I hear grating, chewing sounds that can only be Sophie being naughty. “Sophie,” I call across the room. “What are you into?” The tags on her collar clang as she sprints out of the room (so she can nonchalantly reenter channeling absolute innocence).
At my call, Nick jumps to investigate the area in the entryway where we have stacked our luggage and other road trip whatnots (having only recently returned home). “I don’t see anything,” he says, questioning my judgment.
“I heard something that sounds like Velcro!” I defended my perfectly capable ears. Our spring jackets rustled softly as he nudged them with his foot.
“Well,” he began, “then it was either your jacket or mine…not sure which. I’ll hang mine in the coat closet and see if you hear it again.”
Every time I return home, I call out a greeting to Sophie. She’s most certainly a people-cat, but her instant response with someone new is STRANGER DANGER—BEWARE! As such, she never greets us at the door because the door opening is her signal to hide until it’s safe again.
The greeting is sort of an “all clear” signal. She usually approaches cautiously…just in case a stranger slipped in before the portal to the scary outer-world sealed.
We arrived home this afternoon after two days away. I called my greeting and heard thundering paws sweeping down the stairs. She turned the corner sharply at the landing and all but jumped into my arms without hesitation. The moment made me smile because I know that her happiness to have us home nullified the strength of her wariness…
…and that’s no small thing.
So, I’ve wanted to write so often, but then I tell myself I’m tired and the evening passes without the slightest effort. I soothe myself, claiming that it’s good that I’m busy living my life with no time to blog…but one thing I’ve learned over the years is that there is always time for a little more. A person can make time for a little more.
I found joy in writing fairly early in life. I do not pretend to possess any great skill, but writing feels like a treasured friend who helps me through the hard times and gives me the wisdom to fathom what “it” all means. Life…so hard and complicated and wonderful…and so incredibly beautiful it hurts.
I love sitting on the deck with my flowers. The heat, light, and honeyed fragrance on the air lull my sometimes anxious mind. Do you ever just absorb the quiet? At my most intelligent, I embrace stillness and revel in the feeling that I am part of something bigger when eventually the birds return to fly around my own perch, no longer afraid. It’s a shame that I end up being quite lacking in intelligence much of the time. We seem to live our lives in sudden, jerky moments, and it frightens wildlife because it isn’t natural…it dams the inherent flow of simply being.
What does all this have to do with blogging more often? Well, it’s with writing that I am my most honest. I pull thoughts into the spotlight when I never knew they existed until just that moment they appeared. It’s without writing that I begin to close myself off from simpler pleasures. I can never allow myself to be too tired or too busy for this.
I’m in a meeting, and we are putting the final touches on a presentation that we are giving tomorrow. When we get to the I/S portion of the presentation, the project manager asks for key system functionality items that she can list on the slide. We all come up with the first two bullets before looking to the I/S rep for more. I hear him pounding furiously on his laptop. “There is something wrong with the code,” he all but growls. “I keep getting error messages. I cannot get the program to run.”
Ever the smart ass, I chimed in a suggestion for the next bullet using my best marketer’s voice, “It stops working when something is wrong!”
The two men in the room with me smirked, but the project manager began typing the next bullet: It stops wor—. I must have grunted or something to stop her mid keystroke because she turned to me.
Project manager: “What?”
Project manager: “Oh, was that a joke?”
I/S rep: “Yes, that was a joke.”
Me: (bangs head against laptop)
Business tech specialist: (laughs at me banging my head against laptop)
Project manager, distracted and deadpan: “Oh. That was funny.”
So funny in fact, that she didn’t even know it. You know, once upon a time people knew I was joking before I explained it to them. I know, CRAZY.