The little things in life

My neighbor was murdered…
Or so I thought.  A few nights ago I had trouble sleeping so I got up to check my email.  It was about 2:30 in the morning, and as I sat ALONE in the dark, I heard a blood curdling scream.  It came from my neighbor’s house.  No kidding…every teeny, tiny hair on my body stood on end.  I ran to my patio door and opened it and within seconds I heard another scream.  This was no ordinary scream…it was terrifying…and it was coming from a woman.  I ran to wake my husband and as I was telling him what I was hearing…she screamed again.  He jumped from the bed and we both ran to the patio, then called 911.  Tears filled my eyes and I started to cry, wondering if my neighbor was being bludgeoned to death while I stood there and listened.  I wanted to run to her aid, but was afraid of being bludgeoned to death myself, so I sat by the window cursing the police for being so slow.  As it turns out, they weren’t slow, they had parked up the street a ways, and walked up to the house with weapons drawn.  A few minutes later, we saw them retreating so my husband went out to see what was going on.  Apparently our neighbor was having a party and the blood curdling screams stemmed from drunken stupidity.  Meanwhile, I was shaking like a leaf and unable to sleep for hours.

Tipping Keanu
A couple of blocks from my house is a restaurant that I enjoy.  The food is decent, but the VIEW is exceptional.  Last weekend my husband and I ate there.  There was a long wait and so we decided to sit in the bar for a while.  As I have mentioned in the past…a waiter works there who is the spitting image of Keanu Reeves.  He’s even brooding like Keanu seems to be.  I’ve tried flirting with him.  He doesn’t seem to be the flirty type…maybe he’s gay…it’s the only explanation…because NO MAN CAN RESIST MY CHARMS!   (Yeah, yeah…tell youself something long enough and you’ll start to believe it too…lol.)  I made my husband tip him very well simply because he is gorgeous.  Little does this twerp know that he could bleed me dry if he’d only smile and flirt back a bit…sigh…I think I’m losing my touch.

COLD HANDS, WARM GLOVES
My new job position is as the Food Coordinator and supervisor of the kitchen at a homeless shelter.  I can’t tell you how much I LOVE, LOVE, LOVE my new job!  I think it’s the first job I’ve ever been able to say that about.  Consequently,  the plight of the homeless has been on my mind a lot lately.

A few weeks ago some friends and I went to Portland to give away blankets, coats, gloves and socks.  It was freezing the day we went (32 degrees), and snowing.  Huge, wet snowflakes fell from the sky and saturated us within minutes.  I was freezing, and that was a good thing…it gave me a small taste of what some people go through on a daily basis.  We went under the Burnside bridge (it’s not like it sounds…Portland’s public transportation mode…a train called Max, runs under the bridge, and there are buildings and shops all around.  It’s not like we stopped on the turnpike and went under a bridge).   There were a few people huddled together.  Among them was a married couple.  The husband’s name was Mario.  We asked if anyone needed gloves or anything.  The only gloves we had left was a pair of women’s (lavender in color) that came up to about the elbow (yeah, really hokey…but donated, so who are we to say no?).  Mario said, “I’ll take them…I don’t have any gloves.”  A male friend of mine, who was with us, handed him the gloves, and the conversation continued in a different direction.  It took only a second for me to realize what Mario had just said.  HE DIDN’T HAVE ANY GLOVES!  IT WAS 32 DEGREES AND SNOWING!  I immediately pulled off one of my leather gloves and handed it to him.   I asked him to try it on, but he was a gentleman and didn’t want to take my gloves.  I pleaded with him to just try them (assuring him that I have more).  He reluctantly tried to squeeze into them, but they were too small.  At that moment, I’m pretty sure I felt my heart crack right down the middle.  I couldn’t stand the thought of leaving Mario with only a thin, hideous pair of purple gloves to wear.  Before Mario could even hand the glove back to me, my friend Kevin had his thick, warm gloves off and gave them to Mario.  Before all was said and done, he also gave Mario his belt.  I’m certainly glad that Mario had on shoes, or I’m pretty sure that my friend would have been walking around barefoot in the snow…lol.  I think about Mario and his wife often.  I hope they find a way off of the streets.