In today's news

I'm eating a delicious golden apple that I picked myself. It's crisp and flavorful and subtle and yum. There are new shoes on my feet, I'm almost done transcribing an interview I feel as if I've been typing forever, and there was the odd sight this morning of people standing on the roof of my office building.

Plus, there's snow in Cleveland. I'm not there, but I'm living vicariously through people's Facebook pictures -- with the added bonus that I don't have to drive in it!

Of people and ice cream

I've been absent for a while, but meaning to return. Today, a few things convinced me that it was time for a post.

Driving into work this morning, I saw a well-dressed man walking on a wall, instead of the sidewalk next to it. He hopped up like a little kid. It was grand.

At the office, a co-worker who I don't know very well rushed over to me excited. She'd overheard a conversation I had yesterday about the opening of Jeni's ice cream here. And what should arrive in the office, but six pints in dry ice?

It's delicious and amazing and wonderful and a little taste of home, of course. But it's the thought, too. And Jeni's opens tomorrow, so now I can go any time I need a fix.

And speaking of fixes, in another sense: I've been reminded in recent weeks and months that I know some really wonderful people. I really have been valuing the time I get to spend with them, and wishing I was closer to -- and therefore got more time with -- others of them. So thanks, people. It means a lot.

I hope they did this on purpose

Kansas and Toto are touring together.

You're welcome.

High places

A former governor just told me he's looking forward to reading my story.

And that's pretty cool.

In touch

I still have a number to get through (some of them to some of you, dear readers), but I replied to several emails this weekend that I've been putting off because I wanted to give them the time and attention they deserved. Aside from the simple sense of accomplishment that one gets from hitting "send" and moving a message out of the inbox, it makes me happy that even through questionable timely response skills, I'm able to keep in touch with people who are meaningful to me, and who are far away (or sometimes close).

And also, work compliments. Being told you're doing well never gets old.

Feb. 14

I brought these to work last week, and gave them away to co-workers and friends. More than the Valentines (which are so cute!), I loved the box they came in. No batteries required! Paper-folding action!

Just wanted to send my love to those of you I couldn't hand a Valentine to, too.

Stay (I Missed You)

I have fond memories of a concert in college where Lisa Loeb played with Dweezil Zappa, and I'm pretty sure I can still sing all the words to Stay (I Missed You). Today, I saw that Lisa Loeb is coming back to town, so I sent an e-mail to one of the friends I went to the show with to see if she might want to recreate our evening.

She replied enthusiastically, which is awesome. Even more awesome? The second person I emailed -- who was at the concert with us (even though I didn't remember that she was there) emailed another friend, who now lives in Texas. I haven't seen this friend in nearly three years -- since her wedding -- but she's going to fly in for a visit and the show. And I'm thrilled to get to spend some time with her, and with this group of people.

Lisa Loeb: bringing friends together.

Because it's time

I've been meaning to write something for a while, but work and life and general bumminess have meant that instead, I haven't taken the time to pull out the marvelous and share it with you.

But it's the last day of January. And I got an email from a friend -- one who means a lot to me, and one whom I always mean to talk to more than I do -- imploring me to update more often. She's right.

I still don't have a lot of time or energy tonight (so that e-mail I've owed for several months -- and the newest one -- will be yet delayed).

But I can share this, from a trip I took earlier this month to a land of snow. It was a friend's first snowman and (hopefully to the delight of the aforementioned friend who wants me to update more often), his name is Nigel.

Enjoy him. We did.

Today so far

This morning, here's what made me smile:

On the radio: "It is Friday. That's when we bust out the Tom Jones."

From the corner of my eye, I saw what I thought was a zebra on my morning commute. Atlanta has a history of zebras, so while surprising, this wouldn't have been unusual -- well, less unusual than a mountain lion. Turns out it was a Hummer painted like a zebra. Which was still pretty great.

And then, a middle-aged man riding a bicycle with a basket, wearing a reflective crossing-guard vest.

(As an added bonus, there was also a man on the sidewalk in a bright pink leg cast. I felt a little bit bad for the cast itself, but love that he chose bright pink.)

Memories

It's Nov. 1, which means everyone who didn't want to keep their Halloween candy has kindly brought it into the office for the rest of us to eat.

This is a strange leap, perhaps, from Halloween, but the candy on the table -- a lone packet of SweeTarts, in the midst of Tootsie Rolls and Tootsie Pops -- has made me nostalgic. In fact, I always get nostalgic when I eat SweeTarts.

When I was in high school, one of my best friends would always buy a long roll of the sugary, colorful candy. They would get passed around orchestra, and we'd put down our bows to pop SweeTarts onto our stands and into our mouths. I don't know that it was ever codified that SweeTarts would arrive on a daily basis in orchestra, but they always did -- even on concert nights, when we were all dressed in skirts and suit pants, and we needed to be much more subtle as we passed the candy around.

