Dear Stephanie,

This may be a little too soon, Steph, but I wanted to go ahead and get this off my chest:

I fucked up.

You see, when I heard that you were going to do one of your legendary appearances at Legacy Books in Plano (which, is not in Dallas, but we'll get to that) I was a smidge excited. My husband said I was hysterical. He's embellishing. Swear.

I have been following your blog for about three years now, almost as long as I've been knitting, and I've found it to be an immense resource when it comes to relating to other knitters and our extremely nutty behavior. I now know that yarn hoarding is not a disease, but instead a hobby. Nay, an artform. It should not be considered a mental illness.

I had planned to come to your signing and talk for about two weeks now.

And yet, it did not come easy. Bet you saw that one coming, right?

First, my husband and I had a grand plan: We would do some quick shopping at a nearby sports store, grab a quick dinner and then a cuppa joe, and head to Legacy Books for the signing. Only when we were making these plans, which are good plans (especially if you include a burrito in there somewhere), we didn't account for Friday rush-hour traffic heading north to Plano from East Dallas.

Eff. Ewe. See. Kay.

The trip to come visit, Steph, was an unholy nightmare. I honestly didn't think we were going to make it. I was -this- close to stabbing Dave with one of my sock needles when we finally got close to Legacy Drive. That was at about 6:30 p.m. Dave called the bookstore and the gal at the desk said that all of the seats upstairs were full, and that it was standing-room-only.



"Wow. That's a lot of knitters," I thought.

I went ahead and bought a hard-back copy of Free-Range Knitter and got my ticket in line. I was No. 3. I thought that was pretty awesome, that was, until I discovered that it was No. 3 in the second group, which was after 60 other fiber enthusiasts who were all big enough fans of yours to brave Dallas traffic on a Friday near rush-hour to come and see you. It was going to be a long night.



Nancy, a fiber fanatic, was there with her wee one, Evie. Notice the February Baby sweater...



So, I knitted.

And knitted.

And I finished my Noro stripey sock. Only I didn't. I actually made it four rows too short and I justed ripped it out.



Here Stephanie takes one of her classic sock-tourism shots. Stephanie and her sock got to hang out with Dallas knitters reluctantly in Plano and other area knitters.

But in any case, here's my take-away from your talk:

-Knitters are awesome. Fact.

-Not many people understand the awesomeness of knitters. Fact.

-Knitting does a lot of good things for your brain and your latent homicidal tendencies.

-Knitting is more artistic and complex than more people think, and it's pretty accessible, too.

-Yarn is awesome.



You, Stephanie, were much more eloquent and funny. And I laughed my ass off. Seriously. I think my ass is still somewhere in the back row of the business strategy books over at Legacy Books. The part about the "McGuyver" art festival was legendary. Also, the part about the Wal-Mart socks was ridiculously funny, too.

And then after a brief Q&A, we assembled into a line. Well, it took me a while to get into the line, but when I did, I met more great knitters, and I knew exactly what I wanted you to write in my book:

For Joanna.

Seriously.

Stephanie Pearl-McPhee

Except, when I got up to the front of the line, I was a little starstruck, I missed out on asking you to put in "Seriously." And I hope you'll forgive me for totally arsing our dialogue. I forgot to mention that I'm deaf and I wasn't reading your lips when I went to pull out my first socks. But, hey, you were a good sport for the camera!







Third time's a charm for the book store gal!

Again, thanks for coming to Texas, and to the D-FW area, but how about next time your incredible agent finds a good bookstore near Dallas, or doesn't put us all through the hell of trying to get to Plano on a Friday. That shit's terrible.

You were awesome, though.

XOXO and K2TOG,

Jo

A Very Harlotty Friday

In honor of this evening's festivities and the much-awaited visit of Toronto's own Yarn Harlot, Stephanie Pearl-McPhee, a little yarn about a sock:

I finished a sock on Thursday. Usually this is a really great stage in making a pair of socks. You've done one of them, you've figured the pattern out and all of it's little idiosyncracies. You know that you can do it, and now you are ready to cast on for the second one, because, hey, it's definitely going to go faster than the first and you've got the pattern memorized.

And, who wouldn't want to cast on for the second sock in a pair that promises to be this beautiful?



Here, the sock (Broken Cable Socks by Ann Budd in Patons Kroy Socks, colorway Flax) enjoys some time being warmed by the sun on our fancy schmancy adirondack chairs...

Except, what if you can't cast on for the second.

