As I look out the open front door, at the 70-plus degree weather outside, I impatiently wait for the results to the test I took this morning to be posted. It's weird; usually the teach has them uploaded before noon. Either the test papers gave him fits, or he looked out the window, as I am now, and said, "screw it." Either way is fine with me; I think I did ok. [edit: I just checked, I got a 93! Go me.]
Turkey day is less than 60 hours from now... And in less than 48 I go get the Megs in Tennessee. Me + 20000000 other drivers on the road = pray for me (or at least, think happy thoughts if you don't do the praying sort of thing.).
I came across a link today on Retronaut, that gave me pause. So naturally I had to follow it up to its original source. This is what happens when one takes a photo nearly every single day to chronicle one's life.... For nearly 20 years this man used a Polaroid camera. The photos show, at first, mundane things. Buildings. Friends. Meals. Stuff on the television. But the days get progressively darker, until the final days. Finally, there is a photo, taken by someone else in the room. He is doing what the medical folks term "resting comfortably". He is surrounded by friends, and someone is strumming (probably quietly) on a guitar. The next day, the very last picture is hard to look at, not the least because it is blurry and had to be taken by someone else. It was his 41st birthday. And he was dead. I don't know why this series of pictures struck such a chord in me; he was an extraordinary man, who led (up till the end) an ordinary life. It became a game of "Hurry Up And Wait" in the end...The cancer that took him from this world put those around him in limbo.
I guess having a parent die in the hospital brought it all back to me...
I've been "borrowing" the scanner up at the school these past couple of weeks. I have many photographs that needed to be made into digital copies, so that I could share them with others. It's odd; I still do not like Facebook very much, but having "met" many more relatives (a few of which I knew of, but had never met), I can see it has its place....
It also made me take a step back and look at things from a different prospective. I found that 2/3 of the family photographs that were taken I am crying, I have just thrown a tantrum....or I am pouting. This would lead an outsider to assume I had an unhappy childhood. I did not. Or at least it was OK up until about the age of 12 or so....... Here I am unwrapping things with my sister and mom. And I don't look happy. Of course, in this case I may of had a cold at Christmas (I had that knack for timing), which would explain the puffiness in my face. (or maybe I just had a puffy face then? I dunno...)
As the year wanes and the days get shorter, I get surprisingly restless. I want to do....something...but I am hindered. Where I end up will depend on where the job is, and while I will be able to accept part time or temporary for the time being.... I can't do any serious searching until mid-December, when I can honestly say I am done with school. So with me, it is indeed a case of "Hurry Up And Wait".
At least Thanksgiving should go quickly for me--4 days with a 11-going-on-12 year old who is getting increasingly more sophisticated and smarter every day. I hope to snag a few pics while she is here, to prove to her that she is quite the young lady.
Regardless of whether it's with friends, family, or just the folks at the soup kitchen, here's hoping you and yours have a wonderful, fulfilling and SAFE Thanksgiving.