Wednesday, April 14, 2010

There’s a half-pound of pound cake in the fridge. Do be a dear and eat a quarter of it.

At Durant Park the other day we walked the Secret Creek Trail and, get ready for THIS, saw a deer. Amazing, I'm sure I hear you saying.

OK fine. Deer are everywhere. But this one was either super-laid back or half blind, because it was right on the trail and smack-dab close to us. CLOSE-close, as in about 10 feet from us, all backlit and Bambi-rific, like mad. This deer clearly didn’t mind us being in its favorite restaurant, because even as we passed by it only ambled a few feet more off the trail and then stood quietly gazing as us as we made fools of ourselves trying to get it to ‘come.’

Deer maybe don’t understand the English so much. Or maybe it was deaf too. No way to tell.

That was one of those moments I was glad to be a part of, and especially glad to have the Things take part in. Of course, they’re boys and didn’t get all teary-eyed like I did at the 'natural beauty of the moment' because they were way too busy leaping from streambank to sandbar, from tree trunk to boulder and back to notice anything but being young and strong and a part of nature. Those boys do love them some creek action, just like their Mama. It reminds ME of growing up in upstate NY, and it reminds THEM of the big house in Connecticut with the stream on the property, and how the first tastes of freedom away from parental view were spent swinging from bendy young trees and ‘accidentally’ getting their feet wet on cold winter afternoons. I’m glad to have helped provide that home for them, even if we only lived there are few years. Those memories ain’t going anyplace.

Just like that deer.


At work things have progressed from “holy crap” to “oh dear GOD!” in the blink of an eye. A month ago things were reasonably under control, and now it’s like the thundering herds have been set free from some vast paddock and are running right at me.

This? Is not a feeling I would wish on anyone. The situation has gotten so bad that I actually punted a couple of projects BACK, finally realizing that there’s no way on this or any other earth I was going to be able to do them and the 5 other (I shit you not) higher-priority projects on my plate (or white board, as it were).

Once again, I’m hoping to just make it through the next 6 weeks, because by the end of June this will all be over, and I’ll let loose that tremendous sigh of relief I know will be waiting to be turned out to pasture.

(herds/paddock/pasture, oh yeah. I’m on a roll!)


Y’all please send some healing thoughts in the direction of the Tiny House. Biffster is pretty dang sick, with a cough and ear infection and snotty head, which all combine to make him feel far less sexy than he is, which is a situation I cannot handle for very much more, because even snotty? Dude is wicked cute.

It’s hard to feel as good as you look though when nights are spent coughing, snotting, coughing, hacking, sneezing, and coughing some more. Apparently his lungs are in some kind of snit over something he did or exposed them to, because they’re trying to exit his body out the throat, a situation which is bothersome as well as troubling and exhausting. I’ve not seen him so ill, ever, and I’m good and sick of him feeling like yesterday’s dog chow. So it’s up to you, internet, to heal him. You start thinking ‘good health’ thoughts this very instant, and make my man better by tomorrow, or I’ll pout and fuss a little.

Or maybe I’ll just start posting every day again about boring as heck work crap, which I’m sure is a torture far worse than random remote crankyness.


And have a lovely day.

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