The End of a Long Day

 

You know those days where all you really want to do is change into your pajamas and curl up on the couch while you decide which comfort food would make the best meal?

Yeah, I think I’m going to go ahead and do that.

A Blessed Moment

 

As I’ve said before, August 16 is always a melancholy day for me.  As the anniversary of my mom’s passing, I always have a lot of things on my mind, and on my heart.  The past couple of years, I’ve tried to busy myself with fun times and then only have the date to deal with after the fact.  And it was working pretty well today .  . .until it wasn’t.

Brian and I spent a couple of days in Eureka Springs, AR this weekend, and one of the things on my “visit” list was Thorncrown Chapel.  It looked really pretty in the pictures, and I wanted to see for myself.

Turns out, it is really pretty.  And more than that, it’s one of those places that I think Mama would’ve really enjoyed.  Those are the kind of fleeting thoughts that come to me more days than not—“Mama would like that”, or “I wish Mama could see this”. 

Like me, my mother was more spiritual than truly religious, but I know she would’ve appreciated the artistry of a church that would allow you to commune with nature while worshipping. But in that place, it seemed I was hit with that idea more strongly than usual, and it was almost like I could feel her there with me.   Of course, when the moment passed, I missed her all over again, but I wouldn’t trade that moment of connection.  And, besides, I know she’s always here with me, no matter where I am.

In Search of Why

 

There’s something about death, especially tragic, unexpected death.  People always want to find, if not a reason, then some sort of lesson.  We don’t want to let someone go without feeling that they contributed one last thing to this world.

In the wake of Robin Williams’ death, you can see this played out over and over in social media.  Depression. Anxiety.  Addiction.  And now, I suppose, we will add Parkinson’s.  The cries are out there: Don’t let his death be in vain.  And perhaps an awareness of some of these diseases will come, and that will be a good thing.  Will it prevent his death from being in vain?  I don’t know.  If lives are saved because conversations have begun this week that will slowly illuminate the dark secrets of depression, will that somehow make his death meaningful?  I don’t know how you determine that it was acceptable for one person to die so that others may live. 

What I do know is that depression scares me.  I’ve seen those stories—some are saying that as many as 25% of people in the world could suffer from depression in some form or another.  That’s a lot of people.  Personally, I’ve had a couple of bouts of situational depression, and I can remember how absolutely terrifying those days were. I can’t imagine living with that sort of anguish day in and day out for my entire life.

But the real reason depression scares me is not some concern that I might be dragged back into an abyss at some point, but because one of the most important people in the world to me suffers from it, and refuses to get help.  I think maybe that’s why Williams’ death has hit me so hard, because it’s all too easy to extrapolate the horrific possibilities.  I mean, if this wildly talented, hugely successful man—someone who arguably “had it all”—could not overcome his demons and saw no solution but death, then what does that say about the chances of the average guy fighting this battle?  It seems bleak.

And I’ve seen the arguments back and forth about whether depression should really be blamed as the “cause” of suicide, with one side saying that it’s a dangerous argument to make, because it sends the message to the deeply depressed that they have no say in the matter, that one day they are just doomed to lose the ultimate battle to their disease.  And I can see the logic of that argument, and it just sends another twinge of fear down my spine.  But the truth is, I land in the opposite camp.  I do think depression is to blame.  That while Williams technically had a choice, the state of his mind on that final day was such that he believed the little voice that whispered about hopelessness.  In that moment, I don’t know if he believed there was no other choice, but he obviously believed there was no better choice, and it’s one of those situations where the very action proves that something was wrong in the deepest parts of his mind.  And if your mind is betraying you, are you really making a choice at all?

I don’t know the answers.  Like so many, I’m still reeling from losing this amazing talent in this most tragic of circumstances.  And it might be that it hits harder because we all knew about his long-time fight with his various demons, and as much as we admired him for his talent, we admired him even more for his honesty and resiliency. 

And of all the terrifying parts of depression, maybe that’s the most terrifying part of all: that regardless of your strength, sometimes the demons still win.

Facebook Friday, July 18

 

Just yesterday, I was despairing the state of the world. 