I always liked SweeTarts.

I stopped eating them, though, my sophomore year of high school. My friend -- his name is Josh -- was diagnosed with cancer. He died that same week.

I know this is a blog about things that make me smile, and that doesn't sound like something very happy at all. And it isn't. But here's what is: whenever I see SweeTarts I think of Josh. I have to eat them in his memory. I smile as I reminisce about him passing them around orchestra. The candy makes me think of throwing snowballs at stop signs while we waited for the bus, or of movie nights in his basement. It makes me recall his big smile and his infectious laugh and the first time someone called me and launched into conversation without first identifying who was talking. SweeTarts were hard for me to eat for a long time. But now they bring back good memories.

So I'm sitting at my desk, popping SweeTarts, and thinking of Josh. And the fact that so many years later, this little candy can bring back such vivid memories of a person who meant so much to me really does make me smile.

Saturday

Here are some things that are made of awesome

Right now, I am eating a Honeycrisp apple.

My father was quoted on the front page of the newspaper, above the fold.

My sister scored a White House press pass and took photos of the president.

I saw people juggling fire on a church lawn.

And Jens Lekman puts on a really good show. (I like this song a lot.)

Reading time

When I checked my email today, I was temporarily taken aback by a note with the subject "Library Notice." I have a sordid history with library notices and, I thought, I'd been particularly careful to return my books on time. So I was concerned that I'd missed one, and would now have to pay exorbitant fines.

Imagine my relief when the library notice instead was sent to inform me that a book I'd requested -- and didn't expect for another month or more (the waiting list is SO LONG!) -- arrived at my local branch!

So now I get to learn what's next for Katniss and the gang. And while I didn't love the first book as much as a lot of other people seem to have loved it, I am looking forward to seeing how the adventure continues.

Drunken Stool Making

There is so much happiness in my life at the moment.  I am visiting with my sister in Takoma Park, MD, and Sister Love is always a good thing!

Last night, however, was the joy of joys that only a sibling can bring.  My sister and I have a tradition of drinking heavily and watching bad romantic comedies/teen romance movies when we visit.  Last night was no exception!

The best part of the night was in the conversation that follows.

Chrys: Do you have any tools?  I want to put together your stools...
Lauren: Oh!  Yeah! I was planning on putting those together once I got drunk!


My Family is special.
My life is happiness.

Maybe?

This morning, the so-called song of summer (maybe) came on the radio on my way into work. Unless you've been under a rock, you've heard Call Me Maybe pretty much everywhere.

I'm not ashamed to admit that I kind of love this song. But the real reason I love it is this dramatic reading of the song, which I must have listened to at least a half-dozen times.

It still makes me grin so big.

Also! This exists! I haven't listened yet, but I'm way excited about the mix.

Poetry

So, I know the newest U.S. Poet Laureate.

And that's kind of cool.

Also, I'm nerdily excited to tell you that I'm now the proud owner of a library card to the Library of Congress (which is where said poet laureate will set up shop come January). In case you were wondering, despite requiring a photo and a signature, it is not an official government ID.

Playing the blues

On my flight back to Atlanta last weekend, the pilot played harmonica over the loudspeaker while telling us how long we'd be in the air, and how many miles we would traverse.

He was actually pretty good.

Next week

Y'all, it's nearly spelling bee time. And as you know, I really like spelling bees. A lot.

So you can imagine how excited I am to go this year.

Watch the bee! Maybe you'll see me.

On the road

Three vehicles worth noting:

• An open-backed truck, like the ones people use for landscaping equipment, stuffed with helium tanks of various sizes;
• At a construction site near my office, a truck that says WATER TRUCK and underneath it, in smaller letter, NON POTABLE WATER;
• A truck with a trailer full of donkeys (the sides were down, so I could see the donkeys) with what looked to be a handmade, carved bumper decoration that said, "HAULING ASS."

Ode to a Pear

O, pear you are
juicy and awkward, requiring me
to slurp you up
before I chew. I eat you with
a pile of paper towels,
soaked through. Your bulbous bottom
bumps my lip, your tiny stem
evades my grasp, your subtle core
hides beneath pearflesh, a sad surprise
when I bite seeking more fruit and find, instead,
something new. I eat you and think
of Jelly Belly candies, of summer days, of
my mother, who loves the flavors you
imbue. I will not bake you. You are
a fruit to be devoured raw, dripping, sticky,
sweet. O, pear, you may frustrate my desires
to elegantly consume, but pear?
I savor you.