Friday, August 24, 2007

An Anniversary Blarg

Today is a special day for me and Mike! Five years ago today, Mike and I had what we later decided was our first date. Since Mike was more-or-less bedridden after his ankle surgery and was certainly wheelchair-ridden (wheelchair-riding?), our first date actually consisted of us sitting in his living room watching Lord of the Rings. It might not have been glamorous, but I think it turned out alright. Here's what we looked like that year:


Today also marks two years since Mike proposed. We'd gone up to Arrowhead for our third anniversary. Mike, who's terrible at keeping secrets, had had "gonna propose to Shar" written all over his face for weeks. It wasn't a surprise, but it was still sweet and wonderful and all of those lovely things a marriage proposal is supposed to be. Plus, I pretended it was a surprise, so that was great too. This is us that year:


And today is the official seven-day countdown till the wedding. I'm sitting on the couch watching Mike play Mario Strikers right now, but at this time next week, we'll probably be leaving the reception, having been pronounced husband and wife several hours earlier. It's been a crazy last few months, and next week is gonna be insane, but it's really nice to have today to relax a little and just reflect on who we are and where we came from. We've got quite a nice little history together so far, and I sure can't wait to see what's coming up next. There's nothing quite as wonderful as knowing that, whatever the adventure ahead of us in the years to come, we're going to be adventuring together. And, when we're old old people, if we haven't already evolved away from computers by then, maybe I'll have some really neat pictures to post up here so you can see how much we've grown together.

I'm pretty sure they have a secret club.

"They" in this case being Ornery Old Ladies. Further, I think the Ornery Liberal Old Lady from my last post must have sent out some sort of vaguely lavender-scented Old Lady newsletter, because boy-oh-boy did we have an encounter today. I also suspect that she sent out a mass email to the Ornery Old Ladies' Junior Division to get the rotten teenaged girls in on it too.

Let me preface this by pointing out that today is our anniversary. I'm going to be posting about that in a moment, but let me just set the scene a bit. Today is our anniversary. We lifted our holiday ban on wedding-related stresses long enough to go on an incredibly pleasant trip to the florist with Mike's awesome mom to finalize the deets. Afterwards, we stopped by Trader Joe's to pick up some sundries. Imagine:

Standing in line behind Mike's mom, Mike and I have an arm each around each other. He's whispering in my ear something sweet about loving me and not being able to wait to marry me. There is an Ornery Old Lady behind us in line. She says "Get a room!" and then rams her shopping cart into my heel.

Now, the comment itself was unbelievably rude. It was also completely unjustified. There was no excessiveness in our displays of affection. We weren't even kissing. Besides, Mike and I are freakin' adorable. Doubt me? Check it out. The ramming part? Well, that's just new levels of amazing. You've got to be pretty ecstatic with your life to think that other people's happiness is a violence-worthy crime. Luckily, Mike and his mom only heard the comment, and I only felt the cart. If any of the three of us had been aware that both things had happened, there would definitely have been a show-down.

A couple hours later, Mike and I decide to treat ourselves to some anniversary ice cream. Rather than walk to the Baskin Robbins down the street, we really decide to go all out and drive to Cold Stone. There, we are delighted to help pay the salary of one of the bitchiest, most eye-rollingest ice cream scooper ever to chop up Heath bars. Observe:

Girl Who, Despite How Highly She Thinks of Herself, is Still Just an Ice Cream Scooper: Yes?
Mike: Can I get a regular-size strawberry with--
Ice Cream Scooper: I don't understand you.
Mike: A reguler-sized strawberry?
Ice Cream Scooper: [points angrily at the "Like It," "Love It," and "Gotta Have It"-sized cups on the counter, indicating through jabs and eye-rolls that she only understands these categories]
Mike: Oh. Well, the "Love It" size please? Strawberry with Heath bars and fudge sauce--
Ice Cream Scooper: With what?
Mike: Fudge sauce? Like, the fudge syrup that--
Ice Cream Scooper: Oh.
[She plops Mike's ice cream into a regular-size container and then looks at me.]
Ice Cream Scooper: And?
Me: Can I have a "Love It" coffee with Heath bars and Oreos?
Ice Cream Scooper: [Chops up my ingredients with all the finesse of a petulant seven-year-old kicking a bottle cap, then hands me my regular-size container]
Me: Thanks.
Ice Cream Scooper: (to Mike) How are you paying?
[transaction continues][Exeunt]