Today, the local child who was the subject of the amber alert last night has already been found safely, and, a friend on Facebook shred the most amazing video. Faith in humanity: restored.

And Now, a Word from the Germans

 

I’ve never been fond of the idea of a mid-life crisis; it seems a little pretentious, don’t you think?  Trying to hang on to a youth that’s passed you by, making yourself seem to be something you are not, mourning a loss of something that may never have really existed to begin with.  It just all seems a little over the top and unnecessary to me.  Not to mention that it sounds overwhelmingly terrifying.  I mean, it’s got the word crisis right in the name.

Having said all that, though, I have to confess that I feel I may be falling into one.  Or maybe not, I don’t know.  I do know that these menopause symptoms, coupled with other niggling health issues, are making me a little crazy.  I know that I feel a kind of constant melancholy that is not normal for me.  I feel that I should re-examine my career choices and wonder if I’m doing the thing that I’m meant to be doing.  I wonder if there is still time to repair the rather distant relationship that exists between my son and I.  I wonder if I’ve done enough good in my lifetime.  Really, I wonder an awful lot of things, and mostly my wonderings reach no definitive answer.

I’ve spent quite a bit of time lately perusing the pages of webmd, the Mayo clinic, and other medical sites reassuring myself that the things I’m feeling are normal, and I’m not really slipping into some sort of break from reality, but knowing that I’m not alone in these feelings hasn’t really been all that comforting.  And, knowing that these feelings are likely not permanent hasn’t been much of a relief, either, because it seems I’ve still got quite a ways to go before my symptoms are likely to diminish.

So why talk about it if there’s nothing much to do except muddle through?  I don’t know.  Maybe if I can still reason it out, that makes it seem like a bit less of a “crisis”.  Or maybe just as a way to let some of it out safely, because actually talking about all of it out loud to someone might make me sound even crazier than I feel.  Or maybe just because that’s what I do here—talk about things that are on my mind, and this is front and center today.

But I still don’t like the idea of a mid-life crisis.  I was watching a rerun of Big Bang Theory today, and Sheldon was talking about a German word for a feeling of depression that comes from comparing how life is to how you imagine it should be.  He called it “weltschmerz”, and I think that’s the root of most folks’ mid-life crisis: that life just hasn’t developed exactly as we thought that it would and we’re running out of time to change it. 

But, whether it is or isn’t the true underlying cause, at least it doesn’t sound quite as alarming as a mid-life crisis.  Yeah, no crisis for me if I can help it.  In fact, I believe I shall begin calling my situation “age-induced temporary weltschmerz”.   Thanks, Sheldon.

Twenty Eight Years and Counting

 

 

Like most little girls (or maybe just most girls), I had an dream of how married life would be and exactly what the “perfect husband” would be.  And, like many dreams, it turned out to be a lot different from reality.

But part of growing up is realizing that even though reality might not have a lot of similarities to dreams, it can still be just as good.  For instance, in my dreams, I wouldn’t have imagined an anniversary celebration consisting of lazing around, having a nice, leisurely lunch just talking to each other, and trying to map out the beginnings of a retirement strategy.  And if I had imagined it, I think I might’ve thought it was more nightmare than dream.  But you know what?  I would’ve been wrong.

After spending close to three decades living with someone day after day—and all of the challenges that come with that—there’s a feeling of contentment and belonging that comes from still enjoying a day just hanging out together, and a feeling of safety that comes from realizing that both of you still think it’s going to last for the rest of your lives.  If that’s not the stuff that dreams are made of, I’m not sure what is.

Snapshot Sunday, Mother’s Day Edition

 

It’s Mother’s Day, and as every year for the past couple of decades, I miss my mama.  This year, I also miss my grandma.  And ever since the year he moved to California—even though he returned shortly thereafter—I have spent Mother’s Day away from my son, so I’m missing him, too.  Not to be all caught up in a pity party, but it’s really starting to bother me that a day that’s supposed to be a special celebration for me always leaves me sad and crying. 

On the upside, Brian and I went up to my office today and did a bit of housekeeping, since I’ve changed offices and haven’t had a chance to move my stuff.  And after that, we went for dinner at Ted’s, which I may have mentioned before is my favorite restaurant ever.  I appreciate that Brian indulges me, even though he’s not fond of the place.

