Catching up; Harry Potter and Invisibility; The Time Warp

 A month.  This is really going to annoy me in future years when I look back.
Honestly, it wasn't a whole month.  I wrote a post a week or two ago.  But then the format got weird - some of it was black letters on a black background, some in black letters outlined in white, and it got weirder the more I tried to fix it so I got mad and trashed the whole thing.

What was on it, that Lost Brain Dump?  Some more pretty flowers (fall is sort of a second spring here)

Some Bob memories.  I was cleaning some stuff in the barn.  Now that I've tossed so much stuff over the last 3+ years, there are a lot of storage boxes out in the barn, and I at least organized them.  One of the most convenient sizes are the plastic shoeboxes; we both used them.  An annoyance is that anytime we went to buy more, the style had changed, so that the boxes and lids weren't interchangeable. And, over time, like socks in the laundry, either a box or a lid would end up without a partner.  At least a lidless box could be used to store something.  Just a lid - not so much.

But he couldn't throw a boxless lid away, of course, because at some point the matching box might show up again.  I searched his room and my cottage and the closet, and gathered up all the boxes and lids and matched them up.

There were 14 lids that didn't have boxes.  They went away on the next trash day.  Thing is - he would have kept them in case the matching boxes miraculously showed up.

And that was the thing about Bob.  He always believed that if you waited long enough, things would work out.  And I suddenly remembered one day, many years ago, when we had some eggs in the incubator and a chick died upon hatching.  Poor little thing never even fluffed up.  I found Bob holding it, crying.  It was stiff and cold, but he was trying to warm it up in his hands.  I got some cloth and reached for it to wrap it up for burial, but he stopped me.  "Can we wait a little longer?  Just in case?"  That was just how he was.

Me?  I'm the practical one.  So the box lids, like junk mail that I no longer keep in case it matures into something usable, or the yogurt containers now empty of yogurt but could still be used to hold Something Else, went to the trash.  And I still feel a pang when I do it.

Now to the Invisibility.  I have spent most of my life feeling, if not invisible, at least standing in shadow.  It started with having an unusual last name: Chalifoux.  Dad was a colonel, with, shall we say, a well-defined personality.  Especially in my high school years, living in the Azores with a rather low American population, I was "Chalifoux's daughter."  Meaning be careful around me.  Maybe just leave me alone.

I also grew up being "Chalifoux's sister."  Mike was a bit of a child prodigy, little boy genius.  This made him both a blessing and a curse to his teachers.  Then, a year or two later when I would have the same teacher, they would see my name on the roster and ask "are you Chalifoux's sister?" with a tone of "oh dear God not another one."  They would be relieved to discover that I was just an average student.

It was so very strange when I first went off to college.  I would introduce myself as Ann Chalifoux - and get no reaction beyond "how the heck do you spell that?"  I was no longer in the shadow of my own name.

Then I moved into another shadow - because only a few months later I met Bob.  Face it - when you walk into the room with a human grizzly bear, people don't see you.  If we ever went shopping for anything (say, a refrigerator or car) if I asked a question, they would still just talk to Bob (if they bothered to listen to me at all).

And then there's the fact that older women tend to be invisible anyway - I won't go there, because there are countless articles to be found on the phenomena.

Then I went to a showing of Harry Potter - an unusual treat, because it was at the Civic Center, and the sound track in the movie was replaced by the Tallahassee Symphony Orchestra.

As I was in the crowd heading towards the seats, one of the ushers looked at me.  "Weren't you the one with that big puppet?  I took a picture with you."  Suddenly I felt like I snapped into focus.  "Yes," I answered.  "I can't believe you recognized me.  I remember you - we were downstairs, outside the hall before the costume conference."

After the concert (which was quite wonderful) she saw me on the way out and came over to give me a hug and say she hoped to see me at another event.  

That's when it hit me that I'm not the only invisible one.  She works at events at the civic center, where hundreds of people walk by without seeing her (unless they need to ask where the restrooms are).  So to meet someone's eyes, see recognition, hear "I remember you" - well, maybe that works both ways.

On to the Time Warp.  Shelby (one of the keepers at the museum) was having a birthday party at a local bar that was having a showing of The Rocky Horror Picture Show.  Of course, my first natural inclination was to say no (my sort of knee-jerk reaction to any invitation, especially if it involves driving at night).  But some former museum people that I haven't seen for awhile would be coming, and other people that I knew and liked, and it's such a fun movie.  We were even given bags of props (noisemakers, glow sticks, rice, confetti, squirt guns).  We yelled at the screen, and all got up to dance the Time Warp.  Basically, it was a blast.

Only downside was that I had gotten up at 6:30 to go work at the museum, came home to rest a bit, shower, and change, then went out and didn't get home until 11 p.m.   I am possibly getting a little too old for that sort of thing.  I've been a bit muzzy today.  Totally worth it.