by Sarah | Jul 11, 2015 | All About Me, Crap, Random, Redefining Perfect, Story of Me
Some years ago I had my dream job working at Barnes & Noble. I wasn’t a bookseller, I worked in the cafe–but I got all the benefits. A great discount, free stripped books, and a great lot of like-minded people to work with. Plus, being surrounded by shelves of books 40+ hours a week? Um, yes please.
I have many colorful stories from the time I worked there. Fascinating people I worked with. How many of us hailed from the same place (another state entirely). The odd customers, the good customers. That was where I worked when I had my son. It was literally the place I learned I was pregnant. I was with those people when Princess Diana died. I went out with them, they gave me my baby shower, and one of them was my labor coach.
Of all the stories I have to share, the oddest by far was the story of, well let’s call him Al. *
Admittedly, at first, I didn’t like Al much. He came in from out of nowhere and took my job from me. My manager, and good friend, was leaving the store and I was pushing to take her job as Cafe Manager. Al swooped in with his tales of culinary school, and being 10 years older than me, the store manager hired him on the spot for cafe manager.
So, clearly, I wasn’t too happy to meet him.
Over time he won me, and the whole staff, over. He was jovial, friendly, hilarious, and his wife was sweet and friendly. She worked down the street at Hollywood Video as their manager. The couple had two huge beasts of dogs that were slobbery-kisses sweet.
On weekends, week nights, whenever we closed together we’d all go out and hang out at one of the local restaurants/bars. Our most frequent haunt was the restaurant right next door, who would leave the bar open just for us booksellers.
Three months into his tenure as our manager, an odd thing happened.
He disappeared.
One day he didn’t show up for work. I, as assistant, was called in.
Two more days of me pulling double shifts later, a couple of police officers walked into the store and asked for the manager.
Turns out Al and his wife were far more interesting than we’d thought.
Skilled con artists with warrants in 12 states. In the three months she’d been at Hollywood Video, she’d embezzled almost $10,000.
We were all floored.
Shocked.
Stunned.
We thought we knew him. We’d hung out with them. We’d thought they were our friends.
And none of us ever saw him again.
To this day I don’t know if they were ever caught, or where they went to.
It was a huge eye-opener for me on how a person can truly deceive you.
I still try to be as trusting as possible, but this story has never truly left me.
And likely never will.
*Name has been changed due to my memory slipping in my old age…honestly don’t remember the guys name…
by Sarah | Sep 11, 2014 | All About Me, Personal, Redefining Perfect, Story of Me
I posted this last year and the year before at this time. I’m re-posting it. I will always repost it every year at this time…
I know what today is. I know what it means to our country. I remember every detail of 2001 in vivid detail…but since before 2001, this date has been difficult for me, for my family…in 1996 my family’s core was lost, the heart of us…my grandfather…so my post on 9/11 is for him. Oh, and at surface glance I hate this picture of me, but then I see the pure joy on my face dancing with my grandfather and aesthetics be damned, it’s my favorite picture.
It was his birthday.
I was about four years old, and a very short kid…and he was TALL.
I remember standing by as he put our coats in the closet. I leaned my head way back to stare up, up, up at him and asked, “How tall are you?” With his sparkling eyes and laugh he informed me that he was over 6′. My eyes grew wide, and all I could say was, “But you’re so close to the ceiling! If you have ANY more birthdays you’ll go right through!”
His chair sat by the front door and the minute he sat the race was on – who would get the privilege of sitting on his lap, carrying on as deep a conversation as a child was capable of? Who would get to play with his round pot belly, and listen to his laughter?
He worked for GM and he was proud of it, and so were we.
When I close my eyes I can still smell his pipe and see the pipe carousel on his dresser. I can smell the cigarettes that he and grandma smoked.
I remember that after he retired he would watch soap operas during lunch.
And I remember the weddings – when my cousin and I would trade off and share him for the dance. “Grampa” by the Judds.
I remember his smile.
I remember his belly.
I remember the strength that he always carried in his soul and body.
I remember the pain that shot through my heart at the word…”cancer”. Once it was uttered it was less than a year. 10 months.
I remember the first time I saw him in the hospital-and how I had to run from the room because it made me physically ill to see my big strong grandfather lying in a bed weak and hooked up to tubes.
I remember his fight.
I remember when it was acknowledged in our hearts that the time to fight was over.
I remember how he held on – hours past when we thought we would lose him – because he would not let go until he’d gotten to hear the good-bye of all of his grandchildren, and my brother had been in surgery for a shattered wrist around the world in Japan. Half an hour after the final phone call, Grampa was gone.
I remember the sound of the tennis balls scattering across the hallway when my professor’s assistant walked up asking if she knew where I was…and all I could do was run to my car to get home as soon as I could.
From there it’s a blur…a long car ride from NC to NY. The arrangements. The funeral home. The droves of people I didn’t know, but who all knew him, overflowing the room.
The pain has lessened, resorted to a memory. For the most part I remember the love, the good things, the joy. But on this day every year the pain comes back to the forefront.
The pain seems so much stronger now that Grandma has gone to join him.
Refreshed and renewed now, they are together forever, but they will always be here in our hearts.
We love you still, and will always love you, Grampa.
by Sarah | Mar 25, 2014 | All About Me, Blogging Life, Redefining Perfect, Story of Me, The Geek, Top Ten Tuesday
I’m a total ghost geek.
I admit it.
Have been for…wow, at least since middle school.
I believe in ghosts, I believe I’ve seen several.
Also, I DREAM of being able to go to a haunted location.
Even my hubby, who doesn’t believe in ghosts, has talked of taking me to one just because I want to go SO.BAD.
