There are people that predict world-wide events, weather, politics, just about anything, based on number sequences. There always have been. Originally considered part of the science of math, today it is more likely to be classified as occult; alongside astrology and similar divinatory arts.
With my love of numbers, I figure those that predict the future based from numbers have as good a shot as the rest of them do. I'd say at least 50/50. :)
So, I couldn't help but wonder what they were thinking this morning at 5:06. Or, will be thinking at 5:06 this evening.
5:06 07.08.09
I don't know, but it will be a while before we see the numbers align like that again.
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
My Birthday sans Becky
Today was my 43rd birthday. I wasn't to surprised as I've been expecting it for nearly a year. However, it was a tough one, and not in the normal sense.
Every once in a while a birthday will REALLY bother the person having it. The birthday that bothered me most, in all my 43 years, was my 26th. Isn't that a hoot?
It bothered me, because in my perspective, anyone under 25 wasn't expected to be able of taking care of themselves. They didn't have to know who they were or where they were going. But in my crack-pot mine, I should have magically known those things before I turned 26 and I didn't. It bothered me for six months before my birthday and a good six months after it.
Thirty didn't bother me. Hell, even forty didn't bother me. And in the truest sense of the word, 43 didn't either. It wasn't the age, it was my first birthday as an adult that Becky wasn't around for.
We lived hours from each other, and probably didn't see each other more than once or twice a year (in a good year). But Becky was religious about never missing a holiday. I got cards from her for Valentines, Mother's Day, Anniversary, Birthday, and Christmas. Ever once in a while, she'd send me a card for no reason at all. And she ALWAYS called me on my birthday. She was usually the first one to do so.
I get up this morning knowing I won't be hearing from Becky, and already my day is sad. I have a good cry before Will wakes up. No calls or emails all morning.
Will and I leave the house and run some errands, during which I get a text from my best friend and she wants to meet for lunch and let the boys play. She hasn't felt well for the last week and is in the middle of planning a big trip out of town, so I don't hold it against her that she forgot today was my birthday. The entire time we're at the playscape, the boys are fighting. Will is meaner than usual and his best friend is more emotional than normal.
On the way to meet her, Tori had called. After a one-sentence, "Happy birthday, Mom", she quickly turned to what she needed to tell me; a delayed trip and a late expected arrival. On a cell phone, and traveling, she didn't have much time to talk.
Cutting lunch short due to the boys fighting, we come home and Byjo calls. She is loving and sincere, but she is also on her way to the movies with her kids and has to go. Our brief conversation managed to drift into my isolation from the family and possible ongoing depression, which was . . . well, depressing.
I got off the phone and cleaned the toilet in Will's bathroom since Tori will be staying at the house a few days and a 4-year old boy's bathroom is disgusting. While I'm at it, I clean ours as well. My major accomplishment for the day, clean toilets.
Bonnet calls me later and wishes me a happy birthday, to the tune of "I didn't even have enough money to buy you a card. I saw this really cute card I wanted to get you. But I didn't have any money." I could hear that she was upset she hadn't been able to do anything for my birthday. And I know she's been missing the family. But sometimes Bonnet reminds me of Eeyore; always talking really slow and in a low, depressed voice. She asked me if I had done anything fun today and I told her, "I cleaned the toilets."
A woman is stopping by tomorrow to pick up photos to make me a scrapbook. I don't trust a stranger with my girls photos, so I was sorting out my childhood photos for over an hour. Making notes. Organizing them. Crying, for their were many photos of Becky and I as children.
As you can imagine, I was a pretty jolly person by the time poor Steve got home from work. I put on some makeup and he took us to a steak house for dinner, I had two margaritas (oh yeah, and I ate something to). On the way home, he picked up flowers and a cake, we also stopped by and got snow cones. (Hey, it's damn hot here.)
When we got back to the house, I opened presents from him and Will and we ate cake. The boys sang me Happy Birhtday, and they sounded like they meant it.
On the whole, I'd have to say from 5-9 this evening was a very good birthday.
Well, any day, birthday or not, that you make it out the other end of can't be considered all bad. As my mother-in-law, Dona, says, "It beats the alternative."
