what sandra thinks

My favorite neighbor.
Somewhat [but by no means entirely] fictionalized in my 2018 A-to-Z challenge story Dear Diary, my favorite neighbor Randy lived in the dorm room next door to me during more than one of my years at college [an unlikely but welcome coincidence].

Randy taught me how to be laid back in pretty much any situation. I know—me? laid back? I know! I wish I could say his teachings stayed with me one hundred percent, but unfortunately, I need a refresher. Too bad we lost touch a long time ago. [And, hell, with my life the mess it is today, I wouldn’t even want to reconnect at this point. He’s a very successful lawyer now. I’m a… nothing.]

I was a bit leery of Randy when we first met. I was a freshman [he wasn’t] so I suppose I was a bit anxious all around. But Randy seemed intimidating to me… until the day he asked me to borrow my lighter [which I had strictly for the purpose of lighting incense, I swear]. Randy became a lot less intimidating when he asked me to come on over to his room with said lighter while he used it. Not for incense.

That wasn’t the only way he taught me to be laid back. He just exuded this this air of calm, coolness. It complemented my high strung nature really well. We even deejayed a radio show together at our college station. We called it [don’t laugh] ‘Breakfast with Randy and Sandy‘. Okay, you can laugh. I don’t think we were of sound mind when we came up with that ridiculous name. It makes me cringe now because, well, it’s cringey, but also because I absolutely hate to be called ‘Sandy‘. But ‘Randall and Sandra‘ really didn’t work.

During the end of my junior year, when my so-called best friend abandoned me for a time, Randy [then a senior] was the absolute best. Not only was he a good listener, but he also helped me get my mind off all the shit by helping me be more—you guessed it—laid back.

Maybe one of the reasons he was such a great neighbor to me was because I felt this best-friend-brotherly kind of vibe with him. I have no idea if he harbored any other sort of feelings toward me—if he did, he never said. Having an awesome guy who I didn’t have a crush on was incredibly good for me. Instead of wondering how he felt about me, I took his words and actions at face value. I never sat around analyzing everything to see if there was some deeper hidden meaning. Randy was just Randy. Our friendship was effortless.

Hell, even when he blasted the Beastie Boys too loudly, I thought he was the best neighbor ever.

p.s. — In my mid-twenties, I had a friend/roommate with whom I was looking for a new apartment. Our lease at the time was up, and we needed to get a new place. Little did I know my friendship with her was also ‘up’. She ditched me (for a guy), and suddenly I needed a one bedroom… fast. 

I had to settle, but it was all I could afford. The place was in a mostly safe neighborhood, but not a pretty one. My landlord was a dick. And my neighbors were awful. Loud, messy, unfriendly, bitchy, and just generally crappy. I was miserable there. 

Worst neighbors ever. Where’s Randy when I need him??

It was during my unpleasant stay at that apartment that I met my husband. Maybe that’s why I jumped at his proposal (a rushed and not well thought out decision) and agreed to buy a house with him (another rushed and not well thought out decision). But I needed to get the hell out of that apartment.

Hm… does this mean I can blame that friend who ditched me for everything currently wrong in my life? She sent me on this path. Bitch.

At least I slept with her husband. [Before they were together! I’m not a monster!]

         
©2021 what sandra thinks

My favorite memory.
I have a lot of wonderful memories from my childhood and even my teenage years. It was a different time… in every sense of the word. And it was a better time. Not just because I was a kid, although I wish I still was one. The time period in general was far better than today.

I’ve always been an early adopter of new technology, but at the same time, I often wish much of today’s technology didn’t exist. [I don’t mean advances in medical technology or anything like that. Those are obviously good things.] I believe, one hundred percent, that personal technology has ruined my kids’ childhood. It causes unnecessary drama and competition among peers, and it hinders adventure, activity, imagination, communication [ironically], and relationships. If I could be raising my kids at the time I was raised, I think I’d be a much better parent. Maybe. Or not. How the hell do I know?

But that last paragraph has little to do with this post.

I almost posted this favorite memory in my favorite holiday post, but I decided to save it because this memory has stayed with me, in detail, my entire life.

•  •  •  •  •

Christmas Eve before my dad, maternal grandma, and favorite cousin died was the perfect mix of fun, tradition, and family.

