harmonicas, nests, and knee pain

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I saw a great thing last night: a man going to town on his harmonica while stopped at a stop sign.  Although ukuleles, steel drums, banjos, and bagpipes might be a few of my current favorite musical instruments, harmonicas also have a special place in my heart. I wish more people would rock out on harmonicas. 

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Although somewhat voyeuristic…I absolutely love walking at night because I get to see what people are doing in their brightly lit homes.  With apartments piled on top of one another in the bay area…I have such a huge array of windows to look into!  Just to be clear, I don’t sneak up to a place and stalkingly watch what the inhabitants are doing…no, no. I simply like meandering through the streets and (from a good distance) take a quick glance.  Some people eat together (at dinner tables!), one gal sits at her computer in the corner window of her apartment, a student or two practice their violin, others watch TV.  I love to see how people “make their nests”…some are organized, some are cluttered.  Some are dark, some are light.  Some look cozy and inviting, others are formal and elegant or simple and plain.  Maybe that is what I like house hunting shows or apartment hunting…I like to see how others live. 

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Just a moment ago I had one of those laughs where you are not sure if you are still laughing, or if your laugh has turned into a cry and you now can’ t control your emotions.  I was explaining at work the difficulties that I have with my brain: while in basketball practice my coach was holding a ball and he asked me to hit it.  Rather than slap the ball with my little white hand, I physically ran into the coach (thinking he meant hit him and the ball).  Or how’s about when my knee doctor asked me where my knee hurt and my response was “In the kitchen.”  Yes, things are so hard to understand. 

Author: Ali Carras

At a very young age I lost site of my mom in a local grocery store in Boulder, Colorado. I did, however, have the smarts to go to the customer service counter. The kind woman at the counter asked "What is your name little girl?" My reply: "Assi." The woman gave me a look like, "Are you playing with me you little devil?" but she proceeded to blast on the loudspeaker the "We have a lost Assi at the front of the store." Customers throughout the store gagged and giggled, but my mom knew exactly who the woman was referring to: the mullet haired little girl with a tongue too big for her mouth, wearing a leotard, skirt, tights, and jelly shoes (with florescent green laces in them...even though they didn't need the laces). A shy little character for whom every little detail in life was a huge thing. I am pleased to report that today I am able to fully pronounce Allison (aka Ali), but the Assi pseudonym has always stuck, evolving into Aszi. As for the shy little character for whom every little detail in life was a huge thing? Some things never change. I have closed my comments due to mass amounts of spam that no filter could ever control. Feel free to contact me abeckord [at] gmail.com!

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