randomness

"Oh, good grief!" - Charlie Brown

It's mornings like these I'm glad I can't understand what my pets are trying to tell me. I mean, yes, it is clear that they're indicating that it's time for me to leave. They want free and unfettered access to their house. That was made clear when Cayenne started shoving a few books, blankets, pillows and sundry off the shelf above the bed. More clear, when said items started landing on my head.

Wickett has been practicing his snoring. He's always had an impressive bark:weight ratio, but the snore:weight ratio really takes the cake.

And my dear, sweet Fiona... Must you really sleep on me? It's a king size bed, after all... There's a lot of extra room.

I don't suppose I should expect my pets to respect my right to a few extra minutes of beauty sleep after a late night herding electrons. I mean... how are they to know I wasn't just watching Sneakers last night for the 300^th time to amuse myself?

Onward and upward! Let's see what this day has to offer... At least there'll be a few miles between me and these crazy critters...

It felt good to be back at work yesterday. It was surreal. I didn't feel like I was back in Dallas at the office. It was painful as people around me asked uncomfortable questions.

I can hide at work for a while. Stuck in logical puzzles of herding electrons. Doing problem solving. Troubleshooting. Planning. Design. Perhaps that will keep my mind at ease for a while.

I haven't seen much normal lately. In fact, normal has been missing since summer.

Normal, by definition created over 2007 and 2008 means riding my bicycle 10-15 hours a week, amassing 150-250 miles and lots of the bike maintenance that goes with that.

This fall, I made a conscious effort to take two weeks off the bike. I cheated, and it wound up being 11 days. Three days of normal riding later, I was knocked off my motorcycle on the way to work. 17 days off the bike. I managed about a month of light riding on the weekends before Christmas. We managed two very short rides while home for Christmas. After returning to Texas, I managed a semi-normal week with 3 rides and 1 trainer session. And then it got very cold again, so back to 2 weekend rides. Back to North Carolina for a funeral and no riding. And then back to Texas again in time for (you guessed it) more cold, damp weather. Only 1 ride this weekend.

I really miss being able to whine about how badly my legs hurt from all the riding. I discovered today that my back was hurting because I wasn't riding... Oh, the irony...

So what's the one word that people will use to sum up your life?

Would you prefer they use a different word?

Can you sum your life up in one word?

I hope to be in Texas by sunset. If I'm really lucky, perhaps I'll have a glass of wine with friends before I sleep again.

Until then...

The Presbyterian way of dealing with death is through a Celebration of Life. Commending a soul on to the afterlife. Erupting from the junction of two large, very Presbyterian families, I've known the passing of a loved one to be a time when the family rejoined, shared stories, shared food and shared friendship. Yes, we'd lost a brother or sister or mother or father or aunt or uncle. But, the kingdom of Heaven had gained one. And we knew our loved one was now at peace.

Last night during the viewing, many tears were shed. Kitty's friends and family will all miss her. But along side the tears, many laughs were shared. Those who knew and loved my mom can't help but laugh when they think of her. From her bossing around her "daughter" Frankie and berating her endlessly for breaking her finger in the infamous "rolled it up in the window" incident to 3 o'clock phone calls and "Of course I'm asleep, and you should be too!"

Stories of Kitty's first "car date." Going to the Ritz Theater in an Austin Mini — a double date, no less — to see Disney's Cinderella.

Remembering Nell's admonition "If you kids are going to fight like that you're going to have to go outside!"

We'll all miss you, mom, but we won't forget you. I'm sure you'll be there with us later this morning as we continue to celebrate your life. I hope you like the penguin.

We all find serenity in different places. Different times. Different people.

But it's always out there. Sometimes elusive. Sometimes pervasive.

In some strange fashion I find serenity in long drives in the car. More so, at times, when those are long, solo drives in the car. I found a certain peace on the drive here Saturday. Even as hopes were shattered early in the trip, the miles brought healing of the soul.

I hope 15 hours are enough to find serenity again when I make the drive back home.

My mom found some really cool wind chimes. Some great big ones. Some little tiny dainty ones.

For Christmas last month she gave us a set that are tuned to Pachelbel's Canon.

On her front porch are some deep, loud, low and ominous chimes.

Inside the house are some lovely bamboo chimes that sing gently as you brush by them.

Everywhere you turn is another set. Some quiet, some loud. Some big, some small. Some artsy, some simple.

It occurs to me that she's going to enjoy making all that racket when we hang the chimes at our house.

I had just passed east of Sulphur Springs
Beneath a starry Texas sky
When they called to tell me that my mom
Had waved the long goodbye

Last night, I changed the strings on my guitar.

A fresh set of strings does a lot for a guitar... Its tone becomes a little more lively. Its strings move a little easier. Its like a whole new life beneath your fingers. Or there are times you try some new strings that just don't pair well with a guitar. It's tone becomes dull or harsh. The strings grab your fingers or buzz on the frets.

I'd been putting off the string change. Its the first time I've changed them since we lost Maggie. She was my helper when it came time to do that job — and at the exact moment I extracted the last old string, she'd pop mysteriously from around the corner and have a seat in the guitar. I'll miss that.

At some point, we all look for a reset switch — a way to change our own strings. Focusing on work. Playing with race cars. Racing bicycles. Riding motorcycles. Religion. Pets. Food. Drink. Drugs. But our brains don't refresh the way guitars do. What we do shapes us. It adds character. It adds flavor. Or it can dull.

We have to be careful in our quest for the elusive reset. Wise choices result in being well rested and having a sharp mind. Poor choices slowly erode your very soul.

This set of strings plays pretty well. I think I'll stick with them for a while.

So those of you who know me may have picked up on the fact that I am a master procrastinator. I tend to think of it as being very patient most of the time, but deep down I know that I'm just putting things off.

For example, we've had one and a half toilets downstairs for some time now. Not one and a half baths (well... that, too) but one fully functional and one that would spew water everywhere if flushed more than once a day. Yesterday morning while finishing up my morning routine the remaining functional toilet exploded. Water everywhere. Joy.

Fixing the half toilet wouldn't have been such a chore and not put off so long but for the fact that the contractor who built our house in 1983 was high on crack. The shut-off valves for all three toilets were sweated on — with, presumably, a malleable rubber washer inside them. It was sacrificed to the fires. So, to work on the toilets requires shutting off water to the whole house. I have replaced the shut-off valve in the master bathroom, but learning from that experience, the remaining two won't be replaced until the toilets and carpet are out of the way. Since I am planning to put tile in the entire downstairs of my house this year, I was hoping to sneak by a little longer and only do this job once... No such luck.

So, I stopped by Lowe's on the way home yesterday afternoon and retrieved two complete toilet kits. I had done an emergency "3 a.m." sort of repair on the master bath toilet a few years ago by finding an appropriate size bolt and some washers in the parts drawer in the garage. I figured now would be a good time to replace all the parts in both toilets. I was correct. The tank to bowl flange/washer/thingy on both was deteriorated. That's a polite word for it.

And, so, a few hours later, quite a bit of swearing, some invention (built a "wrench" from some used bicycle chain and vice grips), and dropping the rotten rubber washer of the flush valve on the carpet twice, I had two fast filling, quiet and positively stopping toilets.

Life's little pleasures...