In response

I sit here, another stupid crisis averted, listening to music picked from a long-loved playlist by the one I love, reeling from being human and from being here, now.

My life rocks, that's the mantra.

But dayum, how it throws for a loop once a while.  As in, today.

Let's jus say my blood pressure is now in check, meds are ordered, the panic and pressure that has gripped me for months straight is alleviated, and I'm not feeling anxious to the point of being nauseated anymore.

That happened TODAY.

I think of this as I hear many of my favorite songs being broadcast from our local radio station (WTHP, if you must know), and you know what?  I'm treatable.  This thing is a thing, my body doing stuff I don't understand and never will, that I ("I") can make decisions about and plan for. 

The past few months of being a scared slave of what was going on?  DONE.  I don't care how embarrassing it is, I'm facing it, not hiding from it anymore. Fat?  DONE WITH THAT.  High blood pressure? TREAT THAT SHIT.  Funked-up thyroid?  MEDICINE ME!

My youth I spent recklessly and happily, so the rest of life, I assume and claim,  I will pay forward in taking care of this life I have been given.

In other words - My demons, I will slay you.

Much girding of loins to come.   Also, strapping on of sneakers and meditations to yodel.

Process, begun.

I think I'll have another.

guess who?

This whole notion of 'getting back to writing' is tougher than I thought.  One day goes by without committing thought to electron, then another, and then a week, and there you go creating a wasteland of nothing but nothing.

'Nothing' isn't very entertaining or informative.  'Nothing' is what teens and angry spouses say when asked 'what's wrong?'  You KNOW that 'nothing' isn't the right answer, but to get more out of a recalcitrant mind is harder than diamonds.  DOING nothing, on the other hand, is easy; you just let time slip by without executing on anything and the nothing takes care of itself.

And that is no way to live, doing nothing.  Unless it's a rainy Saturday afternoon and all the chores are done.  Then nothing is fine. Hey - every rule has its exception.

So, what HAVE I been up to?  What has happened in the world to excite me?  What gigantic idea have I had that spurs me on to communicate with you?

Nothing.

:)

Oh, the regular exciting things are happening - wars, kidnapping, buildings collapsing on thousands of underpaid garment workers, paychecks, stock markets skyrocketing, that sort of thing, but you already KNOW that.  My days of providing commentary on that sort of thing are (largely) over, because it's likely that others will have gotten to that first and better.

Turning then to the 'what's going on with Tiff today?' front, well, today I got a grocery bag in the mail, another Bed Bath and Beyond coupon arrived in the mail too, Biff's birthday was Wednesday, Thing 2 turns 16 in less than 2 weeks, the lawn needs to be moved, we're out of the 'good' cereal, laundry has to be folded that sat in a pile for a week, we're cat-sitting this weekend, my hair (when wet and therefore straight) now reaches my waist, the living room is partially drywalled, I won tickets to go see Carol Burnett on Sunday, the Wake Forest Cemetery tour is tomorrow so come out and see me there talk about Samuel Wait (the first president of Wake Forest College!), and I don't regret for a minute having the trees 'topped' a couple of months ago.

And I planted a foxglove.

That about covers it.  Which, of course, isn't really 'nothing' at all, but lots and lots of little things that don't crack the 'I need to write about this' seal, but I just did and you just read it.

What would YOU write about if you still kept up your blog, or what ARE you writing about if you still do?  Curious minds want to know, and so do I.

Tiff out.

It's a fun place, really.

Pretty good dancer.

Two things you don’t hear a lot of in the cube farm: singing and children.  They are so unusual that when you DO hear them it’s a pretty remarkable day.  So, I’d just like to take a moment to remark that someone just swung through our corner of Cubeland, humming loudly and continuously, all the way back down the hall from whence he came.

Vibrato and everything.

And it was a man, which makes it doubly remarkable!

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Other notes from the funny farm:

We can’t print out SOPs.  Kind of makes it hard to use them that way, wouldn’t you agree?

We have to take out our own trash.  No more of this high-faluting garbage removal service for US!  In protest, I recently left my trash to fester for a while.  This was a mistake.  I came in to work one day and it smelled like a crime scene.  Now I dutifully take my trash to the bin every day I’m here, like a good little drone.

There’s been a hand towel draped around the plumbing of one of the ladies’ toilets for well over a month now.  I think it was put there to absorb a small leak, but it seems that he leak is fixed and there the towel still sits, dry as a bone, purposeless.  I almost want to throw it out in the rain and give it something to do.