Every once in a while a birthday will REALLY bother the person having it. The birthday that bothered me most, in all my 43 years, was my 26th. Isn't that a hoot?
It bothered me, because in my perspective, anyone under 25 wasn't expected to be able of taking care of themselves. They didn't have to know who they were or where they were going. But in my crack-pot mine, I should have magically known those things before I turned 26 and I didn't. It bothered me for six months before my birthday and a good six months after it.
Thirty didn't bother me. Hell, even forty didn't bother me. And in the truest sense of the word, 43 didn't either. It wasn't the age, it was my first birthday as an adult that Becky wasn't around for.
We lived hours from each other, and probably didn't see each other more than once or twice a year (in a good year). But Becky was religious about never missing a holiday. I got cards from her for Valentines, Mother's Day, Anniversary, Birthday, and Christmas. Ever once in a while, she'd send me a card for no reason at all. And she ALWAYS called me on my birthday. She was usually the first one to do so.
I get up this morning knowing I won't be hearing from Becky, and already my day is sad. I have a good cry before Will wakes up. No calls or emails all morning.
Will and I leave the house and run some errands, during which I get a text from my best friend and she wants to meet for lunch and let the boys play. She hasn't felt well for the last week and is in the middle of planning a big trip out of town, so I don't hold it against her that she forgot today was my birthday. The entire time we're at the playscape, the boys are fighting. Will is meaner than usual and his best friend is more emotional than normal.
On the way to meet her, Tori had called. After a one-sentence, "Happy birthday, Mom", she quickly turned to what she needed to tell me; a delayed trip and a late expected arrival. On a cell phone, and traveling, she didn't have much time to talk.
Cutting lunch short due to the boys fighting, we come home and Byjo calls. She is loving and sincere, but she is also on her way to the movies with her kids and has to go. Our brief conversation managed to drift into my isolation from the family and possible ongoing depression, which was . . . well, depressing.
I got off the phone and cleaned the toilet in Will's bathroom since Tori will be staying at the house a few days and a 4-year old boy's bathroom is disgusting. While I'm at it, I clean ours as well. My major accomplishment for the day, clean toilets.
Bonnet calls me later and wishes me a happy birthday, to the tune of "I didn't even have enough money to buy you a card. I saw this really cute card I wanted to get you. But I didn't have any money." I could hear that she was upset she hadn't been able to do anything for my birthday. And I know she's been missing the family. But sometimes Bonnet reminds me of Eeyore; always talking really slow and in a low, depressed voice. She asked me if I had done anything fun today and I told her, "I cleaned the toilets."
A woman is stopping by tomorrow to pick up photos to make me a scrapbook. I don't trust a stranger with my girls photos, so I was sorting out my childhood photos for over an hour. Making notes. Organizing them. Crying, for their were many photos of Becky and I as children.
As you can imagine, I was a pretty jolly person by the time poor Steve got home from work. I put on some makeup and he took us to a steak house for dinner, I had two margaritas (oh yeah, and I ate something to). On the way home, he picked up flowers and a cake, we also stopped by and got snow cones. (Hey, it's damn hot here.)
When we got back to the house, I opened presents from him and Will and we ate cake. The boys sang me Happy Birhtday, and they sounded like they meant it.
On the whole, I'd have to say from 5-9 this evening was a very good birthday.
Well, any day, birthday or not, that you make it out the other end of can't be considered all bad. As my mother-in-law, Dona, says, "It beats the alternative."
Thursday, July 2, 2009
You Stand on Second Base
Tonight, Wills kickball team consisted of only 3 children. There are 8 assigned to his team, but everyone must be on vacation or sick.
When his team batted, the runner always ran through first to second, otherwise, there would be no one to bat them home. Since there were only 3 of them, the same little girl ended up being the last batter each inning and she'd have to run the entire bases before the teams could swap positions. Did I mention it was 104 here today?
At first, our team tried putting parents on the bases when in outfield. They had all three kids near the pitchers mound. Each would take a turn catching the ball and pitching it to a base. The coach decided to have each kid pitch to their parent instead of calling out where they should pitch it. Which was a mistake.
You'd have a child run all the way to home plate, pick up the ball, step aside so the runner coming home could come in and then run all the way to first base and give their parent the ball.
