Life in the Slow Lane

What with the great accoustics in this building, I'm worried that I will cough and be heard around the world. Someone walks down the hall and we hear "Quiet on the Set!... slash office!" I might be tempted to get some work done, but that would probably make too much noise.

I have noticed a trend that as the day goes by, and I get more and more tired, I lower my desk chair little by little. But somedays the chair is incapable of lowering as much as I require. Because sometimes, I would really like to lower it enough that I can roll completely under my desk and sometimes I would really like to lower it right through the floor. It's too bad, really, that this chair is so limited in its features.

"Hey, are you excited!?!" Perhaps you already know that the correct response is not "Huh? About What?" And I know that, too. But these days, it's hard to know what people are referring to. Is it my new boss (Don't tell her I used the "b" word)? or my new living situation? Is it the press release I wrote for the website or the response we are waiting for from the TV show? Are they talking about my trip to visit my parents or the trip to Peru? My dinner with church friends or dinner with my cousin who really knows how to cook? Or maybe they are asking about my sister's wedding or the eventual day when the ugly ring worm is nothing but a memory. Or. or. or. I know anticipation is nine-tenths of enjoying an event, but my view these days is not leaving a ton of room for anticipation. I guess I will have to wait for the day when I can better enjoy the emotional build up. When I think about that day, wow, do I get excited.

It's been one of those days where it gets to be 5:00 and I haven't even finished making my "To Do Today" List.

Out on the Mommy-blogs, I occasionally hear mention of a baby-sitting co-op, wherein Mommies exchange babysitting through a system of points, and everyone gets to benefit from the skilled childcare provider that is also called Mom. I think in the work-a-day world (as opposed to the Stay at Home Mom world, which is the work-night-and-day world) someone needs to begin the proof-reading co-op. Really, I'm not sure how much more explanation I can come up for it, because it seems like such an obvious need that I can't figure out why it isn't already in place. Although, maybe I can. Because come to think of it, a great percentage of what I proof-read leads me to believe that in an exchange I would come out poorly. And I'm one who misspelled "grammar" until I was in college. But seriously, something has got to be done. If for nothing else than greater peace of mind when something I write gets mass-produced and sent around the world.

The first week I started at my job, everyone in the department went out to lunch. Almost exactly seventeen months later, here we are again. Same restaurant, same table, same people. Most of us even order the same meal. But 17 months ago, the purpose of the outing was to say "hello" and to begin getting to know each other, and now it is to say good-bye. I'm not saying good-bye. They are. Writing letters, that is what we do, and this week there were three letters of resignation written. It is just one of those things, when it becomes time to move on to another stage of life. But how come their new stages of life all arrived at the same time? I have seen a great deal of good-byes in my time. I know the hollow sound of the "Call me" and the "Keep in Touch!" that never rings true, and as I hear their plans of moving cross-country or settling down with Baby, I wonder if these words will again be spoken for the comfort of the moment or if, maybe, our y...

I pull to a stop and put on my parking brake, trying to remember which way I am supposed to turn my steering wheel when parked on a hill. I grab my purse from among the bags of food on my passenger seat and teeter on my heels up the steep driveway. As I approach the door, it opens and after the barest of greetings I am standing in "my room". As unfamiliar as it is. So this is it. The end of my months of nomadic wanderings. Today fall hangs heavy in the air and I am glad for the wall of boxes that contain nearly forgotten luxuries like cozy pajamas and sweaters. I gingerly open the box marked "winter clothes" and breathe a sigh of relief that I will not need to hunt through the other six boxes that mention some item or other of warm weather clothing, as I used my wardrobe as packing material. I sigh with relief because there on top is my soft, snuggly sleepwear. And underneath that is a light bulb. I really can't be bothered now by why a light bulb made friends w...

In my work world, it is irresponsible to believe that I can start at one task and expect to carry it to completion without interruption. At any time the phone might ring, and I may spend the next 45 minutes with my phone tucked up against my ear and then the following hour putting together resources and a letter to the caller. Or perhaps an e-mail will pop up in my inbox with a request that I translate the letter and send it internationally before I leave for the day. Then maybe someone passes by and asks if I can help them help a friend... and they will come back in a few minutes to pick up whatever I can put together. As each interruption arrives, I pull out the necessary tools and push the first task aside to make room for the new. And so it is that the more interruptions I have had, the messier my desk becomes. Pens get lost under new stacks of paper; I pull out my foot stool for the surface space it provides. I think sometimes my brain works the same way. The more interruptions...

I ran across a web page today that required a security question before you could ask the company a question. The reason, they said, was so that you (and only you) would be able to log-in to their website to retrieve the answer to your question. The idea of my company operating our comment page like that blows my mind. I can't figure out what extraordinary secret stuff you might ask that wouldn't be safe to have sent to you in an email. Then I took the time to look at their security questions. And friends, I took it as proof that they aren't out to make it easy for you. One of the options was "The first letter of the name of your best friend followed by the last four digits of their phone number." Not only do they make you choose a best friend, but who remembers the last four digits of a friend's phone number when they are "Memory 4"? And even if you took the time to look up their number in your phone's memory, you would be faced with the d...

I bought myself a shirt the other day. As I was trying it on, I noticed in big, bold letters the word "Anxiety" on the tag. Anxiety in black and teal. Perhaps I should have avoided buying the shirt, but certainly I should have known better than to wear Anxiety on the day of my dentist appointment. Because try as I might to keep it all in one place, as the dentist starts flinging options about decisions that need to be made before he will authorize the hygienist to take off my bib and for good measure he throws in a few extra anxiety producing words like "that shouldn't be happening" and "surgery, which I wouldn't recommend", my decision making capabilities begin to look like the black and teal squiggles on my shirt. And I begin to suspect the cute little "for show" black belt around my rib cage is hooked too tight. It makes me wonder, though, what was going on in the designer's life? A bad trip to the dentist?

Back when all of my belongings were contained in a 9x10 room, I got into the habit of taking two months worth of gas money out of the bank and keeping it in a little cubby of my bookshelf. Once in my nomadic life, however, it was no longer practical to keep my money in the bookshelf, and thus the problems began. Of course I tried to maintain some of the same thought processes that led me to choose that particular cubby as an appropriate place for my cash, but sometimes it made sense to go with the book theme, sticking the money inside the front cover of the likeliest looking book, and sometimes it made sense to go with the cubby theme, tucking it safely out of sight in one of the boxes, whether it be for Tupperware , shoes, or everything else. But then money technically qualifies as "important papers" so maybe I put it in the bag of mail I need to sort through; but it is also something I should probably have on hand when I travel, so maybe it is with my flashlight and ext...

Corn harvest Originally uploaded by biukalee Just because I want to share more pictures.

Gloria Originally uploaded by biukalee With a little bit of food, water, and something to keep the sun and rain off me, I could stay in this little corner for a very long time. From here, the noise of the city -- dogs barking, kids yelling, horns, motorcycles' and cars' engines, banging music from a hundred different houses, goats bleating, and dozens of voices -- recedes into a murmur of humanity that allows for me to hear the wind entangling the grasses around me. From here, the houses look quaint and charming, you can almost forget that the people in the kitchen have front row seats to the toilet and shower, that water must be hauled, and that mosquitoes are more prevalent than places to stand or sit. But as uncomfortable as some of this is, there is a strange feeling that if I walked a ways, through the tall grasses, between swaying palm trees, over the dirt road destroyed by heavy rains, I could find my way home. I would remember what it was like to walk barefo...

Walking to sitio Originally uploaded by biukalee For those of you interested in pictures of the civiled couple, be sure to check out my flickr pages.