World Series 100th anniversary commemorative pin

Past: Over the years, I’ve had uncanny luck at scoring tickets for highly sought after events on Ticketmaster. Once such win was tickets to Game 1 of the World Series back in 2003.

I bought these tickets before we knew who would be in the playoffs. Our hope was that it would involve the Red Sox and/or the Cubs, both of which were this close to making it in. Alas, that didn’t happen. It was the Yankees and the Marlins that made it to the end. So, to Yankee Stadium we went—while our Cubs-loving friend from Illinois opted not to join us. But he was super-kind enough to give us some Acela points that upped us to business class and (this was the best part) a free stay at the W Hotel in Times Square.

Unfortunately, as soon as we made it to NYC, I was walloped with a sinus infection and my boyfriend burdened with GI distress. His good pal joined us on the trip and did his best to keep us in good spirits.

All I remember from the game was pressing my palms into my eye sockets to stop the throbbing in my skull, shivering because I chose style over function, and sipping a really lousy hot chocolate. But because it was a big-deal anniversary for the World Series, everybody at the ballpark that night received a little commemorative pin. That pin—for all these years—served as a reminder of that miserable night . . . and that amazing hotel room. Got to get back there someday!

Present: Craigslisters aplenty e-mailed me asking for me to give them this pin. In the end, it was a pleasant gentleman by the name of Gene who I chose to give it to. He simply wanted to add it to his collectors hat, which is already adorned with pins. And that reminded me of the straw cowboy hat that my Grandpa Bill used to wear sometimes. His hat had collectible pins from all 50 nifty United States on it. It was a silly-looking hat. But I loved staring at it, knowing each pin contained a story.

I mentioned this to Gene and he said that each of his pins also carried with it a story. And he thanked me for telling him my story, which gives my World Series collectors pin from 2003 a story for him to share with his grandchildren.

Veggie & dip serving tray

Past: My guy is much more extroverted than I am—or will ever be. And back when he was in business school, he decided to invite his entire class over for a year-end party. And not class as in the people sitting in the same room as you. No, class as in all hundred-plus full-time first-years. That’s a lot of people! So, I did what any good live-in girlfriend/default co-hostess would do: I went on a mini spending spree at Target. And because all good parties have dip, it seemed a no-brainer to purchase this veggie & dip serving tray.

That evening, we probably had 75 people or so milling around our backyard, wandering in and out of the house. It was a one-story house we lived in, with Teddy, my beloved big orange cat. My big orange indoor cat. That night stands out in my memory as the night Teddy got his first taste of freedom.

Understandably so, someone had left a door ajar . . . and while I was outside talking with the two non-b-school people at the party, I saw a flicker of orange out of the corner of my eye. It was Teddy, setting his paws on the Earth for the first time. The look in his eyes said “I’m really freaked out”—and I’m sure the look on my face said pretty much the same. I swept him up, shooed him into the kitchen, and that was that. I have no other recollections of that party—other than the fact that absolutely no one ate the dip.

That was May 2003. We haven’t used that dip tray since. For five years now, I’ve let this beast take up precious space in my cabinets—taunting me as I try and wiggle out a Pyrex dish without first removing the dip tray. I’m not a party-thrower—and not one for plastic containers of any size. So, one rainy day I decided enough was enough. Let the craigslisters have at it.

Present: I suppose picnic season is behind us, but that doesn’t matter. I got just one response to my veggie & dip serving tray posting—and that was all I needed. A friendly woman who lives in town gladly took it off my hands—along with 40-plus blank notecards that I also craigslisted. She rang the doorbell—and of course, Inky the dog went insane. When I opened the door, and then the screen to hand over the belongings, Inky tried to nose his way out. I successfully kept this pet indoors—but I did manage to drop the plastic dip tray—domed lid and all—on top of his cute little fuzzy head. He seemed no worse for the wear, but I think it freaked the poor woman out who was here to pick up the stuff. Sorry about that. Really, he’s fine!