So the second time his team was in the outfield, they put the kids on the bases and the parents fielded the balls. Normally, each child will have one parent on the field with them. But since the parents were playing the kids were left to their own devices on the basies. Which was pretty funny from the sidelines.
Until . . .
Will was told to stand on second base. And he's very literal. I see child after child running for second base and he just stands right in the middle of it glaring at him -- I think he's practising to be a goalie. Steve can't see him, since he's on the pitchers mound. Some of the runners just sort of touch 2nd base, some don't even go close.
Then a boy comes that appearently was told to get on the bases and the next thing I know there is a king of the base shoving match going on in the outfield.
I clearly see the other child tell Will to get off the base, and Will tell him no. The runner pushes Will and Will pushes back. The entire time no one in the outfield is even noticing.
I finally pulled my lazy ass out of my comfy chair in the shade and walked out to 2nd base to corral my son. While there I had a nice converstion with the runner about my awesome rainbow sun shades; so it wasn't a totally waisted trip.
At my age, you take compliments any where you can get them.
When his team batted, the runner always ran through first to second, otherwise, there would be no one to bat them home. Since there were only 3 of them, the same little girl ended up being the last batter each inning and she'd have to run the entire bases before the teams could swap positions. Did I mention it was 104 here today?
At first, our team tried putting parents on the bases when in outfield. They had all three kids near the pitchers mound. Each would take a turn catching the ball and pitching it to a base. The coach decided to have each kid pitch to their parent instead of calling out where they should pitch it. Which was a mistake.
You'd have a child run all the way to home plate, pick up the ball, step aside so the runner coming home could come in and then run all the way to first base and give their parent the ball.
So the second time his team was in the outfield, they put the kids on the bases and the parents fielded the balls. Normally, each child will have one parent on the field with them. But since the parents were playing the kids were left to their own devices on the basies. Which was pretty funny from the sidelines.
Until . . .
Will was told to stand on second base. And he's very literal. I see child after child running for second base and he just stands right in the middle of it glaring at him -- I think he's practising to be a goalie. Steve can't see him, since he's on the pitchers mound. Some of the runners just sort of touch 2nd base, some don't even go close.
Then a boy comes that appearently was told to get on the bases and the next thing I know there is a king of the base shoving match going on in the outfield.
I clearly see the other child tell Will to get off the base, and Will tell him no. The runner pushes Will and Will pushes back. The entire time no one in the outfield is even noticing.
I finally pulled my lazy ass out of my comfy chair in the shade and walked out to 2nd base to corral my son. While there I had a nice converstion with the runner about my awesome rainbow sun shades; so it wasn't a totally waisted trip.
At my age, you take compliments any where you can get them.
A Funny Man
Depending on how and where you grew up (and if you're female or not) you probably have different ideas on what the perfect man is. Even at different ages our concept of the perfect man changes. Hell, sometimes weekly.
We can be attracted to men who are good looking, muscular, suave, rich, loving, etc. But as time passes, you realize that most of those things can (and usually will) disappear. Age is a great equator among humans. Few 40, 50, 60 year old people are as good looking or fit as they were 20 years earlier. The rich or well to do, can lose their money, jobs, and security. And how many divorced people started out in love with their spouse?
In my experience, there is only one kind of man that maintains his appeal through the years, a funny one.
The first thing that attracted me to Steve was his sense of humor; well, actually his laugh. We worked for the same company in different departments, but set less than 15 feet apart. There was a partial wall between us, so we couldn't see each other and never interacted. But I heard him laughing at something at least 10 times a day, and when I did it ALWAYS made me smile.
I'm not much of a smiler. And while I have been an optimist most of my life, there are few people and situations that bring a genuine smile to my face. Steve does.
As far as I am concerned, there is nothing more attractive than a funny man. (Assuming of coarse, he has some sort of job and takes bathes on a regular basis.)
We can be attracted to men who are good looking, muscular, suave, rich, loving, etc. But as time passes, you realize that most of those things can (and usually will) disappear. Age is a great equator among humans. Few 40, 50, 60 year old people are as good looking or fit as they were 20 years earlier. The rich or well to do, can lose their money, jobs, and security. And how many divorced people started out in love with their spouse?