What if you committed the cardinal sin of knitting?

What if you DIDN'T BUY ENOUGH YARN OF THE SAME COLORWAY TO KNIT A PAIR OF FREAKING SOCKS???

Because that's what I did.

And the funny thing is, before I finished this sock yesterday I had two socks nearing completion but not a pair.

So, my strategy is to scour ebay and ravelry and all of the sites where old colorways go to die for the right shade of gray to finish these socks, becuase, as you can see from this photo, the sock really wants a friend to share the sun with...



And it would have one if I wasn't such a freaking nimrod of a knitter.

Also, I now remember why Saturday was such a blur: Dave and I spend the better part of Saturday morning and into the afternoon walking ALL THE WAY AROUND WHITE ROCK LAKE.

All. The. Way. Around.

That's about 9 miles. Totally crazy-pants. Notice the timing of the hike, too. The very day after I had a mental screw loose over the cellulite on my thighs in the department store dressing room, an event we will now refer to as my Come To Jesus Moment on the condition of my rear. And my hips. Thighs, too.

We started off super optimistic, doing a little jogging here, picking up the pace there, but always returning to a brisk walk. At points, I thought my hip might give out. But, we kept at it, and by God, I was so glad to have that air conditioning on me by the end of it...

So, yeah, that's why I forgot most of Saturday. And I'm thinking that this behavior, my over-exuberant optimism for my own abilities, has something to do with the fact that I have one sock and no hope for another any time soon...

Memorial Day-yum

In America there are two different kinds of holidays: ones for which you go to church and ones that you get crazy drunk and barbecue. Memorial Day resides in the latter group, and it's effects are intensified by the presence of the hallowed three-day weekend.

Memorial Day is just a fucking awesome holiday, and not many people would disagree with me. Also, in the US, it is the symbolic start of summer and is usually preceeded by the last day of school in many public districts. What's not to love?

Also, Dave was let off early on Friday, so we met up at a local store so that I could check out bathing suits and some cute dresses to help buoy my mood. Let's just be frank: Trying on bathing suits when you're as out of shape as I am will do anything but buoy your mood. It will make you feel like this whole world is a dressing-room shaped nightmare and that every piece of lycra on the planet is plotting against you in a concerted psychological directive to make you feel fat.

So, I picked up a way-cute maxi dress and went home to lick my wounds.

On Saturday we decided to get some stuff around the house done, like washing dishes and yard work. We also chose to go to World Market and splurge the last of our discretionary cash on some Adirondack chairs and then at Home Depot on some Tiki torches and plants. Lest you be confused, these are all happiness inducing purchases by making our yard a bit more like a sanctuary, and therefore, are totally worth it.

We assembled the adirondacks, set up the Tikis, grabbed a few vodka coolers and sat back to relax with the chickens. Nothing wrong with that.

Sunday's a bit of a blur now, but I do remember that we had dinner with Dave's parents that evening, and that we also spent some quality beer o'clock time with my good buddy Jack.

Monday, though, was the title bout, the main attraction and the reason for the three-day weekend.

We were prepared to do a significant amount of day-drinking, but not nearly the amount that we actually did. Well, Dave wasn't prepared, and he was throwing back hard ciders like no one in the world was going to make them anymore and he had to get his fill of them RIGHT NOW.

So, by the time we had all eaten our fill of ribs, chicken bacon skewers, grilled asparagus and beer (or white wine spritzers in my case. That crazy-pants session staring at my cellulite in the corner mirror at the department store did a number on my self-esteem) Dave was pretty much a drunkface.

Good thing we had lots of QT with our fabulous neighbors before then:



Bart and his sweet little morsel of a son, Hank.



Hi, Hank!



"Well, hello, yourself, lady with the camera!"



You are just tremendously cute, Hank. Thanks for being a good baby.



Notice the "rally cap" on Dave's pate and the sad look on his face. This is not a good sign.



"WHOOOEEE! DEM ARE SOME RIBS A'SMOKIN!"



The Bart action figure, beer grip comes standard.



This is George. When not trying to pull down your pants, he likes to splay himself out in the shade or on the kitchen floor.



This is George's partner in crime, Betty.



Bart is on the fence. Literally.



But he's in a precarious position because Dave egged him into some impromptu tree maintenance. The first thing out of my mouth after seeing Bart hop onto the fence: "BART! THE BOY NEEDS A FATHER!!!"



