When I went back to work a month ago, I went through my closet to take stock of the business casual clothes I’ve accumulated over the years (let’s give it up for blazers, you guys!) and pulled quite a few things from my closet that just don’t fit along with some things I just don’t wear for one of seven million reasons. I made a pile. And even added a pair or two of shoes. And Lord KNOWS I don’t part with shoes easily.

I tend to purge my closet somewhat regularly (seasonally?) and I try to live by the rule of getting rid of one item every time I buy a new item so as not to become a hoarder and/or die of old age surrounded by nothing but my things. I’m still not as diligent as I’d like to be though and whenever I feel like THERE’S NOTHING LEFT TO PURGE!, I am so so wrong and end up filling at least one garbage bag full of stuff. You see, I am Queen of Holding Onto Something Just In Case.

(I had an apron from an old waitressing job in my closet for about 7 years in case I needed it for a scene in an acting class or needed it for playing pretend while babysitting or needed it in case I got another job as a waitress, never stopping to think that none of those scenarios had a high chance of ever happening. And if they did? I could go…buy a new apron. I also never used this apron for anything like, say cooking because it was too long and waitressy so it just sat in my closet acting all annoyed with me. WHO KEEPS AN APRON FOR THAT LONG FOR NO REASON? IS THERE ANY HOPE FOR ME LEFT?)

Anyway, most of my clothes (AND WAITRESSING APRONS WTF) go to the thrift store a few blocks away which is super nice but when I saw the recent pile of work clothes, I thought HMMM! Here is a specific bunch of items! Might there be a specific charity who might want these?

And thus, I found Dress for Success.

I can mail the clothes to them or I can drop them off every 3rd Saturday of the month, which was this past Saturday.

I planned on it, truly I did.

Except on Saturday, instead of being home in the city, I found myself in New Haven, Connecticut at Yale giving a musical improv workshops to some undergrads, DON’T ASK ME HOW MY LIFE GOT TO BE SO AWESOME. I don’t know.

Point is, I missed the drop off and that means I missed my ‘quiet’ deed.

But I still have the bag of clothes and shoes! And I will hopefully get to the drop off in March. If I don’t, I might just go ahead and drop them in the mail instead.

A+ for effort, right you guys?

Now does anyone know where I can find an apron?

What?

Shut up.

Carry on.

Yesterday during my lunch break, I went downtown to a community center to feed the elderly some lunch. This particular center houses two separate charities – one serves a free Kosher meal to isolated and/or homeless Jews (and has been around since 1889! WHA?) and the other serves a non-Kosher lunch to various low-income elderly who pay a small fee to eat.

They pay $1.50.

Because that is all they can pay.

Hoo boy.

I put on a plastic apron and a hairnet and went upstairs to serve the elderly some food. I was in charge of bread duty.

I find volunteer work relatively easy since I’m naturally helpful and have somewhat of a ‘people personality’ in general. I probably learned this from my mother, who is a People Person times 100,000,000. Also, thanks to my mom’s intense involvement with the church when I was younger, which included dragging me to 987 various types of functions, I am a grown up who is not easily fazed by homeless people, sick people, etc. (As a young child and pre-teen, I kind of hated how my mom would always make me hang around these types of people because it made me uncomfortable and all I can say now, years and years later is that my mom was kind of the best? So, thanks, mom, for teaching me yet again about humanity. And I have to stop talking about my mom and how awesome she is because I’m already crying. ALREADY! THE TEARS! STOP. MOVING ON.)

Ahem.

When I first started serving food and saw these people start to line up in a cafeteria for lunch, my throat started to close up a little bit as I realized how bad things must be that they have to show up to a community center to get a hot lunch for $1.50. So, my heart started breaking for these people, but then I realized how my mental chatter sounded so pitying and condescending to the lovely people in front of me and so, after awhile I was just like Laura? SHUT UP. Nobody likes a young privileged girl who is all AW LOOK AT THE POOR PEOPLE. Like they’re in some kind of zoo or something.

Ugh, I felt ashamed of myself.

So I shut up.

And I watched.

And I tried to just…give.

And be myself.

And you know what? These people may be poor in some ways but they are so, so rich in others.

