Smack On the Bottom

Easton, our beloved and adorable grandson, has discovered the refigerator. We have the kind with the freezer on the bottom. He's just the right height to 'help' get out ice cubes and then play in them for as long as we'll let him. Combine that with a dog who loves ice cubes and it's difficult to find the fish sticks with so much help! I'll try to get a picture to share. Truly adorable.

Thanks to Kristi for helping me think of something to write about. You're right, lettuce doesn't mold. Glad that's settled.

Overkill!!!

Writers are story tellers in our hearts. We can't wait for something interesting to happen in our lives so we can process it for a few minutes, days, weeks, and then share it with someone else.

Story telling is an ancient tradition that has transformed cultures. Unfortunately we no longer sit around a communal fire each night to cook our meals. We don't gather at the town well to draw water and share stories. In my circle we don't quilt, or raise barns, or even have a large family gathering as often as I would like.

Thus we are relegated to electronic communication. The problem is the loss of inflection. We can't twist the words ever so slightly to imply sarcasm, or indicate our enthusiasm for the climax of the tale by increasing the tempo. We are left with italics, bold-face type, and exclamation points. All sad imitations of the great art of the story told live.

This communicative style has crept into my work place. I had an IM conversation with a coworker with whom I was having a disagreement. This discourse was so distressing that I printed it to save, to show others what a jerk he had been and how righteous I was in not stooping to his level. The third party I handed it to for review looked at me in all seriousness and said, "Don't ever have a conversation like that again over IM." Why not, I wanted to know. He pointed out that because of the way I've learned to talk to people via IM doesn't leave me smelling like a rose in this situation. Sure enough, there were exclamation points all over the place!

He also reminded me, that just like I had done, the other party probably printed and saved the conversation. That's not a good thing.

Once a Day

My darling husband Jeff says one funny thing per day. It's not like he plans it, life just happens that way.

Saturday we were camped out in lawn chairs on the main street of town watching classic and hot rod cars cruise by. Americruise comes to Lincoln every June and it's a blast. A 1930s Chrysler painted a lovely cameo pink rolls by. Jeff says, "Oh look, the first Mary Kay car."

He's too cute.

New Boss starts Monday

We still call it Diane's office, will be that to us for a while, even after Kendra moves in. After our amazing director left us in early June we all thought it would be September or October before she was replaced. That's how things move in university time.

Lo and behold, there was someone available who could start July 1. Amazing! The search process requirement was waived. The interview process condensed to one day. We gave our feedback. It wasn't glowing. We all like her and think she'll be a good fit here. She's a woman of integrity and has great experiences, they just have nothing to do with what it is we do here.

Not sure who to feel most sorry for, those of us who miss Diane, or Kendra who has no idea what she's getting into.

the breakup, follow-up

Her husband called my husband to talk. The guys were almost as close as we were. He wasn't upset, just wanted my husband to know that she had cried all night. She understood that the friendship was ending. So not what I intended. This isn't over. Still lots of praying, and hopefully lots of sharing to be done.

The Road Not Taken

I Googled an old boyfriend. What an interesting experience. He was an interesting experience! We met just as he was ending his foreign exchange year here in the states. He is from Oslo Norway. We swapped letters and dreamed of meeting again. But like all high school summer romances, except in Grease, it ended.

Stig is his name. He was part of the Norwegian Olympic cross country ski team. Oh yes, the legs were amazing. I knew his dad was a doctor and he was planning to go to med school.

Google was kind, the list was long. Seems he's not only a doctor, but the Orthopedic Surgeon for the Norwegian Olympic team and an internationally published researcher. I could have lived my life in Norway the wife of a minor celebrity. Oh well...

the breakup

She was waiting in the booth when I got there like so many times before. I even knew what she'd order. Only this wasn't just like every other time, one of us was holding back. We swapped our kid stories, kids whose lives were maybe more entwined than our own. We gave updates about our widowed moms. The fries 'extra crispy' came and I watched as the ketchup flowed onto the plate and the salt sprinkle melted into the puddle of red. I couldn't eat. Wasn't hungry. That had never stopped me before, but tonight I just wasn't interested in food. I wanted this meeting to end, had wanted it to end from the moment the date was made.

Here's why you're not hearing from me: and then I faltered, I struggled, I even pointed out how hard it was to get the words out of my mouth. No, you haven't offended me, per se. No, you haven't done or said anything that's made me mad, not really. You just don't enhance my life, but that's not as selfish as it might sound. Wait! That's not what I mean.

Then it happened. She quit listening. Just stopped. The eyes averted. The reach for the check and the purse. She was done. I asked if we couldn't dialogue. She said she wouldn't be calling any more. She had appreciated my friendship and support in the past and would be sad to not have that any more. She also didn't understand how she could 'fix' things if no one would tell her what was wrong. I asked if she could take a step back and look at her life from another perspective and see what advise she would give herself. I said I wasn't willing to laundry list the issues, that's not what adults do to each other. But she was gone, not physically, but gone.

We walked to our cars separately.