yellow pages

We were in the northern part of the city, at a dinner party with some friends, and needed to figure out how to cross the river to find the restaurant where her sister was playing.

"I know the name of the place; can we use your computer to look it up?"

"well, you can, but I don't have internet."

quiet for a few seconds...

"does anybody have an iPhone?"

"we have a Garmin in our car."

"well, look, here's a big map of the city on the wall."

we trace the roads down to the general area, but still don't know the exact address of the restaurant. The host remembers he has a yellow pages in the closet, and brings that out.

"here's the address! and the phone number."

Good old Yellow Pages

lace

I remember a piece of lace that I really liked. It came from an easter dress that my mom had made. She made three dreses – one blue for herself, an orange one for my sister, and a pink one for me. There were puffy sleeves and a puffy skirt, made out of a satiny fabric with a lace front piece. I felt so beautiful, at 5 years of age, in this delicate easter dress.

But this particular lace came from my mom’s dress. There were pieces from all three dresses, but the largest was blue and I would wear it with whatever I was wearing. It was a veil or a cape or a skirt. There was a day when I was outside playing, wearing my blue lace. I wasn’t wearing anything besides the blue lace. My brother was in kindergarten, and all of a sudden I see the big yellow bus on the curves of our driveway. I remember running as fast as I possibly can to the trees, terrified that Daniel’s classmates and the students on the bus would see me.

Over time the lace got smaller and smaller. I wasn’t sure why this was. I was growing, though. So it became a doll’s wrap and I cut it up and used it to cover shelves and now it’s completely gone, as far as I know.