As someone who deals with people all day, both in my customer-service-oriented job and in the fact that I live among other human beings, I really can't understand how someone can be so unpleasant. Hey! Here's an idea! If you don't like people, how about you take a job where you can just sit alone in your home and just scoop ice cream for yourself and the few smelly dullards who have nothing better to do with their lives than swoon at your sub-par Heath chopping skills? And you, Old Lady! How about you take some of the money you're saving by not buying snacks and cheap toys for the grandchildren who never want to come visit you because they can't scrub the vaguely lavender smell of Ornery Old Lady off themselves for weeks afterward and the spongy feel of Ornery Old Lady kisses haunts their nightmares for months and, instead, hire someone more pleasant to do your grocery shopping for you? If two young people talking to each other is enough to really push you over the edge into violence, isn't it about time you reevaluated whether or not you should go outside ever again? I happen to know a eye-rolling young lady who would probably love to mash your pills into your sherbet for you.

And on our anniversary, too!

Wednesday, August 22, 2007

Reading By 9 Book Drive

So, I think I can pretty much promise that this is the last time I'll advertise a Borders promotion on my blarg. "This" here refers to what will make up the remainder of this blarg, not my mentioning of the fact that, starting on the 28th, the bags of Lindor balls (yum!) will be 75% their regular price, and thus only a buck and some change. Oh sweet, delicious heavens (or, as the official Lindt chocolate website describes it: "endlessly smooth and creamy... Lindor")!

The real reason for this blarg is to discuss one of the hands-down coolest things I've been a part of at Borders since I started. It's the Reading By 9 Book Drive, and it's a means by which customers can donate books to Los Angeles-local schools in an effort to promote literacy. Borders is partnering with the LA Times and Scholastic Publishing (which is matching book donations 1-to-1) to try and answer the staggering statistic that four out of every five third-graders in SoCal can't read at their grade level. I think it's a pretty great program, and it's been awesome to watch box after box fill up with donations of The Berenstein Bears and Dr. Seuss. My favorite thing is getting to pick a book for a customer who is willing to donate but doesn't feel like picking a book for themselves-- I'm putting books that helped make me love reading into boxes to send to kids who haven't yet gotten the bug.

My favorite customer response so far has been this one:
Me: We're having a book drive this month, trying to help kids in the area start reading by nine. Would you be able to help us out by donating a book for about 4 bucks?
Stressed Mother: Well...
Adorable Daughter: Do it! You should do it!
Stressed: Okay, what book do you want to donate?
Me: We've got some Magic Tree House books here. Do you like those?
Adorable: Yeah! Magic Tree House!
Me: Hmm... we've got one about pirates. How about that?
Adorable: (gasps!) No...
Me: What about dinosaurs? Do you like dinosaurs?
Adorable: Yeah! Dinosaurs!
[I ring up the purchase and give the mom a sticker that reads "I shared the joy of reading"]
Stressed: (smiles at daughter) You did a very nice thing today, honey. You helped someone else learn to read.
[Adorable smiles][Exeunt]

My least favorite customer response?
Me: We're having a book drive this month, trying to help kids in the area start reading by nine. Would you be able to help us out by donating a book for about 4 bucks?
Ornery Liberal Old Lady: No.
Me: Okay...
Ornery: The government should be giving the schools books, not us.
[transaction continues as per normal][Exeunt]

