Thank you for consulting the National Lost Mitten Registry. If you’ve lost a mitten, please add your information to our national database, including the following:
– Right or Left Hand
– Last Known Location
– A Photo of Existing Orphaned Mitten (If Possible)
If you haven’t lost a mitten, yet you’ve found yourself on this blog, that’s ok too. We also serve as a receptacle of Brier Random’s thoughts, photos and stories. Still here? Good. Sit back and enjoy.
Portland > Medford > Los Angeles > Santa Barbara in the span of a half-day. I am still vibrating. Exactly one week until i leave the first year of my 40s behind. God, 40 was good to me. Things happened to me this year that i could never have dreamed of as a baby of, say, thirty. And on the plane today, this little 3-year-old blondie boy across the aisle was looking at me bopping to Belle & Sebastian with my headphones on while reading & journaling, and he was imitating me and bobbing his head as i was, watching me with genuinely unabashed interest, i guess he could feel the childlike vibe radiating from me, whether it was my happiness or just my resigned abandon — either way it was palpable joy, and everyone around me notices and is looking, undoubtedly thinking i am on some kind of wonderful drug, or either a soul beatific or mad.
But to rewind a bit, dear reader: I was the last one to board the aeroplane, as is my habit, and taking my seat in 16D, i tried to buckle in but i couldn’t find the other half of my seatbelt. The male was there, but the “female” receiver & strap was gone. I told the stewardess “I can’t find half my seatbelt.” She came over, sweet but incredulous & doubting. I showed her it was missing. She brought over another stewardess. They looked & looked, puzzled. They called in a technician to look. He tore off the seat cushion and admitted that it was indeed gone. “Strange, we’ve had three previous flights and no passenger mentioned it.” Meanwhile the other passengers in immediate proximity started to look on, curious, wondering what trouble the grinning boy in the ripped jeans was getting into. The crew finally relocated me to the far back row of the plane with 2 seats all to myself. I stretched out and grinned some more. But it was the screaming-child section of the aircraft, apparently, so it seemed an even trade. But soon even the toe-headed boy wasn’t screaming anymore because he was too fascinated by watching me dance in my seat to some sweet sweet music.
So from the comfort of 36B i looked out the window and watched the Los Angeles air turn the sunset’s glow into a purple threat, watching the landscape roll out like credits on a movie screen.
11:56 PM I came home and started this blog. And i recently let go of someone that i like. And it was hard — like coming off the pill that you take to stay happy.
Until next time. Your unfaithful servant, ~Brier
P.S. Write from the heart. Then write some more.