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ninanevermore.
.
.
If I am ever queen of the world, daylight savings will be eliminated. I’m not bitter about it today at this moment; in fact, I’m happy that the time is back to normal. As a person with a somewhat rigid circadian rhythm, the clock and my brain are somewhat in sync again for the next few months. The US Congress has been going to great lengths to see that they are in sync for a shorter and shorter part of the year.
I suppose I could just up and move to Arizona, but all my family and connections are in Texas. Besides, I am a Gulf Coast woman by birth, and I like the lush greenness of my native soil. I love magnolia and live oak trees, and moving someplace where they are not everywhere I look would cause me grief. I would be perfectly content if the government would quit $%&ing with my clock and leave it be.
The new job is leaving me little time to breath. I am making a point to take a lunch every day (something I often didn’t do at some jobs in the past), but the company does not allow me to venture onto time wasting sites that cater to social networking and blogging, so posting from my desk is not an option. Not to mention there is so much chaos around me that I am trying to sort out. Two people previously held my job; one left, the other was let go. As a result, the people who are supposed to train me only have a rough idea about what needs to be done. It’s like I’ve been handed a box containing the pieces to about 4 or 5 different puzzles (some of them incomplete), all of a similar color scheme, and told, “Put these together and let us know what the pictures are and how many there are.” It’s going to take some time to figure it all out. Fortunately, the management understands this. And I’m getting to use my brain. When Mike told me that thinking and problem solving were “above my pay grade” at my last job, I had resolved that if he didn’t fire me, I was going to have to quit. I need to send him a thank you note for saving me the trouble of walking out.
I like the carousel and I eat lunch next to it on most days, sitting in the row of tables up against the widows of the food court behind it, because is the quiestest places to sit and read while I eat. I also like to watch the children get on the ride. My son has ridden on it, but only on one of the benches. There are two of them, one decorated with flamingos and one with peacocks; my son likes the flamingo bench because that was the first one he ever rode on and now it is the only one he will ride on (I guess it’s part of his not liking change). For the longest time, he would not even consider getting on a carousel animal, especially if it went up and down. If I tried to put him on one, he would struggle and screech, “On a bench! I want on a bench!” This last March at the German Heritage Festival in our small town of Tomball, he finally rode a carousel horse; it only took 5 years to get him on one. It was not like the carousel where I eat lunch, which is pristine and beautiful and protected from the elements; the one he road was a shabby carnival ride that showed it’s years of service on the road and in the weather. Still, it felt like a sort of progress to see him get on the worn fiberglass horse and enjoy himself.
At lunch, I watch children of all sizes run up to the horse or zebra or giraffe that they want to ride and point to it excitedly while their parents pick them up and put them in the saddle. I haven’t seen any children ride on the benches; only the adults accompanying them. I don’t really draw any conclusions from this or berate myself for not seeing what has always been right in front of my eyes. Lots of children are afraid of lots of things, many of them not the least bit logical. My son is a little different. I am a little different in a lot of ways, too. Different isn’t bad; it’s just different.
And if he could learn to accept the motion of a merry-go-round and find pleasure in it, even if he did it at a later age than other children, then it tells me he can learn to cope with a lot of other things that overwhelm him now. In his own due time, he will be fine.
* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * # * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *
.
.
If I am ever queen of the world, daylight savings will be eliminated. I’m not bitter about it today at this moment; in fact, I’m happy that the time is back to normal. As a person with a somewhat rigid circadian rhythm, the clock and my brain are somewhat in sync again for the next few months. The US Congress has been going to great lengths to see that they are in sync for a shorter and shorter part of the year.
I suppose I could just up and move to Arizona, but all my family and connections are in Texas. Besides, I am a Gulf Coast woman by birth, and I like the lush greenness of my native soil. I love magnolia and live oak trees, and moving someplace where they are not everywhere I look would cause me grief. I would be perfectly content if the government would quit $%&ing with my clock and leave it be.
The new job is leaving me little time to breath. I am making a point to take a lunch every day (something I often didn’t do at some jobs in the past), but the company does not allow me to venture onto time wasting sites that cater to social networking and blogging, so posting from my desk is not an option. Not to mention there is so much chaos around me that I am trying to sort out. Two people previously held my job; one left, the other was let go. As a result, the people who are supposed to train me only have a rough idea about what needs to be done. It’s like I’ve been handed a box containing the pieces to about 4 or 5 different puzzles (some of them incomplete), all of a similar color scheme, and told, “Put these together and let us know what the pictures are and how many there are.” It’s going to take some time to figure it all out. Fortunately, the management understands this. And I’m getting to use my brain. When Mike told me that thinking and problem solving were “above my pay grade” at my last job, I had resolved that if he didn’t fire me, I was going to have to quit. I need to send him a thank you note for saving me the trouble of walking out.
I like the carousel and I eat lunch next to it on most days, sitting in the row of tables up against the widows of the food court behind it, because is the quiestest places to sit and read while I eat. I also like to watch the children get on the ride. My son has ridden on it, but only on one of the benches. There are two of them, one decorated with flamingos and one with peacocks; my son likes the flamingo bench because that was the first one he ever rode on and now it is the only one he will ride on (I guess it’s part of his not liking change). For the longest time, he would not even consider getting on a carousel animal, especially if it went up and down. If I tried to put him on one, he would struggle and screech, “On a bench! I want on a bench!” This last March at the German Heritage Festival in our small town of Tomball, he finally rode a carousel horse; it only took 5 years to get him on one. It was not like the carousel where I eat lunch, which is pristine and beautiful and protected from the elements; the one he road was a shabby carnival ride that showed it’s years of service on the road and in the weather. Still, it felt like a sort of progress to see him get on the worn fiberglass horse and enjoy himself.
At lunch, I watch children of all sizes run up to the horse or zebra or giraffe that they want to ride and point to it excitedly while their parents pick them up and put them in the saddle. I haven’t seen any children ride on the benches; only the adults accompanying them. I don’t really draw any conclusions from this or berate myself for not seeing what has always been right in front of my eyes. Lots of children are afraid of lots of things, many of them not the least bit logical. My son is a little different. I am a little different in a lot of ways, too. Different isn’t bad; it’s just different.
And if he could learn to accept the motion of a merry-go-round and find pleasure in it, even if he did it at a later age than other children, then it tells me he can learn to cope with a lot of other things that overwhelm him now. In his own due time, he will be fine.
