Listen, Do Da Do

Do you want to know a secret, do da do,
Do you promise not to tell

She took another sip of her drink and smiled pleasantly at her friend. She felt her eyes beginning to cross and she took a quick look around the room. The friend kept talking. She replied with an 'uh huh' and the friend kept talking, and talking, and talking…


People seem to fall into two categories; the talkers and the listeners. I’m a listener. I talk too, of course, but usually I listen. I don’t know how it came about that I’d be the designated listener. But I am. I’m the one people come to at the store to ask which row the sugar is on then proceed to tell that there was a death in the family and they are making a cake. I’m the one the little kid comes to when he can’t find his mother and while we look he tells me what happened at school today. I’m the one who listens to the sad story or the happy story. I listen to people talk even when I don’t want to. I sometimes wonder why people want to tell me things. I don’t ask. But they tell me anyway.

I’ve wondered if being a listener is hereditary. I don’t really think so but I remember people approaching my Mamaw, my maternal grandma, and asking her questions then telling her things like they do me. It also happens to my mother. People come up to ask directions or tell her something they feel is important.

Part of being a listener comes from not saying much. I come from a family who doesn’t say much. That doesn’t mean there isn’t a lot to be said. It’s just not said. When my mom and dad would have a disagreement there was no yelling and screaming. There was dead silence. That’s what we were raised with and it transferred to all of us to some extent.

Unless you have some kind of disability you can hear. But not everyone can listen. It is hard to be an interested or active listener. Active listening means giving your full attention to the person who is talking. You let the other person know that you are listening to what is being said by looking at them. You acknowledge what they say with a nod of the head or by making a comment every so often. Body language also lets people know whether you are really listening…or not!

My Mamaw used to tell me to let her get her glasses on so she could hear me. She looked at me and listened to what I had to say. I knew she was interested. Listening is a skill as well as a courtesy. As with any skill the more you practice the more you will improve. Becoming a better listener will increase communication over all.

I once had a principal who stifled a yawn when you were speaking to him. He would yawn with his mouth closed, but it was obvious. I always felt sure that I was boring him to death. I was glad to hear that he did it to everyone and didn’t just single me out! Another boss I had wouldn’t look at me when I spoke to him. He looked to the side or on his desk. He acknowledged but he never made eye contact. I never was sure that he understood what I was telling him.

It can be hard to pay attention to what someone is saying if there’s no interest or if what the person says is always negative. It’s also hard to listen when someone harps on something that isn’t true. Slender people constantly saying how fat they are for instance, makes listening to anything else they have to say difficult.

It’s been said that you remember 20 - 30% of what you hear. If that’s the case, when you talk to someone for 10 minutes, they may only actually remember 2½ to 3 minutes of what you are saying. It works the other way as well. When someone is telling you something and you only remember 20 - 30% of their message, you can only hope it will be the important parts you hear and remember!

Being the listener isn’t all bad. You learn a lot about people. You learn a lot about things. I’ll continue to be a listener. One day, maybe, I’ll find someone who will want to listen to me!

I’m almost to the end of spring for my knitayear. Day 87 was an okay day. It was Saturday and I was content to do what I wanted at my own pace. It rained on and off and I chose a variegated blue and rust colored yarn. It reminds me of how the sky looks against the ground after it rains out here. There is a lot of red clay and the rust color reminds me of that. Day 88, June 27, was another rainy day. Since it rained all day it was a day of rest. Again, I did some things I needed to get done but at my own pace. I was tired and needed the rest. I chose a light blue/gray yarn with white spots in it. It is a restful color and reminded me of the sky with the rain coming down. Day 89 brought Monday. I spent the day in training. I really had other things I needed to get done but I’m glad I went to the session. I was content to learn some new things that may be beneficial in the long run. It was a good thing I rested yesterday because I was exhausted today. I chose a ribbon yarn, off white, light green and pale blue with gold sections every so often. The colors were pale, like my energy but the gold spots reminded me going through the day was worth it. Day 90 brought still more rain. We will have all the rain for the year in this one week! With rain comes rainbows and I saw a great rainbow on the way home from work. I’m thankful for the rain and for the rainbows. I chose a variegated rainbow fun fur to add to the knitayear. Day 91, the last day of the spring section, was an awful day. It began with bad news and continued to get worse. I was betrayed and don’t know who to trust. I got about four different stories as to the reason. I had to take my office ‘wall’ down and didn’t get a valid reason. Doesn’t foster collaboration, interferes with the air conditioning, interferes with cleaning, blah blah blah. I moved my wall but a transparent wall was built in its place. And it’s not coming down. I chose a black and white yarn with spots of red and orange in it. It was a black day. The white was rain. The red was what I’m still seeing. In the meantime I’ll keep listening. Maybe I’ll hear the real reason some day.


