Thursday, January 12, 2006

Shuffle

Spoils of War: Last night as Hoop was off at school, I pulled down some boxes from my closet that had long been collecting dust. I didn't know exactly what was in them. But I had a good idea. Two hours later I was still sifting through the memorabilia of my past relationships. It wasn't hard to throw away the pictures. The loving embraces of the people in the photographs appear so fake now. I searched the face of the girl looking back at me and saw no hint of love there. I saw someone too young to know what she was looking for. It wasn't hard to throw away the souvenirs either: pressed flowers, wax hands, and a dozen cheesy teddy bears. But then I came across something that left me a little confused on what to do... Baby pictures.

What the hell were those boys thinking? My Mom would have kicked my ass. I shuffled through the handful of pictures. There were little boys in basinets, in towel capes, with gaping smiles, wearing bubble beards, and in Halloween costumes. I almost felt perverse. The pictures landed neatly in the garbage, only to be rescued a moment later. I threw them away and pulled them out three times. I didn't feel right keeping them. I didn't feel right throwing them away. For a moment I contemplated finding the owners of the pictures. But crossing burnt bridges was never my type of thrill.

Indecision might as well equal insanity in my world. It makes me do/think stupid things. I carried the pictures with me to work today. I didn't want to box them back up and leave the decision for another day, five years further down the line. I didn't want to leave them out and have to explain to Hoop why I have baby pictures of someone else. For the first hour of work I thought about them, tucked away in my purse. Will I ever be able to get rid of them? Or am I determined to make myself carry them around forever like a scarlet letter? And then it dawned on me...


THIS IS RIDICULOUS. It's not my fucking fault these idiots so carelessly gave away their childhood. I would never have left behind something so special. They hit the trash can with much less of an explosion then I expected, and God's finger didn't come down from the clouds to point at me. So I'm hoping I did the right thing. [Edit: Did I do the right thing? I did the right thing... Man, this sucks.]

What kind of English do ya'll speak?
I am:
80% General American English
10% Dixie
5% Midwestern
5% Yankee
0% Upper Midwestern

When I first moved here from up north a gentleman down here asked me, "What's the difference between a Yankee and a damn Yankee? A Yankee comes to visit. A damn Yankee comes to stay." Wouldn't he be proud to know I'm no longer just an implant. I say "Ya'll" and everything!

Strange Superstitions: Tomorrow is Friday the 13th. In honor of that dreaded date, here is a list of strange facts and trivia concerning the number 13. Ooooooh. ;)

1. More than 80% of high-rises lack a 13th floor.
2. Many airports skip the 13th gate and no airplanes have a 13th aisle.
3. On streets in Florence, Italy, the house between the number 12 and 14 is addressed 12 and a half.
4. In France, socialites known as the quatorziens (fourteeners) once made themselves available as 14th guests to keep a dinner party from an unlucky fate.
5. Many Triskaidekaphobes (people who fear the number 13) point to the ill-fated mission to the moon, Apollo 13, as verification for their anxiety.
6. Some people who have 13 letters in their name: Jack the Ripper, Charles Manson, Jeffrey Dahmer, Theodore Bundy, and Saddam Hussein.
7. According to the Bible, Judas Iscariot was the 13th person to sit at Christ's table.
8. In a deck of Tarot cards, the number 13 card is called "Death."
9. Friday the 13th occurs at least once a year, sometimes twice. In 1998, Friday the 13th occurred three times. The next year in which this will occur is 2009.
10. Some people consider the $1 bill unlucky because there are so many 13's on it: 13 stars, 13 stripes, 13 steps, 13 arrows and even the olive branch has 13 leaves on it.
11. Every year 13 people are killed by vending machine accidents. Was that Snickers really worth it?!
12. Composer Arnold Shoenbeg was superstitious of the number 13. He died on Friday the 13th at 13 minutes to midnight.
12 1/2. Lizzy Borden uttered a total of 13 words at her trial.

14. Fear of the number 13 costs Americans billions of dollars per year in absenteeism, train and plane cancellations, and reduced commerce.

Daily Hoop Conversation:
Tink: Look at all the weeds! They shouldn't be growing in the dead of winter.
Hoop: We'll go pick up some weed killer this weekend.
Tink: ...Or rabbits.
Hoop: Uh, or rabbits.
Tink: ...Or a goat.
Hoop: A goat?
Tink: I don't want to mow anymore either.
Hoop: But a goat will eat all the grass.
Tink: Not if I buy a really really small one.
Hoop: So we need to go buy some rabbits and a goat?
Tink: Yup.
Hoop: Thank you baby.
Tink: For what?
Hoop: Cheering me up.
Tink: You're welcome.

Labels:

19 Comments:

At 12 January, 2006, Anonymous Spamboy said...

Head here to read a good Friday the 13th story...good, being that I am still alive to talk about it!

 
At 12 January, 2006, Anonymous TB said...

Your story about reminiscing touched me. I usually hold on to things like that, cards, pictures, keepsakes for years and then one day, like a lightswitch, I'll just toss it all. I think we hold onto the past until we are ready to say goodbye. You did the right thing.

 
At 12 January, 2006, Blogger Chris said...

Oh, you could get a very cute little goat. Light enough to not leave hoof marks as it scampers across your cars...

We have an elevator #13 at work. I've always wondered why they didn't simply skip on to 14.