There was a man who waited patiently at the end of the food line just so he could carry trays for people who needed canes to walk and couldn’t get back to their table holding their food. He would get up from his table when he knew someone was coming down the line who needed help. Then he would wait patiently for the person to make their way to the end and he would pick up and carry their tray as the other person followed behind with their cane or walker. Then the man would go back to his table and resume eating his lunch.

I lost track of how many times this man got up from his table to help.

It was my favorite thing to watch.

There was a husband carefully selecting each item, one for him and one for his wife.

“She doesn’t like dark meat!” he told the man serving up barbecue chicken.

“That’s my boy!” she said, her eyes twinkling.

“I know all your favorites!” her husband said, offering her his arm to walk her back to the table.

Another woman requested no vegetables on her plate.

“NO GREENS!” she chirped and I smiled at her.

“I’m so bad!” she said and started laughing. “Such a bad girl! I know I should eat them but I hate vegetables!”

I started laughing too.

“Just like a kid!” I said.

“You bet, honey!” she told me. And winked.

Another woman grabbed a piece of bread, flashed me a smile and said, “How do you like looking at your future!?”

I laughed.

“I tell ya,” she said. “When I was your age, I NEVER thought I’d be this old!”

“You seem happy, though,” I said.

“Oh I am,” she told me.

I believed her. 100%.

Such richness in that hour and a half of my life. Such beauty and love. Such giving among people who do not have much to give.

Thank you! they said to me.

Thank you for being here! Thanks for the bread! Thank you for helping!

THANK YOU FOR HELPING? I am standing here in a hairnet watching you all treat each other with respect and dignity and grace.

Thank you.

When I cried on the walk back to my office, it wasn’t because there are some people in this world who are poor and that can be sad to see.

I cried because there are people in this world who struggle mightily and never let it show.

People who smile in the face of hardship, who laugh and love regardless of how much money is in their bank account.

Probably not much at all.

I have so much to learn.

The woman who runs the program snapped this pic of me on her phone. I look pretty awesome in my hairnet, right?! I can’t wait to go back again soon.

12th.

My boyfriend’s dear friends were in town this weekend, set to get married at City Hall Monday morning! (More on that in a sec!)

My boyfriend unfortunately got smacked upside the head with work-related obligations that took over his weekend.

He missed dinner both Friday and Sunday nights and so I went in his place and spent time with his visitors.

I love his friends so it wasn’t necessarily the hardest thing to do and we missed having him a lot but I knew it was important for me to be there in his place.

While he was stuck working, I did his grocery shopping, made him lunches for the week, grabbed his clean laundry from the laundromat/put it away and picked up the Sunday night dinner tab while out with his friends.

(Please note: I am currently accepting nominations for Girlfriend of the Year Award. Cash would be great. Or a baby some chocolate.)

13th.

Monday morning bright and early, we headed down to City Hall to witness the marriage of my boyfriend’s friends. I have never been to a court house wedding and you guys, I was half tempted to get married myself. So easy! So fun! No family drama!

(Don’t worry mom, I couldn’t. You need to grab a marriage license 24 hours before the fact. DRATS!)

It was like being at the DMV except all the city employees are insanely happy instead of insanely angry and depressed.

Some people were dressed up, some people were wearing Converse sneakers with cupcakes on them (!?), everyone was so thrilled because PEOPLE WERE GETTING MARRIED! EVERYWHEEEEEEEEEEERE!

I must also say: my boyfriend’s dear friends happen to be a gay couple and that kind of dialed everyone’s enthusiasm up to 11 because WHAT!? YOU GUYS! I LIVE IN A STATE WHERE GAY MARRIAGE IS LEGAL!!!

IS THAT AMAZING OR WHAT!?

I was generally feeling excited because people getting married always makes me happy but watching a gay couple get legally married pushed me over the freaking edge of ‘keeping all my emotions in check’ and I had to keep biting my lip to stop myself from crying/screaming/throwing open a window belting out Celine Dion’s “Power of Love”.

WHEN YOU KISS ME LIKE THIS.

AND WHEN I TOUCH YOU LIKE THAT.

Anyway.

