Two Months in Two Minutes

How about it. A whole two months without a pithy update. You must be starving. 

I have lots of what I label as noteworthy occurrences and I think to myself, "this is the kind of thing I wish I would write about on my blog." And sometimes I'll do just that. I'll scratch out my feelings on something that happened or something I thought about, and when I read it back, I see the presence of said feelings and I have no choice but to delete them. It's never particularly personal or dramatic. I keep that sort of thing to myself. But boy, seeing your feelings in print makes them feel cliche and shallow. So most of the time I find I double down and instead, give you pithy updates that are cliche and shallow. "We're all busy. We still have pets. See ya next time!" 
Most commonly though, I forget whatever it is that I thought might be worth scribbling down in the first place.

Similarly, in recent months I've lost my tolerance for people that have nothing to say. I've always got something up my sleeve for when people say, "Hey Lue, what's new?" It's not that my life is an adrenaline-filled exploit, a series of wild campaigns I lead to victory. Nor am I highly dramatic and can make a whole meal out of a tiny inconvenience. (That's not true at all. Have you read this blog?) So how come no one ever has anything to say when you ask about their weekend or simply say, "What's been going on?"

Oh well, let's see.

I sprained an ankle. Something strange bit my finger. I didn't see it happen but get a load of this weird rash! Brett has taken to making blueberry pies at strange hours. A new cat now consistently arrives on our porch in the evenings demanding food. (Brett named her Stacy.) Pippa tore an ACL. I haven't heard much my from my sister. I was accused of being too quiet at work and had to participate in a defense of my natural disposition. We've watched two especially bad movies lately. I've come up with a new theory about the color of peoples' shoes. I picked figs out of our tree and made my own Fig Newtons. Brett bought a surfboard. I went into a deep work panic and came out the other side again. Started reading a few new books, looked at houses for sale in the English countryside, and have been working on perfecting a focaccia bread recipe. 

My impromptu birthday gathering.

That's my boss up there. As a birthday treat, he conducted our entire meeting as a piece of cake.

These aren't monumental things. In fact I'd say they're the mundane bits of life, but what else is there? I'll talk at length about all of these things and I bet I'll make you laugh in the process. So in mulling over why no one ever has an answer for "what's new" I've decided that it must be a mindset. I guess they think they have to say something big for it to be worth hearing about, or else they'll make their life sound boring. Except that you having nothing to say is what makes you boring. Maybe people aren't looking at their lives like it's an ever-unfolding story that they don't really have any control over. Who knows what will happen tomorrow! Or maybe people aren't looking for stories in their days if they aren't inclined to write them down.

So, to contradict everything I just wrote, let's focus on the bit where I was interrogated for not having anything to say. The workplace is confused about why I'm always listening. Can you believe that? They want me to contribute more to meetings. I would like that too however, I don't have anything novel to add and don't enjoy talking just for the sake of it - not in a business setting anyway. There are already enough people in meetings talking for the sake of it, and frankly, I don't want to draw out an already too long meeting. I've always been quiet - it annoyed 90% of the teachers I had in school - and foolishly, I suppose, I thought my quietness might be taken as a sign of deep interest in what they were saying, or perhaps some intentional strategizing about your words. Wisdom. Respect. Those kinds of things. What have the loudmouths ever really contributed to a meeting? It's like they've never come up on an introvert before.

Ferguson hinders my productivity.

At the moment, there's a tropical storm dumping rain on the town. It's not a big deal, but Brett and I have a low spot in our septic field - something or other - so on the phone last night, Dad said it's possible that we'll get "backed up." 

"So just don't flush the toilets that often... only flush the hard stuff!" - Dad

And then he howled with laughter.