An Indoor Storm

A small hurricane, or perhaps tornado, had been through our house.  It didn’t break a single window, never harmed any of the roof and left the walls still standing.  Nope this storm, this frantic amount of energy in a confined space only left a mess on the floor, then owner portions of the wall and terrorized the dog.

As quickly as the storm had whipped up it died down, to a small sleeping and innocent looking form of a small child.  A child who had just moments earlier run through my house as though her hair was wildly on fire and she had to run off all the energy or suffer dire consequences.

Oh sure we, Beloved and I, had invited and welcomed the  storm child into the house.  Least you get the wrong idea, we do not randomly go about picking up or inviting children into our home.  Nope we need to know the parents.  And we must be feeling in a generous ,old, the one that makes us mildly insane as we find ourselves agreeing to look after a small child.

beloved will happily sit on the floor and play cars or tea party or even dollies with a child.  He will read and color on the floor if that’s what the child likes to do.  But he refuses to play dress up.   Not that this creates an issue.

Before the storm had run crazy through our house, she had been happily sitting on the floor colouring with us.  We had read some stories, clocked at some pictures and then moved onto colouring.  It was during this activity that she saw the dog.  She happily announced “puppy” and reached for the dog with her arms stretched out.

Some dogs will be okay with this. Not ours.  Ours isn’t used to children.  Ours refuses to sit still or wait for the child, so the dog started to run for refuge with a small child in tow.  Behind the dog and the child was a Beloved, trying to pick up items knocked over, wipe smears off the wall and reassure the child if she settled down the puppy would come to her.  I suspect he was praying for some type of intervention, some miracle that would make things stop and go back to peace and calm.

Instead the dog decided that finding one safe spot wasn’t enough.  He decided to run around all throughout the house, seeking small places to hide.  The little girl decided to not just chase the dog, but call him, at a high-pitched tone while grabbing items and dropping them when something else caught her eye .

I wanted to help, I should have helped, but I was too busy.  Laughing at the comedy taking place in my house.  I did clean up the mess after, the toys went back into a neat pile.  Little hand prints were wiped off the walls and knocked over items were righted.  Tea was made for Beloved.  And we marvelled at how much energy this small storm could expend with such joy.

We have decided, however, that we don’t need a storm in the house again for a while.  We still have to get the dog the out hiding for good and well we like the walls as they are.  But if we must have a storm we want this kind of storm, not the real lose your house kind.

 

Pulling Together

It started with a whisper, just a whisper of a wind.  Beloved was confident it wouldn’t get too bad out there so he didn’t worry about battening down the hatches.  Not that we have hatches because we don’t and I’m pretty sure neither of us have as clue how to batten them down anyway!  😉

Around 2 am just past the witching hour, the dog decided he needed to patrol the house.  When the dog patrols the house, he does it in such a way as to wake, well, the dead.  So of course we were up and in a fit of power struggle, Beloved decided to take the dog outside.  The dog was having none of this, nor should he because that whisper of a wind had become a howl.  A nonstop, constant howling wind.

Had the dog gone out with Beloved, and had Beloved put the leash on the dog, I’m sure the effect would have been similar to the dog being a kite.  So we sat there, the two is with hot cocoa because Beloved decided we needed that, while the dog continued to patrol the inside of the house.

When the power went out we sat in flickering candle light trying to soothe the dog.  All around us the winds picked up and I understood how people could mistake the noise for a woman screeching or keening.  It was just incredible!

It moved from incredible to surreal when we heard the load crack as the tree across the street came down.  And then it was slowly dying down, as though the grand act had been the taking down of a large, old tree.  As suddenly as the storm had come, it was gone and we carefully grabbed some jackets and headed out to see the damage.

The backyard or garden had a table tipped over, my terracotta pots were in pieces and the vines on the house had been ripped off.  That was pretty much the extent of it.  There was only limbs from the fallen tree in our front.  But the same couldn’t be said for the lovely elderly couple across the road from us, or even our neighbors.

When the tree went down, it basically fell across the elderly couple’s walk, essentially trapping them from using the front walk.  Their car, which was parked out front was now under a massive tree, crushed like a small can.

The neighbors to the right of us had water in their front enters ce, a sure sign that things weren’t all square and tight.  Our neighbors to the left had broken windows from flying debris.  After ensuring then couple across the street were okay Beloved and some of the men in area decided to start to remove the tree as best they could.  I couldn’t do much for broken windows as we didn’t have spare boards or stuff so I opted to help mop up the other neighbor’s house.

All the while people were talking about how about how incredible the storm was and how it hit some places and missed others.  I was silent, taken back to having been through a few hurricanes and getting the same sights now as I had back then.  It wasn’t just a storm that had come in off the water, it had to be something akin to a tropical storm or such.