Our extended family on my mother’s side would come over to our house [cousins, aunts, uncles, grandparents]. My [Ukrainian] grandma would make pyrohy [that is the Ukrainian word for Polish pierogi… I am 50% Ukrainian (and 50% Italian) and 0% Polish]. Gram was so fast… a crazy potato mashing, dough rolling and filling machine! My mom, my sisters, and I used to help fill, sneaking spoonfuls of mashed potatoes when Gram wasn’t looking [but I know she secretly saw us even though she never said a word].

[Aside: Those mashed potatoes were amazing. Made with many different cheeses—best mashed potatoes I’ve ever had in my life, and no matter how many times I try, I cannot replicate. My grandmother had no recipes but she was a cooking genius. I don’t know what sorcery she used on Thanksgiving dinner either, but I miss that stuffing. Gram died in 2013 at age 93.]

We would break records making those pyrohy. They were laid out all over every available surface in my mom’s big kitchen [covered, of course, to prevent them from drying out before boiling began].

Someone would count and announce… ‘Made 107 this year!‘ [Or some such crazy high number—always over 100.]

During dinner [eaten at the ‘kids’ table’], my male cousins would compete to see who could eat the most. I think 14 or 15 was the record… still held to this day by my late cousin Joey [who tragically died in 2017 from a brain tumor… he was only 45].

After dinner, we’d gather around the Christmas tree for a little gift exchange. For some reason, we always seemed to end up laughing during this. When the gifts were unwrapped and we stopped laughing, we returned to the dining room for dessert.

The table, which was extended to some ridiculous length to accommodate as many people as possible [although we still needed a kids’ table], would be cleared of all traces of dinner [except for the wine] and covered with lots and lots of desserts. Some appeared every year, others made special appearances. My aunt’s cheesecake. My mom’s rum cake. My mom’s carrot cake. My mom’s fudge. Cookies, pies, brownies. And as my sisters and I got older, we’d bake, too.

I’m both hungry and stuffed just thinking about it.

And that is one of my favorite memories. I wish I could recreate the whole atmosphere… the mood… everything. We still have similar Christmas Eve dinners, but it’s definitely not the same.

I have some favorite memories from my 20s, too. Hanging out with my famous deejay friends, having actual friends at all [both famous and otherwise], my fifteen minutes of fame, seeing local bands all the time [particularly at the Lizard Lounge], visiting ‘my‘ bakery/coffee shop all the time and having ‘my‘ guy Brett, who became a great friend, invent new drinks for me whenever I showed up. I literally said, ‘surprise me‘, and he did, and he never disappointed. Plus the pastries were to die for. [And he sometimes slipped me one at no charge.] I miss that time in my life.

Until next time… I’ll be wishing for a time machine… 

p.s. — One of my least favorite memories [aside from death as I won’t be going there], was a huge fight I had with my dad when I was 19. I kind of wish my brain blocked it out, but I remember it vividly, every detail intact. I won’t retell it here because, frankly, I don’t want to relive it right now. Or ever. But, trust me, it was a terrible fight. I felt the after effects for a long time after. I think those after effects bother me even to this day.

         
©2021 what sandra thinks

My favorite lyrics.
I could have gone through every song in my vast collection and written pages and pages of my favorite lyrics, but I won’t do that. I’ll just choose the first few that came to mind without the need for ‘research‘.

I wear black on the outside cause black is how I feel on the inside.
I believe that is my most quoted song lyric ever. And maybe my most favorite. [Unloveable – The Smiths – 1986]

I could have met you in a sandbox
I could have passed you on the sidewalk
Could I have missed my chance
And watched you walk away
These words speak to my [perhaps naïve] belief in soulmates, and that there’s no guarantee I will ever find him… or haven’t already missed him. I love the thought that I could have played with my soulmate in a sandbox as a toddler and never knew it. I’d love it even more if I found him again as an adult. [Love Song for No One – John Mayer – 2001  / live (best) version on Any Given Thursday 2002]

Then there’s this:

Come on, oh my star is fading
And I swerve out of control
If I, if I’d only waited
I’d not be stuck here in this hole

Come here, oh my star is fading
And I swerve out of control
And I swear I waited and waited
I’ve got to get out of this hole