They kept thanking me for taking the morning off work and showing up to their intimate court house wedding and I was all THANK ME!? THANK YOU!

You may not agree with gays having the right to marry, most of my family does not.

So, I get it.

And yet, actually?

I just don’t.

Watching this couple, who have been together for almost eight years, start crying because they got to SIGN PAPERWORK. Just like a STRAIGHT COUPLE! was completely overwhelming for me. It moved me so deeply and made me so grateful to live where I live, to have cultural and societal support for something so important.

We all deserve the same things.

To love and be loved.

Maybe the next time I’m feeling down, I’ll head to City Hall and just sit in the lobby and soak it in.

So much love in one place, you guys.

It continues to astound.

Many of you longtime readers (two of you?) might remember me writing about our dear family friend Bill who had Huntington’s Disease and passed away in 2009. (You can read about the amazing lessons my mother taught me by bringing Bill into my life here. And about his death here.)

(Also, can we talk about how long my blog posts used to be!? HOLY COW.)

My new temp gig has some amazing volunteer opportunities which are offered to employees and so I jumped at one recently (after confirming that temps were allowed to participate!) that involved buying a Valentine’s Day gift for a patient at a nearby hospital. I was on board from the beginning and didn’t need much convincing but then I noticed that this specific hospital has both an AIDS ward and a Huntington’s Disease ward.

Well. That just touched a special place in my heart.

Since you could choose, I requested a male patient, in honor of Bill and went out in search of a fleece blanket, one item on a list of a few suggested gifts. I found a beautiful blue one, soft and cuddly. The next day, I went on a mission to track down an adorable Valentine’s Day card. “SENDING YOU A HUG!” it said. I scribbled Happy Valentine’s Day! Love, Laura underneath. I wrapped up the blanket and card, put them in a gift bag and deposited it in a huge bin in my office lobby.

I’m more than a little bummed that I won’t be handing out the gifts, which will be delivered tomorrow. I was told by the hospital that very few of these patients (most all of them at the poverty level, lacking funds and family) ever have any visitors. I am so saddened by that, beyond words, that there are probably so many Bills who never knew someone like my mother and who have no one to care for them as they get sicker and sicker.

But I am comforted to know that someone will be receiving my blue fleece blanket tomorrow.

In the name of Bill, I hope they enjoy it, that it keeps them warm, that they feel a tiny bit as safe and cared for as he was.

Every time I passed that bin last week in the lobby, that bin overflowing with hearts and red wrapping paper and presents for strangers, I thought of Bill.

I missed him more than I ever thought I would.

And yet, he lives on, forever.

He (and my mother who taught this to me through him) is my ultimate lesson in caring, giving your time and patience and love until you ache, until it hurts, opening your eyes to people who are different from you, embracing them even through your discomfort, loving them and holding them and realizing that they are suffering in ways you can barely begin to imagine.

They deserve to be noticed.

And loved.

Happy almost Valentine’s Day.

That’s right. The 8th graders are going to DC, the 7th graders are going to Philadelphia and the 6th graders?

Medieval Times.

I feel like the 6th graders win, right!?

They are going to be able to see some live jousting, you guys. All because of me.

(And some other people.)

I suppose this doesn’t really count as doing something quietly. I was paid a little bit of cash to perform but honestly not enough for that to be the only reason to go. I went because it sounded like a lot of fun, I completely ADORE the people I was going to perform with and SENDING MIDDLE SCHOOLERS TO MEDIEVAL TIMES!? DO YOU THINK I AM SOME KIND OF MONSTER WHO WOULD SAY NO TO THAT!?

We performed on quite a big stage in this gorgeous auditorium in the middle school, which meant we got to wear body mics which meant I kept having flashbacks to performing the spring musical in high school with a body mic taped to various body parts.

Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve worn a body mic?

Answer: TOO LONG.

(I did not miss the mic tape, however. I stupidly put a piece on my cheek. Ow?)

Anyway! Drama club flashbacks yeah!

DAY BY DAYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY

DAY BY DAYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!

(I was the Day By Day soloist in Godspell in 9th grade, you guys! And if you’re wondering, I still remember the sign language that went along with it. STAR QUALITY.)

