Category: feelings

feelings

mama dearest

abby mumford

today is my mom’s birthday.

she is cruising around alaska with my dad and a bunch of other couples, so since i can’t talk to her directly on her big day, i got to thinking about what i would have said to her had we been in the same state at the same dinner table raising our wine glasses in a toast to the lady that raised our family so successfully.

first, i would have sang to her. incredibly pitchy and off-key and horrible sounding. but with the best intentions.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY DEAR MOM.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU.

then, i would have apologized.

after that, i would have told her thank you. thanks for being there on days when i needed her. thanks for being there on days when i all i wanted to be was alone. thanks for not being there so i was forced to learn and grow on my own. thanks for pushing me to be better. thanks for allowing me to fail. thanks for putting up with my teenage anger. thanks for being my role model. thanks for laughing with me. thanks for yelling at me. thanks for her respect. thanks for listening to my opinion. thanks for asking for it. thanks for knowing when to call, when to write, when to visit. thanks for opening her wallet. thanks for supporting my dreams. thanks for letting me sleep in. thanks for cooking even though it was the last thing she felt like doing. thanks for being my drinking buddy (once i turned 21). thanks for her understanding. thanks for her intelligence. thanks for passing along her blonde hair and blue eyes. thanks for teaching me how to read. thanks for complimenting me. thanks for sticking around. thanks for putting up with me. thanks for loving me always even if she didn’t always like me at the moment. thanks for teaching me. thanks for learning with me. thanks for being in my corner. thanks for making me roll my eyes at her. thanks for making me want to hug her. thanks for encouraging my individuality with words in a family of numbers. thanks for making me go it on my own. thanks for letting me come home. thanks for being proud of me and informing me of such. thanks for being my friend. thanks for being my mom.

then, i’d go into the kitchen and do the dishes because no birthday girl is supposed to do that.

happy day, mom. cheers to a fabulous year and the start of an even better one.

feelings

an international quickie

abby mumford

due to the enormity of yesterday’s post, today’s is going to be a little blip. a quick note to say i’ve gotten the go ahead to travel to italy for work. on one hand, i’m really excited, thrilled, ecstatic, happy. on the other hand, i’m terrified, petrified, and potentially about to pee my pants. why? i’m horrible at directions. i get lost in my own neighborhood. daily. i don’t speak italian. i look american. and i am traveling alone.

the alone part is what freaks me out the most. if i had a traveling companion, this wouldn’t even be an issue. but, as is my lot in life of late, i’m going it alone. i don’t mean to sound whiny, i’m just stating the facts.

which is where YOU come in. basically, i’m using this post to serve as a sounding board for solo international travel advice. please offer up any thoughts, tips, tricks, things to do, say,  avoid, etc. etc.  because while there, i’d love to look like this:

rather than this:

because i will be alone (and therefore can’t accept any ACTIONS of support [in the form of hugs, a partner in crime or you sitting next to me on the plane, in the coffee shop, drinking the vino with me]), i need you to supply the WORDS of support. dear readers, will you help?

feelings

emergency! is there a doctor in the hou…you mean me?

abby mumford

despite the fact i’m a very calm person on a day to day basis, i’m the one who comes unglued in an emergency situation. maybe that’s one of the reasons i love katniss from HUNGER GAMES or katsa from THE GRACELING. they’re both super strong, lead the way, take charge kind of gals. they rise during an emergency while i? i slink behind the nearest tree.

except for sunday. my friend C was in town this weekend for a conference. the conference was in providence, but due to its proximity to boston (and her 3 friends who live up here), she opted for the free hotel room, aka my apartment. she called on sunday to let me know she was heading back from the conference. when she called again not even 15 minutes later, i jokingly answered the phone “leave a message at the beep.”

i flung the silliness aside when her voice, near tears, said, “my car is smoking and i’m pulled over on the side of the road.”

gulp.

and then, i spewed every calm and rational thought i had/could have had about what to do when you and your car are broken on the side of the road. because i had to. because she was freaking out. because i wasn’t allowed to. because two girls freaking out is about an constructive as eating soup with a fork. after she calmed down and after i promised to come get her if need be, we hung up since there wasn’t much else for me to do/say while she waited for the AAA tow truck to come and tow and assess the damage. plus, i’m sure she wanted to call her dad (or BF) for more soothing thoughts on what to do when it looks like your car has suddenly developed a smoking habit.