But, this is Snapshot Sunday, so here are some photos of the two ladies who were always there for me as I was growing up, and beyond. 

Ties that Bind

 

I’ve been thinking a lot about family lately.  Or, more accurately, what makes family.  There’s biology, of course, or sometimes legal unions.  But that makes relatives, which is not necessarily the same thing.

And, as I most always do, when I dwell too long on the topic of family, I also begin to dwell on my mom, and how much I really wish she was still around.  In this particular instance, because I think there are still some lessons I need her to teach me. 

She was one of those people who could make family out of anybody; she had a way of cultivating genuine love and concern for people, and people returned that affection.  But she also had a way of making actual family feel like it was important to belong to that select group—knowing that there was always a safe haven in any sort of storm, and being grateful for that sort of security.

Now it seems maybe I took that too much for granted; maybe I didn’t realize that those sorts of feelings don’t happen naturally, that they have to be coaxed and tended and cherished.  But, having realized that, I fear that it may be too late, that maybe I didn’t recognize it soon enough, and some relationships are already lost.  Or, maybe sometimes “family” is only one way; that’s possible, even if it’s not ideal.  I’m not sure, and I’ll probably never be sure, not entirely.  All I know for certain is that family matters to me, and you can bet I’ll be thinking even more, trying to figure out what it might take to make it important to others.

TBT

 

Once a week social media gets inundated with postings tagged with #tbt.  It’s Throwback Thursday, where people take a stroll down a photographic memory lane.  I have yet to dig out any of my own pictures from back in the day, but I like to see the ones my friends post; they make me smile.

I still didn’t find any pictures this week, but the hashtag did get my memory to wandering, probably heightened by an upcoming holiday family gathering.  And mostly what my memories tell me is that I really miss the good ol’ days.  My son will almost certainly skip the gathering, as he has grown distant from the family.  And, of course, my granny won’t be there, and I find that’s hitting me a little bit harder than I would’ve expected. 

It occurs to me today that the union of my personal Venn diagram of perfect holidays—those that I can spend with my mother, grandmother, sister, and son—is very small, and it’s never going to get any bigger. It also occurs to me that a couple of weeks of just not feeling well has  put me in a fairly melancholy mood, and this sadness that I feel is exaggerated.  But that doesn’t change the fact that I am sad, and I really do miss the times that seemed simpler, happier.  And while a silly little hashtag topic is probably not intended to bring about such gloominess, I think there’s little doubt that a yearning for simpler times is what brought about the theme to begin with, and keeps person after person posting photos from decades ago.  Which, of course, leads to the inevitable question:  will these days ever be considered the good ol’ days for some future generation.  It seems almost impossible, but the photos we take this weekend may someday be our children’s #tbt.

Snapshot Sunday (Sort Of), March 30

 

 

 

  So, a cheat for a snapshot, but this is what’s on my mind this weekend.  It could be a time of big changes in the household, and it’s all revolving around the suit.  You see, Brian has a job interview tomorrow—his first “real” interview in almost twenty-nine years.  That’s how long he’s been working at the local AFB, and though he’s changed positions there a few times—and had some interviews to go with those new positions—he’s now seriously considering leaving the security of federal employment and venturing back into the private sector.

And, yeah, even having lived through a few furloughs during his tenure, there’s still no denying that working for the fed is much more stable than working out in the real world.  But, stability often comes at a price, and in this situation, the price is working at a job that is simply no longer satisfying.

Anyway, that’s where the suit comes in.  Brian’s not really a suit guy, and has managed through his lifetime owning pretty much just one of them.  As you might imagine, it’s not exactly in-style these days, so we went shopping last week for a nice, basic suit.  We found a decent one for a reasonable price, and the tailoring was finished today, just in time for the big day tomorrow.

Needless to say, he’s a little bit nervous.  He’s feeling out of his element in a whole lot of ways, and I think having to put on a suit and tie is somehow serving as a tangible reminder that he’s stepping far outside his comfort zone.  Of course, it’s really a job he’s perfect for, but we all know people don’t always get the jobs they’re perfect for.  He’s had plenty of experience with that working for Uncle Sam.  Personally, I think glaring oversights happen less frequently in the private sector, so I have a pretty good feeling about the job, but he’s not really interested in a bunch of platitudes, so my current unease mostly has to do with not really knowing how to help calm his. 