But time is on your side
It’s on your side now
Not pushing you down and all around
It’s no cause for concern

Come on, oh my star is fading
And I see no chance of release
And I know I’m dead on the surface
But I am screaming underneath

And time is on your side
It’s on your side now
Not pushing you down and all around
It’s no cause for concern

Stuck on the end of this ball and chain
And I’m on my way back down again
Stood on a bridge, tied to a noose
Sick to the stomach
You can say what you mean
But it won’t change a thing
I’m sick of the secrets
Stood on the edge
Tied to a noose
And you came along and you cut me loose
The whole song is desperate and rather hopeless, until the end, when someone comes along and ‘saves‘ him. It hits close to home. Except for the ‘saving‘ part. I’m still waiting.[Amsterdam – Coldplay – 2002]

p.s. — I really was going to listen to some more music and add to this, but that’s probably not necessary. You’ve probably had enough of my music at this point anyway. Besides, I could save something for q… 

         
©2021 what sandra thinks

My favorite kiss.

Not my actual first kiss.

This is incredibly corny but my favorite kiss was my first. It was his first kiss, too. It wasn’t the messy, clumsy, awkward teenage disaster it could have been. It was actually slow and sweet before it got deeper and hotter. At the time, I didn’t think anything of the fact that it was beautiful and not clumsy or awkward. But now, when I look back, it’s kind of amazing that we were both so good at something we’d never done before. Or maybe it’s not amazing since we were both among the ‘smart kids‘. Maybe our expertise went beyond academics.

I wonder what life would be like today if I’d married that guy.

p.s. — I did have an awkward messy kiss. I think it was the worst one ever. I really liked the guy so when he went in for the kiss, I thought [or maybe hoped] it was going to be amazing. Yeah, um… no. He just wasn’t very good at it. He was all wet and open. Like a fish or something. It was not at all romantic or hot. 

I do not wonder what life would be like today if I’d married this guy. Okay, actually I do wonder. Maybe I would have been able to teach him to be a better kisser.

         
©2021 what sandra thinks

My favorite job.
I have never had what I would consider my ‘dream job‘. It’s not because I didn’t work hard enough to get it. It’s because I don’t know what my dream job is. If I could figure that out, maybe I would work my ass off to get it. [Although, my motivation isn’t what it used to be. In fact, it doesn’t actually exist anymore. Maybe that would change if I actually had a goal.]

My favorite real job was working at a technology news website. I worked with the advertising team—managed a small group on the operations side. [I started as an operations assistant to the VP and his team, but was promoted after 6 months.] The work environment was amazing. Free coffee [that was very good], soda machine that was free, excellent benefits, great pay, cool coworkers [for the most part], and parking—rare for the location.

I never thought I was management material, and I only had a few employees under me, but I did a good job. Everyone loved me. They were just as devastated as I was when I got laid off. The company was bought by a competitor and more than half the staff was cut [after all the rounds of layoffs, I think it was more like 75%]. I worked with the ad sales team all the time, and that whole team came to see me with a lovely gift on my last day. I even got calls and gift deliveries from the satellite ad sales offices. I was happy there… for almost six years… and then poof! It was gone. I did get a nice severance package [and all those Post-It notes I snuck into my box of personal items], but to this day, I’ve never had a job I really liked again.

I tried, obviously, to get a similar job elsewhere, but I couldn’t find one. The industry kind of fell apart a little bit. Eventually I got another job, but it was a step down. It was okay, but I hated it some days. I did have a great VP there. He was one of the best people I’ve ever met. After two promotions, I ultimately got laid off from this company, too. I wasn’t so sad about it, though.

I’m unemployed now. And I have no idea where to go from here. I’m just being Mom for now. I do feel like I need something more, but I don’t want to work outside my home anytime soon. [And yes, I’ve searched for ALL of the usual work-from-home jobs. Nothing ever worked out. I hate how people make it sound so easy. It’s not even a little bit easy.]

It’s also hard to know where to go and what to look for when I have no idea what I want.

•  •  •  •  •

One last thing.
I had this other job for a few years that I didn’t love. On my last day, I noticed that I still had a bunch of paperwork on my desk that belonged to the bitchiest manager I ever worked for in my life… so I tossed it in the shred bin on my way out. But that’s beside the point.

