Hello Dear
How’s work today? Nice weather we’re having, huh? Please pick up some bread on the way home.
Six Months Gone By
It’s already June, yet I still feel as if I’m back in February. Though many fun things have happened (trips to Asia and Hawaii) my body and brain have been in stress mode since last year. There’s been a lot of physical work this year–hauling and tearing down wood, re-tiling living rooms, and the yearly weed/brush abatement that we must comply with.
There’s so much left to do, so much I wanted to accomplish this year, but as each day and month pass, I find myself becoming more discouraged that I’ll get to half of it.
I suppose I can be hopeful then that 2010 will be a year of peace and laziness.
I obviously haven’t kept up with this blog, and I find it a touch ironic that I felt like writing something on the day my computer went kaputz. (Using mom’s computer now.) I am looking forward to a new computer, but not to looking at specs and choosing components.
I’m only rambling now so I don’t have to put on the work clothes and go haul more wood. But I can’t think of anything right now. *sigh*
Back to work.
Defying Stereotypes
Dinner at a diner. A family consisting of grandfather, grandmother, daughter, daughter’s husband, and children. Nothing extraordinary. The kids are well-behaved for kids, munching on french fries. The adults are having lively conversation without being rude to those around them. Grandfather is mostly silent, but has captured my complete attention. His wavy white hair curls around his ears and barely brushes the collar of his turtleneck. He is quite tall and slender, in a gray jacket with matching slacks. His style is impeccable. He is the image of “dapper.” He doesn’t belong in this diner. He belongs at a fancy steakhouse somewhere, smoking a cigar, and engaging in intelligent political and/or philosophical dialogue with his peers.
But that’s not why I couldn’t stop staring.
Despite all the dapper, this elegant gentleman who never once put his elbows on the table proceeded to ball up half a dozen paper napkins throughout the evening and drop them, oh so subtly, to the ground. The first one, I thought, was an accident. Perhaps it slipped from his fingers while his hands were in his lap. But then, a second one. And by the time I was half-way through my short stack, he had a small cluster of little white balls gathered around his wing-tips. His expression never changed, and I suspect, his family is none the wiser of this little quirk.
People are amazing.
A different morning, at the intersection of a large but rarely congested street. A father, mother, and teenage daughter are out for their morning run. Dressed in matching jogging outfits, they sprint across the six lanes with gusto. I watch them, myself yawning and admiring their energy at eight in the morning. And then I laugh. Because as soon as they arrive at the opposite corner, all three come to a complete halt. To catch their breaths? No, simply to continue their morning stroll as they proceeded down the street in a leisurely manner, laughing and talking with each other. My kind of exercise. Slow and steady and with minimal sweating.