Listen, let me whisper in your ear
Say the words you want to hear…

We Are Family

Get up ev'rybody and sing...

Alan’s dad had his 80th birthday celebration the other day. Years ago they sold everything, their house and most of their belongings, and bought a motor home. They travel around when they want. They also manage, for lack of a better word, a park where people can camp in their RVs or in tents, or they can bring their boats and go out on the lake or just come in for a picnic or to spend the day. The park is in Arkansas. So, we made a weekend trip to Arkansas.

Fagin

I really wasn’t keen on going. It’s a long way, 700 plus miles each way, I haven’t seen any of them in years, and it was just easier to stay home. But Alan decided he wanted to go and Bryce was going to be there so I decided to go to because at least I’d be able to see Bryce for a while.

It turned out to be a good visit and after the fact I was glad I went. There were a lot of people there and it made Fagin’s birthday a good celebration for him. It was good to see some of the cousins, brother and sister in laws and their kids.

All but one Swinford boy

Some of the Dickson cousins

Family is an interesting thing. I did a Google search to see how the web defined family.

• a social unit living together;
• primary social group; parents and children;
• class: a collection of things sharing a common attribute;
• people descended from a common ancestor;
• kin: a person having kinship with another or others;
• (biology) a taxonomic group containing one or more genera;
• syndicate: a loose affiliation of gangsters in charge of organized criminal activities
• an association of people who share common beliefs or activities;

Our immediate family has a good relationship with each other. I think we could even be described as a close family. Of course all opinions will be from my perspective! If you ask one of the kids you might get a completely different story. In face I’m almost sure of it. We’ve had ups and downs, as in any family, and there are stories I could share! But altogether I think it’s been a good experience for us all.
The kids are still close. They keep in touch and share secrets. They’ll gang up on each other, two to one with the team members rotating. One time it might be two brothers against a sister. Other times it’s one or the other brother teamed up with the sister. But in the end, they all seem to forgive and forget. They call regularly or text, just to say hello or see what’s going on.

When I started thinking about family I realized that we are all we have. I know people say that all the time but in this case it’s really true.

The kids have grandparents. Alan’s dad, of course, and step-mother, and my parents are still living. I don’t know if it’s distance or busyness with others or just lack of interest, but none of them have much to do with my kids. It used to bother me but it doesn’t now. It’s just how it is. It’s sad because they don’t know what they’ve missed by not being involved in their activities. I’m sure they love the kids and I hope the kids love them. But life got in the way. Alan’s mother, Nanny as the kids called her, went the extra mile to be sure she was up to date in all the goings on in their lives. The kids loved their Nanny. And she loved them. She gave to them unselfishly. She griped at them but only to encourage them to be better. She supported them in their activities and in their schooling. She had some bad habits but so does everyone. I didn’t particularly like or dislike her. I think it was a mutual toleration on both our parts. But the kids say she always spoke favorably of me around them. Duh…what could she say about their mother to them? When their Nanny died last year they were heartbroken. Callye, especially misses her because she lived near her and she saw her often. They were very close and they took care of each other. They were kind of like sisters because they’d fuss and fight then make up and be best buddies. She visits her grave on a regular basis.

