The Shape Of Things

The title of this post fits my mood.

As far as rating things in my life, all areas are now "taking shape". I used to measure moods, ideas, situations, relationships, etc. on a numerics level (1 to 10). I now visualize all things in my life as shapes.

Some of them fall into squares/blocks, as they are contained, ridgid entities that grow and shrink with time but never lose their original shape (the addition or loss of family).

Others areas of my life (career, training, education, music, artistic aspirations, chaos) are ever-changing, free-floating amoebas that bend, stretch, swoop and bulge with burgeoning ideas, new directions and morphing ideals.

The latest is my friendship shape, or friendshape.

With the loveliness that is Facebook, I have reconnected with some very old and dear friends from my youth, and a few of these connections have brought to the present fond memories of the past. I've reconnected with my friend Jan, who was one of the three gals I palled around with in HS, and I've really enjoyed catching up with her. Not much has changed about her, and I wouldn't have it any other way. She's one of the most vibrant, kind and positive souls on this earth, and the fact that she's held steady over the years, well, the world is a better place for it.

The addition of Jan has added a nice little outward curve to my blob of friendshape. I see that curve, and it makes me happy it's been added.

I recently reconnected with someone else, someone who holds a special place in my past. Yup - the guy who taught me how to drive a stick.

Gals, I know that most of you reading this had a fella in high school who was gracious enough to let you behind his prized wheel, and patiently guided you through the arduous process of operating a stick shift. When to take it up to second, ease up on the clutch, just enough to accelerate and not kill the car. How to pop it into gear, or just let it coast. Maybe they had alterior motives for the lessons, maybe not. Either way, it's something you never forget...the power of operating heavy machinery. Man, what a rush.

I just reconnected with my Stick Shift guy, David. He was an original - in a good way. Couldn't really label him back then, and in my opinion that's rare in HS. He was (still is) very creative, thoughtful, a smartie, positive, open, and just plain nice. He didn't have an ulterior motive (that I recall, anyway). I believe he's one of those good guys who lived in the moment, and probably thought it would be fun.

It was fun. And because he was such a good teacher, I have owned two vehicles that were stick shifts and drove them very well.

He's now entered my friendshape, and I'm glad to see his new niche in the outline.

A good day

It was a tough week, for many reasons of which I won't go into just now. I believe I had talked myself into illness last night, as my throat was a burning wasteland and my energy level was nil. Had Joy Division been playing and some random rope been at hand, well...I might have practiced some sailor knots while grooving to Ian's solemn promises of sadness and despair.

My good friend, to whom I confessed my unusual mood, cheered me up by taking me all over St. Louis today for some fun.

Now, I'm not one to really enjoy shopping (not your typical gal), but I do have some favorite stores through which I don't mind wandering aimlessly. We started out at Trader Joe's, the ultimate fun food store. Got all sorts of tasty vittles. We then headed over to Petsmart for dog toys - and I'm happy to say that Oliver is the proud owner of a new Ducky.

Target was a short walk away, and we ventured over there to partake in their housewares section. Picked up some smelly candles, and then traversed the parking lot to explore another of my favorite haunts, World Market. Some days, I just want to live there. Take a shower using their Red Tea/Pear milled soap, dry off with the Flint/Fog Floral Turkish Cotton Bath Towels, curl up in a papasan chair with a glass of
Provenance Rutherford Cabernet Sauvignon.

While at WM, I remembered I had on my list to pick up some incense. There is a little shop in the Loop, Sunshine Daydream, that sells them by the stick, and we jetted to that part of town to peruse around. I picked up 10 sticks of Jasmine. Good stuff. A little goes a long way. I don't burn incense very often, but when I do it reminds me of being a college freshman, discovering the joy of living on my own, midnight poetry, bourbon, patchouli, and Birkenstocks. All good things in my life, past and present.

It was still early, about 10, and we had a ton of time to kill until lunch. My friend knows how much I like the zoo, so we drove to Forest Park, hapened upon some rockstar parking, and walked on up to the primate house. We saw the neatest thing ever - a ring-tailed lemur had a baby last night, and she was holding it in her arms, cleaning it. It was the tiniest little beast, all spidery legs and stripey tail, and every so often the mother would look up at us and stare. Creepy and lovely all at the same time.

Hunger overtook us, and we ventured to the CWE and had us some delicious India Rasoi. Chicken Tikka Masala, naan, palak paneer, malai kofta, and gulab jamun. Just what the doctor ordered.

After an afternoon of lazing about, napping, playing with pups and watching the first five minutes of what looked to be a way-too sinister Italian WWII movie (my bad Netflix choice), I was whisked away to the Fountain on Locust, a very eclectic eatery in downtown/midtown St. Louis. It has a very soda-fountainy feel, and each booth has a small speaker that you can turn up the volume and listen to a "radio soap opera" that is new every two minutes. Kitschy! I got the 1/2 sandwich and salad dealio, which was delish. My friend had the soup trio and a Spaten. The proprietor was very chummy, and brought us an extra martini concoction that he had "mistakenly" made, which was outstanding. Great food, good atmosphere, awesome drinks and desserts. Does it get any better?

I am not sure what surprises my friend has in store for me this evening, but all in all he has succeeded in making me laugh, taking my mind off my current troubles, and being a great friend. And for that, I am thankful.

Hopefully someday, I can return the favor.

Dead Rabbit (R.I.P Bear)

This rabbit, named Bear, was the first toy ever given to Oliver. It used to have a squeaker into which Oliver could sink his tough little noshers. The squeak was loud, unnerving, and I imagine everytime Oliver got Bear to make that sound, a little bit of Bear died (probably to Oliver's delight).

It's with sadness that I share with you the news of the untimely death of friend Bear. No squeak will ever come from that poor, defenseless friend again. The only sound that emits from his tiny little toy lungs is a wheeze and a click. No squeak. Just a death rattle.

His eyes are gone, as is his nose. His ears, once perky and regal, now hang at odd angles, a broken weathervane.

His coat, once lustrious, now gnarly and patchy.

Even after all of this, the friendship goes on. Oliver will not relinquish Bear - none of his other friends will do. Not Birdie, not Bone. Oliver is steadfast, true-blue to the end.

Bear is now just a faceless, deformed and misshapen shell of what he once was - but for Oliver, that's alright. That's just fine.

There's probably a lesson here. Something along the lines of when friendship gets worn, tattered, and seemingly useless, there's always some shred of good to remember, to hang on to.

Or maybe it's just a dead rabbit.