Day 21: Use Your Words

Having a twin is awesome - always having someone to hang out with, do things with and who understands you better than anyone else. The intense connection, be it a unique bond from our split egg or just spending 18 years of too much time together, is one that can't be replicated. 

And yet I have found myself  trying to do so time and time again. This can lead to issues down the road. And, in my experience, these issues are most often manifested in relationships, almost exclusively in the area of communication.

Growing up I never had to explain myself much. I cried a LOT. I was weirdly imaginative with a lot of interests. And my twin sister was right there along with me for all of it - every. single. second. The result of this (aside from near constant bickering that drove our mom crazy) was a familiarity so strong that neither of us ever really had to verbalize what we were feeling or our needs/wants because the other 'just knew.' It was amazing and it made my childhood incredible, but it came at a price. A price that wasn't charged until adolescence faded away and adulthood took the forefront. I had to learn to use my words and my voice to actually express what I wanted, needed, and felt. I had to learn skills as an adult that many people had a handle on a long time ago.

I guess I should really say I NEED to learn skills, not HAD TO. Let's be real, even though I was writing in past tense this is a very current learning curve I'm working on and not projected to master anytime soon.  

As uncomfortable as it can sometimes be to ask for help or express your wants or needs, there's a power that starts to grow from it. Some may call this 'empowerment,' 'self-advocacy,' or 'assertiveness.' I believe these are all true, and can be found under the larger umbrella of 'self-knowledge'; getting to know yourself better. 

This is the only umbrella I know of to generate it's own precipitation.

Maybe getting caught in the rain isn't such a bad thing . . . 

Day 20: Brush Time

My 5 year old niece once shared with me her displeasure of having to brush her teeth for two WHOLE minutes. Her toothbrush had a timer.

"Yeah, that's a bummer."

It was much too easy to slide to the thought of, 'man, this kid doesn't like brushing her teeth.' But then I started to really think about it . . . 

I don't brush my teeth for two minutes, which I was quickly called out for after sending the little people the video below.

But, I also brush much more vigorously than the average bear (note: this is real-time speed - with charcoal toothpaste).

Not long ago I switched to a new toothbrush and I noticed something. I now needed to brush for noticeably longer than I used to.

Huh? What's going on??

Were my teeth just dirtier these days? 

Had my brushing speed slowed significantly? 

Was I just doing a more thorough job, now?

As someone who's clocked in nearly 400 hours of brushing time in my lifetime, it didn't seem likely these possibilities were the culprit.

The brush itself, on the other hand, was a different story. I quickly compared the size of my new brush to that of the old brush type - BINGO!

 

My new brush head was significantly smaller! No wonder it was taking me longer to brush - there was less surface area to work with! Alas, the mystery was solved.

I now had more compassion for my niece. She's working with a pretty small brush . . . and for the purposes of this commiseration, we'll forget about the fact that her mouth and teeth are smaller, too.

Day 19: Game-time Cravings

 

Day 18: Post Mortem Coffee Break

The spooky cemetery trilogy concludes with a snack.

It was a big day. I was trying something for the very first time. Something seemingly normal that would create fond memories and bad habits for years to come!

It wasn't planned. It was completely spontaneous. Thinking back, I really can't remember how my friend, Josh, and I came to find ourselves in the Dunkin' Donuts parking lot that early autumn day. But somehow, there we were. 

After a much too detailed and philosophical discussion about the establishment's name, we decided the only logical next move would be to carry out the namesake action.

I was about to. . . dunk donuts IN coffee!

It took 23 years for me to reach this pivotal milestone, and my taste buds would never be the same.

 

We entered the store and after a short interrogation of my friend as to what the best donuts for dunking were, we purchased our supplies.

Step one: Get donuts and coffee - DONE!

Step two: Find the perfect inaugural dunking location

This second step was a little trickier . . .

In the store?
No. 

In the car??
Nope. 

In that park over there that appears to be fenced in on all sides with no entrance?
Perfect!

We walked the fence looking for a gate. It was hard to find. Honestly, I can't really remember if we climbed over the fence in a low degraded spot or if we did, indeed, find an entrance to the park. Regardless, we made it in and bee-lined to the perfect spot we'd been eyeing from the other side, a nice clean bench.

In our determined focus to find a way to get to the bench, we may have overlooked a few things about it's surroundings . . . 

Like all of the headstones . . . because it wasn't a park at all, it was a cemetery! (Which, as I reflect back, was oddly on trend for me in early adulthood.)

As, we took in the reality of our location, our eyes met . . .

'Eh.' 

With a synchronized shrug of the shoulders we sat down and enjoyed our treats.

I don't know if it was the magic of the cemetery or the excitement of a new experience, but that was a moment that changed my snacking game forever.

