A Clean Break

Today marked the official retirement date of one of my colleagues.  He was is (good lord, he didn’t die, he just retired!)y low-key guy so he didn’t want any sort of retirement party, going-away soiree , or even a cake – which kinda sucked for the rest of us because we like parties, soirees, and cakes – but it wasn’t our retirement so we didn’t get a vote.  We did get to sign his card though.

Before everyone dispersed for the Christmas holiday the week before last, a few people stopped by his cubicle to say their good-byes privately.  Well, as privately as you can get in an office of cubicles – the sound barrier box wall nothwithstanding. 

I teared up the couple of times that I heard someone say good-bye to him. 

I’m such a sap. 

I said my so long, farewell, auf Wiedersehen, good-bye late in the afternoon.  I told him to make sure he comes back to visit.

His response took me by surprise.  He said that he probably wouldn’t – he likes clean breaks.

Clean breaks?  Huh?  I can’t even comprehend that.  I don’t break from anything.    

I hold onto the past until well after even the past moved on. 

As I moved into my “officially-as-of-December 31, 2012 former” colleague’s cubicle today, I thought to myself, you know, maybe he’s right.  Clean breaks are healthier.  And not so messy. 

So, I’m making a clean break from 2012.  There’s no looking back on this year unless I want to remember something really really spectacular.  (Okay, maybe I’ve gotta work at the clean break thing.)    

It’s full-steam ahead for 2013.

Happy New Year!

Unarranged.

Arrangement (n) 1. The process of organizing materials with respect to their provenance and original order, to protect their context and to achieve physical or intellectual control over the materials.  2. The organization and sequence of items within a collection
                                                                                                                Society of American Archivists Glossary

If there is no discernible arrangement, then enter the word ―Unarranged.‖
                                                                                                                The Standards

One of the most important concepts in my line of work is that of arrangement.  One can preserve an arrangement.  Or impose an arrangement.  Or even perfect an arrangement – place the emphasis on the second syllable because if you have a perfect (emphasis on the first syllable) arrangement, there is really no need to perfect (back to emphasizing that second syllable) the arrangement. 

Arrangement is my favorite thing as an archivist.  It’s a lot more than just making sure the folders, err files, are in A-B-C order – although, admittedly there is a bit of that – no, arrangement is the physical and intellectual act of organizing materials so that they are accessible for use.  It helps the people who ultimately use the materials.    

There is an order, a sequence, a pattern.  Things make sense.

Then there are the materials that have no order, no sequence, no pattern.  It is all unarranged.  Some theorists call that original chaos.  It’s up to the archivist to impose an order or leave it in its original chaotic state – and just, you know, write a folder list. 

Arrangement is not my favorite thing as Denise.

I look at my purse, my home, my life and all I see is original chaos.  Everything is   

Unarranged.         

All I Want for Christmas

My Christmas list was due to my mother by last Friday.  I got it to her late so there’s a chance that I’ll be getting stuff from the “As Seen on TV” section of the store kinda like last year when Santa gave me a Wonder File that was supposed to organize my life in wondrous and amazing ways.  Seriously, a file folder can do that!  And it probably would have, if I had ever opened the box.  Who knows?  Maybe this year, I’ll end up with an Alluma Wallet or a Ped Egg!

I don’t want you to think I’m a greedy materialistic person.  In fact, for the past couple of years I have advocated against giving presents for Christmas.  I thought we should shift gears and give experiences like trips or adventures or Reenact Your Favorite Eighties Movie Nights.  The fact of the matter is I’m an independent woman of independent means so if I want something for myself, I usually get it for myself.  Basically, if I want a monkey, I get a monkey.  (My new favorite line that I stole from the newest reality show sensation “Sin City Rules”) 

But it’s Christmas time and my mother NEEDED a list, folks.  So, I started thinking about what would make this season magical for me…you know like when I was kid.  So…here’s my list –

A meal schedule.  Remember in elementary school when you knew what you were going to eat for lunch every day because it was nicely printed out on a colorful calendar?  How awesome was that?  Someone already had it all figured out for you – chicken nuggets on Mondays, tacos on Tuesdays, square pizza on Wednesdays, and something Spork-able on Thursdays.  Now, I’m getting better at the whole cooking thing and I don’t even mind going to the grocery store.  It’s just the whole planning part.  So, like just schedule all my meals for me.  Except no tacos on Tuesdays.  I always brown-bagged on Tuesdays.

