Sunday, February 24, 2008

For Jen - My Sister

Friday, February 22, 2008

The essense of things hoped for...

Hope is a funny thing. You can hang on to it for awhile until reality makes a huge pendulum swing into your face.

For a long time I hoped that Elora simply had an active imagination when she would stalk the bottom of the refrigerator or a small opening in the closet for hours waiting for something. But today (while working from home) I passed her toying with something that was a little too alive and wriggly to be one of her ubiquitous rabbit fur mice, and those hopes were dashed. Not sure where they dashed off to either, but I didn't stick around to catch it.

I hoped today that I hadn't actually broken the washer four days before moving by stuffing it too full and burning out the motor. Then Tim came home and the angry face forcing its way through a very, very bad cold told me I was completely wrong about that too.

Which brings us to the CFA exam that I just committed to studying for the remainder of this year and taking in December. And here is where I admit that I hope that I haven't peaked ten years ago. I had a good long run where I seemed to excel at everything I tried, and I was never quite sure why that was. So, now I am faced with another challenge, and I wonder if I still have what it takes. My energy is different, I'm more tired, and my interests have all changed. For that reason I almost didn't say "yes." But I'll give it a shot. I can only hope I'll surprise myself!

... the evidence of things not seen.

Monday, February 18, 2008

Defying the Laws of Physics and a few others...

Number of creatures in the bed: 2 (1 human, 1 feline)
Length of cat at maximum stretched out position: 23"
Size of bed: 6.5' x 4.5' (approximately)
Amount of space for Kendra: Maybe 8" x 3'

Please explain.

Saturday, February 16, 2008

Have another little piece of my heart now, baby...

In a few weeks, I will move into my thirteenth residence. If you count my long term corporate housing assignments, it will be my twentieth (and for the sake of avoiding bad omens, perhaps we'll stick with that number).

I love picking out people who are used to moving and people who aren't. As a frequent mover, I have to control the twitching when I catch someone throwing away the original packaging to something. (No! You are going to NEED that in another year)! I also understand perfectly how the same person can be so relaxed and accepting of change (because it happens all the time), but will act a bit cagey if people mess with their stuff too much. (You can move my desk five times a year, but for God's sake put down that little stuffed monkey, because it is one of the few constants I've had in the past 30 years)!

My mom and sister are also members of the frequent movers camp. They came today to help us pack and bring a *few* boxes I've had in various houses of my mother's forever. It was very nice of them to come help, because my sister is in the process of moving now and my mom is still recovering from knee surgery! However, she will not be deterred, and is probably the fastest packer I know!

Unfortunately, along with the A/V and Computer packaging, they also brought along a box with a bunch of my school papers starting from elementary school in them. This naturally was a great reminder that my neurotic behavior has been around from the beginning. I showed Tim a creative writing story I made at the age of 8, complete with cast of characters, family trees, and a developed conspiracy theory, and I think he was seriously considering making a run for the door. Good thing we have about 50 boxes blocking his exit.

In all seriousness, though, while moving over and over again seems to be the norm for me, and I am appreciative of the mental toughness that I have as a result, there is definitely something to the cliche statement of leaving little bits of your heart wherever you go. I've left pieces of myself all over the place - some places claiming bigger chunks than others. Everytime I move, I evaluate whether it is time to either reclaim some of the pieces or try to exist where the largest pieces are.

Hard to know, isn't it?

Saturday, February 02, 2008

This is when you know you have had far too much exposure to Paint.NET.

This morning I looked in the mirror at a particularly annoying pimple, and for a second actually thought of getting Tim to photoshop it out.

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