Callye and Nanny

Callye and baby Evan

We have three grandchildren now, all my daughter’s. Neither of the boys is married or has children. We love the little guys dearly and sometimes they are the only reason to smile in my life. I don’t want to be an absentee grandparent. I have had to miss some important things already because of work. And I’ve already heard that the grands think I’m always at work and am always busy. Some of it can’t be helped. Schedules, both theirs and ours, make some things impossible. Luckily, though, we live close enough for a day trip. They are only about 100 miles away and out here, that’s nothing! With school and extra-curricular activities, it’s easier for us to visit than for them to come here. But I don’t want to intrude, to be the mother-in-law whose visits are dreaded. So, neither of us goes as often as we could.

I can see history repeating itself. A family with three little kids and one set of grandparents who think they are special. I want us to become more of a regular fixture in their lives. I want them to come here and I want us to go there. I want them to be happy to see both me and Pappy. And right now they are! I want to be the one who brings them prizes and the one who lets them eat candy before supper. I want to be to them like Nanny was to my kids.

We were all together not long ago. Roseanne was on TV. The kids laughed as they compared something said on Rosanne to something someone in our family might say. One of them made the comment that our family is not THAT dysfunctional. I think we’ve lived, worked, grown and loved together. We have a bond that can’t be broken. I know we certainly aren’t the Brady Bunch but I don’t think we’re Roseanne either. We are a social unit living together, parents and children, people descended from a common ancestor, who share a common attribute, and have a kinship with others. I suppose we are a taxonomic group in a sense and I know we share common beliefs and/or activities. As far as I know, though, nobody is gangsters in charge of criminal activities! We are family.

Knitayear goes on. I’m planning to break my project into seasons with April, May and June being spring. I’m almost done with spring! It’s been busy at work and in general so there are a lot of days in this post. I’d like to be able to blog and write every day or so but it takes me a lot of time to put together something that makes sense. Makes sense to me anyway! But I’ll keep on knitting for sure and try to keep writing too. Day 79 was a travel day, to Arkansas. It’s more than 700 miles. I’m driving. I’m in a persistent sort of mood, just driving on until we get there. I picked a blue/gold/purple variegated eyelash yarn. It reminded me of the landscape all blurred together as we drove on and on and on. Day 80, ironically, was the day we visited with Fagin for his 80th birthday. I was apprehensive at first but after we got there and it was just he, Alan, Bryce and me, it was just like it was way back when I first met him. I was comfortable. I chose a green acrylic that is one of my favorite yarns ever in the color. It’s green and pretty in Arkansas and it symbolized that as well as how calm and comfortable things were. Day 81 was the dinner with all of the family and it was a good time; Lots of visiting, good food and fellowship and 700 plus miles back home. We got a late start but knew we had to continue, regardless. I had a scrap of red/pink/yellow variegated I added. It was like the sunset after we’d been on the road a while, the sunset that continued across the horizon. It’s short, like the visit. Monday, June 21, day 82 was a busy day at work. There are still things to be put away after the big move and three workshops to get done. I worked hard all day, planning and preparing. If preparing can be a mood that’s what my mood was. I chose a purple that knitted up well. All the stitches went together and formed a fabric that was strong but left room to breathe. It reminded me of my upcoming week; strong plans but room to improvise should the need arise. Day 83, was a good day. The workshop went very well and I was satisfied with how it came together, with the results and with the day. I chose a variegated purple/blue/green yarn that has the right colors to blend well and produce a nice yarn. Much like the day, things blended and produced a nice product. Day 84 brought a pale green that surprisingly blended well with the variegated from the day before. It was not a good day. It sounds funny coming from someone in education, but I detest stupid people. And what I detest more is someone who is so smart, making a big mistake out of carelessness and stupidity. Everyone makes mistakes but this was just plain…I can’t even think of a word to describe it. The more I thought about it the more annoyed I became. I’ll just have to remember, this too will pass. And soon I hope. Day 85 was another workshop that went really well. Even my co-presenter was pleased. I chose a very thick maroon yarn. It seemed like a happy color to me and I was happy everything worked out like it did. Day 86 was a day off. That is always welcome! So what did I do? I worked on stuff for work, at least half a day. So much for being off. I should have just gone in and gotten credit for the day! I was complacent though, because I could do what I wanted at my own pace. I chose a light pink yarn with little ribbons coming off of it. This yarn is smooth for a while then a ribbon flies off in whatever direction it chooses. It was much like today. I could do this, I could sit, and I could do that, whenever I pleased. This knitayear is much like a family is made. A stitch at a time, some yarns fitting in, some not, but all of it going together to make a cohesive fabric that is unique, beautiful in its own way and above all else, strong.

