Happy and sad

 Had a very weird thing happen to me this morning, completely (or so I thought) out of the blue:  I missed my 'little' kids.

Like, my kids when they were little-er.  Preschool age to about 8 years old, to be specific.  Like this:

Photos by  Brucejohnsonstudios.com

I missed their boundless love, their sweetness, their sense of wonder.  I missed their cute faces and watching them become who they were meant to be, I missed the enthusiasm for fire trucks and dinosaurs and I missed their affection and I missed reading to them and I missed doing fun projects and just, well, the experience of being a Mom to 2 wonderful little boys.

And I sat at my kitchen table and cried, then slapped myself upside the head (figuratively) to get my act together because WHO DOES THAT KIND OF THING??  Who cries for that past children that were, when there are 2 strong healthy bright young men in the house to wonder at and be thankful for?

It can't just be me, can it?

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My Aunt passed away over the weekend.  My Mom's oldest sister hadn't been in good shape for a while, she was unable to see or hear, for example, and that's no kind of life to live.  It was therefore not unexpected, but still, even when you know it's a blessing to be released from suffering it's still hard to know that the last breath has been taken, that last act of so many has been reached.  From now on her presence will be only ripples where she used to paddle.

Time marches on and takes us all.   I don't think I care for that all that much, to be perfectly honest.

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On a happy note, we did have a nice visit with my Mom over the weekend (yes, she got that call while frolicking at the Tiny House), with chatting, a play, card games, cooking, and brunch among the activities.  She's getting along great, it was fun to hang out with her, and I'm grateful that she came down to participate in the grandkids' 'things.'

The 'thing' in question was a theater production of 'Hairspray' at the local high school; Thing 2 was in the pit orchestra as 1 of 3 trombone players among a very strong group of instrumentalists.  The pit did great, the actors did great too - it was a fun production.  As I've said before, I am so SO happy that the Things have chosen music as their deal; they have had so many great experiences already and will have a lot of skills under their belts by graduation that a lot of kids don't understand.

So, a happy thing, for sure.

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And lastly - we've had tornadoes around here the past few days. Sneaky things, those tornadoes, and the cause for serious alarms going off at 4:30 in the morning telling folks to 'find shelter!' and 'stay away from doors and windows!' and such.

Which of course, for some people, mean they run to the front porch with the camcorder (OK, phone) and start snapping pictures of funnel clouds.

Wait, what?

You heard it here first, y'all.  You wouldn't BELIEVE the number of contributors to the local teevee station were providing photos they'd taken themselves of various tornadic activity.  Really.  Their first reaction was to go 'oh, hey, there's a tornado!  Let's take pictures of it until the winds rip the phones from our hands and our heads from our necks!   That's a great idea!!'

That's a special kind of stupid, or am I being too harsh on the neighborhood stormchaser?

One wonders.

Tiff out.

Pump up the volume!

Every week on Tuesday at 2:30 a dude here at work goes into a small room right next to my cube, shuts the door, and initiates a teleconference.  He then proceeds to shout at the phone for an hour, making every word he speaks completely crystal clear to those of us who sit within a 20-foot radius.  I know this is the correct distance, because I just went and asked a collegue who sits further away if he could hear the call, and the answer was a firm 'Yes.' 

Dude is in a room, with a shut heavy wood door, talking to a phone that is 1 foot from his mouth.  We can still hear him.

Worryingly, he’s not necessarily talking about mundane stuff!  Sometimes dollar amounts come up, sometimes future plans sometimes personnel changes  This could be important, and I don’t need to hear it, but how does one get that message across that he’s being really rude without meaning to?

(Whoa - Holy smokes – it’s getting LOUDER.)

Do I knock on his door and give him the stink eye, or slip an anonymous note under the door, or email him later on with the details of his call?

I think I’ll go with the email.  Minus the call deets.  Just tell him, nicely, that if he wants to use his outdoor voice there’s a place for that, AND IT’S OUTSIDE!!

(Walks off to think on it and escape the clamor)

Oh, joy, I have returned, and the call has ended early!  Yes!  Sometime during that 10 minutes of laps I just walked around the building he ended the call.  Peace has returned.  I can think again.

Until next week…

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Just so you know, I'm wearing a new shirt.  I am not sure if I like it yet, because it's not made of knit material and I forgot to cut the tag out of it this morning.  The arms are too tight for me (which mean they actually fit properly and I'm not swimming in the shirt) and I'm not sure I look all that good in red.  It's not the same shirt I usually get, in other words, but I'll give it a shot.

It's not the most horrible shirt I've ever put on - that honor goes to the dreadful bodysuits of the '70's that never stayed snapped up all the way and were made to make the wearer sweat and were itchy as all get out.  *Shudder*  Yuck.  This shirt is nothing like that, and yet I know as soon as I get home I'm taking it off to put on something baggy, knit, and soft.

Totally looking forward to that moment.

Tiff out.

It's 5 o'clock somewhere

Five o'clock around these parts
the sun still hangs high in the sky
looking like 2
but it's not,
it's quitting time.

Five o'clock today I walked
through our front door
loving the shiny floors
and how the light bounced
brightly, cleanly
on them.

Had all kinds of plans at five o'clock:
clean this
straighten that
fold those
update that
cook this
research that
do
do
do

But to start,
At 5-oh-five I poured a drink
and sat down
only for a moment
to rest and recharge.

Two-point-five hours later
this is what I've done:

I felt the day end
sensed the sun slipping down
heard the hushing up of traffic
watched day turn from gold to blue
then purple, now black.

I sat with the birds
excited as they at the roosting time
smiling at their peep-peep-peep
as they announced bedtime
one, after another, after another.

I sniffed warm air
then tepid
then lukewarm
then cool
and brought the plants in.

I did, mostly, nothing
except be in the world
at the moment
in that time
for no other reason that to
live in it and not be so busy
trying to make one of my own.

Two-point-five hours later
the world looks, feels and lives
very differently that it did at five o-clock.
I am happy to have spent this time
with the world, saying hello
And goodnight.

Someday, when I am old
When eyes and ears have failed
This will be what I live in when day turns dark
The lowering traffic
The festive peeps
The golden arms of sun
And I will be happy to have spent this time
In the world.