In my experience, there is only one kind of man that maintains his appeal through the years, a funny one.
The first thing that attracted me to Steve was his sense of humor; well, actually his laugh. We worked for the same company in different departments, but set less than 15 feet apart. There was a partial wall between us, so we couldn't see each other and never interacted. But I heard him laughing at something at least 10 times a day, and when I did it ALWAYS made me smile.
I'm not much of a smiler. And while I have been an optimist most of my life, there are few people and situations that bring a genuine smile to my face. Steve does.
As far as I am concerned, there is nothing more attractive than a funny man. (Assuming of coarse, he has some sort of job and takes bathes on a regular basis.)
What's up with that?
Steve and I are at opposite ends of the height standards. I'm 5'2 and he's 6'3. It makes many things in our lives more challenging. Like finding a couch we can both agree on. Deciding the height of mirrors and cabinets in our home. And driving each others vehicles.
Any time one of us borrows the others vehicle, we have to adjust the seat, the height of the seat belt connector, and all the mirrors. While making these adjustments is necessary to drive, unmaking them is not.
Since we both do the same thing, it is just something we've learned to live with.
But . . .
Twice in the last few weeks, I've gone out to get into my car and all the above had been adjusted. The weird thing is that ALL Steve did was move it from the driveway to beside the driveway so he could get the trailer out. I've moved his vehicle many times in the same way and never had to adjust more than the seat. Honestly, did he put on the seat belt to back out of the driveway and back in? Did he use all the mirrors? Both sides and rear view for the 15 feet in reverse and 15 feet forward?
A friend of ours moved my car a few days ago and while he moved the seat back, he didn't change anything else.
It's not that it drives me crazy, or that I'm pissed about it. I just don't understand the reasoning.
The only thing I can figure is that it's just a natural reflex; get in Misty's car and change everything. I quess I'm lucky I don't have a radio or he'd be messing with my pre-set stations. :)
Any time one of us borrows the others vehicle, we have to adjust the seat, the height of the seat belt connector, and all the mirrors. While making these adjustments is necessary to drive, unmaking them is not.
Since we both do the same thing, it is just something we've learned to live with.
But . . .
Twice in the last few weeks, I've gone out to get into my car and all the above had been adjusted. The weird thing is that ALL Steve did was move it from the driveway to beside the driveway so he could get the trailer out. I've moved his vehicle many times in the same way and never had to adjust more than the seat. Honestly, did he put on the seat belt to back out of the driveway and back in? Did he use all the mirrors? Both sides and rear view for the 15 feet in reverse and 15 feet forward?
A friend of ours moved my car a few days ago and while he moved the seat back, he didn't change anything else.
It's not that it drives me crazy, or that I'm pissed about it. I just don't understand the reasoning.
The only thing I can figure is that it's just a natural reflex; get in Misty's car and change everything. I quess I'm lucky I don't have a radio or he'd be messing with my pre-set stations. :)
Monday, June 29, 2009
It's a short trip
I am the person in my house that always finds things, a fact that can be very frustrating. Steve will look for something for half an hour and I'll finally get up to help him and find it in the same place he looked, in five minutes.
I've come to the conclusion that the ability to locate items depends on how your brain functions. If you are a person who can follow and apply logic easily; you can find lost items. In essence, all you are doing is trying to figure out where, and how, it might have eneded up at different places.
But long before Steve was in my life, I was still the person that found lost things. In my parents home, the home of my last marriage, and now in this one.
So when I am unable to find something, it drives me a little crazy. Well, okay, it drives me a LOT crazy. At 9:00 this evening, I sit aside a book I was reading to prepare Will for bed. At 9:20 I went to get the book and it was gone. Sometimes, I will automatically run through steps that are repeated every night. Without thought, I'll put my drink in next to the computer, the book I'm reading in the spare room, lock the back door.
So I checked where I normally put my books. It wasn't there. I checked the computer room incase I sit it in there with my drink. It wasn't there. I spent the next 40 minutes looking in every room in my house for this book. I even turned the light on in the bedroom where Steve was sleeping, dug through the laundry in the laundry room, and turned on the light in Will's room to peak in there.
