The hood

*Note: This is the picture that comes up when you Google "Juvenile delinquent"

Today is my work anniversary. 2 years! Huzzah. I knew it would be a special day, but I was none too prepared for its very exciting beginning. Observe:

There I was at 8:30, basking in my suburban bliss at my kitchen table and so spiritually studying my scriptures when I heard a ding dong dingg dong BAM BAM BAM sound at my front door. Anyone who comes calling that way is either up to no good, or is the UPS man. I opened the front door, expecting the latter, and was greeted by three teenage girls, panting and sweating and asking to come in and use my phone because they were under attack. ATTACK! So of course I let them in, told them to lock the door, and ran to get my phone. While they made some calls, I asked what happened and they told me they were walking to Trax when a man tried to pull one of them into his car. So they ran away as fast as they could. To my front door. It's a really welcoming front door, so I don't blame them. Now informed, I suggest we call the police as they call for a ride, and one girl says her uncle is in the police department so she'll tell him. Meanwhile, she calls a boy named "Babe" and asks him to pick her and "two chicks" up at the "some lady's" house because "something happened that I'll tell you about later." She then directs Babe to the area by telling him it's by Trax and Youth Services.

Hmmm.

Do you, the average blog reader, know about Youth Services? Yeah, I wouldn't either if I didn't live near it. Strange that these teenagers--aka YOUTH--know right where it is. Apparently Babe knows all about it too.

Hmmm. I may be just some old lady whose house they randomly chose, but I'm no dummy. My Sherlock sense was kicking in....albeit slowly.

So I ask questions. Where were you going? Where were you walking from? Who is this picking you up? How about that call to the police?

Things suddenly got less threatening outside. The girls realized they had an abundance of resources to call upon, namely friends' houses nearby, various rides who could pick them up at various locations, etc. And the scary man who tried to abduct them? No worries, he didn't follow them. For sure.

So....I let them go. Don't criticize me for my bad Samaritanism. My instincts told me that if the girls didn't feel any danger in returning to the streets of SoSaLa, then I didn't need to either. So I gave them water and sent them on their way. And then I made a call to my friend who works for Youth Services.

"Yes, indeed we are missing 3 girls. They ran away this morning."

I aided and abetted, with water and a phone.
I feel so used.
Youth of America, I'm sorry to tell you that this lady is totally going to rat you out if you come knocking on my door. It's for your own good.

Early Alzheimers

I'm worried about my memory. There are many signs that within 20 years I will be the Crazy Cat Lady down the street. For example:

* I've had a bag of pretzels at work that has been substituting for many meals. I went to reach for the bag yesterday and was dismayed to find them missing. Pretzel stealing, really? I found myself angry and disappointed in whatever desperate co-worker had committed such a crime. I went back to work, and as a couple of hours later I again wished for some pretzels to eat, into my mind flashed an image of me, polishing off the last of the pretzels and almost licking the bag to make sure I got every crumb...and then throwing the bag away. I ate all the pretzels myself, turns out. Heh heh....oops.

* I once forgot to wear a bra in 8th grade (um, because I didn't need one then) and it happened to be the day they do the scoliosis check, which, if you don't know, requires you to be shirtless.

* I shamelessly flirted once with a boy who, apparently, my friend had just declared her interest in. I was there, apparently, when she did so. To this day I have no recollection of that declaration, but enough witnesses have attested to my presence that I believe I was there and just completely forgot it.

* Sometimes I forget that the youngest children of my siblings exist. Sorry, siblings, but it happens. I remember distinctly that one time I looked at my niece Katie and couldn't figure out why Karly (her older sister) was so small.

* I forgot about a final in one of my last semester's classes. Just plain forgot about it. I mean, how this happens is beyond me, as there are many reminders about finals, like...calling it Finals Week. And studying. And taking lots of other finals.

The annoying thing is that I have a gift for remembering things that don't matter, i.e. my 8th grade crush's phone number/birthday/middle name/siblings' middle names/the first song I ever heard him play on the guitar. Also, hours and hours of movie lines and song lyrics are constantly playing through my mind, even when they are movies and songs I don't like. Once I memorize a phone number, it never leaves me....but I'll probably tell you a story 6 times before I remember that you've heard it before. Come to think of it, maybe I'm Rainman.

The other annoying thing is that it's the poorest excuse in the book. I know what it's like to have someone tell you they forgot something and to have absolutely no sympathy for that claim. I've always believed that if you forget something you probably don't care about it much. I no longer believe that. I think if you forget something you a) simply aren't obsessing about it; b) were trying to remember 50 things at exactly the same time and it just lost the battle of wits; and/or c) have a mind with the capacity for only so much, and at this time seems to be rather full of useless information. So....sorry. Sorry for the things I forget. I'm not sure what it will take to get your birthday to take the place of Paul's phone number in my brain.

Looking for a way to drop those extra pounds?

Look no further.
Total Sauna

This just in

I'm in the mood to be in love. I'm just not that willing to do what it takes to get there. Any ideas?

PS Hooray for Jeanine.