70% General American English
10% Upper Midwestern
10% Yankee
5% Dixie
5% Midwestern

 
At 12 January, 2006, Anonymous Amanda B. said...

It says that I'm a big ol' redneck. I tawlk cuuuntry.

 
At 12 January, 2006, Blogger Tink said...

Spamboy: Crazy story. JUST CRAZY.

TB: Girl, I don't know what I've been going through lately. It's like nesting-syndrome or something. I've pitched boxes and boxes of things I've held onto for years without the slightest feeling otherwise. Those pictures were the only thing I had trouble with. I felt soooo guilty throwing them away. It's one thing to try and destroy the path back to my own memories. It's another when you have to destroy someone else's.

Chris: I'll name him "Billy." How generic huh?

Amanda: Yeeeeehaw! I'll meet you at the tractor pull this weekend. ;)

 
At 12 January, 2006, Blogger DH said...

Your story about the old photos really hit me, I am 2 days into a breakup, and it sucks.

It's nice to know that eventually you move on.

I enjoy your blog, and read it everday, and it always makes me smile.

 
At 12 January, 2006, Blogger mama_tulip said...

Awww...I would have thrown them out too, after keeping them until I was like, 60. ;)

 
At 12 January, 2006, Blogger Tink said...

DH: It's good to have you girl! I'm so sorry to hear about your breakup. They're never easy. I dated someone for two years. It was meant to end, but I just couldn't get myself around it when it did. It took me finding good girlfriends and finding hobbies, like woodwork (no shit) to finally feel well again. It'll happen for you too. You just have to let yourself heal.

Mama T: Shut up before I dig them out again! LOL

 
At 12 January, 2006, Blogger Heather said...

I would have mailed them back to the owners... but that's just me. I guess no boyfriend of mine has ever given me baby pictures. I don't even have baby pictures of my husband. Who are these boys to be giving you baby pictures? Anyway, considering their stupidity in giving them away, maybe throwing them away was the right answer. (See I can't make up my mind either... what help am I??)

 
At 12 January, 2006, Blogger wordgirl said...

It's hard to know what to do. They gave those pics to you, so I guess they're yours to dispose of as you see fit.

As for how I speak...hmmm. I've always fancied myself as a person with a middle-range accent, but hearing myself speak is an agonizing experience. I wasn't born in Texas, but I've lived here--except for a few months--all of my life. My mother's a Texaan and my Dad's parents were European and my father was raised either in the North and then the middle teen years in France. I honestly thought I could shrug off the curse of the Texan twang, but I can't. It makes me sick.

 
At 12 January, 2006, Blogger Arabella said...

You did the right thing. TB put it well: "We hold onto the past until we are ready to say goodbye." Plus, in the electronic age, these boys can scan their baby photos and distribute hundreds of copies with the click of a button.

 
At 12 January, 2006, Blogger Rock said...

I thought you put them on milk cartons....

 
At 12 January, 2006, Blogger Alien said...

You did the right thing. Hell, I've thrown baby pictures of my OWN kids away. (Relax people... they were ones printed out on the computer so they were crappy quality and weren't worth keeping.) Anyway, I'm sure it's fine. And if not, you could always go diving in your office dumpster to retrieve them tomorrow. ;)

 
At 13 January, 2006, Blogger DebbieDoesLife said...

If it was easy to give the baby pics back then it would have been good to do it but NO you did not have to do it. No wonder my mother will not part with hardly any of my baby pics.

I won't give any to my boys (cuz boys are stupid) until they are married and responsible and won't lose them.

The whole language thing? What are ya'll talkin' 'bout?

 
At 13 January, 2006, Blogger Shrinking Violet said...

That's funny. I threw away a baby picture of a girl I knew in Junior High. I did it last weekend after years of not knowing what to do with it. How TWILIGHT ZONE FRIDAY THE 13TH!!??

 
At 13 January, 2006, Blogger Tink said...

Heather: "Who are these boys to be giving you baby pictures?" My point exactly. My Mom would have kicked my ass for even leaving the house with mine.

Wordgirl: I get told in the north and south that I have an accent. I think I've created one of my own... Tinkism.

Arabella: "these boys can scan their baby photos and distribute hundreds of copies with the click of a button" Wow. That's kind of a disturbing thought huh? :)

Rock: LOL! If only I would have thought of that first.

Alien: No more dumpster diving... EVER. Although I think work's dumpster would be a lot more fun. I work at a beer distributorship. They have a vat they dump the close-to-code beer in. Yum.

Violet: Watch out for black cats and ladders! ;)

 
At 13 January, 2006, Blogger mE said...

Given that those boys were up there in what was barely more than a tin can, with nothing more than a slide rule to call their own, I would consider Apollo 13 to be a particularly *lucky* expedition!

You did right with those pictures. Those boys will just have to face up to their moms - if the pics had been all that important to them, they would have gotten them back when you broke up.

Don't bother with the goat. Miniature sheep, that's the ticket!

~Eileen

 
At 13 January, 2006, Blogger Alien said...

You work at a BEER DISTRIBUTOR?!?!? OMG! Can I be your girlfriend? LOL!

 
At 15 January, 2006, Blogger R. Robyn said...

Before I moved to Italy, and I was under the impression that I would be allowed to live on the economy instead of in a box, I had planned on getting a goat. For the same exact reason of not wanting to mow the lawn. But I didn't want just ANY goat. I wanted a fainting goat. It would mow the lawn and be entertaining! (It's not as cruel as it sounds)

 

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