And, after the interview will come the waiting, so the sense of unease will continue for a while, but sometimes you just have to make yourself do things that aren’t comfortable, if that’s what it takes to help move into a situation that makes you happy.  Even if it means wearing a suit.

Where There’s No Will, There’s No Way

 

I had it all worked out: I was going to go on a pretty well thought out rant about the most recent episode of The Good Wife, talking all about how a show that I have loved for the past four+ years has just likely sealed its fate for me and ensured that this season five will be the last I tune in, even though just a couple of weeks ago I was thrilled to hear it had been renewed for season six.

Instead, I had to come home and do a whole bunch of homework that I’d been neglecting, and now I really need to go to bed, since I will have to be up in about six and a half hours.  So, here’s the shortened version of that rant:  (And, be forewarned, there’s a major spoiler ahead.)

As I mentioned, I’ve been watching The Good Wife for several years, since it premiered, in fact.  And I love it.  Even though this season has caused me some angst, and though the last couple of episodes I’ve had to view sporadically, and I’ve sort of been annoyed with the direction it was heading.  And, truth be told, I’ve sort of been annoyed by Will Gardner, the male lead of the show, and a verifiable cutie pie.

Even this week, I was pre-occupied with something while the show was on—more homework I think.  Whatever it was, I was only keeping half an eye on the show.  But when the shots rang out in the courtroom, it got my full attention.  And when Kalinda and Diane both started desperately trying to get to Will’s courtroom, I got a pit in my stomach.  I knew then, or at least had an inkling.  And when they showed that lone shoe lying in the floor, then moved to the still, shoeless foot, I declared out loud, “If they kill Will, I’m going to quit watching.”  And then, when they showed Will, on the floor, shot, bleeding, barely alive, I knew I was losing a friend.  It was a surprise—a shock—but in those few moments leading up to the terrible reality, I already knew.

So, by the time Diane and Kalinda finally found his lifeless body back in a curtained room of the E.R., I was already numb.  Much as the characters were. 

And now, I am torn between being amazed by the way this huge turn of events was kept secret to provide that oh-so-rare moment of true surprise (since apparently it’s been in the works for close to a year now), and totally peeved that I didn’t have some warning to prepare me.

And, while I understand the idea of people needing to move on to other things, as was apparently Josh Charles’ desire, as a long-time fan, I am also completely saddened that the fundamental make-up of the program has been changed in a split second.  Because, while the show is clearly about Alicia Florick, the best stories have always been about Alicia Florick and Will Gardner.  And, yeah, even though she’s supposed to be “the good wife” to her wandering and questionable politician husband, I’ll admit that I’ve always assumed Alicia and Will would finally find a way to be together forever.  That’s how it was supposed to happen.  I had it all worked out, if only somebody would’ve asked me.

So, I will watch the remainder of this season, and I will work through my grief for Will as the characters do, and I will give them a chance to convince me that the shots in that courtroom weren’t really the death knell for this show.  Personally, I don’t think they have much of a chance; in the long run, I think they’ve probably lost a viewer (and maybe a bunch of them), but I will see if they can succeed. 

And, for the record, just in case they realize the tragic mistake that’s been made, and would like to correct it somewhere down the road, I’ve got that all worked out, too.  I’ll be waiting for somebody to ask me this time.

Heartbreaking Message

 

My heart breaks today for the families of flight 370, even more than it has been breaking for the past weeks.  I can’t imagine waiting for so long, hoping for a miracle, only to be told by text message that your hoping had been in vain.   Not that there’s a good way to deliver such news, but there are ways that are more bad than others, and I’m pretty sure text messaging is pretty close to the top of the bad list. 

Still, the worst part has to be that they have essentially been asked to accept on faith that their loved ones are gone.  Is it possible that all aboard have perished?  Of course.  Does that seem even the most likely scenario?  Maybe.  But after seventeen days of waiting, seventeen days when I am sure that they have poured every bit of faith they could muster into believing in some other answer—any other answer—they’ve now been told to quit hoping.  They’ve been told to believe in the magic of untested technology to determine the final passage of those most important to them.  I can understand their grief—and their anger.

