I am sorry/The Witch is alive!

I spend a lot of time saying I am sorry. I say sorry for things that I am not sorry about. I say sorry for things I have no control over. I say sorry in places that don't require sorry. I don't like being sorry all of the time, and I am sorry about that. I am not sure where I got the idea to apologize for everything, but I fight to not say it so much. Sometimes it is my way of saying, "I sympathize." Sometimes it is just me apologizing for something that I don't have any part in, and those are the ones I hate the most. It is as annoying to me as "um" is to some of you. I say it without thinking so much that I wonder if I am really sorry, or just have good reflexes.

Does anyone else suffer from similar annoying habits? Feel free to tell on yourself.

***Overheard leaving Wicked***

As Kirsten and I were leaving Wicked, I heard a young boy (not older than 7) saying, "She's alive! The movie makes you think she died, but she has been alive the whole time. She's alive!"

I just thought it cute how the boy was not only amazed at the Witch's ability to survive, but how the musical had converted him into her camp. (Not to ruin it, but the "not so" wicked Witch is alive)

Me and Dunkin

Liking Dunkin Donuts goes against something deep inside of me. I believe in a clean environment and good service. Unfortunately, Dunkin rarely offers me either. They have good coffee(nay, great coffee), and I usually don't feel like a schmuck when I buy it. I tell myself that it is the working persons coffee. Good taste with no frills. The problem is that a large coffee is almost 2 bucks. How can that be a working person's coffee? I am a bit embarrassed to say the cost because I know what the mammoth quantity of Folgers goes for. Six dollars.

I have somehow convinced myself that it is ok. Maybe it is because I like being on the side of the underdog, and Starbucks is, without a doubt, the Goliath from Seattle.

Still, I feel that one of these folks smiling at me would be the least they could do when I am trying the best I can to save their company that seems near extinction. Instead, I am made to feel like my orders are a nuisance (regardless of how easy they are), and my entry just before closing is a crime. It is just coffee. How can my coming in before close cause any problems? It is water and grounds. It is not like you have to fire up the grill, or make such a great effort. I am not putting you behind in anyway. You will still get out at 10:07.

All I ask is that they show me some little sparkle. Tease me. Jest goes a long way. For now, I am just addicted.

Loving someone that won't love me back.

Old Tattoo

I had the pleasure of breakfast at Waffle House a few days ago. I love to see such a mixture of people, and the Waffle House never disappoints. I prefer a booth that allows me to see people as they come and go, but the hustle and bustle of a Sunday Morning would not permit. I sat at the counter. One of the ladies in the kitchen was singing hymns (it is Sunday after all). A couple in the corner caught my eye. The woman seemed to be going into her sixties. She was decked out in the colors of Spring. Her husband, I assume, is James Brown. He looked like it anyway. The James Brown that got arrested for going on a rampage. The only difference was his eyes. His eyes were very gentle and comforting. I found myself staring at him, and I knew that I would like him if I knew him. I imagine him to be a gentle mannered joker. He would make a great grandfather. The pair did not look like a match, but their body language suggested a love that had depth and firm rooting. Some hint to this improper duo was a faded tattoo on the lady's arm. A clue to what might have brought about a love that, I can only imagine, has survived decades. If her shirt had sleeves, or if the tattoo was in some nether region, I might not have ever guessed. This couple still doesn't know me, but we are friends. I am thankful to them for the days since then that I have thought about the paths we go down in our life. I get so focused on my life, and my day, that I don't take notice to the people who are around me. What interesting lives we lead. Our normal is another's fantastic. Our victory is another's loss.

Everyone seems more human when you look at them from their side of the story.