Attitude
I was driving downtown today to an appointment, and as I drove, I noticed how foot traffic is much different on a Monday than a Friday. There were lots of professionals going up and down the block, some in packs, some alone. First out of the ordinary was one of those long haired older men with shorts on. (Not so unusual in general in Atlanta, but after a weekend of ice and rain, and todays high at 41... sort of unusual.) Next... and by far the winner of what I saw today on the way to work was a man in a tutu, baton and one of those big tall band hats, parading down Peachtree St for all to see. I'm pretty sure that he even had a whistle in his mouth...
And of course, a whole different kind of attitude, people crossing the street when cars have the green light. Does that mean that the walkers can get plowed over? Point value?

Religion is a funny thing.
Even the most intelligent people that are religious seem to have moments where they forget about intelligence and belief and faith kick in.
Don't get me wrong, it's good to have faith, like when you praying to make it to the gas station because you know there are fumes in your gas tank. It's like "if you believe", and have a good attitude about it, will get you through the situation.
But back to religion...
I was partaking of some animal crackers courtesy of a co-worker today that were oddly enough, in the shape of Sponge Bob Square Pants. (gotta blog about a blind date that I had where a guy wore a Sponge Bob hat and button down Sponge Bob shirt on the date...needless to say, interesting fellow.) Anyway... another co-worker swings by and as we are talking about the Sponge Bob Square Pants cookies, and tells us about some Christian Right Association trying to ban Sponge Bob. Apparently, in holding "hands" with his starfish buddy Patrick (and do starfishes really have hands... whole other argument there...), he appears homosexual to this group.
It amazes me how religious people are so quick to find, and accuse individuals of being gay or homosexual or lesbian. Wow! Someone is different from us!!! RUN! HIDE!! BAN IT! It's amazing that these extreme religious individuals can deal with the concept of male and female... and I won't even get started on the rest of the things that make us different.
Let's ban Harry Potter they say... it's all about witchcraft, and it's gotta be evil. Wasn't there a witch in Hansel and Gretel? I bet that those individuals parents still read that bedtime story to them.
When did a story become reality? When did that line disappear that stated this is FICTION, and there is also REALITY. And why did people forget those concepts?
Thankfully, we live in America, where hopefully we will retain our freedoms of religion and our ability to form groups for and against issues so that the masses can be swayed to someone's viewpoint. But it's still kinda scary isn't it?

Ok here is an interesting thought...
Cats, reincarnations of people.
I had several of my workmates over for some wine after a company dinner last night and we were each talking about our pets.
S has an iguana, K & E have cats like myself.
S "doesn't mess with cats", because she thinks they are reincarnations of dead people.
I have to admit, for a second it was an entertaining thought that my mind took and ran with.
For instance, could Picollo be one of those old movie stars who is accustomed to the world revolving around her?
And Mello? hmmmm something far more laid back and looking for a lot of lovin' and a little bit of excitement.

Either the frequency has increased as to the interesting events in my life, or I have just become more sensitive.
My hairball cat is basking in the sunlight coming through the window. She is in the perfectly framed spot on the floor, legs stretched out, on her side, belly exposed to the sun in a perfectly blissful pose. The mello cat tries to get in on the act as the sun moves the window frame across the floor and manages to get his head into full sunlight.
It's been a busy week, and I am stricken with how many things that I need to get done.
And here I am typing to the ether of the internet.
Talk about avoidance.

I was stunned by the news that my father gave to me while I waited in line at the Chic-fil-et drivethru this am.
An old friend of the family who for a time, WAS FAMILY, had been found dead several days ago.
This friend was found in the trunk of his car with his head blown off. Apparently, it took security in the Wal-Mart parking lot 3 weeks to realize that something may have been amiss by the car in the parking lot with the new foul odor coming off it.
It's been quite some time since I have seen Johnny. He was a friend, a crush, and a very good friend of my brothers. He was even the best man at my brother's wedding. To say that I remembered a few things is an understatement.
My first concern was my brother.
Normally this wouldn't be a big deal. However, due to my brothers religious convictions and the fact that I no longer practice the same, he does not speak to me. I believe the last time that we spoke was 2 years ago, when I actually stepped foot into his church. He actually introduced me to his two children, who previously I had only lain eyes on them in photos that my dad had shown to me.
I called him and he didn't realize at first who was on the phone with him.
We talked a bit about J and what could have possibly happened to him.
Needless to say, the conversation came back around to religion, and how J had drifted away from it and what potential "evils" befell him once he stepped out of God's protection.
I told him that I loved him and was concerned about him and then he had to go of course.
How sad that a friend that had once been so dear to all of us, and to many people, ended his life in such a manner. No note was left behind, no explanation. No one thought to worry about him, that anything may have been that wrong. He had traveled so much and had been so private about his life. No second thought was given about him being out of the radar for so long.
I am stunned.