Watching the news tonight, Brian commented that he was surprised by the families’ reactions, that by now they should have prepared themselves for this result.  But even he, who clearly has so little understanding of the human capacity for hope and faith, couldn’t believe that such a final announcement would be made without some actual physical evidence. 

I said earlier something that we say all the time: “I can’t imagine . .”, but the truth is, I can imagine.  My imaginings might not be correct, and maybe in their situation I would feel totally different than how it seems I would feel, but I can imagine.  I imagine I would be hurt, and angry, and lost, and a whole host of other emotions.  I imagine that I would not want someone to shatter what faith I had managed to cultivate and preserve until such time as there was no other option.  And, if it reached the point where my faith had to be shattered, I imagine I would not want it shattered by text message.  I imagine I would be inconsolable.

And because I can imagine all of that and more, my heart breaks for them today.

 

A Mother’s Worry

 

“A mother who is really a mother is never free.” ~ Honoré de Balzac

 

My guess is that there aren’t too many parents out there who haven’t spent at least a few passing moments fearing that they just aren’t up to the job.  I know I’ve certainly done my share of wondering where I messed up and how I could’ve done things better.  Most times I simply have to remind myself that there was never a moment that I didn’t do the best I knew how to do at the time, and accept that there really isn’t much more than that to do.

Of course, I really have these moments of self-doubt at times when my son is facing any sort of difficulty in his life, particularly if it’s difficulty that he has either brought on himself or is somehow exacerbating.  Those are the times when I think perhaps I somehow didn’t prepare him adequately, or led him astray in some way.  But the truth is, it’s only my opinion that he might have caused or exacerbated his own problems, and I naturally have advice on ways to resolve difficult situations.  He frequently doesn’t agree with me, or at least doesn’t take my advice on how to fix things.  There are many times when it becomes painfully clear that we share a different world view on some key issues.  And even though that hurts sometimes, and even though I may remain convinced he’s not making good decisions, I have to recognize that he knows how to disagree with me because I spent his whole life trying to make sure he understood the importance of thinking for himself.  There are times I wish he hadn’t learned that lesson quite so well, and that I could simply tell him what to do and he’d blindly obey, but I know that would be doing him a disservice.  So I will continue to worry that perhaps I haven’t done as well as I might have hoped in the parenting department, and I will worry that my son may not always be taking the best path for his life, but I will try to cling to the idea that at least he’s following a path that he had the strength to choose for himself.

One More Day

 

So, the week of exams is almost over, and while I intentionally saved what I believed would be the hardest sections for the last day, I’m really stressing now.  Thinking maybe I should have spread out the level of difficulty a little bit, or something.  And, based on the practice questions I’ve been working on today, apparently when answering a True/False question, I should simply make my decision and then mark the opposite.

Thank goodness the tests are offered again in May.

Nagging Fear

 

So, apparently my current streak lasted all of one day.  The perils of being dependent upon someone else’s technology, I suppose, include inconsistent web access.  Dang it.

I’ve got a not-so-secret secret.  Just about everyone who knows me knows it.  Heck, I may have even confessed it here on these pages sometime in the past.  The secret?  I’m a ‘fraidy-cat.  No, seriously, Things scare me. Lots of things.  Flying.  High places in general (if you can see out; being inside tall buildings isn’t too much of an issue as long as I stay away from windows).  Driving over bridges.  I don’t know, now that I think about it, maybe it’s just heights, but it feels like more than that.  Really, I think it’s the unknown, and a lack of control.  And, of course, heights.

I’ve lived with being a ‘fraidy-cat all my life, and I mostly manage just fine, though I do think sometimes it prevents me from doing things I might actually enjoy.  A couple of years ago, when we took a tour in a seaplane up in Vancouver, I was terrified.  Literally, white-knuckled terrified the entire time.  But I can’t deny it was beautiful, and I’m glad I fought my fear and did it.  I’m not sure I’d do it again, but I’m still glad I did it once.