Ev'ryone can see we're together as we walk on by
and we fly just like birds of a feather I won't tell no lie
all of the people around us they say
Can they be that close
Just let me state for the record
We're giving love in a family dose

We are family
Get up ev'rybody and sing

Good Old Desk

Oowah Oowah ah ah ah-ah Oowah Oowah ah

My old desk doesn’t arabesque, in the morning when I first arrive.
It’s a pleasure to see it’s waiting there for me to keep my hopes alive.
Such a comfort to know it’s got no place to go, it’s always there.
It’s the one thing I’ve got, a huge success,
my Good Old Desk.

We are moving and changing offices at work. I’m still not sure why. I’ve been told it’s to foster collaboration. I’ve about decided it’s to get people to clean up their spaces.

Not enough room

When I say office, I say it as a loose term for the place I spend most of my life. The structure is much like a long hallway with six rooms off of it. The rooms have three walls but there is no wall off the hallway. The hallway is called a pod. The places we stay are called cubes. We call them offices, just out of habit.

Getting ready to move

There is not enough room for the things we have to store in our cubes. You’ll look around and see how people have improvised by buying crates or stacking shelves or hoarding the much coveted blue cart. There are stacks on desks, on tables and even on the floor.

Crates, crates and more crates!

Each office has a built in cabinet, bolted to the wall so it can’t be moved. There is one tall bookshelf and one short bookshelf, unless you get lucky and can get someone to agree to you having two tall bookshelves. The desks are leftovers; a hodgepodge of furniture in veritable stages of disrepair. There are two chairs, one for the desk and one in case a visitor stops by. Most people have also secured a table and some sort of hutch like device to increase storage space and make a kind of work surface.

Wall cabinet looking down the pod.

There’s no privacy. With the missing ‘wall’ and no door, any conversation may be overheard. People whisper quietly, stand in corners or even meet elsewhere when there’s something private to discuss. If there is a phone call, depending on how your voice carries, the whole pod may know your business. Some people are extremely loud. It’s almost like they want you to know that the insurance is due next week, it’s time for the annual checkup, the dentist appointment is Tuesday, the oil needs changing in the car and anything else going on in their life. That’s just the personal side. If you want to know business details, just listen.

A hutch on a table for storage.

I’ve been in my ‘office’ for eleven years. I’m in the same space I started in. I’ve never had to move. When you first come to work you inherit whatever is left in the desk from the person before you. They kindly leave you all sorts of treasure in the tall cabinet. Often times the bookshelves are left filled and any file cabinet you inherit is generally packed.

Workspace...filled up!

When you first come you have no idea what can be tossed in the garbage or donated to another unsuspecting consultant. If you ask the wrong person you’ll get the answer that it’s still important information. Yes, it’s from the 1980’s, but it’s good stuff. And you might need it or use it someday. After you’ve been there a few years you become brave and toss without asking.

The big move came as sort of a surprise. There had been rumors for several weeks, but the most vocal rumor mongers vacillated as to whether we would really be moved and how we would be grouped to we wouldn’t be moved at all. When the official email announcement finally arrived almost every person had to move out of their cube and into another one. Some moves were drastic, across the building moves. Some were close. I moved one cube down. This time we had to leave the old furniture and move just our belongings to the new space. The only furniture that you could take with you was the file cabinets.