And here, Dave is shocked that everyone survived that episode (Well, except for the dag-nabbed limb).



The end!

Been a long time coming

I've been what I like to call "busy doing nothing." Nothing important, mostly. But everything has been enriching. Been spending time with a lot of my favorite people lately, which is great, and very therapeutic.

First things first:

Happy Memorial Day. Be sure to take time out to think about our fallen soldiers that gave so much to preserve our way of life.

Second things second:

Have a beer, relax and enjoy the tail end of a three-day weekend here in the U.S. Also, this is a quaint reminder that it's crawfish season down in Texas...



... so go get you some mudbugs.

Again, Google makes me giggle

Best keyword search that lead a person to this blog:

"where to buy clever underwear in dallas"

That's genius.

Can you feel the tingle?

I come from a family of hairdressers. This is similar to coming from a family of circus performers. The jist is that if you aren't in the biz, the least you can do is support the industry. Like, if you're in a circus family but you're afraid of heights, well, then you keep track of the finances or something else.

My job, as a non-hairdresser from a family of them, is to use lots of product and expensive shampoos and only get my hair cut by family members. Hard life, right?

Except, I broke rule no. 1 last week.

I'm not shampooing my hair anymore.

Now, that doesn't mean my mane doesn't get washed. It does, but by less conventional methods. Basically, I "wash" my hair with a tablespoon of baking soda mixed with a cup of warm water and "condition" it with two tablespoons of apple cider vinegar in a cup of warm water.

And it works.

I've always had a problem with my scalp. if I used a shampoo or conditioner for too long my scalp would freak out and turn scaly. I tried everything, from shampoos infused with tea tree oil, rosemary and mint to the gunk that you try when you're desperate, like T/Gel. That shit is nasty.

But, it wasn't really my scalp that was the problem. The problem is the detergents in shampoo.

Now that I'm shampoo free, my scalp is happy. No flakey stuff. And if I don't "wash" my hair for a couple of days, it doesn't get gross and greasy.

The only downside is that, until you balance the amount of vinegar you use to rinse your hair, you can end up smelling like a salad straight out of the shower. Yum?

Reunited

My iPhone 3G and I have been pretty much attached at the hip since I got the cute little sucker (does that make me a cyborg?). It is completely different from my old phone in every way possible.

Old Phone:

Free

iPhone:

$400

Old Phone:

No internet

iPhone:

Internet, messaging, a somewhat real keyboard, and apps out the kazoo

Old Phone:

Overages all the time from text messaging

iPhone:

UNLIMITED!!! OMG UNLIMITED!!! YAY!!!

Old Phone:

No e-mail, and the amplifier was terrible

iPhone:

Clear calls, checking my e-mail every 10 seconds.


But, the thing that hasn't changed between pre-iPhone life and my current cyborg-like state is that I'm terrible at remembering to charge the little bastards. So last night, we were about to head out to a nearby bar and I went to grab my iPhone and it wouldn't turn on. Drats! I forgot to plug it in!

So, I had to brave the world sans iPhone last night, and, well, I had a good time (shhh... don't let the iPhone hear you).

We had a few (too many) drinks at White Rock Sports Bar, which is now better than ever since Dallas banned smoking in bars. Loved it. Jukebox and flatscreens out the wazoo, and the management still remembers us before we developed an intolerance for cigarette smoke in our hair and clothes. We watched the Rangers almost blow a lead in the 9th against the Angels, but then make out with a win.

I usually drink darker beers and flavorful lagers, which is so not helping my figure. Last night I decided to drink Michelob Ultra (gasp!) and let me tell you, it's really not that bad. My go-to beer is Sam Adams Light. For a light lager, though, Ultra isn't too terrible. I'm committing beer sacrilege right now, aren't I?

In any case, I'm sucking down juice and coffee like we might run out. I didn't learn my lesson from yesterday and I'm stuck with a hangover, again. Bleurg.

At least I'm reunited with my iPhone... and it feels so good...

Shaky

Yesterday was my beloved's birthday. On occasions like this we tend to do things that we normally wouldn't in celebration of the special day. Like, we usually don't drink beer at ballgames. We don't buy food, either. But yesterday we both kicked back two 24 oz. Rahr & Sons Texas Reds and we shared a basket of garlic fries (heaven!) with our two friends, Caffery and Harold, who came out and joined us in the searing son for nine innings and a Rangers rally.


Can you spot the budding bro-mance?