A hobo bag.  With an actual hobo to tell me whether or not the hobo bag is authentic.  How cool would that be to open up a hobo bag and have a little hobo pop out of it?  It’s like a Jack-in-the-Box only it’s a Hobo-in-the-Hobo-Bag!

Perseverance.  My mom says I don’t have any so I figure she can buy me some for Christmas.  I try to develop it on my own but then I never follow through.  Probably because napping is so much easier than persevering.  So, Mom, stick some perseverance in a box and let me open that on Christmas morning.  Unless, you know, I don’t get around to opening all of my presents.  Wait, what happened to that Wonder File? 

Reset my iPod.  My brother and I share iTunes – the legality of which I’m not entirely sure of but that’s neither here nor there.  Anyway, I have about 500 songs on my iPod.  450 of them are Kenny Chesney songs.  My brother hearts Kenny Chesney big time.  So much so that he even has the Kenny Chesney Christmas album on his iTunes.  Who even listens to Christmas albums anymore?!  The last Christmas album I had was New Kids on the Block and it was one of those big black record things.  Anyhoo, do you know what’s like to be getting my Top Gun (soundtrack) on and flying my Mighty Wings into the Danger Zone when all of a sudden Kenny’s begging the Boys of Fall for Another Beer in Mexico?  It’s like – gimme a break!!!  But ever since I added my iPod to my iPhone, iConfused.  And so the Kenny torture continues.  So, you know, resetting that would be awesome. 

While we’re on the subject of music, would someone other than me please admit that that “Christmas Shoes” song is ridiculous.  That would be a great gift.  Look, I’m sorry – especially to my friends who admit to crying when this song comes on – but I just don’t buy this song at all.  The kid doesn’t need Christmas shoes for his mom!  It’s a SCAM!  Daddy’s saying there’s not much time because the cops are on their way to catch the little grifter!   Have I crossed over the line to full Grinch-hood?  In my defense, I do mist up when I hear “Silent Night.”

A hovercraft. 

So, there it is – all I want for a magical Christmas.

That's not asking for too much is it?

 

The Sign of Peace

Indescribable.  Incomprehensible.  Horrific.  Tragic.

There are so many words and yet there are no words to describe what happened on Friday morning. 

As we begin to learn more, as we start to put names with faces – and those faces with birthdates – it will only get harder. 

There are no words. 

During the Catholic Mass, parishioners shake the hands of those around them and whisper “Peace be with you.” 

And so those are the only words that I can summon on this weekend of unimaginable heartache.

Peace be with you. 

Megan Ashley

The week before last, my friend sent me a link to check out.  I’m going to paste it here – you can copy and paste it in your browser to read the article if you want or you can just read the link itself -

http://jezebel.com/5963627/this-holiday-season-kids-will-be-getting-american-girl-dolls-with-hearing-aids-and-allergy+free-lunches

Wait…I’ll bold and enlarge the important part –
http://jezebel.com/5963627/this-holiday-season-kids-will-be-getting-american-girl-dolls-with-hearing-aids-and-allergy+free-lunches

My pal knows I have a thing for dolls.  I mean, who wouldn’t?!  Dolls are awesome.  People with dolls are even more awesome.  I am a person with lots of dolls.  Therefore I am lots of awesome. 

If you read the whole article or still receive the American Girl catalog, you know about “Special Sparkle,” the page in the catalog that features special accessories for American Girl dolls including fashion boots (although, sadly, no fashion sneakers), sporty sunglasses, a wheelchair, an epi pen, and a hot pink hearing aid.

Well, I’ll be!  Special Sparkle me (and my dolls) from head to toe! 

A hearing aid for dolls?!  What a novel idea!

Well, um, not exactly. 

Let me tell you about Megan Ashley. 
 
I got Megan Ashley when I was seven years old.  She was a special order, special delivery just for me.  She wasn’t like the rest of my dolls – she had a cloth body, brown yarn hair, a pretty pink dress, leg braces, and gray hearing aids that were stuck to her ears with Velcro. 

Megan Ashley was Special Sparkle before Special Sparkle was cool.

And, obviously, so was I.  

Megan Ashley and Me
We're forlorn not because we were
going into surgery but because
we missed General Hospital

Small Business Scores

Black Friday.  Small Business Saturday.  Still Shopping Sunday.  Cyber Monday.  Take It Back Tuesday. 