There were some old ‘new’ desks in a store room. They were offered to the staff. They are sort of big, for our cube space anyway, but have lots of cubby holes. I asked if I could have one of the desks. There were more requests than desks so names were drawn and lo and behold, I became the owner of a new desk. I was also in the right place at the right time and was able to trade the short shelf for another tall shelf. I decided then I would build a wall.

Two tall shelves...soon to be filled!

The move created a domino effect. When the extra office was cleaned out Frank could move. Then John could move to his spot and I could move to John’s spot so that Elizabeth could move to my spot and Angie could move to her spot and so on. When it was your turn to move there wasn’t much warning. Okay, it’s ready, you’re moving. Of course it happened during everyone’s busiest week. And there was pressure. So instead of the weeding out, cleaning up and paring down, things were tossed into boxes and moved to the new space. When it was my turn to move I had two workshops to prepare for and present.

The new desk moved in.

The furniture was set up when I arrived. I had my great new desk and the two shelves with the backs to the outside, creating a makeshift wall. With some help I moved most of the books from the old shelves to the new shelves. I only had the desk and the wall cabinet to empty. The pressure was on to move another desk into my old space because the current desk wasn’t all that great. So while I was gone all of the drawers were dumped into labeled boxes for me. When I came back I hurriedly emptied the cabinet into boxes. As I was taking things out new things were being placed in the cabinet. I just wanted to hurry to get out of the way.

The fake 'doorway'.

I’m in the new office. I like my new desk. I’m still deciding where to put things because there are lots of new cubby holes. But there’s a lot of change from my old desk too. The drawers aren’t in the same places. They aren’t the same size. I’m adjusting well. I’m in the office, just not completely put away. I think I’ve found a new friend in my desk. It’s comforting to be behind my shelves at my desk.

Oowah Oowah ah ah ah-ah Oowah Oowah ah

My old desk never needs a rest, and I’ve never once heard it cry.
I’ve never seen it tease, it’s always there to please me from nine to five.
Such a comfort to know, its dependable and slow, but it’s always there.
It’s the friend I’ve got, a giant of all times,
my Good Old Desk.

After all of the turmoil, pressure and stress, I think the move is a good one for me. I’m not excited about the other people in my pod, but I can deal with it. And I’ll go in behind my shelves, my makeshift wall, and sit at my old desk. I’ll work. I’ll play. I’ll reminisce at my new old desk.

My Old Desk!

I’m keeping up with knitayear, surprisingly enough! There are days when I can’t add to it right away because I don’t have the yarn or I’m out of pocket. But I keep track of how I feel and choose the yarn accordingly and add when I can. Currently I’m caught up! Day 74 is Sunday, a day of rest. I shouldn’t have, because there’s always a lot to be done here, but I did rest. I chose an aqua boucle that seemed peaceful and nice to me. Day 75 I got to work with the doctors at TTUHSC. I always feel useful and welcome when I go there. They are so smart but I have something to offer them in a different capacity. I always feel I have helped. If a doctor takes his time to attend another workshop it must have been of some benefit to him. I chose yellow, with a touch of green and white. It’s a bamboo yarn it’s soft and welcoming, like I feel when I go there. Day 76 was a busy day. Getting ready for workshops, tomorrow and next week. I chose a turquoise fun fur, loosely knit but strong enough to hold things together. I felt exhausted today with all I’ve got going. The turquoise is probably my favorite color. The yarn is strong and decorative but thin and surprising. It reminds me I can do what it takes and hold things together. June 16 was day 77. I worked in the town I live, at the school I left. I did substitute teacher training. I was skeptical but it went extremely well. It’s sometimes hard to work where you live. But this time it was great. I chose a bright ribbon yarn. I felt fulfilled that I had been successful. The bright colors reminded me of being happy and the strength of the ribbon reminded me I am strong. June 17, day 78, is a steel blue homespun yarn. I’m just tired, but the week went well. I did okay. The blue is strong, steady. I have to be reminded, and I’m sad to say it’s frequently, that I am okay and I can do good. I think I’ll print a sign and put it on my new old desk.


