The Other Shoe

 So that dropped.

In short, my remote status was revoked, and even though my 3-hour one way commute was taken under advisement (I was told), TPTB think it’s A) reasonable for me to do and B) think it’s reasonable I pay my own expenses for hotel etc.

Any reasonable person would think this unreasonable.

We’ll throw in my life circumstances, of which HR was well aware when they hired me, and it all adds up to a hard no pretty quickly.

Needless to say, my hard no was not appreciated.

So I find myself with the clock running quickly down to 3 weeks + 1 business day hence to get these particular affairs in order and figure out what’s next.

That particular white board is currently blank.

And while I have a long, long list of things here at home I can attend to, I’ve been at this working gig for 45 years, and the unknown of it is scary, although I’ve lived long enough to have been here before and figured something out.

You’d think by now it would be less scary.

You’d think.

Saltines and sardines

 Way back in the dark ages, I remember finding a tin of sardines in the cupboard. I don’t remember exactly when, but I’m pretty sure I knew at the time I was looking at a dad relic.

These are things that eventually disappeared over time. Only now, almost 50 years later, I’m remembering what he liked. And the memories are often random; I could make a list of the things, but that would lose the ‘how’ and maybe even the ‘why.’

Sardines lately have meant a portable meal, and I realize they aren’t for everyone. I packed several tins plus some fruit and microwaveable Indian food for my weekend up at Hawk Mountain. One rainy day kept us indoors and eating lunch at our desks, and the guy half of an older couple taking the course kept razzing me about my sardines. No idea why, except maybe he thought it was cool to loudly mock my lunch.

I didn’t care; I put him on ignore and so did everyone else.

It took one of my sorties last month to the job site to gel the sardine connection. I was in my hotel room feeling sorry for myself and preparing my dinner. I remembered the saltines I had saved from a meal out with soup and added those to the sardines…

…and suddenly I remembered this combination from way, way back, memories that lack the visual but have all the other senses, things that connect me back to My Person. I smiled before I drank my Belgium ale, thinking My Person would have gone for PBR in a frosty mug.

And suddenly a lot of the stuff I enjoy that most people would find weird makes sense. This is my wiring. And I find new ways to connect.

Oh, no, you don’t…

 There’s so much stuff happening right now.

And it’s everything, everywhere, all at once. To coin a phrase.

How do I sum it all up? I guess I can’t, so I’ll do one thing at a time.

Work is in a weird holding pattern; my remote at convenience was revoked, and I refuse the three-hour one-way commute that comes with the two-day hybrid dictum, so I’m waiting and doing the thing while the powers that be figure out what to do with me and my ilk (because I am not the only one). I bring my A game til they shut me down.

Younger is on spring break.  I refuse to look at his grades. School is his thing to manage, and I assume competence, for better or worse.

Elder is..,.doing his thing. Still stuck, but not exactly. Weight is coming down. But his head is in a weird space.

Keeping my head up, bringing good energy, trying to keep us all moving forward. Some days, it’s a struggle.

Transition

 Sometimes change is so gradual that you don’t notice anything until it’s been and done, and every one else has moved on. And sometimes change is a flipped switch that turns everything you knew as ‘normal’ sideways.

Lately, we’ve had both flavors.

Elder suddenly is a sports fan. Did it blow up out of no where? I feel like it did, until I remember the Phillies’ improbable vertical climb out of the wild card slot into the World Series. No, he was in that, following all the teams, running a spreadsheet, weighing the odds with the best of them.

Football is a little more of a surprise.

He immersed himself in conversation at work and in study of the game. And just like that, he’s an expert, running his spreadsheet, prognosticating with the best of the Monday Morning Quarterbacks.

After a little spell of revisiting interests of his younger days, he’s suddenly back in his 20s, looking for his people to share his interests.

He’s looking ahead.

I haven’t seen him do this in a while.

Lots of hard parts here. I try to sit on my hands and keep quiet. Trying not to orchestrate. Trying not to ‘make stuff happen’ so that he can figure that out himself.

So hard not to jump in and ‘do.’

And trying not to expect anything, assume anything.

Another Fork in the Road

 I don’t want to write about the adulting stuff. My adulting stuff. Boring AF.

I’m trying to figure out my own way while trying to keep my guys on track and on task. 

But my older guy surprises and delights. In the last 6 months, he’s surging past the regressions of lockdown in a variety of ways. Okay, we haven’t gotten to FTE yet, but I realize he’s not there yet. However, his gigs have all contributed to his overall growth: at his theater job, he learned football and has a topic of conversation that’s relatable to, well, anyone really, but particularly those who bleed green.

At his bingo gig, he’s learning how to navigate other people’s crazy, bringing his compassion and other gifts to bear on some tricky social situations.

And he received an overwhelmingly positive review from his non profit job. His only Needs Improvement is an area that most people stumble on. He has a ton of opportunity to make good and better for his next review.

Younger guy is just awesome. He brought elder a surprise today just because he wanted to. He’s thoughtful with regard to his brother. 

The vice is not always versa, but nobody’s perfect,

Undefined

 Of all of us, younger has the best self image.

This old soul has never let anyone or anything define him. He patiently suffers fools to a point before he calls them out in the baldest terms possible (I alternately chuckle and cringe).

He ignores the labels and roles assigned him. I’ve never met anyone so completely comfortable in their own skin.

I’m paying attention. Watching and learning from a master.

TF am I doing?

 I’m trying stuff on.

I bought a paddle, so yeah, I’m dragon boating again. I need to get new tips for my darts because I’m beating the hell out of them. And I found a women’s group in the next town that does random stuff.

To wit, I had a cooking class with one and a baby shower for the other this weekend.

And don’t think for a minute I didn’t “what the fuck am I doing?” All the way to both places.

I’m always glad I am doing the thing once I’m there, but oh brother, the anxiety getting there. I’ve gotten into the habit of broadcasting my intentions because that level of accountability ensures I do the thing I said I’m going to do.

So why? Why do it?

For years I said no to a lot because I had coaching/teaching/chaperoning/shadowing for one or both kids. Make no mistake: my work is not finished. However, I’m finally doing some stuff I’ve wanted to do for a while for no better reason than I CAN.

Plus, doing stuff that takes me out of my regularly scheduled reality helps me stay sorta sane.

And i’m so far down 15 pounds in an effort to stave off medication for diabetes and cholesterol. My next round of blood work is in 3 months and the goal is to double my current loss. So yay. Also closing the loops every day on my watch, so it’s a work in progress.

I’m a work in progress.