I bring up this job because of a temp. My team needed an extra person for a few weeks—to work with me. She was my temp. The day she was to start, I got a call from reception that she had gotten a permanent job elsewhere so she wasn’t coming but they sent a replacement. When I walked up front to meet my temp, the only person in reception was an incredibly hot young man.

He stood up and walked over to me. Gasp. ‘Hi, are you Sandra?‘ Gulp. He was for me. The hot temp. He was mine. We worked together for a month, lunching together, talking and laughing and generally having a great time for weeks. I was so disappointed they didn’t hire him permanently. And sadly, the closest we got were the aforementioned lunches, talks, and laughs… and a big hug goodbye.

p.s. — I worked in two doctors’ offices. My dad in RI and another doctor in Maine. Not that the locations are relevant. But I hated both of those jobs. All those patients? All those phone calls? All that interaction… with lots of sick people… some who yelled at me because the doctor was too busy to see them immediately… and some who were just mean in general… ugh. No.

The only redeeming thing was that I worked with a nurse at both of those offices, and they were awesome. In Maine, it was like I had a second mom. We hung out after work… went out to eat… went shopping. She lived on a lake, and I used to visit with my boyfriend at the time [David, the one that got away] and we’d row her canoe all over the lake. I miss that. Still hated the doctor’s office job, though. That doctor was a total hippie, though. He was pretty cool.

         
©2021 what sandra thinks

My favorite invention.

Post-It Notes. Could not live without them. I never feel like I have enough. Just looking at piles of them waiting to be used makes me giddy. [I’m just kidding. I’m never giddy.]

p.s. — Give me a break on this one. Other than ice cream, I couldn’t come up with anything for i. And for the record, my favorite ice cream is—you guessed it—coffee. None of these were exciting options. And my least favorite invention? I have no idea. There are a lot of useless things out there. Right now, my least favorite invention is the letter i.

         
©2021 what sandra thinks

My favorite holidays.
Christmas is my favorite. It’s not as good now… but when I was younger…

Christmas was magical.

I totally believed in Santa, and my parents were amazing about it. My dad [who we very sadly lost in 2012] had a Santa suit that he used to wear while putting gifts under the tree after my sisters and I went to bed on Christmas Eve. I’d stay awake [too excited to sleep] and peek down the stairs. I could see him from about knee down, and I was convinced that he was really Santa. I never went downstairs and discovered it was my dad because I didn’t want Santa to be upset that I was awake when I should have been asleep. I really believed.

My mom is an amazing decorator. Christmas was in nearly every room of our house—not in a tacky way, but a classy and tasteful way. It has evolved over the years with old things tucked away in the attic and new, more modern things taking over. But it is still beautiful.

On Christmas morning, we’d wake up, rush downstairs, look around at the gifts, and yell, ‘Santa came!!!‘ Some years, there were special things like bikes or a Barbie dreamhouse. It’s not the materialistic side of it that made it magical, though. It was that feeling of utter joy at seeing the cookies we left for Santa eaten and a storybook picture of gifts awaiting us. They could have been the least expensive things, but seeing them magically appear while we were asleep was priceless. And don’t forget the stockings filled with candy.

Yes, my childhood was amazing. I have the best parents ever.

•  •  •  •  •

I loved Halloween, too. It’s not very special now [except for the chocolate], but when I was a kid, it was great. We lived in a small-ish town, and in our neighborhood, the houses were kind of far apart. My mom used to pull down the back door of her station wagon and we’d jump on and off as she stopped at each house along the way. I know—I’m aging myself with both the station wagon and the complete disregard for motor vehicle safety. But it was the best! So fun!

Just picture kids sitting on that open back door with their legs dangling. Yeah… safe.
I don’t know what the hell year this car is from but it looks older and uglier than my mom’s.

Oh… and my dad was a doctor and everyone knew and loved him. You could almost say he was famous in our town. Some of the people who lived around us were my dad’s patients, and when they saw that we were Doc’s kids, they would go back inside and get the ‘special‘ chocolate bars [full-size].

