Contrary to Sanitary Procedures

I recently attended my first Bat Mitzvah. It was my cousin Skyler's, and it took place in New York City. Being new to these kinds of fancy events, I wasn't sure exactly what to expect. The service was pretty much how I expected it to be. Lots of singing and chanting in a language unfamiliar to me. The party, however, took me and all of my family by surprise. Let me lay out the scene for you: You spend an hour and a half getting ready for the party by putting on your relatively fancy evening dress and shoes (purchased specially for this occasion) and you put on your make up and jewelry, making sure you look fabulous enough for something that you've heard is kind of like a cocktail party. You make your way downstairs (the party is in a very large Hilton hotel) and you go through some hallways following the signs pointing you in the direction of the "Miller Bat Mitzvah" until you come to a large room with somewhat seductive blue lighting. It's like some alternate universe where everyone is beautiful and charming, including the waiters carrying around fancy small food, and where I pass as 21 without a question. When a couple appetizer hours have gone by, the party moves into the next door ballroom, where the blue lighting makes everyone feel just a little bit more posh. The rest of the night consists of little eating and lots of dancing, and also meeting relatives you've never heard of, like your dad's cousin Paul (person #15) and Paul's son Max (person # 16 of the Persons Project).
And that's the weekend for you.

It's a small world after all...

When one lives in Salem, one is connected to a surprising amount of people. I was sitting in a coffee shop, and my friend Samuel mentioned a name. The girls sitting on a couch next to us turned and said, "Did you just say [insert name here]?" It turns out that not only do we have a mutual friend, we have mutual acquaintances who go to the same schools and know the same people who know the same people. Anyway, I was pleased to make the acquaintances of my two new friends, Blanche and Whitney. I do not have my camera on me, so I'm not able to share a picture of them with you. Instead, I will give you a picture of my friend Meredith drinking from my mug and standing next to the pie we made together.
I've been making a hell of a lot of pies lately.
And, yeah, I rock at it.

Planet Creamsicle

Hello, blog readers. It's been a while.
You will all be delighted (I think) to hear that I have FINALLY succeeded in meeting person #14 of the Persons Project. Yesterday I had the privilege of going to the Landmark Ford company picnic with my father (car salesman extraordinaire), my step-mother, and my step sister, Liz. Liz and I had a plan. This plan was to win first place in the three legged race. Last year we got second, and even though we won thirty dollars each, my new motto of the day is "Champions never lose", so I thought it would be appropriate to kick all the other participants' asses.
No, we didn't get first. Holding our tradition, we placed second, but we weren't nearly as disappointed about getting second as we were upon finding out that they weren't giving out prize money this year.
To console ourselves, Liz and I decided to get our faces/wrists painted upon by the face painter.
Said face painter turned out to be a handsome young man by the name of Sam who would paint planets on my and Liz's wrists, have his picture taken and published on the internet, and end up with an extra water bottle by the end of the picnic.
Thanks, Sam.
The Earth on my wrist is incredible.

How am I not myself?

It is SEPTEMBER. September. Scoff. September.
Today is FRIDAY, the fourth of SEPTEMBER, and in FOUR DAYS, they make me go back to SCHOOL.
Something has been keeping me up the last few nights. This lack of meeting people, and the fact that once school starts, I won't be able to spend several hours downtown every day, scouting out pleasant looking people to talk to.
What could happen is I meet very few people during the school year, and next Summer, before August 16, I meet TONS of people each day.
Oh, I wonder how all of this will turn out.

Nope.

No new acquaintances for Rose today. But I don't mind if you don't mind.
It just means more to do, later. Kind of like, "Procrastinators of the world unite! (Tomorrow.)"
I did buy a sunflower though. And it can be my new best friend.
If you were here, I would give you this sunflower.

Rusty Blood Taste

Wednesday in Salem means Wednesday Farmer's Market. A horde of local farmers and crafty salespeople gather in a radius of two blocks and set up booths to sell you that cute thing you can't live without today. Usually I pass the market right by, but I'm thinking it may be a good place to meet fellow wanderers. We shall see.
If nothing else, maybe I'll buy some flowers.
I love them so.

I was raised on Neil Young

Success! Somewhat. I have just met Jim, person #13 of the Persons Project. Jim was a pleasant old man with a white beard and long hair, and also a white hat to go with it all. I was quite happy to learn that he is a writer as well, working on a satirical manuscript (whose title and content I will keep confidential for Jim's sake) based on his many years as a _____ _______. I asked Jim if the work inspired the writing, and he replied that he has always been a writer, but he could never write about the work while he was doing the work. It seems that, now that he's retired, he has the freedom to look back on the years and make a work of art out of them. I think that Jim may have been a great help giving me back a bit of the confidence that I've been acquiring through this project. Thank you, Jim, and I hope that your book is a flying success.