I hate to tie things together that aren't necessarily really related [she lied], but this reminded me a lot of that pesky third Noble Truth. Adorable and her mother recognized a problem and did something small to help. Sure, one $3.99 book is probably not going to change a life (although it very well could). But think of how much positivity was generated by that interaction! Adorable got a sweet sticker and got two adults asking for her opinion on something Important. Stressed got to think that her daughter was really, excitingly awesome and Good (plus, she racked up some valuable Borders Rewards points). The cockles of My heart were glowing buttery golden by the end of the conversation. And this is all besides the book donation itself, which generated a book in the hands of a kid, a matched book donation from Scholastic and a percentage-of-sales cash donation from Borders, Inc. By contrast, Ornery saw the same problem and talked herself out of doing anything about it. She got upset because of The Way Things Are and left the register stickerless and in a classic Liberal Old Lady huff. I was generally annoyed at the situation because Ornery, under the guise of social awareness, had passed the buck, leaving the hypothetical kid bookless just because she didn't think it was a situation she could (or should) change. Yeah, realizing there is a problem is the first step. Realizing that the problem has a cause is the second. But unless you're willing to recognize that something can be done to solve the problem, we're just going to be stuck in a golf cart with stuck in the mud, inventing new fuels to keep the wheels spinning endlessly, but refusing to get out and push.

This is a cheap, easy, and convenient way to generate a little positivity in the world. Plus, you get a sweet sticker. Do it! And pick up some Lindor balls while you're at it.

Friday, August 17, 2007

Oh, the things I have forgotten!

One thing I do enjoy about my job is the people I work with. One of my supervisors is always really willing and (gasp!) actually interested whenever I lecture him on why, exactly, his reference to some aspect of Eastern religion is horribly misinformed. The first time this happened was when he teased that his karma had run over my dogma and I refused to let it go until we were spending our lunch hour discussing why time is like an apple.

Today, he described himself as a fat and happy, like Buddha. I sighed and rolled my eyes dramatically. Yes, I'm an annoying jerk like that. But (honestly!) only with people who secretly, on some level, enjoy it. I explained that the "fat and happy Buddha" was actually a bodhisattva named Budai, a Chinese version of Maitreya, the buddha-in-waiting for our world system. The obese joviality of Budai was no accident of the glands; he acted the clown to make his lessons all the more meaningful when they finally hit home to all of the I-know-betters out there. Then we talked about all of the vastly different ways to be a Buddhist. Buddhism, the Middle Path, is an umbrella for extreme ascetics and those who use sex and other worldy delights to keep the body occupied and set the mind free. "In order to be considered a Buddhist," I said, "one only needs to be believe in the Four Noble Truths, even if it's a unique interpretation of them."

I followed that rather learned-sounding statement up by listing these truths. Or, rather, I tried to. But (oh horror!) I could only remember three of them! Blarg! I've been out of school for too long! Hours later, I was finally able to recall the one I'd missed. It was the third one. The first two state that 1) Life is suffering and 2) Suffering is caused by desire. The fourth says that the way to end suffering is the Eight-fold Path. This leaves the one I'd forgotten: 3) There is a way to end suffering.

When I first remembered it, I scoffed. My first thought was: well, that barely counts as a separate one! But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that it's really just as crucial as the others. It doesn't take much to explain the first two. Just a good hard look around is enough to see what's meant by the first. People are sad and lonely, sick and in pain, and (and this is a maxim!) "that's life." And, if you never wanted happiness, it wouldn't hurt so much when you didn't get it. And the fourth truth? Well, that's just religion. That's the pamphlet once you've got your proselytizing foot in the old widow (or recent immigrant)'s door. But the third truth is the crucial balance between blissful ignorance and despair. This isn't a religion of hellfire and brimstone. It's not about groveling and wishing in the hopes of not being condemned to eternal teeth-gnashing. Life is suffering, yes, but there's a way out! Suffering isn't the end-all of existence. It's not the final victor. Or, at least, it doesn't have to be. The fourth truth tells you the solution, but telling you there is a solution in the first place is maybe even more important.