Each unsucessful search cranked up my anxiety further and further, way out of porportion for the situation. Really, whats the worse that can happen? I'd buy a new copy of the book tomorrow and finish it.
I finally realized it wasn't the "book" that I was freaking out about, it was my inability to find it. It was driving me crazy. And as Steve would tell you, for me, it's a short trip.
(Yeah, I finally found the book.)
I've come to the conclusion that the ability to locate items depends on how your brain functions. If you are a person who can follow and apply logic easily; you can find lost items. In essence, all you are doing is trying to figure out where, and how, it might have eneded up at different places.
But long before Steve was in my life, I was still the person that found lost things. In my parents home, the home of my last marriage, and now in this one.
So when I am unable to find something, it drives me a little crazy. Well, okay, it drives me a LOT crazy. At 9:00 this evening, I sit aside a book I was reading to prepare Will for bed. At 9:20 I went to get the book and it was gone. Sometimes, I will automatically run through steps that are repeated every night. Without thought, I'll put my drink in next to the computer, the book I'm reading in the spare room, lock the back door.
So I checked where I normally put my books. It wasn't there. I checked the computer room incase I sit it in there with my drink. It wasn't there. I spent the next 40 minutes looking in every room in my house for this book. I even turned the light on in the bedroom where Steve was sleeping, dug through the laundry in the laundry room, and turned on the light in Will's room to peak in there.
Each unsucessful search cranked up my anxiety further and further, way out of porportion for the situation. Really, whats the worse that can happen? I'd buy a new copy of the book tomorrow and finish it.
I finally realized it wasn't the "book" that I was freaking out about, it was my inability to find it. It was driving me crazy. And as Steve would tell you, for me, it's a short trip.
(Yeah, I finally found the book.)
Saturday, June 27, 2009
Grown Siblings; a new view
I moved out of my parents house when I was sixteen, actually, it was a few weeks before my sixteenth birthday. But close enough. My next two oldest siblings were out and on their own early as well. So I have a good twenty five years experience in dealing with grown siblings.
Both the girls father, and Steve, came from large families; so I've had plenty of experience watching the interactions of other grown siblings as well.
I thought I had seen it all; and understood it from all perspectives.
But that was before I had seen my girls interact as grown siblings. Now that I look back at my younger years, I recall lots of disagreements and bad times when the initial grown sibling relationship was evolving. They irritated me. They were whiny. They expected to much from me. After all, at that age it was all about . . .
Yep, you guessed. It was all about ME.
Of coarse, looking back, it was all about them too . . . I just couldn't appreciate it at the time. It was only as we all grew older and wiser that we began to appreciate each other. We also began to have a better understanding of when to REALLY ask for something from one another.
Now, I'm getting a refresher course. And it's more painful as the parent of said siblings. I can see both points of views. I can agree, to a degree, with both of them. And most of all, there isn't a damn thing I can do for either of them.
The Story
First, the back story. Bonnet has lived in CO near her father for almost a year now. We have only seen her once, when her dad flew her down for Christmas last winter. She's been missing home and wanting to come visit badly, but can't afford the trip.
Tori went to spent the summer in CO. Her dad flew down and drove up with her so she could take her car and dog. The first week of July, Tori's boyfriend is flying to CO. He'll stay a week to visit and then they are driving home in Tori's car.
So . . .
Last Wednesday I get a call from Bonnet telling me she is riding home with Tori when she comes home. So she'll be here around the 7th or 8th. I told her I'd be happy to see her and she was more than welcome. And I meant it.
That night, I get a total of five texts from Tori and she is UPSET. Apparently, Bonnet didn't even ask Tori if she could ride back with her. Tori has a smallish car and with her, her boyfriend, her very large dog, and Bonnet it will be VERY cramped. Not only that, but Bonnet is a smoker. She will need to stop every few hours to smoke and even if she doesn't do it in the car, she will still stink up the car. (You non-smokers can appreciate this.)
