Okay. Again, all apologies. I missed my blog yesterday. To my defense, I was really f!@#ing busy.
Wake up.
Biscuit baking.
Laptop prepping.
MSS prepping (for those of you outside of the literary world MSS = manuscripts).
Drive to Dunn Brothers.
Order coffee for me.
Order fruit smoothie for Jules.
Talk to Blake.
Write (non blog writing...stories dammit).
Iron Man 2 (RDJ + Scarlet Johansson = One damn fine summer movie)
Potbelly sandwiches for lunch.
Drive home.
Drive to mom's home.
Eat fish tacos (Jason – I'm sure Andrea and Dad got sick from something else...I'm sure of it).
Watch mom open her new coffee maker (We finally got her a BUNN coffee maker after 20 some years of buying cheap pieces of shit coffee makers for her for Mother's Day – it only took us 20 years, ma!)
Play city game.
Play robotic arm stuffed bear flinging.
Oh, yeah! Robotic arm stuffed bear flinging.
I'm sure you are absolutely mystified. Let me explain. At Christmas time, we were over at mom's and looking for something to do. My girls had two stuffed teddy bears they were playing with and my mom has one of those robotic arm grabby things for helping shorties get canned goods off the top shelves of cupboards. So the girls were tossing their bears to each other and giggling. Then like a fat ninja, I crept into mom's kitchen, swiped the robotic arm grabby thing and waited in the doorway of the kitchen to reach out and surprisingly grab the stuffed bear out of the air and consequently scare the bejesus out of the girls.
So I waited. At the first sign of fluffy bear, I slung the robotic arm grabby thing out quick as a panther and ZAP, grabbed the bear out of the air on the first try. Robotic Arm Grabby Thing Olympics – here we come!
Well, the girls of course thought this was just awesome, and quite frankly, who wouldn't? So for like two hours, we played robotic arm stuffed bear flinging. Christa just loved this. She giggled into such a stupor, she collapsed on the floor. Literally.
She's kind of a giggler.
So on Christmas Day, I invented Robotic Arm Stuffed Bear Flinging.
Yesterday, to break up matches of Caracasonne or Carcinoma or Cacaphony or whatever that city tile game is called, my brother invented Robotic Arm Troll Doll Basketball, which as you can imagine, involves using the robotic arm grabby thing to pick up troll dolls and shoot them a la basketball into a cardboard box ten feet away. The girls went crazy for this. So we invented a new rule that incorporated my brother trying to shoot troll baskets with the robotic arm grabby thing, while me and the girls threw troll dolls at him.
Try that Lebron!
It was a riot. When my brother left to play Catacombia or Catatonia or whatever that city tile game is called, the girls wanted to play Robotic Arm Stuffed Bear Flinging. So I said, go find those bears and we'll play. So they found some bears. They weren't the same bears we played with at Christmas time, but they were stuffed bears nonetheless. There weren't any better bears across the land to play Robotic Arm Stuffed Bear Flinging.
So we flung bears like there was no tomorrow. Christa giggled to the floor after I masterfully zinged one past her ear. Julia laughed as she caught the bear in her chest. Bears hit walls. Bears went downstairs. Hell bears were even hitting non-participants in the head (Sorry, honey). There was much laughing and giggling.
We had played for an hour, when my mom said, “Those aren't my stuffed bears from my very special stuffed bear treasure chest downstairs, are they?”
Umm.
To be completely honest, I was but the bear flinger. I had nothing to do with said procurement of any stuffed bears. So I was blissfully ignorant of their prior whereabouts.
But Christa had a very guilty look on her face. She had “found” the bears somewhere. So I said, “Christa were you aware of any treasure chest of bears in the vicinity of the house downstairs?” Okay, I didn't say it like that. I felt a Seussian vibe building there.
Anyway, Robotic Arm Stuffed Bear Flinging had stop. We got in trouble.
I think about this fun on my last day before going back to work. Monday becomes a regular Monday again. And I can't help but feel sad. I mean, I'm glad to have a job and provide stability for my family, but I'll miss my long walks with the dog, my preparations of new meals for dinner, working on this blog. It's another change that I'll have to get used to.
Back when I got laid off in January, I accepted the fate of it and admitted that change was good, but here I am again, on the cusp of another change and don't feel the same way about it. Maybe it's because the changes are too close to each other. Maybe it's just that with change comes worry. As with all change, accepting it doesn't make it any easier to get on with it.
So tomorrow, morning early, I'll drive down to the park and ride and wait for a bus to take me into the city to my new job. There is a perk – you can see Target Field from the conference room window. So that's cool. I guess I'll do what I have to do – adapt. Get in, meet new people, build new relationships and try and retool what I have done for the last seven years into a completely different process with another company.
What's so hard about that, right?
No comments:
Post a Comment