My head was about to burst. Must. . . have. . . Advil. . . now. . .

I found a travel packet of Advil. Four tablets. Perfect.

The clerk, trying to be helpful, explained that the Advil came with a cup. Huh? Never mind. Advil. Now. I can drink from my hand in the women’s bathroom.

I opened the package. Sure enough, there behind the two packets of dual Advil, was a paper cup. No, really an envelope. Printed with these words, “DRINKING CUP. ANOTHER INNOVATIVE IDEAS FOR THE “PEOPLE ON THE GO” Mechanical Servants, Inc. Melrose Park, IL 60160″

Please. An envelope disguised as a drinking cup is NOT an innovative idea. It’s an envelope, for God’s sake…

He asked her about the photographs on her refrigerator. The friends photos, the family photos, then the question, “Have you ever been married?”

“No. But I was engaged once.”

“Really? What happened?”

“Well, we dated for a long time. First in California, then when I moved to New York. Long distance for several years. He was a musician in California; I had a great sales job in New York City. We continued like that for several years. I finally moved back to California. We moved in together in Mill Valley, but then things didn’t work out. We split up shortly thereafter. Now I’m in San Francisco, and I’m not sure where he is.”

He paused for a moment, then said, “Wow. That’s a long story.”

Pause.

“Who is this family?”

“Well, that’s our family friends. We used to live next to each other in Pittsburgh, but then my dad got a job in Wisconsin and we moved away. They eventually moved to New York, but we still kept in touch. That was at Christmas last year. They flew out here and we all met up at my parent’s house.”

He again paused for a moment, then said, “Wow. That’s a long story.”

Weeks went by, neither one contacting the other.

He sent her an email. “Hey, what’s going on? Haven’t heard from you in awhile. Want to get together?”

She pondered. Did he really want to get together? Or was he playing the “I’ll write you but you’ll have to not write me back so that I have a clear conscience” game…

She wrote him back. “Things are great. I’d tell you why I haven’t written, but it’s a long story….”

I really thought Kerry would win. Is it because I live in a liberal state? Is it because I surround myself with liberal friends and acquaintances? Is it because I’m an eternal optimist? Doesn’t matter. I’m very sad.

“That’s what’s so beautiful about our friendship. We both get our wallets stolen – I file an insurance claim and you go to Vegas. And we’re both happy with the outcome.”

I sat in the meeting yesterday, hearing the words, but not comprehending.

I was dubbed a “floater.” In normal circumstances, this would be welcome. Floating from assignment to assignment, meeting different people, learning new things. Not so much in this case.

Today, Thursday, we were to lay off about 200 Headquarter’s employees. In this particular instance, “floater” meant powering off the employees’ work stations, bringing them boxes, helping them pack, then escorting them out of the building.

I awoke early, unable to sleep. I dressed more professionally than usual. I wore more makeup than usual, which unfortuantely didn’t hide the pallor of my stressed face. With each employee, I introduced myself and explained why I was there. As crappy as I felt, I knew they felt worse. The severance packages were generous; the way the lay offs were handled was as good as could be. And yet.

And yet I still felt horrible. Still feel horrible.

Five angels, head to toe in blue, walking in formation. The Blue Angels!

It was a clever idea. One thought of last November. We’ve been waiting all year to execute it for Halloween, nervous we would forget it come October. But we haven’t.

Tonight was the night to put finishing touches on our costumes. This involved spray painting white boots blue and transforming our white wings into glittery blue ones. We planned to do it in the courtyard at my apartment building, but rain was ominous.

“I have several dropcloths; let’s just spread them out and we can spray paint them in my living room.”

Better idea in theory than in execution. Or maybe not. Such a good idea in theory, that is.

In my apartment I now have 5 pairs of blue boots, 5 sets of glittery blue wings, and sparkly blue hardwood floors. And couch. And rug. Good thing I like blue.

We really were there for work. But the Blackjack tables beckoned as sirens to sailors, “Lori, Lori, come closer, here, here…”

My goal was to leave the tables in time to grab something to eat at Burger King before it closed at 3:30. AM, not PM. I had skipped dinner in lieu of an in between conference sessions swim. And I was getting hungry.

One hand after another. 20. 21. 19. 21. 18. Dealer busts. I glanced up and noticed the lights of B and K flickering.

“What time is it?” I exclaimed with dismay.

My table mates, a lovin’ on each other couple from the Midwest, replied, “3:40. Why?”

“I wanted to grab something to eat. Burger King closed at 3:30.”

The dealer shrugged and said, “Subway’s open 24/7.”

“Deal me in….”

So much mud, so little time. Who knew that racing through 10K worth of mud, obstacles, and grit could be so much fun?

A strong finish by the girls

We thought we were going to the Pumpkin Festival. When we drove onto Main Street we read the signs: “Pumpkin Festival, October 16-17.” Oh.

There were plenty of pumpkins to be had, however. We stopped at the patch by the side of the road. Rows upon rows of bright orange pumpkins. Boxes and boxes of gourds gathered from the field. Handmade signs advertising the various varieties: Cinderella, Little Boo, Green, Turban, Jack of All Trades.