Tori is also upset because her and her boyfriend were going to stop in and see some of his family and now they have an extra and unexpected guest with them. Plus, Bonnet can be down right rude when the mood takes her . . . and several hours in the cramped back seat of a car with a large dog and no smoke breaks would equate one long trip of bad mood. I can agree with most of what Tori was saying. I didn't tell her to UNinvite Bonnet, but I agreed it probably wasn't going to be a fun trip and Bonnet should have asked. And I meant it.
The next day I get a call from Bonnet. She's not coming. According to her, Tori is being a complete butt head about the entire thing. Tori even offered to pay the airfare for Bonnet to fly to Austin so she wouldn't have to ride with her. Bonnet said if Tori didn't want her along that bad, she didn't feel right driving down with her. And I agreed.
What I didn't really say was that Bonnet should have asked. She should have offered to help pay for gas or something. She should have told Tori how much she needed to come home.
What I didn't say was that Tori should have been a little more understanding. It's her car, so she could have set guidelines. Talked to Bonnet about what she didn't want to happen during their trip.
All I could think about was that I'd give Steve's left nut (sorry babe, but I don't have any to offer) to fight with Becky again over something so insignificant in the big picture. How wonderful it would be to take one last road trip together.
Both the girls father, and Steve, came from large families; so I've had plenty of experience watching the interactions of other grown siblings as well.
I thought I had seen it all; and understood it from all perspectives.
But that was before I had seen my girls interact as grown siblings. Now that I look back at my younger years, I recall lots of disagreements and bad times when the initial grown sibling relationship was evolving. They irritated me. They were whiny. They expected to much from me. After all, at that age it was all about . . .
Yep, you guessed. It was all about ME.
Of coarse, looking back, it was all about them too . . . I just couldn't appreciate it at the time. It was only as we all grew older and wiser that we began to appreciate each other. We also began to have a better understanding of when to REALLY ask for something from one another.
Now, I'm getting a refresher course. And it's more painful as the parent of said siblings. I can see both points of views. I can agree, to a degree, with both of them. And most of all, there isn't a damn thing I can do for either of them.
The Story
First, the back story. Bonnet has lived in CO near her father for almost a year now. We have only seen her once, when her dad flew her down for Christmas last winter. She's been missing home and wanting to come visit badly, but can't afford the trip.
Tori went to spent the summer in CO. Her dad flew down and drove up with her so she could take her car and dog. The first week of July, Tori's boyfriend is flying to CO. He'll stay a week to visit and then they are driving home in Tori's car.
So . . .
Last Wednesday I get a call from Bonnet telling me she is riding home with Tori when she comes home. So she'll be here around the 7th or 8th. I told her I'd be happy to see her and she was more than welcome. And I meant it.
That night, I get a total of five texts from Tori and she is UPSET. Apparently, Bonnet didn't even ask Tori if she could ride back with her. Tori has a smallish car and with her, her boyfriend, her very large dog, and Bonnet it will be VERY cramped. Not only that, but Bonnet is a smoker. She will need to stop every few hours to smoke and even if she doesn't do it in the car, she will still stink up the car. (You non-smokers can appreciate this.)
Tori is also upset because her and her boyfriend were going to stop in and see some of his family and now they have an extra and unexpected guest with them. Plus, Bonnet can be down right rude when the mood takes her . . . and several hours in the cramped back seat of a car with a large dog and no smoke breaks would equate one long trip of bad mood. I can agree with most of what Tori was saying. I didn't tell her to UNinvite Bonnet, but I agreed it probably wasn't going to be a fun trip and Bonnet should have asked. And I meant it.
The next day I get a call from Bonnet. She's not coming. According to her, Tori is being a complete butt head about the entire thing. Tori even offered to pay the airfare for Bonnet to fly to Austin so she wouldn't have to ride with her. Bonnet said if Tori didn't want her along that bad, she didn't feel right driving down with her. And I agreed.
What I didn't really say was that Bonnet should have asked. She should have offered to help pay for gas or something. She should have told Tori how much she needed to come home.
What I didn't say was that Tori should have been a little more understanding. It's her car, so she could have set guidelines. Talked to Bonnet about what she didn't want to happen during their trip.
All I could think about was that I'd give Steve's left nut (sorry babe, but I don't have any to offer) to fight with Becky again over something so insignificant in the big picture. How wonderful it would be to take one last road trip together.
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