And what if I should become famous? I know it's not likely, but it could happen. Shouldn't I save all these important momentos for the opening night of the Sheri Spitz Collection at the Smithsonian?

Yes, better to leave things as they are. Who knows what I will need someday.

Tune in for the next time I return home and document the contents of my closets, where I promise you, there is a Married With Children board game!