she called back 10 minutes later to say that yes, her car was kaput and she needed me to come get her. i got some vague directions from her (via the tow truck guy) that i should take 95 to this exit to 2 lights to a left turn to look for the mobil station. i was 100 % calm as i said “sure thing. i’m leaving now. sit tight.” i hung up the phone, took a deep breath, my towel fell and i properly freaked out (what? i had just gotten out of the shower) about how i was supposed to get to her. i scrambled into some clothes, swiped on mascara, and called another friend to confirm that to get to 95, i have to take 93 first.

i hop in my car, eye the 1/4 full tank of gas and begin the battle with Rudy*, my GPS. i had the directions from the tow truck guy which, albeit a bit vague, seemed easy. except for the part where i didn’t know how to get there (95) from here (my apartment). i didn’t have an address for where C was, except that it’s a mobil station in between boston and providence. Rudy wanted me to go this way and then recalculating and then take take exit and then recalculating about 53 times. i only had a wisp of a notion of where 93 and 95 met up, but i suspected those highways were my best bet rather than the circular side streets the GPS wanted me to take. and then began the battle with myself. hello?! i have a GPS, follow it. but really? can i trust Rudy? or should i trust mr. tow truck? i decided to go for the latter even though it meant i had to listen to “recalculating” every 5 minutes.

did i mention my car was basically on fumes at that point? this is really rare for me because i’m paranoid about running out of gas. if my car is under 1/2 full, i fill it. i don’t drive that much and with both coaching and playing lacrosse seasons over, i’ve been driving even less. the last time i was in the car, i was only going .5 miles down the road to pick up heavy groceries and thought, hmm, i should fill up. “next time” i thought. and you see? see what happens when i procrastinate?

i have to don my savior cape and rescue C.

what a nightmare that would have been if i had run out of gas. and i had to say to my tow guy, “could you drag me to the mobil off route 160? cause that’s where my friend is and i need to get her.” a classic comedy of errors that was narrowly avoided. *phew*

but what’s my point about all of this? (besides reinforcing to myself that i should never, ever, ever procrastinate again). my point is that when i HAD to be calm, cool, collected, i was. i was still able to freak out (after talking to C and before driving to get her) because she wasn’t able to see that (well, except for when i told her). which translates to my next writing project. i’ve been so scared to start it because, well, i don’t know where to start. i don’t have a plot. i don’t have a firm character in mind. i’ve been frozen. hiding in the bushes. like i usually do when emergencies come calling. but sunday’s adventures showed me that i can do it. i can find 95 without the help of Rudy. i can be calm enough to convince C that everything is going to be alright. because it is. and that’s this next project will go because i’m the only one who can write it. i need to stop being scared and start driving, err, writing.

another lesson learned during all this? it’s really nice to be able to call your mom and/or dad and say “help. what do i do?” and let them do their mom/dad thing and hug you through the phone. because as grown up as we have to be sometimes, there’s still nothing better than allowing yourself a moment of adolescent wallowing to mom/dad when the adult world is too scary to deal with.

*why’s my GPS called Rudy? that’s thanks to my roommate. during one long, delirious drive, she starting laughing to herself. in between giggles she asked if i had named my GPS. i said no. she pointed to it and said you should call her Rudy because she gives you the ROUTE. (so technically, the spelling should be ROUTEY). and that’s that.

feelings

gangsta

abby mumford

my alarm went off to the tune of a simply sweet song. but then it broke down into a rap.

i woke up smiling because i understand. on an average day, i’m like the first portion of the song: nice, sweet, and melodic, but sometimes, oh yes, sometimes you just want to unleash your gangsta side.

playing sports does that for me. especially when my team is the underdog and we’ve made it to the playoffs.

like tuesday night.

my work (beer league) softball team was up against the #1 team. the competitors played not to lose. we played to win. and guess what? we did. even though it was the first round of the playoffs and in the grand scheme of things, it wasn’t that monumental, we celebrated like it was. we all rushed the infield. we threw our gloves in the air. we screamed. we yelled. we cheered. we high fived. you see, we had taken down the #1 team. but more importantly, we had made it past the first round of playoffs. this hasn’t happened, well, ever, so our celebration was completely warranted.