Now, two beers isn't a big deal to me. These, however, were big-ass beers. The equivalent of two 12 oz. beers each. I had a mighty keen buzz after the ballgame.


Must've been buzzed, since here it looks like I'm about to mug down with Caffery.

We sat in traffic for GODKNOWSHOWLONG! And it took us an hour to get to Dallas from Arlington after the game, a trip that shouldn't take any longer than 30 minutes.

We had already decided at the ballpark that we'd have oysters and beer at Aw Shucks on Greenville Ave. Between us we had 5 Dos Equis drafts, a dozen oysters on the half-shell, a bowl of gumbo and a shrimp po'boy. The bill? (drumroll, please) A measly $26.

So, we headed home to tend to the animals and we both had a couple more beers. We showered and then went over to a neighbor's house to celebrate Dave's 37th year. We then, had a couple more beers. I lost track of just how many after that. All of the sudden I was stumbling drunk and tired after spending so much of the day in the sun. I was dehydrated and fading fast.

I pretty much came home and crashed into the mattress. This morning I had a hangover that had a hangover that had a hangover. Oy. It was so bad that I had the shakes like crazy even after chugging two liters of water and taking three Tylenols.

Moral of the story: Don't start drinking at 2 p.m. It's a bad idea and I'm not in college anymore. :(

Distilling, writing, editing

When reading submissions to Web sites for publication, I find very little creedence paid to The Elements of Style. This was especially the case in most Letters to the Editor that I considered for publication at The Dallas Morning News. So, in an effort to help people get square with effective communication, I offer a few tips:

I. Longer is not better. Your work, regardless of how perfect you may think it is, will need editing. It's not always anticipated by the writer, but you'll cross some lines in the areas of style and clarity, but the one most often transgressed is William Strunk Jr.'s clarion call to be brief.

II. Read your work. Don't just finish it and hit send. Nothing is so urgent that your work cannot marinate for five minutes so that you can go back and re-read it. I'll bet that you'll find something you want to change every time.

III. Don't make generalizations. There will always be a reader that will be the exception to your rule, and they will write a letter in response that will make you look like an idiot. Be specific, cite sources and use facts.

IV. Don't be lazy. Do not use bullet points in your letter. Write complete sentences and use paragraphs.

V. Make your letters personal. If I wanted to read some vauge treatise on global warming I would query an expert. Write about how issues affect you.

VI. See the first suggestion.

VII. Buy Strunk and White's The Elements of Style and use it as a reference when you are losing your way. (I'm doing this right now, hence the post.) You cannot go wrong with this book.

Agree? Disagree?

An open-ended conversation

Dave and I were talking about something hilarious. Dave then piped,
"I'm going to blog this tomorrow."

I then replayed the events on the record and he then said, "if I
remember all that..."

"then I'll post it!" I said.
"no, I called dibs on this post." said Dave.

Dibs?

On a post?

I guess you have to slide over to switchingovertoam to read the
hilarious conversation.

Losing it

There's something about knitting that makes you a little crazy.

Not a lot crazy, but just enough that people who knew you before you started knitting can tell the difference.

Take, for example, that I've been knitting socks. Some people see this as probably the most futile hobby: knitting something that is going to wrap someone's stinky feet. I see where they're coming from, I mean, when my buddy Aubrey said she was knitting socks I said, "You're crazy! It's so fiddly! The gauge is so small! HAVE YOU SEEN THOSE TINY NEEDLES!" And then I had the audacity to say "I'll never knit socks!"

My, oh my, how foolish I was.

Since last year I've knitted 6 pairs of socks. I'm halfway through my seventh and (gasp!) starting my eighth pair. These socks, however, are no ordinary socks. These are stripey socks. These are awesomepants socks.

Don't believe me?

Look for yourself. I'll wait.

See? Awesomeness.

Also, one of my favorite knit bloggers, Stephanie Pearl-McPhee, also known as The Yarn Harlot, is coming to Dallas on May 29. I am so ridiculously excited that I had to cast on for an impressive sock so that I could knit it in her presence.

/fangirl

Spring Monday

Matt's going to harp on me, I know, for bitching about the weather, but it's EFFING RAINING, again. As if we need more. I suppose I should be glad that it isn't torrential as it was last time, and it's just getting the gournd wet enough, but not flooding our backyard. What? Don't believe me?



That's me and Dave, making the best of the weather.

