Thursday, March 31, 2011

George In My Jungle


Last night I had a dream. About George Clooney.


It was odd – I was in this huge room where a judge was presiding over some strange proceedings that involved a ballroom full of people. Old Georgie was in a suit, doing his best old-world impression. We were having a lovely time. It was all very PG-rated, much like an old Hepburn movie. There was dancing, there were stolen glances, there was a dazzling smile or two (his, not mine).


Despite the fact that there was a very thriller-film twist somewhere in the middle of it all (I believe I was being chased by a man who wanted to kill me, and who had already killed the judge), it was a lovely dream. It wasn’t until I was at breakfast this morning that I noticed my wedding ring wasn’t on my finger.


I found it placed carefully on my bedside table, stacked neatly atop my engagement ring. This is the second time this has happened – that I’ve taken off my wedding set in the middle of the night. Last time I made it to work before I noticed it was missing.


George and I must have been having a better time than I had realized.

Wednesday, March 23, 2011

A Story a Day

This is a beautiful quote, from Karey M. I’m not sure if I’m a good writer. People tell me I am, but some days it doesn’t feel like it.

But I figure I have at least two or three good stories a day. Some are true. Some are not. Like the day that I wanted to write about the life of a house, a hundred-year life filled with families. Or my accidental eyebrow waxing. (Maybe that's one for tomorrow?)

Surely I have one story a day to tell? At least, I know I have one today: I have never worked at Johnny Carino’s.

This doesn’t seem like a wild statement. But today I told one of my coworkers this, much to her surprise. For some reason, a rumor has run around my workplace that I got my job because I was a waitress at Johnny Carino’s. There, I supposedly served the former CEO, who liked me so much that he hired me as his second assistant on the spot.

The truth is much less romantic. I saw a shiny, new building in the city and thought, “I bet they’re hiring.” I Googled them. I looked at their job page. I applied. Simple as that.

I have been working here for three and a half years. It took that long to find out that I had a wild back story that no one dared repeat. I’m still trying to decide if I’ve dashed their dreams or doubled them by setting the story straight. Maybe I wasn’t a dazzling waitress, but isn’t it more impressive that I didn’t have to dazzle anyone before my interview? That I just walked in one day and got the job?

Maybe. Maybe not. But this I know is true: If I had waited on the CEO, I would have probably spilled an entire tray of drinks on him, like I did when I was 19 and worked at Olive Garden for a minute and a half. And there’s nothing dazzling about that.