Oowah Oowah ah ah ah-ah Oowah Oowah ah

My old desk isn’t picturesque, but it’s happy as a desk can be.
We never say a word, but it’s perfectly alright with me.
For when my hearts on the blow, I just open the drawer of my favorite desk.
And what do I see? But a picture of me working at my Good Old Desk.

Working 9 to 5

What a way to make a livin’,
Barely gettin’ by ,
It's all takin’
And no givin’.
They just use your mind,
And they never give you credit.
It’s enough to drive you crazy if you let it.

For most people working is a fact of life. On average I probably spend about 6 hours sleeping, 1.5 hours traveling, 8.5 hours at work, 1 hour doing chores, 4 hours watching TV/recreation/socializing, about 2 hours taking care of personal needs, and about 1 hour caring for family members or pets. My time was distributed a bit differently when the kids were home. Now we are ‘empty nesters’ this is an average day. If I take the time I spend at work and the time it takes me to get there and back, I’ve given 42% of my day to work.

I read somewhere the average American who works spends about 100,000 hours at work in their lifetime. If you start working when you are 22, after college graduation, and retire when you are 67, you will have about 45 years of full time work. That would make about 93,600 hours. If you worked part time, during college or before you found your full time occupation add about 4,160 hours. Together that adds up to 97,760 hours.

So you’ve been at work 97,760 hours. You sleep 8 hours a day, (which is an exaggeration but the suggested normal amount), 195,640 hours. Let’s say you live to be 75, which is about the average life expectancy today. Take your living hours, 657,000, and subtract the hours at work and the hours you sleep, and there are 363,000 hours left for anything else you do.


What does that say? We’ve spent approximately 15% of our life at work. And for what? Granted, you have to work to live, unless you’ve found some splendid way to swindle the government into providing for you. Money is needed to live. You have to buy food and provide shelter. There has to be a little fun thrown in, to protect your sanity, and fun costs money. So we do it.

What’s the reward for working all this time? That’s what I’m having a hard time deciding. I’m in the field of education which is certainly not what you want to go into to become rich. I’ve been told repeatedly it’s the intrinsic value that makes careers in education worthwhile. I understand already.


I like what I do. I worked with kids and thoroughly enjoyed it. I’d like to think that maybe I made a difference to some of them. Now I work with teachers and administrators. I still enjoy what I do but I’m not sure it’s important anymore. At least not to the people I work with. Granted, if there’s a problem or a deadline, etc., then I am very important because they need what I have to offer. But in the everyday scheme of things what I do is often shoved aside.

I work with Career and Technical Education or CTE in Texas education lingo. The ‘and’ is not supposed to be spoken when we say what I do. In the old days it was called Career and Technology Education or CATE. You did say the ‘and’ when you spoke the words. Sadly, even the teachers in CTE still call it by the old name. I think this is part of the problem. They are stuck in a time warp. The class names have changed and even the content of the classes has changed. But they haven’t.

There is a negative connotation when people think of career classes. Those are the classes for kids who are not college bound. Who says they are not college bound? A two year degree is college. Post secondary training may not be college but it is education. So why is a CTE class for ‘those’ kids?


First, think about what CTE is. CTE classes and programs teach high demand skills needed to get a job, a new career. CTE classes teach cross-training for different positions. CTE is designed to prepare high school students to transition successfully to postsecondary education and to help college students acquire the skills and knowledge needed to find gainful employment. But because it is not a CORE area of math, science, English or social studies, it is deemed unimportant.