I left a note explaining all this in my supervisor's mailbox, so he'll have plenty to think about before I get to work at 4 tomorrow. As for me: I realized today that I miss learning. I miss school and having to add new knowledge to existing foundations. I think my existing foundations are losing their structural integrity. I think I might have to crack open some old textbooks before my next lecture.

Thursday, August 9, 2007

Shar Party!

So, Monday morning, Mike goes out to check the mailbox. This has lately become a very exciting part of our day, as each trip usually yields some pretty green rsvp cards letting us know that Yes! some cherished friend or relative is coming to see us get married. Anyway, on this particular day, Mike comes back in with a big grin on his face. "Not many rsvp's, but you got something exciting..."

Yes friends!! A letter arrived from UCLA's diploma processing center announcing that finally, over a year since I walked across the stage in Royce Hall all be-decked in gown and cap, my graduation is finally official. After over a year of fretful optimism and crushing disappointment, my diploma has started its two-month-long journey to my mailbox!

So yeah, great day. Dan and Beef came over for dinner & hang out time and it was pleasant all around. Until I realized that it was after two in the morning and I had work at 7 am the next day...

Blarg. Three hours of anxious sleep later, and I was getting ready for my day. I put up an away message on AIM: "i am not expecting today to be particularly fantastic. go ahead, tuesday! prove me wrong!" It didn't start out well. Three people called out on the busiest Tuesday of the month: over 30 new hardcovers and almost 40 new paperbacks to put on display, as well as big changes for all the other displays and tables in the store. A surprise lunch with the boss (a "business lunch" at Boston's for the GM and the employee of the month!), a closed-door meeting with one of my other managers about a full-time job I think I might take, and some surly customers rounded out a very very busy day. I called Mike when I clocked out to let him know I was staying at work for an extra 22 mins to wind down with an episode of Arrested Development in the break room. "Okay! Take your time. I'll see you when you get home." Forty minutes later, I opened the kitchen door, put my leftovers in the fridge, rounded the corner into the living room to see...

A Shar Party!!

So sorry for all of you that missed out! There were balloons and presents and some delicious treats. Oh, and there were even party decorations on the wall! I am sorry for those who missed out... alas, it was a very exclusive guest list. Just me and my hub2be! Here he is, looking very pleased with himself:

And here's me, equally pleased and super happy:
Did I mention there were party hats? Cuz there were! I literally got cheek cramps from smiling so big. Long story short: my hub2be is the best. We watched The Princess Bride (cuz I'm a princess, evidently) and then I fell asleep on the couch until it was time for a delicious steak dinner at the future-in-laws'.

What could be better?

Thursday, August 2, 2007

"A trip down memory lane"


That's the subject of the email Wesley sent me a few days ago. The content of the email was a poem I'd written on the occasion of our graduation from high school. And a trip down memory lane it was, indeed. I'm not really much of a poet. In fact, the only poem I've ever really been proud of now hangs over the sink at Mike's mom's house: a little piece filled with slapstick humor, pratfalls, and doggy doo.

Here's what I wrote in a card congratulating Wesley on his graduation from Long Beach Poly in 2002:

And so it ends.
Not with marches, flowers or ceremony.
Not loudly, not all at once.
Slowly we sneak away.
We fly, we drive, we run
away.

We leave, but we don't forget.
We mature, but not too much.

And we remember the years together:
the months spent confused
in walls, desks, and body paragraphs.
the precious weeks of freedom
when we pretended not to miss each other.

And we think of the days ahead.
Of the days days days days days
ahead----
When it will be harder to remember
who we were
what we've left behind
where we've come from.

And still we sneak away into the future
faster now!!
Until the faces have grown faint.
And all we see when we look back
are vague images of happiness.
Then our hearts will smile and remember.

Because we won't let them forget.


High school was awesome. And weird. But the weirdest part of it was it ending. Because I don't think there was ever a time while I was in it that I really believed that all of its ups, downs, and odd in-betweens would ever be just a memory.