They served the same pasta 3 days in a row this week.  Once with peanuts thrown on top.  OF PASTA.  Some things are just wrong, café people, and that was one of them.

I am happy to have the free coffee from the nice Franzia machine, but do get a little frustrated with it because it only fills the paper cup up about halfway.  Which actually is pretty good, because the coffee that comes out is so blingin’ hot that I always add a half a cup of cold tap water to the beverage before even attempting to drink it.  An improvement might just be to turn the heating down and the volume up, but that’s just me being persnickety, I’m sure.

So far the little little rubber mouse thingie has popped off my computer keyboard, the DVD wants to fling itself open at regular intervals, a little plastic ‘something’ keeps wanting to break free and snag my shirtsleeves, Word is being as balky as a gaseous mule, and I’m pretty sure there’s a pound of lunch crumbs wedged into the keyboard.  What’s the state of YOUR favorite computing gadget?

I hardly ever play with the toys in my cube.  Poor Woody and Buzz and The Hulk, so lonely.  I’m sure the kaleidoscope would like to be picked up every once in a while, and the black sheep, plush E. coli, and Snowman-with-a-dish-towel-as-a-belly are likely to want a good squeeze, but I don’t.  I just offer them my back as I sit here, plunked like a pumpkin, in front of the computer doing work-ish things, a dullard and buffoon, a paycheck slave, a bag of water and wind watching the clock edge ever so slightly forward to quitting time.

(*blink*)

THAT turned soul-crushing, didn’t it?  Well, let’s spring off that topic like a fuzzy baby lamb and bounce on over to happy thoughts and the bright shiny promise of a wonderful weekend!

Y’all be sure to rock it like you mean it,

Tiff out.

Scented hankies and the search for the inevitable

Typical dorm room.

The college tour was a pretty good time last Saturday.  Did you know that many colleges are situated in area that are regarded as scenic and therefore have some rolling-type topography?  Certainly the college we visited fit this bill. Did you also know that during the tour the student guides like to use all the stairs available on campus rather than taking the more leisurely and knee-friendly ramps?

You do now.

By the end of our short time there my left knee was shooting pains so sharp they were almost cutting my pants.  Sh*t, that makes me feel old.

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Last band concert of the year last night, and Thing 1’s last HS band concert ever.  Hard to believe we’re starting up with the ‘lasts’ already.  None of his friends seem to be overly sentimental about it, probably because they’re guys.  I can’t really get him interested in doing much of anything celebratory for graduation, and the couple of other seniors’ moms I’ve talked with say the same thing.

Shoot – when I graduated I was making plans to go to the beach for a week with a group of friends and acquaintances.  How our parents let us do that I’ll never know, but do it we did and had a pratty dang good time.

From what I remember of it.

Now though?  While I mentioned the beach thing and it sounds like it would be cool, I’m a little behind the curve and haven’t even started looking and who knows if his friends would go and isn’t that something they’re supposed to organize for themselves anyhow?  Moms throw parties, ‘the gang’ throw PARTIES.

I can’t let this go by without SOME kind of celebration, because my WORD there were times during his school career I didn’t think he’d make it this far.  Academics and Thing 1 are not on the very best of terms, (*Cough*) so I'm happy he's made it this far and on time.

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On another note: the living is almost stripped to the studs.  Biff has been dong some mighty mighty work in there on nights and weekends – no rest for the wicked, I suppose.  I take care of making dinner and filling glasses and not much else.  Oh, I can pull a nail or 2 and lug things around, but once the power tools come out I’m as scarce as hen’s teeth.  This is no way to build an empire, I’m aware of that.

Our chirpy little designer is coming by again tonight to get another infusion of cash and dispense with the advice now that were utterly and completely changed our plans since we last met 2 weeks ago.  Truth be told, I think Biff’s a little sweet on her and just wants to do a little ogling, which is of course why I let him pay for her services.  J  She is kind of darling…   Anyhow, the gist of this visit is to ensure our original color choice is still good and what she would suggest for trims and mouldings and such now that nearly everything is out of the room.  It’s a dang blank canvas in there now – the possibilities are nearly endless.

So, that’s the QotD: should a semi-respectable middle-aged lady plan to include some blacklights in her living room’s new lighting scheme?  If not that, then what SHOULD go in there?  Remember, BLANK SLATE.

Tiff out.