I loved loved loved wearing a body mic. I loved loved loved singing and being goofy and making an audience full of kids and their parents laugh. I loved loved loved having ridiculous hilarious conversations on the train ride to and from Westchester.

Also, they gave us brownies.

!?

I became completely obsessed with the tech kids who ran sound and checked our microphones and all had braces and my heart just swelled because I LOVE THEATER GEEKS SO MUCH!!! I wanted to take them all home with me and adopt them and make them mine and tell them how much I loved them and then my friend Ryan was like please stop, that is illegal and you are weird.

So, okay.

But those kids were SO ADORABLE.

And I truly had the best time ever.

I gave to the community a little but got back so much more than I gave. Including brownies and some high fives from 12 year old theater tech nerds.

Oh, man.

That was one of the best nights I’ve had in a long time.

I feel like a really, really lucky girl.

Or something.

Anyway, Dear Sugar fell off my radar for a little while and just recently jumped back on. I stayed up way too late one evening clicking back through the archives, reading all the columns I missed.

And…crying buckets. BECAUSE I LOVE IT SO MUCH. LIFE! LOVE! UNIVERSAL TRUTHS!!!

Last night I decided to send the links to a few of my favorite columns to a touchy-feely friend of mine because I thought she would like it too. She’s actually a friend of my mother’s and I’m still not sure why she came to mind but she did. So I sent it along. I just feel like when good things come your way, you should share.

So on that note, in case you’re interested too, here are some of my favorite Sugar columns. (Slight warning, she is occasionally profane but in the best, best way.) I highly suggest curling up in bed with a cup of coffee and reading them all on a weekend afternoon. But, here are some goodies to get you started.

The lesson is…once again…share the good stuff? I think?

Yes.

A Big Life

The Human Scale

The Obliterated Place

The Ghost Ship

Not fantastic?

The class is from 7-9:30 pm and the subsequent show is at 10 pm. We get notes afterwards on how we did which means I’m out until at least 11:45 every Monday night.

(I signed up for this class before I got my new job so, man. Not the best idea I ever had.)

(And the class isn’t over until mid-March. OWWWWWWW.)

ENOUGH COMPLAINING!

The point is that Tuesday mornings are rough for me.

Luckily, I live off the last subway stop so there is always a train waiting for me and more importantly, there is always a seat.

A few stops into the ride and the train was packed full of people. A mother and daughter got on and stood right in front of me, the little girl no more than six or so.

I realized I should get up and offer my seat.

I am ashamed that it took me more than a full minute to do so.

But I’m so tired, I reasoned.

My bag is so heavy.

I have at least seven more stops to go!

Finally, I took a deep breath, looked up from my magazine and offered the little girl a seat.

Thank you so much! said her mother.

No one else got up to make room for her so her daughter just sat in my seat between two strangers.

They were only on the train for a little awhile, eventually getting up as the train emptied a few stops later and I was able to take my seat back and rest until I got to work.

I’m surprised at how hard it was, my heart saying GET UP AND GIVE YOUR SEAT TO A CHILD and my mind digging in its heels like a stubborn toddler NO NO NO MINE MINE MINE I WAS HERE FIRST.

But every day, I get a seat.

And there is always tomorrow.

When I first got going, I thought that my actions each day would seem forced. Committing out loud and knowing I had to blog about it gave me a sense of urgency. I HAVE TO FIND SOMETHING TO DO!!! I CANNOT FAIL!!!

I was worried that I would come off disingenuous or that my actions would lose their meaning, just an item to check off on a to do list. I was afraid it would get tedious and that I would view it as a hassle and just start frantically trying to find nice things to do in a rush and that just sounds awful and fake.

I am so relieved to find that so far, that has not been the case. Because I said I was going to do it and write about it, I don’t wake up every day thinking OH CRAP WHAT CAN I DO FOR SOMEONE?! THIS IS SO DUMB AND STRESSFUL!

Instead, I start the day with an attitude of “How can I help?” which, let’s be honest, is not usually the way I begin my mornings.

