Deuces

I take Penny and Obi for a walk every day. Okay, I take Penny... I don't get a choice with Obi. As I put the leash on the dog, the cat comes sprinting from the tundra (grass) and eagerly joins in. Obi has enjoyed these walks for the past few years.  We sometimes try to sneak out of the house, for worry he will get himself into mischief or a rogue dog will come chasing him, but all of our efforts are fruitless... He loves our walks. He trots behind us or sprints ahead and lies in wait for us to catch up.  Literally, he lies there. He might rub his back against the concrete, polish his paws, or enjoy the cool grasses of an unwitting neighbor's lawn.  If that neighbor has a dog, he will run up to the fence and encourage the little rascal to stick it's nose out from under so he can SWAT! it accordingly, in one fell swoop. I'm not sure why our next door neighbor's yorkie hasn't caught on.  Poor little Obama gets his wet nose swatted more times than Lind...

Some people don't have pets and I can totally see why. They require a lot of love, attention, time and money. But you know what my favorite thing about my pets is? I am never alone. Even when the house goes quiet and all I can hear is the tapping of my keys on the keyboard, I know they are close. And when I head into the kitchen for a bevvie, a snack, or to tidy up, they suddenly appear from whence they were hiding. Sometimes it is just one or two.  But they look up at me and beg for me to drop a crumb.  Today Penny, Trouble and I shared a grilled cheese sandwich. They weren't yelling at me or judging me or asking me for books and recommendations on curriculum like my customers sometimes do. They just sat there, with me, helping me eat my grilled cheese sandwich, reminding me I am never alone.  I'd love to say their love is unconditional, but the grilled cheese sure helps.

Wasn't it just yesterday that I cleaned this room? Wasn't it just yesterday that those floors were so sparkly I could eat off of them? Wasn't it just yesterday all of the laundry was clean and hung and folded? I have always scoffed at people who have housekeepers, but I'm slowly starting to get it. It's Grounhog Day, every day, when it comes to tidying and polishing. Every day there are dishes and socks and cat hair and crumbs bird feathers on the floor and grimy bath tubs There're pans and there're pots, windows with spots... and in the bedroom an un-made cot (okay, bed, but that doesn't rhyme) There's a book on the floor, a bra on the door, and a million other, countless, annoying, never-ending chores...

In 3rd grade my girlfriends and I would retreat to the playground for recess.  We were 'over' the swingset phase and had outgrown the jungle gym. We had tired of dodgeball and tetherball (which these tiny hands could never master)... So every recess we would head to the far reaches of the green grass and sit in a circle. We chose our spot meticulously- Far enough away from the lower-grade kids and far enough away we couldn't hear any annoying boys. And we chose a place where there was an abundance of little white flowers. Every recess we would sit Indian-style, talking about who-knows-what.  And we would tie all the tiny white flowers together to make what we thought were the most amazing wreaths, bracelets and necklaces. Sometimes we made them so long we would try to use them as a jumprope.  That never worked very well but it still felt like a huge accomplishment to tie so many tiny white flowers together to create something so long. After recess we would...

What's the deal with passwords?? Last night I projected an educational software program onto an LCD screen. My mission? To train and educate the adult minds of college students how to register their software, create a username, password, and subsequently log in to their accounts for a semester of access to homework and project assignments. I looked great, thankfully. Because as I smugly demonstrated how to navigate the log-in screen I proceeded to set an example of how to "easily" enter my username and password. And then it happened. Right there, for everyone to see... I couldn't remember my password. Blasted. I laughed just a little, assuming I had hastily entered a character wrong. No enchilada. I couldn't get in. I gave it 6 more tries, and each time the page hollered back at me that I was a buffoon, unworthy of being someone's wife and daughter, and each time in that bold red-color that suggested I shouldn't even bother to ever...

I got a B in that class.... But I should have gotten an A. Last night I sat in a class full of students.  They are wonderful students.  They have lives. Many of them have children or jobs or personal things happening in their lives that I will never know about. A student told the teacher that she needed a week off of school for a family matter.  The teacher thought about it for a moment.  Invariably, she wondered if telling the student that her absence was excusable would set a precedent for the rest of the class to take beach days off. But the teacher explained that she understood that things happen- but to be fully prepared when she returned- and that she would have to make up the work that was missed. The rest of the students seemed to understand.   They nodded in agreement when the instructor said that tardiness, absence and lack of participation sets the whole class behind, and as a courtesy to others to be on-time and respec...