Have you guys started shopping yet?!  I don’t know what you’re shopping for but you should be shopping.  You will never get 60% off of that thing-a-ma-bob again!   You’re gonna miss out on this year’s greatest watchamacallit if you don’t get it now!  Do you want to revisit the Furby disaster of 1998?  I didn’t think so!

Despite the multitude of receipts in my purse, I’m actually not a huge fan of shopping so I don’t get too swept away in the shopping madness that descends upon this country right after Thanksgiving.  That’s not saying that I haven’t had some cool Black Friday adventures but these days I’m content to go to bed Thanksgiving night instead of going out to get a jump start on Black Friday shopping. 

But I have to say, I like this Small Business Saturday event.  And yes, I know that it was created by a big, gigantic, financial corporation.  But hey, everyone needs a reminder every once in a while.

I like small businesses and I give props to the people who take that risk to open up their own shops.  I’ve always wanted to open up my own little store – Knick-Knack Paddy Whack where I would sell knick-knacks.  Or Crafty Gals where I could sell the crafts that my friends and I make.  Maybe an independent book store called Book Mark It.  Or my personal favorite – an old-fashioned ice cream parlor called What’s the Scoop? – the waitresses and soda jerks would have to ask “What’s the scoop?” when they took orders!

Actually, maybe I only like coming up for names for small businesses. 

Whatever…I’m happy to support local small businesses and I’m excited about my purchases this weekend!  (And they were all for me...I haven't started Christmas shopping yet!) 

My purchases - a scarf/shrug/wrap; an
antique window; and pina colada rum jam

Reflections of the Way Life Used to Be

“And now the journey is over, too short, alas too short.  It was filled with adventure and wisdom, laughter and love, gallantry and grace.” 
                                                                                Maurice Tempelsman
                                                                                (My Senior Quote)

Even though I never lettered - much
less played - in a sport, I had a
varsity jacket

Last night Friday night was my 15 year high school reunion.  I didn’t go.  Mainly because it was in the city and I would’ve had to take a train and there isn’t much that I hate more than taking the train into the city.  Oh, and I really didn’t want to go.  Most likely, there would’ve been mingling (at which I am so stellar).  Then after the rousing rendition of “Reunited [and it feels so good]” and the initial pleasantries, I probably would’ve sat in the corner awkwardly examining the train schedule to figure out the next train back to suburbia.     

It’s not that I don’t look back on high school with fondness.  I do.  Well, not “my high school was exactly like Degrassi and I’d go back in a second” fondness but more of “it was fun to have a locker” kinda fondness.  High school wasn’t the best time of my life but it wasn’t the worst time of my life either (for the record – that was roughly 2001 to 2003).  I wasn’t a popular girl, a bad girl, or even a mean girl.  I wasn’t a freak and I wasn’t a geek.  I wasn’t even a misfit or an outsider…although in high school don’t we all feel like misfits and outsiders?

Does anyone know what
an El Delator actually is?

I was solidly middle of the road in high school.  I wasn’ t super smart but I wasn’t dumb even though I never quite got the hang of algebra.  While I got along with most of my classmates, I had a small group of friends that I hung out with – in the cafeteria, during free periods, and under the Friday night football lights.  I endured bullying although I never considered it that; choosing instead to walk down different hallways so I could avoid the upperclassmen offenders.  I was in the girl’s locker room after gym when I found out that Kurt Cobain died.  I never cheated, got a detention, or had to visit the school disciplinarian.  I didn’t cut on Senior Cut Day.  I was sitting in math class (Pre-Calc) when O. J. Simpson was acquitted because the glove did not fit.  I hated every school picture ever taken of me.   I was in the audience when Hillary Clinton came to speak at my school.  I made the honor roll for most of my academic career and received the History Department’s Excellence Award in senior year.  I wasn’t on any sport teams and the only extracurricular club that I was involved in was Students for Environmental Action (SEA) and that was only as a favor to a friend.  I went to all the Homecoming dances but skipped the Prom.   I never had perfect attendance.   
 
All in all, I was a typical high school student. 

I think it took me almost 15 years to realize that.    

Cheers to the Class of 1997.  Maybe I’ll make it to our 20 year reunion.

But only if it’s in the suburbs.