I totally forgot about blogging on Friday until The Very Last Minute, and I forgot to post about our excursion on Thursday to see Centromatic and have pupusas at Gloria's. First, a little about pupusas: It is a traditional Salvadoran dish, most like a tamale, in that it's stuffed with pork and cheese, but instead of being rolled, it's flat, and often baked between two banana leaves instead of corn husks.



Very tasty stuff. Best if washed down with a mojito. I was silly and ordered a margarita, which Gloria's often serves with a wash of tequila. That's a lot of booze!

We then walked down Greenville to the Granada, which is a very cool venue with pretty crappy acoustics. It's definitely one of those places where you want to wear earplugs. Good on the management for providing them for free!

The show was really great. Will Johnson lead the band through a charismatic 2 hour set, full of favorites and a few new songs. Lot's of devotees were in the audience, which is usually what you get when you play on a weeknight: a small but dedicated crowd. It was super fun.

I'm glad the weather held over the weekend. We had some major stuff to do. Like, Saturday I had a lot of data to compile and we were watching our neighbors' 2-month-old son, Hank (who is, by all accounts, a very good baby), then we had birthday/mother's day dinner with Dave's family. In there somewhere I had to go chicken-sit for a friend.

For dinner on Saturday we went to Dodie's. Good cajun seafood. We started with a plate of oysters on the half shell, and I doused mine with quite a bit of Dodie's house sauce, which is spicy, but not too vinegar-y like Tabasco (I'm sure to be smited for maligning Tabasco, but I just don't like it). I had the crawfish tails and fried oysters with a few schooners of Ziegenbock, which is pretty tasty when your only draft beer alternatives are Bud Light, Budweiser and Red Hook.

Good thing we rested well on Saturday night, because we had a helluva day on Sunday. I had to go chicken-sit for a bit, but then I had several chicken and garden-related issues to address. If anyone tries to tell you that having a garden is not too much work, they are LYING. Especially if you are doing it organically.

What was really hard was shoveling the manure from the chicken run. After all that rain we had last week, well, let's just say the manure situation was not pleasant. It was also time to hose down the inside of the coop. Next time I'll likely put some sand underneath the coop. I may even get some more cinder blocks and raise it up another level to make it easier to clean under. In any case, yesterday I had to harvest compost to make room for all the manure (it was probably more manure than you imagine six chickens can produce) and then transfer the compost to the garden beds.

When I was pulling bedding straw from the hay bale to put down in the run, I must have shaken a garden snake loose. In any case, he thought that the best place to hid was my sandal (!). Holy crap did I jump. This, however, was a boon to the chickens. Do they ever love to eat some garden snakes. And worms. And grubs. They had a regular gross-out feast on Sunday as I was digging around in the dirt.

Honestly, after all that, I was never more appreciative of a hot shower and some simple knitting. Right now I'm working on a mohair cowl for a friend of mine. She'll appreciate it come winter (which, let's be honest, that's probably when I'll finish it).

Also, thanks everyone for the e-mails and the comments after the last post wishing me good luck with my project. I was working on a City Council campaign for a very worthy candidate, but we didn't make the runoff, which is incredibly disappointing. I do hope it doesn't discourage this man from running again. Our city could really use his leadership and non-divisive attitude.

Well, here we are, another (rainy) Monday in Dallas ...

Quick update

Let's just do a fun haiku real hasty like...

Big cup of coffee
Will we have eggplant this year?
Tomatoes, perhaps?

I went out to grab the paper this morning (Yes, even though I was laid off from the newspaper, we are still subscribers. How's that for good karma?) with a huge mug of coffee in hand (not kidding, this cup rivals those mugs from Friends) I spotted something interesting growing in our front-yard garden. We planted a few veggies and herbs and stuff among our perennials and annuals, and one little eggplant seedling. I was really pleased that that sweet little seedling had a beautiful purple blossom on it.



And there was a blossom on a pepper plant, too.



And an enterprising fan of chickens left this in the wet concrete on a nearby sidewalk...



Also, don't let me forget, I need to get soymilk, yogurt starter, splenda and dishsoap from the market.

And I'm working on a project right now for some really good people. We'll need everyone's good vibes tomorrow. Just keep me in your thoughts because we really need a win here.

Also, if you didn't notice, there's a twitter widget on my sidebar. Go forth and follow thine tweets!

A relentless gray

It's muggy, moist and overcast outside. No rain yet today, but the constant threat of precipitation is starting to get to me. It makes the whole world feel like it's succumbing to a slow state of decay.