As I read through my study guide preparing for the Certified Paralegal exam that I’ve got coming up next week, I feel that fear of the unknown again.  And another fear that I haven’t mentioned yet but that many people are more familiar with: the fear of failure.  That’s a big one, and sometimes it can be paralyzing.  I was scared when I started back to school last year, but I not only survived, but even thrived.  And I was scared when I returned to the work into a brand new field force this past summer, but that has worked out okay, too.  So I’m truly glad I worked through my fear and made myself take those steps.  In those cases, I might even do them again. 

But this exam . . . it’s weird the way everything I’ve been studying for the past fifteen months or so seems to have flown right out of my head.  But the one fact I can’t seem to shake is the ugly statistic that less than 40% of applicants pass the CP the first time around.  Forty percent.  That’s crazy.  And, if you ask me, something to be scared about.  But still, I sit here and I study, reading, highlighting, taking notes, trying to commit it all to memory.   Because I know that I will overcome my fear of this exam and make myself take it.  But, like so many things, I’m not sure I could make myself do it a second time, so I really need to make the first time count. 

Still Growing Strong

 

“It takes a long time to grow an old friend.”

~ John Leonard

I know that sometimes I complain about getting old—all the aches and pains and slowing down that goes along with it.  And it’s true that there are many reasons I wish my body today was in the shape it was twenty or thirty years ago.  But, back in those days, I couldn’t fully appreciate the value of having a good friend by your side during those passing decades. 

As I’ve likely said before, for me, Kim is that friend, and we got the opportunity to spend the day together today, the first time in a long time.  There was laughter and talking, laughter and shopping, laughter and eating, and then just some flat-out laughter.  Get the picture?

If you’ve got one of those treasured people in your life, I highly recommend finding a day on the calendar for doing nothing but being friends.  It’s one of the very best things about growing older. 

A Moment of Fear

 

Just so you know, there’s no real point to the following story, just a little slice of life from my day . . .

Have I mentioned before that I think my office is haunted?  Yeah.  I’m frequently the last one at work in the evening, and there have been a couple of times I could have sworn I heard voices, even though no one else was there.  Kinda creepy.  But I don’t think spirits had anything to do with the scare I had today. 

I was once again alone at the office, trying to finish a project while dealing with computers that were not functioning properly after a power surge that happened right at 5:00.  Anyway, somewhere around 5:30/6:00, I thought I heard something up on the roof.  Now, our parking lot is on the roof, but like I said, I was the only one in our office, and the neighbors who share our roof-top parking are government employees, so I was quite certain I wasn’t hearing them at such a late hour.  So I wandered down our hallway, trying to get a better understanding of what I was hearing, when I realized I wasn’t hearing somebody on the roof, but rather, in the ceiling.  You know, like up in the attic space where all the ductwork is and all.  That sort of freaked me out, since I knew we weren’t having any work done, and I still thought it was kind of weird to be having any sort of activity after business hours.  But I just kept hearing somebody doing something up in the ceiling.  Finally, after about ten or fifteen minutes of hearing these random noises, I decided I should set the alarm to make myself feel better.  Not that the alarm would do much good if crazed criminals decided to bust down through the ceiling tiles, of course, but it did make me feel better.

And, just shortly after setting the alarm, the noises died down.  I convinced myself that it was just coincidence, not that I’d scared anybody off with the rather noisy process of getting the alarm system armed.  After all, I knew I was still going to be there a while, and then I’d have to walk out onto that rooftop parking lot all by myself; I didn’t want to think about somebody being up in the rafters. 

So, the clock keeps ticking, I finish my project, and finally, about 645, I was ready to go home.  I gather up my stuff and make a stop in the break room to fill my water glass, and I realize I’m really not looking forward to the trek to my car.  I decide I’m going to call Brian while I’m walking out, and I’m trying to figure out how I’m going to juggle my purse, water glass, and keys, along with the manila envelope I’ve got to take to the mailbox, all while walking up a flight of stairs and talking on my cell phone. Not to mention I’ve got to disarm the alarm, and then set it again as I head out.  I’m not sure I’ve got that kind of coordination.  It was one of the few times I’ve ever wished I had jumped on the Bluetooth headphone craze.