Think of someone in a notable or prestigious position. How about a lawyer? Criminal Justice is a CTE class. What about an accountant? Accounting and finance are both CTE classes. Consider a doctor. Health Science classes are CTE classes. Unquestionably, all of these careers take a well rounded education, including extensive study in science, math and English, possibly even social studies. But their foundation begins in CTE.

Even jobs that are considered blue collar jobs need people who are trained and educated in their chosen field. Would you want a hairdresser putting chemicals on your hair when they didn’t have the training needed to do so? What about the airplane mechanic working on the engine of the plane you are going to fly in? Don’t you want these people to have had some post secondary training and be certified or licensed in the area they are practicing? I certainly do.

I suppose you can tell by now this is a pet peeve of mine. But the point is I’m tired of being treated as a second class citizen because I’m not in a CORE area, an area that doesn’t have a test attached to it in the Texas state education system. Do I want a test attached? No. The tests are…well, that could be another post sometime. Anyway, I’m tired of being shoved aside because what I do isn’t deemed important in the education system. I’m tired of working and not getting credit. I’m tired of being held back because I probably don’t know as much because I work with CTE. And you know CTE is/was for those kids. I’m just tired I guess.


By the time I retire I’ll have spent 15% of my life in a field where people think they are more important than others because they teach math, science, English or social studies. Where, if you don’t teach in one of those areas, you probably don’t know much. Where, because your content area isn’t on the ‘test’, it’s not important. They don’t even know how wrong they are.

Before you downplay the value of CTE classes, have you had to pay a plumber lately? And licenses and certifications are important. Just ask Joe the Plumber.


Off the soapbox and on to the knitayear project that is progressing. Day 69 wasn’t such a good day. I’m just fed up with different stories from people, from the attitudes and personalities I have to spend 42% of my days with and just in general. I looked for an ugly yarn. I don’t buy a lot of ugly yarn. What’s the point? But I finally came up with variegated orange and black. If you want a Halloween something or other it’s the perfect yarn, or maybe something in school colors. Maybe that’s what I was thinking. Otherwise? It’s ugly. I don’t know why I got it but embarrassingly enough I have more than one skein! It seemed to fit my fed up mood today. Day 70 is here, June 9, and only Wednesday. I’ve heard more stories, more excuses. I think it’s best to work and not talk to anyone! And not listen either. I have some eyelash yarn, not so ugly when it was in but not so great now. It’s gray, black and white and was fitting for a disgusted mood. Day 71 is a disappointing day. Thinking about a conversation held yesterday and thinking how true to character it is for the originator. Disappointing but what else is there to expect from someone who has proved themselves untrustworthy time after time. I found a scratchy wool yarn for this day. The color is pretty, orangeish, if that can be a word. I used it in a felted project and it was fine. But if it was a sweater I think you would be disappointed because it wouldn’t feel good against your skin at all. It’s misleading, because the yarn is pretty but it doesn’t feel good. It’s much like the person at work, saying one thing, changing it to mean something different. And before you think I’m the most negative grouchy person in the world, day 72 brought some relief. I got to stay home today. It was a welcome break. I even had something to look forward to in the afternoon. There was a barbeque for the recent successful interns in the teaching program. It was a lot of fun. I needed it. I chose a bright variegated cotton yarn. It’s fun and looks cheerful. Saturday, day 73, is a good day. It’s a good thing! I’m ready! Another barbeque tonight, probably the extent of our summer social activity! I found a purple variegated yarn, another eyelash yarn. I read that purple is a color that means transformation. I was in a neutral kind of mood today. Not good, not bad. The wind is blowing, as always and the purple ‘eyelashes’ remind me of blowing wind. It’s a pretty color. It will all be okay.


9 to 5, for service and devotion
You would think that I would deserve a fair promotion.
Want to move ahead but the boss won’t seem to let me.
I swear sometimes that man is out to get me…

It’s Just Another Manic Monday…

Six o'clock already I was just in the middle of a dream
I was kissin' Valentino by a crystal blue Italian stream
But I can't be late 'cause then I guess I just won't get paid
These are the days when you wish your bed was already made.

