Dance in the Stillness

January 30, 2009

I have the house to myself.

It’s been so long since it’s been this quiet. This still. So here I am, curled up under my comforter savoring the view of the small patch of grayish blue sky I can see while staring through the slightly parted curtains of my bedroom window. There is something so freeing about lying in bed in the middle of the day with the curtains open, letting in the sun and the sky and the light, not blocking it all out, not shutting it all away, even if I might want to nap a little or perhaps just close my eyes for a bit—just a few moments!—because I know it will still be there when I open my eyes again. The sun and the sky and the light. There. Quiet and still. In the middle of the day that is MINE. I can’t explain it! I can’t! It is just so.

The thin branches in the tree outside are softly swaying and waving as the bitter winter breeze batters and bends them, tearing from them any remnants of clinging leaves, setting them free. But these leaves, remainders of the fall, they don’t dance with the wind. They are crinkled and paper thin and they break apart, disintegrate before my eyes, and swirl and twirl away, painting the air with warm earthy hues of russets and browns until they are out of sight.

But I push these thoughts away, because it is my day, my light and sky and peace, and I am snug, burrowing deeply into the soft down duvet. I’m soothed, running my hands across the top of the blanket, savoring the feel of the smooth expanse of well-worn cotton against my palms while I again allow my thoughts to drift upwards and out. Unfortunately, my thoughts never will stay elevated for any great length of time, and while I want to close my eyes, to enjoy the peace, I quickly lose myself in thoughts of the mundane. Chores. Responsibilities. My developing MarioKart skills. How I really ought to be filming a TechnoGeekery episode or doing something productive, dammit, rather than burrowing away from everyone and everything, staring out the window. Frustrated, I close my eyes, which is particularly effective in shutting out unwanted, intruding thoughts. Ah, stillness. Quiet. Peace. Gradually, however, my thoughts slip into imagining that new pair of Uggs I am absolutely coveting because they may be the fugliest footwear imaginable, but DAAAY-UM they keep my tootsies toasty and make mighty fine slippers and my old pair have absolutely no traction and I don’t want to bust my ass again slipping down the icy steps…

I just opened my eyes and the digital clock on my bedside table caught my eye. It is staring at me in silent condemnation, all “Look at the time you wasted! Just LOOK!” With a rueful grin, I move to throw back the covers, and then another leaf catches my attention. It swirls and twirls and disappears from my view. Then another blows by… and another.

And I realize that I am holding on too tight, I’m not letting go, when I should be breaking free to dance with the wind, to swirl and whirl and paint the sky, lush forest green with hints of olive, goldenrod, and palest yellow, and perhaps even a thin streak of burgundy running throughout, with really only one possible destination, but it is okay, more than fine, because it is my time to fly, my journey to enjoy, not half-assed, but wholeheartedly.

I smile and sink back into my cocoon of blankets, stretch lazily, and welcome the sound of stillness as it washes over me, through me.

Let it blow, I think to myself. I’m ready to dance.

Random Thoughts on a Snowy, Dreary WAH Day

January 26, 2009

Sometimes during especially long meetings, thoughts tend to run through my mind unchecked as I daydream about the tasty animal crackers I have back at my desk or ponder why I am compelled to add “haha” any time someone says “brouhaha” or wonder why it is called “after dark” when it really is “after light” because, seriously, what is up with that?

Also, do you know what is an inherently funny word? Freckle. Right? Am I right? Honestly. When someone says “freckle” I just laugh and laugh…

Finally, you know that thing you do sometimes when you are all alone at night and you hear noises and maybe– perhaps!– get a little freaked out, and your heart begins racing at three times the rate of your normal cardiac cycle, so you grab a bat and you tiptoe from room to room throwing open closet and bathroom doors while letting loose with an ear-splitting “AAAAAAIIIIIEEEEEEGH!” and totally swinging that bat with all you’ve got? Because adrenaline is POWERFUL and you could probably do some DAMAGE if someone was actually behind said closet and bathroom door(s)? Also, it is good aerobic exercise? You know, that thing?

No?

Me neither. Tachycardia is nobody’s friend.

More Passive-Aggressive PTA Shenanigans

January 22, 2009

Oh, HELL no.

I cannot BELIEVE I have been ambushed by the PTA! Again! I walked right into it, too, which is such an embarrassment and a true testament to how sleep-deprived I truly am due to the evil Nintendo and its wily Pokemon Diamond ways (I caught a Dialga. It’s a Legendary. I know, right?) Damn the PTA! DAMN THEM TO HELL! It’s supposed to be an orchestra concert, not an impromptu PTA meeting! Or, not so impromptu… just planned unbeknownst to me. Totally NOT beknownst! To me! Or most of the parents here, apparently, as 90 percent of them whipped out a Blackberry, iPhone, or other electronic device of choice seconds after the PTA president said, “Well, while you’re all heeeeeere… we may as well hold a SUPER quick PTA meeting, okay? Seriously! Five minutes. Maybe ten. Not that you have a choice, ha ha ha!… No, seriously, sit down. This is HAPPENING.”

I did NOT sign up for this. I call passive-aggressive PTA shenanigans! FAIL! Dear LORD, they are talking about the budget now. The BUDGET! Okay, just kill me now. Seriously. Just make it quick. And not in any way painful. Or gross.

Whatever. There better be some tasty cookies this time, that’s all I’m saying, or the PTA president is going DOWN.

Speaking of presidents, I am genuinely shocked by how many people I know who are totally on a first name basis with the President of the United States. For reals! They are all like “Oooh, Barack said this” and “Ooooh, Barack did that” While I, with no apparent claims of familiarity, am forced to stand on ceremony and call him “President Obama.” Or, if I’m feeling bold and sassy, perhaps “Mr. Prez, sir.” Hey! I said perhaps! Anyway, color me impressed.

Oooooh! Time for the concert. What the…?! The sneak-attack PTA meeting only lasted twenty-six minutes?! A personal best.

Happy Birthday to You!

January 20, 2009

The fact that Hannah was born on the day my brother Jon was born, which also happens to be the day my Dad was born is just a crazy random happenstance. But I do admit, I LOVE that I have a super-duper built-in birthday reminder so I don’t forget at least TWO of my family members’ birthdays! Most of the time!

Shut up. I can’t help how I am.

Happy birthday, Hannah, Jon, and Dad. I love you guys.

Happy Birthday

Strange and Shouty Thanks

January 16, 2009

I am not updating to toot my own horn (I’m not comfortable with self-horn tooting) but because a few of you asked me to. So, here it goes:

I did it! I stopped and smiled at the strange, shouty man on the corner (sorry, Jake, but he IS both strange and shouty, and that is how I shall describe him), and I put something in his outstretched cup (again, none o’ your business). He said (or, rather, shouted), “Yeah! Yeah! That’s right! Ha ha! Thank you! Thank you! That’s what I’m talking about! Yeah!” And, honestly? I could tell he totally meant it.

It was kind of awesome.

I mean, it’s one thing to give annually to CFC (if you’re Fed, you know CFC), but it is quite another thing to stand face-to-face with someone on the receiving end of your contribution. Sure, it can be a little awkward and scary and outside of your comfort zone. Oh, not pee-your-pants-in-freaking-terror scary or anything, but awkward nonetheless.

But guys? It can also be kind of awesome.

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