Since the beginning of therapy, I find that I often rub my hand to rid myself of scar tissue that formed when I broke it. As I did so this morning, I suddenly noticed that one of the pins in my hand responded to the pressure that I was using and literally "popping" out the side of my hand.
I, of course, like a child, tried to push it back in. (Had I rubbed it the wrong way?)
That really felt as good as you might think, which is not at all. So I stopped doing that.
I did not want to put it back into my stint, or my "glove" that I had been wearing for protection though, because I had no desire to feel it going back into my hand, the bone, etc.
Unfortunately, after I got dressed, I realized that it had completely come out of my hand of it's own accord. And... oddly, I didn't notice it's departure.
I panicked long enough before I realized that I couldn't get through to the doctors office before nine, and if I didn't leave soon, that I would be late for work.
Happily... the doctors aid called back and let me know that they would not be putting the pin back in (thank god!), and to come in next week to get the next one removed!
YEAH!

School begins again tomorrow, and although I am disappointed that I did not get all of the classes that I wanted, maybe it is a mixed blessing. I am not as energetic to begin as I was last semester. Getting over the stress of December, the aftermath of the accident, finals, and of course the holidays, was alot. I am finally actually pretty rested, and although the doctor kept telling me 5 weeks with the pins, it actually meant 7, and they are still in my hand. At least I can get in and out of the splint and attempt to type with both hands again. (slightly longer posting ability also...)

Frank just came on the itunes shuffle and it reminds me of the outing from last night.
I went to a local establishment, Plaka Taverna or maybe it's Taverna Plaka... whatever, it's a Greek place on Cheshire Bridge Rd, right here in Atlanta, Ga. It's the closest thing to night club dining that I have ever attended. First, our 9:30 reservation turned into something more like 10. The crowd was unbelievable at the bar, just like a night club, and the music was just as loud.
First, the "Greek Crush" drink is by far the best "Greek" cosmo served inside the Perimeter... a definite must have. And of course, we all had at least two of the liquid refreshment. (literally, it was easier to get the waitress to bring those than water...)
Second, at this late hour on a Saturday night I highly recommend the "shared" family meal that of course our waitress so whole-heartedly recommended. It was probably the only thing that was going to come out of the kitchen at this point anyway.
As our meal neared it's end, women started to climb onto the chairs and onto the tables to dance to the ever loudening music... most attempting to mimic the live performing belly dancers that were on hand to shake a tailfeather.
Not that it mattered, because the smoking section was so nearby our table, a few of us went away to catch a quick cigarrette. For whatever reason I had left the stint (the hand/pin protector) at home, probably because it is easier to eat without it. Of course, I got slammed by a lovely young Buckhead lass that I restrained myself from stepping angrily onto her pedicured toes!
By the time that I returned to the table my remaining drink had mysteriously disappeared and desert had arrived... no desert plates to be had (*but we did have individual forks, our waitress was happy to report)
Not wanting to be left out, my friends joined in the merriment and did a few table dances just for us! (and,no joke, there is a sign exempting responsibility of the owners of people dancing on the tables..."Dance at your own risk!") I would post photographs, but I cannot get any help from our technical department over at Propeller Skies!
How does this relate to Frank??? Oh yeah, back for a nightcap, we had an opportunity to dance late into the night to his tunes!

I am happy to report, that as I drive pass someone or something that reminds me of HIM, I can only recall his name and no longer his face. It takes my brain far longer to open that drawer up that I thought would never be bogged down by anything other thsn memories of him.
Time can heal.