pint-sized

I am a short person. I am, its okay, its true. I came to grips with this fact ages ago, and really once I left middle school youth group it has hardly attracted any attention. Well that is not necessarily true, but at least now instead of mockery over being "vertically challenged" I just have to put up with people having sudden revelations to the effect of, "woah, you are really short aren't you?" Really, I had no idea. Seriously guys, I don't own a single pair of pants that haven't been hemmed and I just bought shoes in the kids section at Target, I think I know I'm short. (PSA: they're totally cute, even if they do have velcro...). Only very occasionally do I get a Lilliputian comment, and then I'm just too dazzled by their vocabulary choice to be upset. I mean sometimes I can't reach items on shelves, but they have ladders for that sort of thing. Most movie theaters are now stadium seating, so please, sit in front of me - see if I care. Maybe my feet reach the floor when I sit in a chair, maybe they don't, so what? Crossing your legs is overrated anyways. So what I'm saying is, I am just peachy keen on this whole being short thing. As a rule I don't struggle unduly with my inevitable shortness-related conundrums, but occasionally I run into a really just sincerely obnoxious scenario. For instance, last night I was at a concert at the Music Farm, aka standing room only, and you can probably see where this is going (or maybe not, if you're tall, in which case you are the source of the problem). And so it was that I spent a fair portion of the evening (that is, whichever parts of the night the two amazons with swingy (hit you in the face) ponytails decided to lean over to talk to each other, which lets be honest was a lot of time) staring at their elbows. A lifetime of fruitless efforts have taught me not to even attempt craning my neck to catch a peek, but ever since I was knee high to a grasshopper (which was yesterday last time I checked) I have just been forced to get creative. And so it was that I ended up watching the artists perform via the screens of the various and sundry digital cameras sprinkled throughout the crowd. It was rather reminiscent of when we went to see U2 and I had to remind myself to stop gaping at the digital kraken towering over them, and actually watch the band. As I scanned the crowd for suspended iphones and cameras last night, my mind stumbled across a thought from the Steinbeck book I read over break. Andiquote: "I could hear them say, 'you mean you were that near Yellowstone and didn't go? You must be crazy.' Again it might have been the American tendency in travel. One goes not so much to see but to tell afterward." Let me just say, I never had to glance twice to find someone standing with their arm outstretched, their camera paying more attention to the actual living breathing person than they were. (I on the other hand, was clearly glued to the stage and not at all pondering such randomness as this. And just so no one can call me a hypocrite, I photo documented a bit too.)

Magic Moment

It has finally happened. I have been waiting for this moment for about four months. Tonight, at approximately 1:21 AM I woke up warm, hot even. After this unreasonably cold winter that was only made all the more dreadful by the death of my beloved space heater in a huge blue snap of electricity, the weather has finally shifted. As I slowly awakened to the realization that I was feeling rather toasty, joy spread through me like spring through the land of Narnia. I'm making a big deal of it, you say? Yes. Yes, I am. If only you could understand how much I despise sleeping in multiple layers. In socks. In twisty sheets of tangly death. IN FLEECY HELL. Yes, my friends, that is where I have been the past few months, you just don't know it because I am such the poster child for silent suffering. But never fear for that time has come to a close. We've had a few sneakily warm days here, a few outright beauties that were such teasers, and a few cruelly cold days in the past few weeks, but this - this is the first night that the warmth has subsisted. Enough so that at approximately 1:23 AM I joyfully tossed back my covers, kicked off my socks, scoffed at the fleece blankets relegated to the floor, and skipped into the hallway to flip on my fan (yes I said hallway, this is a crusty old gem of a house I live in, and some of its wonders cannot be explained). All of this very naturally riled me up to the point that I could not exactly settle back into my slumbers, and so here I am, sharing my jubilation. I have to say, as I lie here basking in the freedom of one layer instead of seventy-three, with my feet dangling outside without fear of blossoming icicles, I feel rather alive.