I know I'll be begging for a respite from the hot summer sun in a few weeks, but this relentless gray sky is so tiring.

Opening up all around

My parents came to visit for the weekend just before my mom's birthday on April 28. It was such a blast. I don't think I can stress quite enough how awesome my parents are. Truly, they are gems and I am honored to be their progeny.

My parents arrived at around 4 p.m. that Saturday, and already my mom drew her camera and was snapping picture after picture. One or two shots of our oleander bush, maybe a couple of shots of little knicknacks sitting about. Even a shot of the little photos that sit inside the etagere just above the toilet.

Now you know where I get my affinity for photography.

But it was great to have them here. I'm always making the journey to see them down in the piney woods area north of Houston, but I've only had the privilege of hosting them once before. It's a rare treat to have them as guests.

Rain was in the forecast for the entire weekend. Lucky for us, when we needed dry skies we had them, when we didn't, we enjoyed the indoors.

Mom and Dad had an agenda of their own. They wanted to go to Louie's, Mom wanted to go to the Dallas Arboretum, They both wanted to go to REI and the Dallas Harley-Davidson Shop. We granted all their wishes.

Louie's is crowded anytime, but especially on a Saturday night. It's at the tail-end of what's become a very trendy hipster-laden hotspot, although Louie's still has some serious divey charm. The pizza was awesome. Dad loved the joint.

The next morning, Mom and I headed out for the Arboretum. Tons of beautiful flowers. It was likely as close to Valhalla as you can get in this lifetime.



Mom enjoyed getting a few shots of the pretty flowers.







I did, too. (See most of them here)

After that we headed over to REI to pick out a few things, namely Dave's birthday gift: a new sleeping bag. Now we don't have to share on camping trips!!!

Oh, how I love REI. I could hang out in that spot FOREVER.

From there, we went to Highland Park Cafeteria. It's actually right by our house in the Casa Linda Shopping Center. The fried chicken is amazing. I never eat fried chicken, so every time we go there I get my fix of real, crispy, southern-fried chicken. Yum!

We were stuffed, so we headed home and settled in. We read some and goofed around. Dave and Dad watched baseball and then the evening crept up on us. Dave had to go to work the next day, so we had a nightcap (Dad brought a bottle of 18-year-old Glenlivet) and made haste to bed.

The next morning my parents and I had a leisurely breakfast and plenty of coffee. We read the newspaper and talked a lot and then we went to the Dallas Harley-Davidson Shop, where we drooled over the beautiful motorcycles and awesome leather jackets.

I made a half-promise-half-wish to myself there: If I try hard enough and get a good enough job, then I'll take the rider course and maybe even buy a motorcycle. I just have to land in a good situation first.

And then my parents got on the interstate and headed back toward Houston.

All weekend I was really hoping that my orchid, one that I'd nursed back to health from neglect and near-death, would open so that my mom could see it. The stem was heavy with buds, but not a one was open. It killed me. I wanted her to see them.

Yesterday it finally happened.



And since that weekend, we've been rained on every day. The clouds have opened up and poured day after day. The orchid has opened up to the possibility of new life, and yet, every day that passes without a job offer or even so much as an interview seems to ratchet closed the trap door through which I fell after losing my job. That tension in my shoulder I had almost every day at work with the newspaper is coming back, and it no longer feels like benign job pressure. It's like fear and worry manifesting, cinching the gap between my ear and my shoulder.

I just have to keep trying, and I have to know that this is hard for everyone, not just me. I have to be patient. I have to relax.

Waxing nostalgic

I went to high school with some really beautiful girls. I always felt inferior to them. Because of that, I never really dated guys that I went to high school with; I was always running with a different crowd.

There was a girl that I went to school with, Ash, who was gorgeous. She was kind, too, but was the kind of beautiful that didn't know how beautiful she was.

I think that only one guy knew how amazing she was. He was a pretty close friend of mine, too.

Long, thick, dark hair and the kind of olive skin that people go under the knife for these days. A really amazing person. I knew her pretty well.

But, and here's the dish, I seem to be edited out of her best memories.

And to be more matter-of-fact, I doubt many people remember the person I was back then. Hell, I was pretty forgettable. I had little or no confidence at all, a few friends that I was really close to and a lot that I wasn't at all. Fingertips in several pools but completely immersed in none.

And now, looking back through photos and memories and other things that make you think about who you are, where you've been and what you could be in the future, I realize that nothing suits me more than just remembering. It's easy, and it's better than regretting.