Funny. I was just telling a friend last night how alarm systems make me uncomfortable and what do I do this morning? I set off the office alarm. Ack!
For those of you who aren't dyslexic, you can probably walk up to an keypad on an ATM or a telephone or...I don't know...an alarm system and have confidence that you know what order the digits are supposed to go. You probably never mix up your own phone number and you don't have to make up rhymes to remember your ATM codes.
Hooray! Hooray! Hooray! Disney has officially announced that Space Mountain will reopen on July 15th, 2005. It's been closed for renovations for more than two years now and Tomorrow Land has been grievously lame in its absence. Thank goodness for Star Tours; otherwise there would be no reason to go into Tomorrow Land at all. . . except that pasta place, and the Star Trader of course, and that little nook with all the rad NASA stuff from the Mars rover. Okay, so I take it back. There is still cool stuff there.
In a meeting, some maps I made for a project came out.
"We'd like you to change the aerial photographs to full color." The maps are pushed to me across the table.
"They were in color," I said. "You requested that I change them to black and white." I push them back.
"Oh, well... Blah blah blah color." Deep breath, Shannon, I tell myself. They pay you to be here 8 hours a day and you get paid to do the stupid, redundant crap just the same as anything else. Smile for the boss.
"Sure thing." Big smile. "I'll get right on that." I move to get up.
I just learned that John Fiedler and Paul Winchell both died this week, within one day of each other, actually. If you didn't know, John Fielder was the voice of Piglet and Paul Winchell was the voice of Tigger, among many other voices in Disney films that we love.
It's June in Sacramento Valley. Nearly July, in fact.
It's nearly July in the Sacramento Valley and I'm wearing long pants and a flannel shirt. And I'm still cold and considering another layer. What's wrong with this picture?
Well, I'm at work of course. The AC vent over my desk is whistling along merrily and the overhead fluorescent lights are twitching along in time with the song and I'm at my desk slowing shriveling up and bleaching in cumulative response.
Heaven forbid we open a window.
I bought a CD this week that was recommended on the webpage of a band that I'd heard and liked at Dickens Fair. (Ah, the internet... Entwining our lives and providing me with lots of stuff I don't need to spend money on... Huzzah!) Anyway, I bought the CD from a little online music store called CD Baby that sells a lot of independant labels.
My confirmation of shipping email arrived on Tuesday:
Newsflash! I posted pictures from my good friend Angela's birthday party. It was much fun, as always. Check them out on my photos page.
It occured to me as I updated my photos page that there are an awful lot of pictures of me in funny costumes there. Huh. You'd think I was in to playing dress up... Or something... Hello. My name is Shannon. I stopped growing up at age 7. That's okay. Growing up is awfuller than all the awful things that ever were, or so a friend told me, once upon a time.
A quest for old maps took me to the dungeons of the UC Davis library today. ("Ancient maps show that Antarctica was not always covered with ice.") On the way, I passed a pick-up volleyball game in the grassy spot in the shadow of the engineering building. My husband works in a nearby building and I know he plays at this game frequently.
I spot him preparing to serve. I stop and watch him for a minute. He's tan and lean in the sunshine. He slams the ball into the far corner and gets a point from the serve. I smile. I watch him set up a spike for a teammate. Another point.
Dad and I went to see Star Wars III last night. A few years ago I stopped giving my parents presents for Father's Day and Mother's Day. Now we go on adventures instead. Mom and I have been to the ballet and basketball games. Dad and I typically do baseball, with a few Star Wars exceptions.
Kirkwood is melting. The tops of the mountain are still blanketed in old snow. You might even still be able to make some of the runs from the top, if you were adventurous and not overly fond of your skis.
But down at the base, water is running everywhere. The sound of it is in your ears wherever you go. Rushing rivulets push there way out from under dirty piles of old snow and cut through the newly exposed brown earth. Rivulets meets and become streams, and streams meet and become rivers, rushing off to wherever they go. Down to a valley, I suppose. Just like me.
