Work Update

So how’s the new job going, you ask?

Well, while I admit the task I am doing is incredibly tedious, and I am doing the same task all the live-long day, I could not be happier to be where I am.  I am working for a department that services a segment of the population I care a great deal about, the people who work there are warm, and friendly, and don’t mind the non-stop questions of a newbie.  I love the walk to work and home again.  Silly as it is, I even love my key pass thingy, even if it has my old face imprinted on it.  It means that “there” is where I’m supposed to be right now, and that holds a lot of significance to me.  The key pass thingy is like my invitation to be there, and I have waited a long time to come to the party.  Well, any party actually.

For the most part I think things are going ok.  The other day I was in the lunch room and many of the senior employees were there too.  I told a story which had them laughing a great deal.  Initially I felt pretty good about that… that they appreciated my sense of humour… it was only the next day that it occured to me that they may in fact have been laughing at me not with me, but whatever.

And I’m trying not to dwell on the fact that one of the higher ups calls me by a completely different name, so now lots of co-workers think my name is something else too.  Not that it’s a bad name, like “Dumbo” or “Fang” or anything.  And it’s sort of like my name… it’s just not my real name.  Do you suppose the name thing would have any effect on a person’s forever job possibilities, or should I concentrate on the fact that “Old Fang does good work” is just as much a compliment as “Sock Girl does good work”?

Anyway, my apologies for the lack of blog posts.  Still getting back in the work/school/back to real life thing.  I’ll try to post more often as I really miss it here.

Shadows

Shadows…. They exist, yet cannot be touched, or picked up and carried.  They move and change yet take up no physical presence. Sometimes you cannot see them at all, but they are there, ready to appear with the next ray of light, however brief and unexpected.

Grief is like that too.  Sometimes blatant, sometimes hidden and lurking, yet never gone completely.  Intangible and tangible at the same time.  Existing and changing despite the obviousness of physical presence.

I am beginning to think you never actually heal from some grief.  It just changes.  You get quieter because the only one who feels the shadow is you.   You package it up so that life’s sunshine isn’t missed and the impact of the shadow is minimized.  But years and years later it still has the ability to incapacitate you.

My son would have been 11 today.   Happy Angelversary, baby.  I love you and carry you in my heart always.

The Most Wonderful Time of the Year (or how to tell when your penchant for flip flops has gotten a tad excessive)

The kids will start school on Tuesday after the long weekend.  It has been a long summer when I think of how many times the girls have had disagreements, but a very very short one when I think of how little of it I seem to recall enjoying and relaxing in.  Where were the beach days?  Where were the planned excursions.  I can hardly believe the season is drawing to its close.

As luck would have it the “Most Wonderful Time of theYear” falls within a significant wait for the very first paycheck from the new short-term job.  But some money I had earned and forgotten about suddenly arrived and I knew I had to seize the opportunity to make the annual excursion to the office store for all those exciting supplies, then to the clothes stores to find the first day outfits.  Given any time to think about it, the “found money” would find another purpose.

It’s funny how yells out of “It’s Shopping Time!” elicit my faster responses than “It’s Time to Get Up!” or “It’s Time For School!” or “It’s Time To Start Your Homework!”.  Within moments the three of us were in the van with lists in hand.

There were backpacks, and pencils and enough paper to hand write a trilogy.  Every aisle of the office store was poured over and negotiated.  Finally, cart fuller than I would have imagined, we cashed out and headed elsewhere.  School Supplies – check.

The next “elsewhere” was for clothing.  Jeans after jeans were tried on… boot cut, skinny, super-poured-into, black, blue, oodles and oodles of varieties.  Jeans and t-shirts — check. And with final decisions in hand, we headed to the registers… and passed a rack of flip flops… in every colour imaginable… 3 for $10….

Now, my feet are truly NOT my best feature.  They creak and snap and are often bumpy and achy.  It is hard to find shoes that are comfortable…. which is why I love flip flops.  Those old lumpy bumpy feet can just be free and all pokey outey and the bottoms still protected from the pavement.  While this summer may not have given me the beach time I would have wanted, my feet certainly still indulged in flip flop time.

… so…. 3 for $10.  And a quick head count suggested we were a group of 3.  What was another $10 on top of the huge amount of money I was quickly flying through?   So we stopped to try on, and decided we should each have a flippy floppy treat.

Dolittle chose a green pair.

I chose a black pair.

And Rainbow… she was having a bit of a time deciding between a yellow pair and a purple pair.  In fact, what she really wanted was one of each, and she was fairly adamant that this should be allowed.

“It is NOT allowed,” I explained.  “And it would probably not be the best idea even if it were.”

“Why?” she questioned.

“Well,” her sister and I confirmed, “it will look strange to other people, and sadly they may judge you on that.”

She remained resolute. Finally, she said, “Well why can you do it then?”

I did not even have to look down.  It was then, my friends, and ONLY then… after hours and hours of shopping, that I realized that the soles of what was on the bottom of my feet were slightly different heights.  That the straps across my bumpy, achy feet were of slightly different widths.  That I had been shopping for freaking hours with two DIFFERENT flip flops on my own feet and had no idea.  Further, my own child had apparently noticed this and been so completely cool with the thought that her mother was wearing two different shoes that she failed to bring it to my attention.  Embarrassing personal moment — check.

While I wouldn’t have thought it possible, do you think maybe I have too many flip flops?