When I was in college, there was a huge Halloween party every year on what we called the ‘cool side‘ of campus [no jocks and the girls who love them]. I loved those parties. Everyone went all out with their costumes. The year I went as a bride, but everything was black instead of white—that was beautiful. And having a black veil over my face meant I could check everyone out without anyone noticing. Bonus!

p.s. — Valentine’s Day is ridiculous. It’s not just because my husband is about as romantic as a stick. I just don’t think anyone should need to be reminded to acknowledge the people they love. And I *hate* the jewelry store ads. Nauseating.

Is New Year’s Day a holiday? It’s so stupid. Nothing changes overnight just because a gaudy ball drops and the year kicks up by one. And New Year’s resolutions? So very stupid. If you want to make a change and you’ve got the motivation to do it, go ahead. Do it now. The first of January doesn’t make it special or somehow more valid. Besides, no one keeps their resolutions. So it just makes you feel like ass when you fail.

         
©2021 what sandra thinks

My favorite guilty pleasures.
After you read this post, delete it. Hell, burn it. No one can know. I can’t even believe I’m telling you. Maybe I will set this post to self-destruct in 24 hours.

Let’s start out slow—only mildly shameful—and go from there.

I eat No-Bake Oatmeal Cookie Dough and you can, too!
This recipe supposedly serves four normal people. In reality, it serves one non-normal cookie dough enthusiast… such as myself.

¼ cup butter, softened
¼ cup white sugar
¼ cup brown sugar
2 tbsp milk
1 tsp vanilla
½ cup white flour
¾ cup of rolled oats

1. Pasteurize flour by microwaving on high for 1 minute 15 seconds, stirring at 15 second intervals. Note: Add a little extra flour and re-measure once finished microwaving.
2. Cream butter and sugars together.
3. Add milk and vanilla to creamed mixture; combine well.
4. Add flour in two parts; combine until smooth.
5. Add oats in three parts; mix until well integrated.
   [I like it even better after it’s been chilled… but sometimes I’m not that patient.]

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if I made only half the recipe or if I shared. But… while I have occasionally made only a half recipe, I usually make the whole thing, and I have never shared. I won’t even make it unless I’m home alone.

[Oh, how I craved it during quarantine when I was never home alone. A whole fucking year! There is only one other thing I missed as much as this during the year from hell. And I’m not getting into that here even though it could be considered a guilty pleasure, too. Or just a pleasure.]

If I don’t eat all the cookie dough in one sitting, it means either a miracle or the apocalypse has occurred. Seriously, though, if I have leftover, I hide it until I’m alone again. I even hide the recipe! This is the very definition of a guilty pleasure—it’s definitely a pleasure to eat it, but damn, do I ever feel guilty [and sometimes a bit nauseated] after I’m done.

•  •  •  •  •

I play Bye Bye Bye by *NSYNC and dance to it [with the original choreography… but I am not good at it… and I’m not a kid anymore]. This is something I also, of course, hide, but my daughter caught me once. But she can suck it because she listens to One Direction.

•  •  •  •  •

I read stories on the Episode app. It is so embarrassing.

•  •  •  •  •

I watch Tangled weirdly often. I’ve seen it over 100 times [lost count a long time ago]. And I cry every single time. I even have a crush on Flynn Rider. So what if he’s fictional and animated? That’s not weird, right?

•  •  •  •  •

I watch Hallmark movies. I’ve cut down a lot. Even I have limits. Who knew?

•  •  •  •  •

This last guilty pleasure is the one I’ve indulged in the most lately. It’s big. Well, it’s big for me to admit it. *anxious sigh*

I love Shawn Mendes.

There. I said it. There’s just something about him that I can’t explain since I don’t fully understand it myself. I listen to [some but not all of] his music, and I love that I can hear his smile in his voice when he sings. I also have an inappropriate crush on the young man. Emphasis on the young part. I am definitely too old for him. But he doesn’t need to know. And really, neither do you, so forget I ever said this.

•  •  •  •  •

It’s not that I think there’s anything wrong with any of this [well, the cookie dough thing is not exactly good for my health], but it all could be a bit shocking and image-shattering to many who know me.

Please don’t think less of me. I’m only human.

p.s. — I do not understand people who say ‘Reality TV’ is their guilty pleasure. Reality TV is not any kind of pleasure. It’s every kind of hell.

         
©2021 what sandra thinks