I jinxed myself

A couple of weeks ago, a friend was telling me he was on call for jury duty the following week, and I noted that I'd never gotten a notice for jury duty. So, of course, my first-ever summons arrived on Monday. Which I'm actually kind of excited about, because I think it'll be fascinating, in addition to it being my civic duty and all. The timing is wildly inconvenient given some stuff I have going on at work the day I'm supposed to show up, but I felt like I couldn't request a postponement; when I thought about what I'd write down on the form, it just seemed like a stupid excuse, which helped to put things in perspective. So many of the things that are such a big deal to me day-to-day are so miniscule in the grand scheme of things.

And I think I used good judgment in not requesting a delay; a co-worker told me that she'd been called to serve on a grand jury right after starting a new job, and tried to get a postponement, which was denied, but the judge knew she'd requested it, and was a right bitch about it. So, I think better to keep my head down and see how it goes.

Speaking of jinxing, I just think "Shhhhhhhhh!!!! Don't say it out loud!!" every time I hear about Obama's double-digit leads in the polls. Part of me is giddy, and wants to sigh with relief, but part of me is really afraid to exhale, because a lot can happen in a week and a half. And I worry that, even if the numbers are reliable today, Obama supporters will think they don't need to vote, if he's so far ahead, and that McCain supporters will come out in droves. So I'm keeping my fingers and toes crossed, and hoping for the best, but I'm not quite comfortable, still.

Separately, I found the Daily Show's segment on all of the candidates' gaffes hilarious, particularly its treatment of McCain's point that "Senator Obama's supporters have been saying some pretty nasty things about Western Pennsylvania lately. And you know, I couldn't agree with them more!...I couldn't disagree with you more!"

Finally, did John Kerry get Botox? I think maybe, and not in a good way.

This and That

I think I'm blogging less lately in part because I'm writing a ton for work, and uninterested in doing any writing in my free time, but also in part because I'm thinking about life in terms of Facebook status updates. Truly, when I was in Chicago a couple of weeks ago, there were plenty of blog-worthy experiences (although I have still not found the right framing for the story of my co-presenter giving me a sneak-attack hug in the elevator, so you'll just have to trust Minnams and me that it was hilarious and horrifying), but the whole trip, my brain was just thinking:

-- TangentWoman can't believe that her cab driver set up his iPod to play "Hold On" by Wilson Phillips (I actually posted some version of this to Facebook, but wished I'd "held on" --heh-- to that update until later in the playlist, which also included "I'll Never Get Over You Getting Over Me," "Listen to Your Heart" by Roxette, and, finally, "Release Me" by Wilson Phillips. Good times.

-- TW is realizing that she loves Chicago but hates the godawful cab ride from the airport to the Loop.

-- TW is wondering whether Josie Geller would still be at the Chicago Sun-Times today, if she were real.

-- TW likes hearing Ira Glass in person way more than she expected.

-- TW can't believe how hard it is to find a bottle of water that doesn't cost seven dollars.

-- TW is thinking it's pretty cool to run around one side of the lake by the light of the early-morning moon, and back the other way by the light of the sunrise.

-- TW is wishing she'd approached dinner as a marathon, rather than a race.

-- TW hates, hates, hates being stuck in stupid O'Hare on a Friday afternoon, well into the evening, but eating a Chili's baconburger and fries is making it much more tolerable.

And so on.

Last week, the Smelmooo and I both had to be in D.C. for work, which almost never happens, weirdly enough, given that I am generally there once every week or two, and the Smelmooo is there at least a few times a year. Anyway, we had an excellent mix of business and pleasure, catching up with friends for dinner the first night, watching the VP debate in a Georgetown bar with some of my co-workers the following night, that sort of stuff ("TW can't believe she's having a milkshake at Johnny Rocket's at 11 o'clock on a school night!"). From there, we headed down to Shenandoah for an early anniversary trip, to a great spot we've visited twice before.

