2009.09.16 She hasn't lost her marbles

Written by David Green.

By COLLEEN LEDDY

“You’re really strange, Colleen,” my brother-in-law Thom said to me recently. He and David and I were talking on Skype (the free internet phone service) and neither he nor David nor I can remember what precipitated that remark.

“I have no idea,” Thom said when I later asked him about it. “It could have been about a million things.”

I suppose I should have asked him to recount a few of the “million things” he referred to, but I probably don’t want to know.

I remember denying his claim, but being amused by the comment, especially because I’ve often remarked to myself how “normal” I’ve become compared to when I first moved to town.

But in the couple of weeks since Thom made that remark, I’ve noticed that even if I’m not willing to admit I’m strange, I have to concede strange things happen to me and I often notice strange things around me. I could say it just means I’m hyper aware of my surroundings and I’m inclined to comment on these things, but the evidence is mounting in Thom’s favor. Here are a few examples.

An uncanny thing happens almost every time I read the newspaper or a book or magazine while also listening to the radio. I can’t actually both read and listen with any degree of comprehension—unlike today’s youth who can text, talk, study and listen to their iPods at the same time, I am not much of a multi-tasker.

So, when I say I am listening to the radio, I really only mean the radio is background noise. Still, I am able to perceive the uncanny when it happens and that is this: Someone on the radio will utter a word just as I read it or am about to read it. It happens simultaneously and it happens on bizarre words—I’m not talking about your garden variety “the,” “and,” “of,” et cetera.

Most recently, it was the word, “Twitter.” OK, I suppose “Twitter” has become as common as “the,” “and,” “of,” but surely it’s not that common to hear it and read it at the same time, is it?

Another bizarre thing that happens on a regular basis (and I’d love to hear from others on this) is a streetlight at the corner of Locust and N. Summit streets goes out whenever I walk by it or turns on if it’s been out.

The last time Ben was home, the light turned off as we walked by it. He mentioned that the same thing happens to him in Miami.

“It happens to me whether I'm by myself or with someone. There was one light on my drive home to the other house and it would happen quite often, at least a few times a week. But it's happened at other random lights either walking or in a car,” he said when I asked him about it last night.

Poor kid, it must be genetic. But he must have some super electromagnetic field—I don’t think I’ve ever had much impact while driving by the streetlight. And, we haven’t ruled out that it’s David who’s got the magic touch. I don’t think I’ve walked by the light without him.

We’ll have to put it to the test, although all signs point to me. I’m the one who makes watches stop by wearing them and let me know if you want to hear about my mental telepathy powers.

We went to Ann Arbor Saturday evening for the Homegrown Festival in Kerrytown. That’s not unusual or strange, but I suppose it’s not normal that I decided to attend based on the very cool drawing or woodcut of a chicken prominently displayed on the festival website. I figured if the chicken looked that good, the festival was probably going to be also.      

Somehow, Maddie agreed to attend with us. Maybe it’s because she has a nutrition class this semester (paying money for what her parents have been preaching for free for years) or maybe she just feels sorry for her lonely-for-her-children mother. David’s a fine and dandy husband and feathers the empty nest with humor and fun times, but there’s no good substitute for the company of your own children.

The festival charged me up at every booth, but David had that get-me-out-of-here look on his face as soon as he arrived. He parked himself in corners here and there to people-watch as Maddie and I visited booths for free shopping bags and samples of seitan. Well, I sampled the seitan; Maddie’s not strange.

The best discovery was made toward the end—at the Maitelates booth.

I bought a dulce de leche alfajores (two thin shortbread cookies sandwiched around a layer of dulce de leche and then dipped in Belgian chocolate), but didn’t eat it until I got home. Darn. I would have bought 10 more. It was, quite possibly, the best thing that I’ve ever put in my mouth besides Liz Stella’s sticky toffee pudding.

The Chilean woman selling them said in accented English, “I really hope you like it.” So, of course, I really wanted to like it because she was so earnest.

Is that so strange?

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  • Front.hose Testing
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