Anyway, as I’m pondering how I’m going to pull off this feat, the silence is suddenly shattered by the ear-splitting sound of the alarm siren blaring through the building.  It is such a fortunate thing I had made a trip to the bathroom just a few minutes earlier, or I probably would have peed my pants.  Oh my gosh, my heart was suddenly pounding a million miles an hour, and my brain was racing about what I should do, though the rest of me was pretty much frozen in place. 

After a few (eternal) seconds, I realized that no crazed criminals had come rushing down the hallway, so I was probably still alone in the office, alarm clamoring notwithstanding.  And then I realized that even if someone had come through one of the alarmed doors, the system should not have alerted immediately like it did, because I hadn’t set it to do that.  Maybe this was the ghosts after all.  Or maybe just a malfunctioning security system.  So, I forced myself to walk over to the control panel and shut off the noise, then listened for more seconds to make sure I really was still alone.  And though it seemed I was, my heart was still pounding, and I was actually shaking just a little.  Wow.  I can’t believe how immediately and truly terrified I was.

I did manage to clear my befuddled brain enough to make a phone call to the boss’ wife to let her know what was going on, since I knew the alarm company would be calling her soon, and I explained that I really didn’t know why the alarm went off; I’m hoping maybe tomorrow she’ll have someone out to look at it.  Like I said, I’m frequently alone at the office, and I’d really rather not have another of those terrifying moments any time soon.  Of course, if it really was the office ghosts, then a repairman might not be much help, but I’ve got my fingers crossed for a more earthly explanation.

Oh, and in case you’re wondering, I finally decided I really wasn’t coordinated enough to get out with all my stuff, and I absolutely was not making two trips out to that roof, so I opted to sacrifice my water glass in exchange for being able to call Brian on my way out.  And, I typically park toward the far end of our parking lot, just to squeeze in a few extra steps every day, though after slowly opening that outside door tonight (and why do we not have a peep hole, btw?), and seeing my car so very far away, I may have to rethink that practice going forward. 

Anyway, since I’m sitting here telling you all about my scaredy-cat moment, it’s obvious that there were no lurking loonies waiting in the dark, and I made it to my car safely.  Still, tomorrow I might have to think about leaving with the crowd.

 

A Long and Winding Road

 

  Grief is a strange thing.  It’s not linear, or predictable.  In fact, it’s twisty, and stealthy, and strikes out of nowhere.  When you lose someone, you spend a while being sad every day, but then, eventually, you start getting back to your regular self.  One day, you have the realization that you got through a full twenty-four hours without shedding a tear, and it would seem like some sort of progress, except that as soon as the thought passes through your mind, the tears begin to flow.   It’s been ten weeks since my granny died, and I still have those moments that suddenly overwhelm.

  I was caused to think about this after seeing one of our clients today.  Actually, her husband was our client first, but then he passed away early this year.  She chose to continue the suit, and she was a strong, put-together woman these few months that I’ve known her.  She came to pick up her settlement check today, which brought to an end something that she’s been hanging on to for a long time.  Most people are glad when they get some money at the end of a long lawsuit; she only seemed sad.  We chatted for a couple of minutes, and as she was leaving, I wished her a happy holiday season.  She’s an honest lady, and very matter-of-factly told me she didn’t expect it to be good; in fact, it was going to be very hard.  Of course, that’s not the kind of thing you can argue with, or smooth over with some sort of platitude, so I just told her to stay strong, cherish memories, and take care of herself. I’ve never lost a spouse, but I certainly know the difficulty of facing the first holiday without someone important.  And, it brought home to me that I’ll be having another of those firsts just a week from now.  I wasn’t ready for that thought to pop up like that, and it hasn’t left me yet. 

But Thanksgiving really is just around the corner (with Christmas then lurking just behind that), and it’s supposed to be a time of celebration and gratitude, a day set aside simply to give thanks for all that you have, though that can be hard when you can’t stop thinking about what’s missing.  I hope our client and I can both find a way to enjoy the day, anyway.

*Image courtesy of Simon Howden at FreeDigitalPhotos.net

More Than a Game

 

I’ve been thinking about yesterday’s football game, and I’ve decided that six words just aren’t enough to dedicate to the afternoon, so I’m going to chat about it just a little bit more today.