As I said, I've been writing a ton for work, and have been consumed by a pretty big project that'll stretch out for another month, still. The morning we left D.C. for Virginia, I was frantically trying to finish up and send out a bunch of documents so I could unplug for the rest of the weekend. So I was a little scattered upon check-out, and skipped my usual routine of double- or triple-checking every closet, cabinet, drawer -- every inch of the room, really -- to ensure I haven't left anything behind.

So the Smelmooo and I went on our merry way, stopped at a couple of historic sites along the way, checked into our hotel, and read a little (ooooh, more on that in a second...), and then I, of course took a nap. And awoke with a start, thinking, "CRAP. I totally left my watch in the thing between the beds." I looked through our suitcase, and our car, and our laundry bag, but I knew I'd left it behind, and I was extra-mad at myself because I had been really excited to wear this watch on our hike the next day (because it's awesome and tracks miles and calories and all that good stuff), and mostly because I'd just gotten the watch a month ago as a birthday present from ShariCo (I partly forgot to tell ShariCo about losing the watch when I talked to her last night, but I think I partly was afraid to say anything until I knew for sure that it'd all work out).

Miraculously, someone had turned it in (this is why it's good to tip!!), and the hotel said I just needed to send an email with my name, address and a FedEx account number, and they'd ship it out to me. But I didn't get a response to the email, and I was convinced it was lost forever, but, lo and behold, the watch was awaiting me in my mailbox this afternoon. Bless you, Washington Court Hotel! Never again will I disparage your 16-floor hotel with one functional elevator. I will still probably stay at the George if given the choice, but the Washington Court now has a special place in my heart.

Last thing, because I know this is long and boring and rambling, but if you're still with me: I borrowed the short-story collection "How to Breathe Underwater," by Julie Orringer, to read during our trip, and it is so, so good. I still have a story and a half to go (napping ended up taking priority over reading on several occasions), but particularly the early stories in the book are just so beautifully written, with so many memorable, clever-but-not-cutesy details, and such resonant characters. Reading stories like these makes me want to write more -- like, real stuff, not work stuff or blog stuff or Facebook updates. And reading such good writing makes me realize how lucky I was my senior year of college, when I not only could but HAD to read at least a book a week -- nine times out of 10 a really good book -- in the fall for my Living Writers class (my professor would SO have gotten Julie Orringer to come in, if she'd written this stuff 10 years ago) and in the spring for Hemingway. There's not much, at all, that I miss about college, but I do miss that luxury.

Finally-finally: Rock of Love Charm School starts this weekend! I can hardly wait.

"Excuse me, ma'am?"

I guess I should be flattered, that I'm fairly consistently the person on the train platform who people ask, "Hey, is this the right track for the train to New York?" or "What does EWR mean on the train schedule?" And that I'm the person on the street who gets asked for directions (although I almost always apologize, in that case, and tell them they're better off asking someone else, because I can't navigate for squat), or in tourist destinations to take people's photo (my mother is this person, too, and she always apologizes, and declines, because she can't take photos for squat).

And just now, on the train, this woman asked me to watch her sleeping child while she (the mother) went to the bathroom ("He won't go anywhere, but could you just keep an eye on him?"). Which, sure, yeah, if he wakes up, I'll say, "Hey, kid, your mom didn't abandon you -- she's just in the bathroom," but beyond that, really? I'm a total stranger -- why would you trust me to look after your kid?

Same thing when seatmates ask me to keep an eye on their stuff while they get a drink in the cafe car. Why trust me? But people do this all the time (I, on the other hand, am an untrusting bundle of anxiety, and I haul my whole freakin' bag with me if I leave my seat on the train).

And pretty much every time, I oblige, but always wondering what, really, I'm committing to do. Because at some point, right, this may come down to more than just a hollow agreement? Like, someone will actually try to snatch a bag I'm watching, or put the sleeping kid's hand in warm water? And then what do I do?

Honestly? I probably just keep me head down and do nothing.