Later on in the day we’d see people surfing in the choppy, huge waves.  We’d see other people dealing with broken windows, damaged property or trees everywhere.  And we’d marvel at how the only thing we had to deal with was no power, some broken pots and a noisy dog.  While other people talked about how lucky they were, we knew we had come out of this far luckier than most, and so we helped where we could.  It was nice to see the whole neighborhood pull together, to see people talking and sharing.  It was sad that it took something like this for that to happen.

I Quit

The Internet is full of creative or unusual,ways to leave your job.  Some examples are brilliant and others are signs of people reaching their breaking point.  Some of the videos and such of people quitting have worked to their favour as they have found other jobs and perhaps celebrity rather quickly.  Others have faded from the screen.

A dear friend of Beloved’s recently up and left his job.  He had been miserable at work for a year or so, certainly never heard a word or praise and was told he was stupid more than once.  When this started happening Beloved advised him to leave, that no one should be treated like that.  But his friend refused, saying the perks of the job outweighed the bad bits.

The perks started disappearing as the economy took a downturn followed by the company trying to do more with less.  Soon the friend was doing his job plus part of another person’s job, no perks and no raise. The criticism grew worse and was never constructive and still he stayed on, positive it was bound to change.

change it did, more layoffs, more work loads, a pay decrease and more complaints, and now his intelligence was being questioned daily.  It took this to be the straw that broke the camel’s back!  He came to the house one day and announced he was going to quit his job the next day and he’d like a nice cold drink if possible.

Beloved asked him how much notice he was going to give and his friend said none.  Legally he didn’t have to give notice, he certainly wasn’t going to town his replacement.  He was simply going to be gone.  End of story.  He would ride off into them unset, enjoy a few days of nothing and then seek work again.

beloved was shocked, n the world of academics you just don’t do this.  It’s a small world, people talk and networking is everything.  Still his friend did just that.  And he was much happier for it.  He isn’t working the same job as per say hat may be why he’s in a better place, at any rate his smile,is back and he has a bounce to his step again.

curious, I asked him how he quit, was it with a letter or an email etc.  He leaned back, smiled and said nope no letters or emails.  Just a picture, nothing else.  He had gone into his boss’s office with a piece of paper that had a picture of the back of a person, walking out the door.  He threw it on his boss’s desk, points to the   picture and then to himself and walked out.  Out his boss’s office, out of the building.

He said when his boss phone a day later to say he was fired our friend assured the boss you cannot fire someone who quit.  Our friend explained that his boss frequently used pictures rather than letters or memos and since his boss had set this an acceptable means of communication, he could legal quit with the picture.

It just goes to show that while there may be fifty ways to leave a lover, there are more ways to leave a job!😉

how do you quit your job?

 

Charming, Love and Reality

The other day Prince Charming, aka Beloved, came home in a mood anything but charming.  The weather outside was foul and his mood and behavior matched it.

For a brief moment I wondered if he had a split personality.  Not that the man isn’t entitled to a bad day or a bad mood, I mean he is human and heaven knows he has to put up with me.  Just having to deal with me means the man should get a medal or an award now and then!  😉

And I’m not young enough or foolish enough to believe that  the rose garden of life wouldn’t have thorns or weeds, or mud.  But  there are days when in we’d a bit of charming, typically when I’ve had a pig of a day myself.  You know those days where everything starts off all pear-shaped and quickly slips into the black lagoon of no return?  Yes I’d had me of those days, so for him to have had one of those days and come home all teeth and claws was not exactly appealing.  Okay it was down right unneeded.  (Yes okay you got me, it’s never needed.  Point proven, case made, so we will move on!)

So what’s a girl to do when Charming fails to live up to the bill?  Kissing him won’t turn him into a handsome prince because a person does not a toad make.  A poisoned apple will only put him to sleep, until a handsome prince comes to wake him.  So there really is only one thing a girl can do, she can accept that sometimes her man isn’t going to be charming or sweet.  She can understand that with the roses come prickly thorns, dreadful weeds and some mud to be wiped off later on.  And most of all, she can love him all the same, or if she’s like me, she will love him even more for being human.

Death, Murder and Papers

He didn’t look like a homicide detective. Television and movies had taught me to expect homicide deceives to look a certain way: worn, older, haggard, bitter. The man in front of me was roughly my age, well dressed, not the least bit haggard or stressed or bitter. He looked, well for lack of a better word, normal.

Now it’s not a normal occurrence in my life to hang around homicide detectives. I suspect that’s the case for most folks. But there I was, sitting across from a homicide detective having a normal conversation about a grade on a paper.

He was wondering what would have made the grade higher while I was wondering what makes a person seem so normal when they deal with violent death on a regular basis.

There is, of course, an easy answer to his questions. I go over the areas where he was weak, explain some of the points he didn’t connect strongly enough etc. and provide some reference material he may want to look at for future papers.

Just before he leaves, I ask him my question. His answer is long and winding and in the end im not sure that I’m really had my question answered. What I am sure of is that he is good at what he does, he has a passion for the work he does and truly believes in the good guys versus the bad guys. His world isn’t filled with grey areas, nor does he doubt and push on that doubt. Perhaps that is why he struggled with this assignment, because it isn’t about black and white. Perhaps he struggles so because it isn’t cut and dried and lectures won’t fit together neatly. He assures me that none of the murders he has worked are neat puzzles that go together quickly either. He is just used to certainties.