First, let me just say that I was totally overwhelmed to simply have the tickets given to me, particularly by my boss.  Well, okay, technically by my boss’ wife, but still.  They’re a couple, there were two tickets, you gotta figure they at least halfway came from my boss.  Anyway, I thought it was very nice, especially since I still feel like something of an outsider at the office, even after almost six months.  So it was nice.

And, as I believe I may have mentioned, they were excellent seats.  Brian kept saying he was sure someone was going to realize we didn’t really belong and come kick us out.  Silly man.  But he really enjoyed the location.  And it really was a different perspective than from the cheap seats we usually inhabit.

But, besides the normal football playing, we got to see a couple of other things during the game, as well.  For one thing, there was the goofball who decided to run out onto the field during a commercial break.  Who ever knows what people are thinking when they do such foolishness, but the fans gave a roar of appreciation for the highway patrolman who brought the guy down.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Of more significance, though, was an event that happened earlier in the game.  You know those surprise military reunions that make the rounds of news clips and YouTube posts?  Well, we were treated to seeing one live, and if you ever think those videos are doctored or something to make them more emotional, I’m here to say that they are not. 

At each home game, OU has a military recognition moment; whether an active duty or vet, they recognize someone who has served.  So it didn’t seem all that strange when they were recognizing a man who was still serving in Afghanistan.  His family was on the field to accept on his behalf, and he had a taped message to play on the big screen.  But then the Sooner Schooner was coming out onto the field, and the crowd—and his family—realized what was happening.  It was great to see and there were giant smiles and misty eyes all over that stadium.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

So, all in all, free tickets and great seats weren’t anywhere near the best things about the day, and I’m really glad we were there to take it all in.

Drama Free is the Way to Be

 

“The best way of removing negativity is to laugh and be joyous.”

~ David Icke

I’m not a fan of drama.  In life, I mean.  Television, movies, books—bring it on.  But when it comes to every day living, I’d prefer things be a little more humdrum.  But some people seem to thrive on drama.  Always looking for something to gripe about, dwelling on bad situations, quick to take offense.  I’m sure you know the type.  Not that we need to bury our heads in the sand and pretend that life is just a bunch of roses, but I just don’t see the point in choosing to be mired in such a way of thinking that you end up spreading drama wherever you go.

Except for some family members that I’m pretty much stuck with (can’t choose family, you know), I’m lucky not to have a whole lot of drama-ridden negative Nellies in my midst.  Though, honestly, that’s not all luck; except for family, I do get a whole lot of choice in who I spend time with, so I try to choose wisely.  But today I ran smack-dab into a bit of drama courtesy of a classmate.  Her dramatic method of choice is the quick to take offense and then lash out variety.  I know this about her; I’ve seen it in action before.  So you’d think I wouldn’t be surprised when it happened again, this time with her negativity aimed in my direction, but surprise me it did.  And, as drama is wont to do, it managed to seep into my brain and put a cloud over my whole day.  That’s my fault, of course; I shouldn’t let other people’s wackiness have such an impact on me, but sometimes it’s hard to take a step back and ignore it. 

Still, at this point, I’ve had my say, addressed the perceived insult with an apology (since I honestly did not mean to offend), and have gone on about my business.  But it doesn’t feel resolved, and I feel pretty sure things will be tense when we see each other again tomorrow.  That’s the way it is with drama—it likes to linger.  But, I know that I can’t do more than I’ve done; things will either be okay or they will not.  Obviously, I hope for the “okay” resolution, but I’ll admit that there are days when I completely understand reclusive hermit types, and think it would be better if we all just lived in our own little bubbles and didn’t have to interact with each other at all.

Anyway, I just wanted to get it off my chest a little bit, and say that each time I run into such drama, I am a little confused, and frustrated, and saddened.  But, with all due respect to Mr. Icke, I think tonight the best way of getting rid of negativity and moving on from the drama is to see what happened on tonight’s episode of White Collar, so that’s what I’m going to do, and hopefully before this headache takes over and the med I just took for it wins out and I find myself sound asleep on the couch again!

Good night, and I wish you all a sunshiny and fun Friday, completely drama free.