It’s as if I am going about my day with a little more gentleness, a little more openness. I approach people who pass me on the street, who sit next to me on the train, who sit next to me at work, with a silent offer to make their life easier, instead of viewing them as things that are just in my way. It has been such a wonderful experience in serving, in lessening my ego, in making my world more inclusive. We’ll see how the rest of the month plays out!

And now onto Quiet Deed #6.

Over the Christmas holiday, my grandmother and I got to talking about books. We are both voracious readers and she will often send me something in the mail she thinks I would like. She doesn’t own a computer and since my grandfather passed away, I think she has lots of lonely evenings though she won’t exactly say so. She told me she spends most nights with a book and I imagine that passing through other worlds through the words of others fills up some space in her heart, at least temporarily.

I would never claim to know what it must feel like to love someone for 60 years and then to lose them. All the air rushes quickly out of a thousand balloons, all the noises in a room screech to a halt at once, you sink further and further underwater, not knowing how to swim. All these things. But somehow, sadder.

My grandmother mentioned how much she recently enjoyed a certain novel and since I had read it too, we chatted about it for awhile. I asked her if she had read the author’s previous book and she remarked that she hadn’t known he had written other things.

I’ll send it to you! I said.

And we left it at that, as you often do.

We should catch up!

I’ll e-mail you the link!

Let’s get together soon!

I’ll call you back!

So many promises we make throughout the day. And we mean them, I think, in the moment, most of the time. But I tend to forget to follow through.

I have decided I want to be the type of person who follows through.

Someone you can count on to do what she said she would do.

Last night I searched out the novel I was talking about. It was sitting on my bookshelf, bored and impatient.

I packed it in my bag, took it to work with some stationary and on my lunch break, I wrote a note, bought some packaging and mailed it to my grandmother.

I’ll send it to you! I said.

And I did.

I love to do it. It calms me, it feels good to create something delicious for myself and I enjoy sharing what I make with other people.

I used to be that girl who would randomly show up at work with a tray full of pumpkin muffins. FOR NO REASON! JUST FOR FUN!

Over the past year, I’ve barely baked at all.

I wondered if this counted as doing something quietly because it was, after all, bringing me a sense of satisfaction and joy. And I suppose it doesn’t count as quiet if you’re all HEY YOU GUYS, LOOK WHAT I DID!!! But I also couldn’t help but think about how good it feels to put time into something that you give to other people. To make it a little more personal.

We were invited to a Superbowl party on Sunday so as frantic as the weekend was with back to back improv rehearsals and a few million other errands, I carved out some time to make a delicious dessert.

I settled on these brown butter and sea salt Rice Krispie treats which did not disappoint.

Turns out it was the only dessert at the party and almost as soon as they appeared, they vanished.

It sounds so silly but I could not have felt more content.

No big deal, just spreading some sweetness around. It felt so good.

Plus, let’s be honest, they were ridiculously delicious.

WIN WIN!

And kind of headachey and tired.

And hungry.

I very much wanted to go to the deli and get an egg wrap for breakfast but I was secretly hoping my boyfriend would volunteer to do it. Meaning: I didn’t want to go at all. I just wanted it to magically appear before me.

I’ll stay here! I thought. ALL WARM AND INSIDE!!! I AM TOO TIRED TO WALK FIVE SECONDS TO THE DELI!

Then I realized that sometimes it’s good to do things you don’t really want to do. Even if it’s a really short walk outside to end of the block for breakfast. I looked over at my boyfriend who was glued to his laptop, scrambling to get a few things done that he never has time for during the week because he works so hard.

“Egg wrap?” I suggested, putting on my sneakers.

“You don’t have to do that!” he said. “I can go with you!”

“I know,” I said. “But you’re busy. I got it!”

Because I have two legs, you know. And sometimes being lazy is just not a good excuse. And being in a relationship means sometimes you have to be the one to get the egg wraps, even when you don’t feel like it.

I picked up his bag of dirty laundry on my way out the door and dropped it at the laundromat.

And then I proceeded onto the deli.

And you know…

It wasn’t cold out at all.

And it felt wonderful to be outside in the fresh air in this crazy bustling city.

Also, when you are the one who goes to get the egg wraps, you can buy gummi bears too because you’re the one in charge of buying things.

It’s a wonderful responsibility, after all.