but my point was not that impromptu celebration, but rather what came before it.

there was an incident on the field where one of our players was trying to stretch his hit into a home run. maybe he should have stopped at third. maybe he shouldn’t have. either way, he motored around third base and headed home. the ball flew in from the outfield. the catcher, blocking the base, caught the ball but bobbled it. our player ran into the catcher because there was no other way to get to the base. the catcher, who, since he didn’t have complete control anyways, dropped the ball. the “coach” of the other team came flying over quoting the rule book that this is a no contact sport, etc. etc. it’s true. this is a no contact sport, but we’re playing to win, buddy, and we need every run we can get. and your player was blocking the base. there was nowhere to go but through. so why are you now reciting softball regulations when you were jovial and jolly a minute ago? why are you suddenly so uptight? when did you become an expert on rule 3.459-1/2? is the score getting a little too close for comfort? are we making you nervous?

if i had a better grasp of what the rule book said, i probably would have gone out there and yelled. i know, me, yelling. HA. but this is my team and i have to defend our actions. as luck would have it, i happened to be on the mound pitching when one of their players ran into our catcher the very next inning. we didn’t have a play, so that wasn’t the issue. the issue, for me, was that how come rule 3.459-1/2 of the “no contact, no sliding” that was implemented an inning ago is all of a sudden off the table? i don’t care if we weren’t making a play. no contact is no contact. at any time. at any base.

and i told him so*.

*in a passive aggressive way where i was talking to my “coach” in an intentional-i’m-trying-to-be-overheard loud voice saying “what was that about no contact?”

but seriously, if you aren’t going to play fair, you can’t be surprised when i break out my rap girl attitude.

i know, threatening, right?

yeah, you should back up now, son.

feelings

library bound

abby mumford

i’ve always had a mini love affair with libraries. i mean, come on, you get your library card (a fun, bright color) for free and you have instant access to millions of books. for free. for me. for you. for him. for her. for them. shelves and shelves of delicious books waiting to be read. and the library doesn’t get jealous when i go to the bookstore instead and purchase my own copy. what’s not to love?

the cambridge public library recently re-opened its renovated doors and my love affair has blossomed into a full on romance. i go to the CPL at least twice a week. i go to pick up books on hold. i go to search for something new. i go to write. i go to research. i go to read the smutty gossip rags i refuse to pay subscriptions for. i go for the comfy chairs. i go for inspiration.

and the hope that one day i’ll be able to find my book on the shelf.

i was in the library on saturday trying to figure out why my account kept saying i had IT’S RAINING CUPCAKES by lisa schroeder checked out when i had returned it weeks ago. because it’s an MG book, it was located in the kids’ section on the third floor and they needed me to go up there to see if it actually was on the shelf. once i finished climbing the seemingly endless flights of stairs, i stood in line to wait for the next available librarian. and man alive, i could have waited in that line forever. the one librarian was so sweet with two little girls, sky and rachel, who were signing up for their first library cards. and to watch those little girls listen to the librarian and lean on the counter to look at the gerbil and pick out a seed ball and clap with excitement over their first card just about melted my heart. as a lover of books, it made me so happy to know that someone gentle and caring and enthusiastic was taking care of these little bubbles of joy. and while those little girls probably won’t remember, the librarian was instilling a love of books and reading with such a strong foundation that the love is sure to continue into adulthood.

another librarian was soon available and i had to tear myself away (but not before realizing what i want. i want a little kid who is PSYCHED to get their card to check out one of my books. i know how excited i get when i find a book i want. and i want someone to want my book like that. I WANT. i do.) anyways, it turns out the book they said i had checked out was sitting there patiently waiting for its next reader. so all was squared away.

and then i swung by the library yesterday to pick up a book they were holding for me (SEA by heidi kling). as i was waiting in line, i spied one of our books from work on the shelf waiting to be taken home. this was the first time i’ve seen a harvard book at the library. sure, i see them in bookstores all the time, but there was something about seeing it at the library that delighted me. i don’t really know why, but it did. and also, i saw HUNGER GAMES sitting on a cart waiting for the next patron to pick it up. i know what that book holds inside and i can’t wait for that person to get their hands on it and dive in.

it seems that no matter the day, the library continues to charm my pants off. do you have a love affair with a library? or, perhaps, with something other than a person?

spill it.