LoJack

This is my new nick-name.

I used to not know what it was. Now I hear it all too often.

LoJack is a one of those technological wonders by which law enforcement can locate a stolen car just by pressing a button.

Providentially, I always make the sort of friends that look out for me when I forget to look out for myself. Particularly, I forget to look out for things that belong to myself. Incidentally--and not unrelated to the subject--Saint Anthony has become my favorite saint. He's one of the friends I have looking out for me. Everywhere I am--at home in Colorado, at school in Connecticut, with friends anywhere else, even when I was in Kentucky this summer--God sends me people to compensate for my airheaded tendencies.

I used to leave my college books in random places; because of where I went to college, I would always find them in the exact same random places, even if it was a few weeks later.

While backpacking in Europe, a quick decision was made that Alissa would be the keeper of all important documents--after I lost two strips of 10 subway tickets in Paris!

At least once a day, I walk into a classroom and have a moment of confusion, followed by slight apprehension. Then I turn around and see one of my friends swinging my [insert here: Nalgene bottle/power cord/lunch sack/planner/car keys] out in front of her: "LoJack!"

Or after our last class, I'll pack up my things, start walking down the hallway, and suddenly stop to ask out loud, "Where are my car keys?" I then proceed to shake and listen to each pocket attached to my person, be it my purse, backpack, jeans, or what have you. And I hear it again from my chuckling friends: "LoJack!"

Sharon has run out of her house before with a bag of my belongings that I passed on my way out the door.

Yesterday, I called my friend Hope (she was in the phone book) from my workplace's phone, in order to get Janel's number. When I finally got Janel on the phone, she asked, "How... are you calling me?"
"Oh, good!" I replied. "I was hoping I left it in your car and not at the auto shop."
"Yeah, I saw it under the passenger seat, and immediately knew whose it was. Who else leaves her cell phone behind?"

After meetings with Fr. Check, he usually has to remind me to grab my purse from under my chair.
This afternoon, I arrived a half-hour late to meet with him--because even though I keep a calendar, I didn't look at it today. Then I left my car keys in his office. He had to leave the confessional to let me back into the rectory!

The other day, Tony was musing on the difference between men and women, and one reason they were made for each other. His theory had to do with men generally seeing the big picture, while women notice the important details. (I had just reminded him that he had to make a lefthand turn "here" to get back to his house.) Ahh, he will also come to know me...!

People who know me are not surprised when I say I lost something. I don't expect sympathy anymore. All I expect now is some version of eye-rolling or head-shaking in mock disbelief.

And then I wait for it: "LoJack!"