There’s the alarm. It’s too early. But it’s awful light outside. Oh no! It’s going off an hour later than it should be! Jump up. I hurry, hurry, hurry, only to be late anyway. It’s my fault but I say what a way to start a Monday!

Why is Monday a bad day? It shouldn’t be. It’s the start of a new work week. On the other hand, maybe that’s what makes it a bad day. It’s the start of a new work week! Maybe it’s not Monday that’s bad. Maybe we just make Monday the scapegoat.

If you dread Monday maybe what you are really dreading is returning to your job or situation. Maybe you are going back to something you really don’t want to be doing. If it’s that way every Monday there could be a problem.

(Picture from Minniepauz)

Superstitions tied in with Monday are both good and bad. “Monday’s child if fair of face.” That means if you were born on a Monday you are supposed to be nice looking. If you find the first flower of spring on a Monday it’s supposed to mean you’ll have good fortune. But if you have to move to another house don’t do it on Monday. It’s supposed to be bad luck. Other bad luck things to do on Monday are to get married, wear emerald, make a promise or begin new business. If it’s bad luck to begin new business on Monday, why do we usually start our workweek then?

The weekends seem to be getting shorter and shorter. By the time the weekend is here you have to do all the things that you couldn’t get done during the week. Two days just isn’t enough time. So here you are working just as hard if not harder on the weekend, when you are supposed to be relaxing. Chances are you are returning to work or your usual Monday situation, as tired as or even more tired than you were when you left on Friday.

What happens if your work week is Tuesday through Saturday? Instead of starting new on Monday you have to go back to work on Tuesday. Do you still have bad Mondays? Or is all of your ill will toward Monday suddenly transferred to Tuesday?

Me? I can have a bad Tuesday or Wednesday or Thursday, just as easily as a bad Monday. If the alarm doesn’t go off and I have that jumpstart out of bed, chances are it might not be the best day regardless of where it falls in the week.

Try this next Monday. Regardless of whether you are on time to work or late, try to smile. If you smile it might help clear up the bad feeling about Monday and bring you a good mood. It will certainly make your coworkers wonder what you are up to! And remember, if there was no Monday there wouldn’t be a Friday. So be thankful you’re here to see another Monday, and that you have something to do, whether it’s work or school or just relaxing. And, have a great Monday!

(Picture from Larryfire)

I’m finally caught up with the knitting on the knitayear. I keep track of the days but with recent travel I got behind on the actual knitting. There are a lot of days here. Day 62, June 1, is the first day of the third month of the project. It was also the day I drove home from Tulsa. I chose a Noro that is kind of grayish purple. I knew if I persevered I’d soon make it home. The next day, Day 63, was back to work. It was a crazy busy day, trying to get in some things before deadlines. I was very industrious. I picked a busy yarn, a fuzzy pink, yellow and purple variegated. Day 64 was fairly disgusting. There’s lots of stuff going on at work, people acting crazy. The redeeming part of the day was the fact it’s my baby boy’s birthday. I chose a black with a ribbon of all colors wound with it. I can’t believe he’s 22. Where has the time gone? Day 65 I was relieved to see some things were settling down at work, for that day anyway. It was Friday and a lot of people were gone. It was a quiet day at work, good for catching up on things. I chose a rust color yarn. It just seemed the right color. Day 66 was a relaxed day. I chose a pink yarn with a silver sparkle. Pink is relaxing and the silver spark is for the weekend! Day 67 was Sunday, a restful day. I chose a pale blue. It’s calming and relaxing and helped me gear up for another week. Finally, day 68 was white, a boucle. It’s a happy day. It’s our anniversary. 30 years. I wish I could say it’s all been fun but it hasn’t. But it’s all been worth it. The white is for happy and the little bumps of the boucle are for the pearls I got as a present. Thank you Al!




It's just another manic Monday
I wish it was Sunday
'Cause that's my Fun day
My I don't have to run day
It's just another manic Monday.