It promises to be a busy weekend, at any rate, with the circus tonight, the game tomorrow (it is really Friday today, isn't it, K.T.?) and some errands that I want to run mixed in. But it'll be fun, so bring it on!
This morning on the radio, as I was driving to work, the disc jockeys were talking to a seven-year-old boy. It was adorable.
"If I gave you ten dollars right now, Jimmy, what would you buy with it?"
"Basketball cards!" No hesitation.
"Do you have a girlfriend, Jimmy?"
(long pause) "Um, there's this... Not really."
"How do you know your parents love each other?"
(with mild distaste) "They kiss a lot."
"Do they ever go out and leave you at home with a babysitter?"
"Yeah."
"What does the babysitter let you do that you're not supposed to do, Jimmy?"
(Jimmy's mom, muffled) "His mom is standing right here!"
I laughed. Kids are so funny sometimes.
We're coming up on spring, which means it's about time for my annual bout of wistfulness about babies. This happens every year: As the flowers begin to bloom, I suddenly find myself wondering if I might not want to change my stance on children. I notice cute kids more readily than obnoxious ones. I imagine the comforting warmth in my arms and the powdery smell...
And then sometime in late spring, when the leaves on the trees have grown to just about their full size, it fades away and the scent of baby powder sours into curdled milk and soiled diapers.
I suppose if it ever sticks with me through summer and autumn, then it might be time to actually think about re-evaluating.
I need to resign myself to wasting an evening working on our taxes, soon. Since I consider myself somewhat more intelligent than the average American, I thought I might attempt to simply follow the directions in the book before I give up and take our forms to my father.
At least I won't be making any trips to the library. I discovered last year that I can download the forms I need from the IRS's website and print them out. (A link? You want a link? Oh, for petesake... Here. You're welcome.)
I've always done our taxes pretty easily in the past, but this year is different. This year, we moved into a new house, and in the four months that we lived in the house, we paid several thousand dollars in interest. Next year, when we've lived in the house for a full year, it will definitely be better for us to itemize our deductions, but this year I'll have to do the math both ways before I know for certain.
But I need to get on with it. I like to have our claims in the mail before March.
So the meeting yesterday was just as boring and pointless as I thought it would be. The point was to tell us how standardized the company's procedure's are, according to this chart. They went through - mercifully quickly - all the various areas that have to be evaluated. The whole time, I was snarling mentally. All I need to know, I thought at the speaker, is what procedures you want me to follow, and where to go in case I need to ask someone about the procedures for some reason. That's all I need. I don't care what heaps of paperwork the managers have to suffer through - that's what managers are for - to keep me away from the paperwork!
But, alas, one of the required procedures turned out to be that all employees have to be trained in the procedures, so I ate the lunch the company bought for me (next time I need to remember not to order food that's meant to be eaten hot) and doodled on my notepad.
First I took notes in an outraged tone about how absurd it was for us to be in the meeting - the speaker even admitted in the first ten minutes that this wasn't information we really needed to know. Then I huffed over the fact that they were eating up valuable time in which I could be working (despite the fact that I hadn't gotten any work done that morning). Then I sketched out a few ideas and some pseudo-code for my project, just so the two-and-a-half hours wouldn't be a total waste of time.
About then, lunch arrived, and I admired the efficiency of the receptionist who brought it in - she'd gone through the bags and bags of food beforehand and wrote our names on each container so it only took about five minutes to parcel out all the food. (I'd been envisioning half an hour of "Okay, who ordered the chicken?" and "Where's the salad I ordered?") Next time, though, I need to remember to order food that isn't meant to be eaten hot. My soup was fine, but the chicken fingers were only lukewarm.
After I'd eaten, I mellowed a lot, and spent half an hour or so doodling designs I could use with henna, testing my free-hand drawing skills. Finally, finally, it was over, and we all piled outside and headed back to our offices. The Two Mikes and I agreed that the meeting had sapped our energy and enthusiasm - we could barely concentrate on our work.
Ah, well, I managed to get through my goal for the day, so that was good.
It has become cool in certain circles lately to deny Valentine's Day, even among those who have the necessary equipment (i.e., a significant other) to celebrate it. Having given it some thought, I deny those people.
The problem is, I agree with them on a number of points. Romance shouldn't come only once a year, on a day mandated by the government and controlled by the merchants. There isn't any rational reason for being any nicer to your lover on February 14th than any other day. Flowers and chocolates and gifts aren't the cornerstones of a good relationship.
On the other hand, the lesson we've been trying to get through for centuries is that lovers shouldn't have to need a reason for giving each other gifts, be they silly tokens of affection and friendship or expensive expressions of passion and regard.
It's been my experience that couples who are secure and happy in their relationships - who have romance all year 'round and are nice to each other because of their love and not an advertising campaign - look upon Valentine's Day as an excuse to indulge in each other rather than an effort on the part of the government and the stores to dictate our feelings. It's been my experience that it's good for a relationship to pull out all the stops occasionally and dedicate some time strictly to romancing each other.
So to the people who poo-poo Valentine's Day, I say:
Fine. Reject the commercialism and timing. But for petesake pick another day when you and your lover will plan to pamper each other. Spontaneity is all very well, but the results of a little bit of planning can't be beat.
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