 . . . I think it was definitely the cemetery magic, with deceased donut-lovers enhancing the mood . . . 

 "You're gonna love it!"

"Enjoy it extra for me, Sarah!"

Day 17: Missing Turtle

In my second year of living in Chicago, I discovered that my dwelling, once again, was located near a giant cemetery. My roommate, who had grown up in the neighborhood, told me about it. And boy did she give a great review!

"The cemetery is really pretty! It's huge - and there are several large ponds. It's really beautiful and peaceful there."

I needed no further convincing.

My older sister was coming into town for a brief visit, what better bonding activity than exploring an estate housing hundreds of dead people?! Having known me my whole life, such a suggestion sparked hardly any reaction from her, "cool, let's do it. I've never been there before."

So my sister and I, along with my best friend Josh, set out to explore this magnificent cemetery.

As we neared the entrance we spotted what looked like a missing poster, attached to a pole on the side of the road. Upon closer investigation, we saw it was indeed a missing poster, but not the kind we anticipated.

"Oohh, that's so sad!" we collectively murmured, each imagining the child the turtle must belong to.

The cemetery was now directly in front of us - and it looked Beautiful! We eagerly entered, looking everywhere to make sure we didn't miss anything (at least I did). 

We'd only walked a short distance when we all stopped in our tracks. We could see the first pond just up ahead, which may have made our discovery all the more sad.

On the ground before us we saw a turtle shell, an empty turtle shell.

 

Immediately our minds went to the Missing poster we saw on our way in . . .

 

 

   . . . I think we found the missing turtle . . .

Day 16: Trapped

And now, part one of a three-part spooky series . . .

In the first year that I lived in Chicago I sublet an apartment near a large cemetery. Actually, now that I think about it, I've lived near cemeteries on several occasions . . .

Anywho, I would always pass by on my way to work. In the spring and summertime it always looked so beautiful inside with the lush green grass, blooming flowers, and sun warmly shining. 

One particular afternoon, I was so taken with beauty of the day I took note of the open hours posted on the gate. 

"I'm going to come back and take a nice stroll through, sometime." 

Mere days later, I did! It was close to 3pm when I passed through the open gates, noting my fast approaching time restriction. 'I'll just make it a short walk,' I thought to myself.

As I explored the cemetery I took in all of the headstones, drawn to the largest and oldest looking. It was pretty cool to see what the oldest date I could find was, and observe the most popular names of times past. My wandering took me deep into the property. "Whoa, this place is bigger than I thought!"

Time check - 3:30pm

 "Better start heading back so I'm out before it closes." I began walking back, still taking in all of the plots as I pass. Ooh, this one has nice flowers. Wow, that one looks like it hasn't been visited in decades.

 After a short time, I see a grounds truck pass by on the nearby service road.

"Uh-oh, I'd better hurry." I kick my walking speed up several notches and focus solely on getting to the exit. As I get closer and closer my stomach starts to tighten, the gate isn't open anymore . . .

And I can't see the truck anywhere!

I follow the path around a few more turns, the entrance gate finally coming into full view.

It is definitely closed.

Panic starts to creep up. "What the heck?!" I check my watch - 3:47pm. "It's not even 4 o'clock yet! Did that guy seriously lock me in?!!" 

I walked a few paces more and the truck finally came into view, no longer hidden behind the building at the entrance.

The truck door opened.  "I was waiting for you!" the groundskeeper called out cheerfully.

WHEW. I felt a wave of relief wash over me. I wasn't going to have to climb the fence to try to escape!

And with that, he opened the gate and I exited the cemetery, back to the land of the living.

Day 15: Coffee & Donuts

The idea that coffee and donuts go together was seared into my brain when I was a small child. It's doesn't matter that this pairing came solely from media, facts are facts regardless of where they come from!
[We'll leave this notion to be addressed at a different time.]

Having no first hand experience (or second or third hand, for that matter) with this legendary combination, you can imagine my thrill when I witnessed it for the first time. Or should I say, when I witnessed another person witnessing it for the first time.

It was 2011 and I was inside a Dunkin' Donuts/Baskin Robbins shop, enjoying some ice cream with a friend. A family comes in - mom, dad, kid - and orders, then sits down to wait for their items. 

Moments later, a police officer walks in and goes to the counter to place his order.

"Hi, can I get two chocolate glazed donuts and a large coffee?"

'OH MY GOSH!!' 

The dad exclaims as he hops out of his seat. 'You're a cop - and you're ordering coffee and donuts!' 

 

 

The real-life fulfillment of a media stereotype was almost too much for the dad to take. He could not believe what he was seeing in front of him  - and neither could I!!!