So this top ten list – wasn’t easy. Narrowing it down to only 10 locations, but I did. There is no particular order in place here, because there isn’t one I’d want to go to more than another. I want to see them all-fully equipped with cameras, evp recorders, and video. Yeah, totally obsessed.
10. The Bird Cage Theater – Tombstone, Arizona. So much life, and death, passed through here and the tales of hauntings are pretty long standing.
9. The Stanley Hotel – Estes Park, CO. I wouldn’t be a ghost geek if I didn’t want to go to this one.
8. Myrtles Plantation – Francisville, LA. A ghost that shows up in lots of pictures? Uh, yes please.
7. Whaley House – San Diego, CA. Rumors of a man (Yankee Jim), a woman, a small child, and even a small dog have been reported haunting this home for years. It was declared the most haunted house in the US by the Travel Channel.
6. Eastern State Penitentiary – Philadelphia, PA. Gives me the shivers just thinking about going…but that wouldn’t stop me.
5. Villisca Ax Murder House – Villisca, IA. Hundreds of years later the mystery of this house remains. It would be interesting to see what you could find there.
4. Lincoln Square Theater – Decature, IL. Evidence abounds out of this theater. I’d love to add to the stockpile.
3. Winchester Mystery House – San Jose, CA. Another one where I wouldn’t be a ghost geek if I didn’t want to go.
2. Lemp Mansion – St. Louis, MO. I was right near this one a couple of years back. Unfortunately, I was there on a mostly planned weekend and didn’t have time to get to the Lemp Mansion, but next time I go to St. Louis, I AM going to Lemp.
1. Waverly Hills Sanitorium – Louisville, KY. ‘Nuff said.
~The two most likely to happen are the Lemp Mansion and Waverly Hills, because those are within close driving distance. We’ve also talked about doing Waverly Hills since they have a way to sign up and do it. It might yet happen…
~One house is notably absent, and I have many many reasons for it. That’s the Lizzie Borden House. I couldn’t add it to the list for personal reasons.
~Also not on the list are any places from Salem, MA or Gettysburg because…well, there isn’t any ONE place in those towns I could choose over another. I would want to go an experience the whole towns…so it didn’t feel right to add whole towns to the list. 😀
And that’s my list and caveats. 😀
What about you? Are you a ghost geek? Tell me I’m not alone!!
by Sarah | Jan 3, 2014 | All About Me, Story of Me
I suck at resolutions. I really do.
I’ve tried making them publicly, here on this blog, to have accountability and a place for public shaming if I fail.
Doesn’t matter.
I always drop them fast.
Supah fast.
So now when a new year comes along I don’t make big resolutions.
This year, though, as I’m laid up after foot surgery, I’ve had time to reflect.
2013 saw a great many humongous highs.
It also saw some dark and despairing lows.
It turned into an unexpected year of flux. The last half of the year, especially, was a struggle in many ways.
Now there’s a new year to face.
I’m thinking the idea of picking a word for the year is appropriate.
I’m going to call my word for this year at Growth.
In every aspect I hope to grow.
Personal.
Blog-wise.
Professionally with my writing.
So here’s to growth.
With as few growing “pains” as possible.
by Sarah | Jan 2, 2014 | All About Me, Story of Me
I know I’ve spoken of my podophobia before on a few occasions.
I don’t.like.feet. At all.
Not even a little bit.
Which likely stemmed from my own foot issues and being the the dance world with a crap-ton of ugly feet.
This year my own foot issues reached the breaking point and I had to get to the podiatrist.
I know what was coming.
Surgery.
I knew it was inevitable.
The truth of it is, a genetic issue got progressively worse until I was in pain.
My big toe turned outward toward my pinky toe. It had reached a point where it was almost completely underneath my second toe. Only a triangle of nail was visible, which also meant I’d developed a large bunion. The shocker was also a bone spur on my littlest toe.
Surgery on 3 toes was the decree.
So two weeks ago, 1 week before Christmas I climbed onto the surgeon’s table full of fear and anxiety and was asleep in a minute.
When I woke, my foot looked like that. All bundled up and bandaged and at first, numb as can be (yay). Within 24 hours the numbness wore off and I had to deal with the pain, and trying to walk on crutches.
It hasn’t been even a little bit easy.
I’m such an independent person.
Relying on everyone around me to handle the house, the kids, dinner, Christmas, new Years, and even my own food and drink.
It’s been hard.
On me.
On the family.
But I got to use a motorized shopping cart when the husband took me out to help my cabin fever.
Sometimes the depression is bad.
Sometimes I’m okay.
But I’m on the mend.
Slower than I wish, but as fast as the doctor had hoped.
Today I became free of stitches & bandages. I have a boot/cast so I can ease back into walking. I only need a sock now and not full bandages, although my foot having free motion is an odd feeling after being wrapped up tight for two weeks.
I’m not good at this.
My brain thinks about what’s going on inside my foot.
Makes me nauseous.
But I’m trying.
by Sarah | Nov 19, 2013 | All About Me, Story of Me
In remembrance…
Great-Gramma-B, Uncle Richard, Aunt Janet, Uncle Tom, Gramma
Grampa
You all left our lives at different times in different ways.
Each taking a piece of our hearts with you when you left.
But we’ve kept a part of you within ourselves.
Joy.
Love.
Kinship.
All within us, all carrying on.
Helping us move forward and grow.
Our spirits our bound, and always will be.
And yet, we still miss you.
Perhaps always will.
And at my worst times,
even when I didn’t know I needed it,
I’ve sense you there.
And I know you are okay.
Some years ago I had my dream job working at Barnes & Noble. I wasn’t a bookseller, I worked in the cafe–but I got all the benefits. A great discount, free stripped books, and a great lot of like-minded people to work with. Plus, being surrounded by shelves of books 40+ hours a week? Um, yes please.
