Sliding my jeans back on after dance class late on Tuesday night, I felt a bulge in my pocket and reached in to pull out a cell phone, a cable needle, and a binky. This is very indicative of my life right now.
It’s been quite the week.
Luke and I saved a computer client from a malicious software threat on Wednesday. Sometimes duty calls when preschool isn’t in session, you know? Luke played with pretend sushi on the floor of the server room while I worked. I explained everything to him as I went along.
“So what do we know about viruses, Luke?”
“Virus bad.”
My apologies for back-blogging; you know how I abhor the practice. My computer spent a week in the shop and I spent a week grieving for its absence and "blogging" on scraps of pressed wood pulp with sharpened bits of lead embedded in wood. Somehow I survived and now I have brand new optical drive to show for it. Shiny.
Let’s play “What if?” It’s a good thing to do. You know, so you know you’re prepared for whatever life hurls at you. Car trouble or power outages or zombie attacks... You know, the basics.
Alright, now it’s time to play our game. What do you do if you’re putting away the dishes and the phone rings?
October 2006
October 2007
October 2008
Recently, while out on an IT call, my client begins to tease me for talking to myself.
“I’m not talking to myself; I’m talking to your computer.”
He laughs. “And is it talking back?”
“We’re effectively communicating, thank you.” Privately, I’m thinking, It’s you the computer’s got issues with, not me. We’re cool.
My family’s laughter drifts down the stairwell to my room, sometimes in a single, identifiably-loved voice and sometimes in unison, in the voice that is my family. Downstairs it is quiet and dim. I’m in a rented house on Donner Lake and my young son is lying beside me on a mammoth bed, his eyes heavy with sleep but too stubborn to close.
On Sunday afternoon, we returned from a week-long trip. Luke proudly ran around the living room announcing the color of each of his long-neglected toys by way of becoming reacquainted with them.
It was quite lovely round abouts Yosemite where we were, but it’s hot as blazes here.
In the early evening hours, with the trip laundry going in the washer, the kitchen restocked, and suitcases in various states of unpackedness, Shawn went to the kitchen to prepare cherry margaritas (defensive weapon). Luke was hanging around his knees begging for cherry pieces.
This morning a public works truck pulled up to street lamp in front of our house. A man in an orange vest hopped into a bucket that was raised up to the level of the light to change the bulb. Luke and I rushed to put on shoes and jackets to go watch. The orange-vested man waved to my son who waved back frantically until his little arm was like to pop out of its socket. I think he’s found his destiny. Nothing pleases this child more than going up or turning on lights so hanging out on top of cranes as a caretaker for a city’s worth of street lamps is clearly a dream occupation.
Yesterday, Luke turned 18 months old. Big boy. We celebrated with a trip to the toy store where we acquired a very nice shiny set of cooking pans, just the right size for making dinner for Bear and Mr. Ray. Afterwards we went to my favorite coffee shop and split a snickerdoodle. Luke sat in his own chair, with his little sneakered feet not even long enough to dangle over the edge. He munched his half of the cookie slowly, looking around at the birds and passersby on the sidewalk. A Unitrans bus went by.
“Whoa!” he said.
“Whoa.” I agreed. “That’s a bus. Bus.”
Picture this, if you please. I’m reading in the corner chair on a peaceful Saturday afternoon. From the kitchen I hear my husband. “Luke, put that down. Luke, that’s for dinner. Luke, let me have that, please. Luke!”