I ask him why take this course, he doesn’t have to take it after all. He tells me that he is interested in exploring the history of something that is so easy to blindly believe and follow. He knows it won’t be easy, but solving murders usually isn’t either, however both are worth it. I agree with him and look forward to our next chat.

Present From The Dog

Some people have dogs that bring them things such as then despaired or slippers and stuff.  Some people have dogs that bring back balls thrown out  for the them.  I once had a dog that liked to help carry the laundry, socks in particular, for me after it had been taken out of the dryer.

And then there is our current dog.  He doesn’t bring us things like the paper, or slippers.  He doesn’t help with much of  the chores other than when we drop food on the floor (he cleans up the food if we aren’t fast enough to get to it! 😉

It isn’t that he doesn’t bring us stuff because he does, it just happens not to be the stuff we’d like brought into the house.  Stuff like big spiders that cling to his body, slugs that climb onto him, beetles he has carried in his mouth and fuzzy, rotting dead animals he has found outside.  Typically mice.

Now please don’t misunderstand, I’m not against mice.  I like mice.  Just not in my house.  Just not dead ones left where I will step on them.

Yes it’s true, I woke up is morning, swung my feet out of bed, stood up and stepped on something.  Clearly not my slippers.  I don’t own fuzzy slippers.  I knew it wasn’t th of I stepped on and since it didn’t squeak, I knew it wasn’t one of his toys.

Now should you turn on the light and see, or pretend like nothing happened and let Beloved see what it was? It really doesn’t make sense to walk through the house to where Beloved was just for him to see what I stepped in.  Certainly not when the light is right there.

So with a deep breath I turned on the light and cautiously looked down to see a partially decomposing Minnie or Mickey Mouse, on my floor.  So that’s what I stepped on.  Ugh and ew and gross to a million degrees.

Beloved heard me, as I’m sure did half the country as I told the dog that I don’t like this type of gift, not at all.  He gave me a quizzical look and asked what could be so bad and then he saw.  The mouse.  Th dead mouse.  The dead, decomposing mouse.  On the bedroom floor.  On the floor I walk on.

Now here is where a man, in romance books at any rate, would pick up the female and carry her to the bathroom and love inky disinfect her foot.

But I don’t live in a romance book, not even close, more like a comedy of errors.  So he didn’t pick me up, he actually turned and ran down the hall.  Leaving me alone with the dead mouse because the dog had slipped out of the room long before.

Before you think to harshly of Beloved, he did come back with a huge bag, our longest set of kitchen tongs, rubber gloves and a cloth tied around his nose and mouth.  I didn’t know whether to laugh or take him seriously.  He tossed me some gloves and then the tongs and told me I’d have to pick it up because eww.  He would hold open the bag for me to drop the mouse and tongs into and then he’d take the bag outside.  Yep that’s the man he is.

Once the mouse, and the tongs, were hauled outside I went to scrub, disinfect and basically re-disinfect my foot.  Because, well dead mouse.  As for Beloved, well he took the dog to the vet, picked up stuff to clean the floor and said we must never speak of this again.  Ever.

I suppose I should be grateful that there weren’t any maggots or other creep crawlies n the mouse and thus in my house…

Go Together Like..Peas And Popcorn?

We were watching a show, a documentary I think it was, when Beloved decided he wanted to have popcorn.  Toffee popcorn to be exact.  Popcorn we could do, popcorn we have. Toffee is another story.  We didn’t have any in the house and the concept of making it seemed a bit much for me.  I noticed Beloved wasn’t volunteering to do the work, simply offering up he wanted the food item.

And so the documentary ended up being ignored while he ran out to the store to see what they could offer up ands a means of filling this hole in his life.  I stayed home and laughed a bit because before we got together Beloved didn’t eat popcorn.  He didn’t eat corn considering it pig feed.

Yet suddenly this man who eschewed popcorn and corn in general is out driving around looking for it.  A sign of change or progress perhaps?! 😉

The reality is, when you blend cultures often times progress or change happen.  In all the individuals involved.

Pi have never been a fan of peas, not even as a child.  I don’t know why, but little green round slightly wrinkly food just doesn’t seem right.  Beloved, however, adores peas, especially mushy peas.  I’m not exactly sure what he does when he makes them, but somehow mushy peas are okay.  I’m not going to seek them out, not going to run down to the local chip shop and pick up some, but I will eat it when he makes it.

i suspect other things have changed too, more subtle things.  Things we don’t even realize have changed because it’s just happened and somehow it feels just right.  The thing is, you don’t even mind it.  How can you when it feels right and suits you?  And that’s where the mystery and magic of relationships come in for change comes without the normal discomfort.  You often don’t notice the change that has happened, it’s fast and so natural that it just clicks into place.