Happy Places

I realize that I've been writing only about the bad times - the loneliest days - the most vulnerable emotions. I'm not letting you all the way inside. I'm only allowing you to enter the darkest rooms of my heart; but there are tricks I employ to get through this transition - ways I've found to lift my own spirits when no one else is here to do it for me. Here's a peek inside. Welcome to my Happy Places.

No. 1: Whenever I walk into a room and Jerrod is waiting for me, I'll swing open the door only to find him, feet planted, arms spread wide, big cheesy smile stretching his face, "Here I am, Alecia!"... whether I've been in New York for a month or I've just stepped outside to check the mail.
(That's the image I go to most when I'm coming home from work here or walking down the streets.)

No. 2: When my dad tells a joke, or makes a corny crack, he laughs so hard that he begins to shake. He eventually has to bend over at the waist and slap his hand against his thigh with one hand while he holds his stomach with the other. Eventually, tears will form at the sides of his eyes and it's all made even funnier when you look from my dad to my mom, who is only grinning a little and looking away in "embarrassment", trying to roll her eyes, but unable to hide a smile because of the spectacle he's making.

No. 3: Looking at old family pictures, it seems that my sister wore the same outfit every day between the ages of 6 and 8. My mom allowed us to dress ourselves at whatever age we expressed interest and Bobbie Jo didn't really like to veer from the old standby, which consisted of a matching two piece lime green and dark purple ensemble. The top was purple with lime green polka dots while the shorts were purple with lime green stripes. Quite the fashionista.
(My mother worries that when people look through our albums, they'll think she was a bad mother and only bought new clothes for Matt and me.)

No. 4: For Halloween this year, my friend Ellen talked me into going to a party with her. We didn't have costumes, so we donned 80s apparel and talked in thick country accents: side ponytails bobbing, fluorescent headbands tight, bracelet-sized hoop earrings dangling, super tight jeans super tight rolled, ankle socks and tennis shoes, tucked in t-shirts with braided belts. I could not look at her without laughing and our fellow subway riders couldn't help but stare. Somehow we managed a fashion faux pa (which I thought was impossible in New York City).

No. 5: At a get-together at Jerrod's house, we took a break from board games to get drinks and snacks. My friend (anonymous) was sitting on the floor in a skirt (it SUCKS to have to sit on the floor in a skirt) and as she took a drink from her cup, she poured an entire shot worth into her lap, which pooled up in the crotch. She was smiling at me the whole time and I felt like it was all slow-motion as I tried to warn her, pointing, saying her name, unfolding myself from the couch to try to get to her! She didn't realize what was happening until the puddle eventually seeped through the thick fabric of her skirt.
(You can imagine the screams and the flailing at that point.)

No. 6: My friend Whitley does not sing... unless, (as I found out one night), it is a classic Meatloaf tune. I was having a conversation with his father in the front seat, when from behind us, out of the blue, we heard Whitley belt out, "And I would do - an-y - thing- for - love!" Please don't imagine the verse sung, so much as punched, placing particular emphasis on "do", "an", "thing". Please refrain from choosing a key also. And try not to envision the car radio being ON, as it wasn't. The only music in that car was obviously in Whitley's head.

No. 7: My friend here in New York was at a Bible Study and another woman there was pouring out her heart. He said it was pretty intense at the moment and there was a guy sitting across from him with his legs crossed. Well, there was a break in her testimony, so old dude used it as an opportunity to shift in his chair and recross his legs. During this transition, he passed gas. . . audibly! Jon looked over at him in surprise, then looked around the group, and the girl was still talking about her life before God without skipping a beat! Jon's looking around like, "Hell-o! Aren't we going to address what just happened?!" But no. All these good Christians spared the man the embarrassment owed him by ignoring the sound, and also, the smell. He said he felt bad, but he couldn't really concentrate after the debacle.

No. 8: I know a man who has little quirks: kinda has an eye phobia, washes his hands all the time, etc. Well, his oddest eccentricity is an alias. He feels that "we all have an alter-ego", but this guy actually uses his alias! He is NOT a celebrity. He does NOT have paparazzi stalking him. He is NOT in the witness protection program. But he DOES exercise an alias. Says things like, "There are times when you just need an alias." What?! When does the average American need an alias?! I'm actually quite baffled by the Clark Kent side of this friend of mine. . . and occasionally slip him the business cards of local therapists.

No. 9: My friend Whitney got a red convertible when she turned 16. It was awesome! I was there the day that she was given it and I had known about the surprise and it killed me not to tell her; but oh, that secret was so worth it when I saw her walk out the gate to the gift. We immediately took it for a spin, headed toward the Square (where all the cool kids cruised in Cynthiana). Well, on the way, I was fooling with the automatic windows (I was so taken with automatic windows - thought that was the mark of a really nice car), when suddenly, I felt a jerk. We had slammed into the car in front of us. Whitney freaked out. Remember, she'd only had the car for about an hour. Although it wasn't funny AT ALL at the time, I laugh now because we both managed to convince ourselves that her dad was right: the car in front of us must have been drinking and had accidentally put their car into reverse. Ahhh, I love the way he thinks.

No. 10: For Christmas, my boyfriend got every season of The Sopranos on DVD. From the week of December 26 til the last week of January, he popped a disc in the player and held me down until I would sing along with the theme song. I fought it with all my might, (much like the rebel in me that used to fight my parents about eating canned corn); but Jerrod is much stronger and until he heard me hum a little of "Woke up this morning, got myself a gun," he would not let me go. He is a sick individual.