On Several Levels, She Didn’t Know What She Was Getting Herself Into

Kind, Middle-Aged Coworker I Don’t Know Very Well: Do you know Jane Smith?

Me: Yeah, as a matter of fact, I do.

KMACIDKVW: Did you hear the sad news about her father? He died this weekend.

Me: I did. I was sorry to hear about it.

KMACIDKVW: It’s just so sad. Can you imagine?

Me: It is very sad.

KMACIDKVW: I have a card here we’re all signing for her. I thought you might like to sign it.

Me: Well, that’s very thoughtful of you, I’d be happy to sign a card.

KMACIDKVW: It’s just so sad. She’s so young, to be without her father. Can you imagine?

Me, While Signing Card: Yes, it is sad.

KMACIDKVW: And he was sick for so long, but then he died so quickly at the end. Can you imagine?

Me: Yes, that would be hard.

KMACIDKVW: And she loved him so much, and, I don’t know if you knew this, but he lived far away - she couldn’t be with him as much as she wanted, I’m sure. Can you imagine?

Me: That would be stressful, and sad, without a doubt.

KMACIDKVW: And she’s so young! Life can be so cruel.

Me: Yes, yes, it can.

KMACIDKVW:  He had cancer, you know. Can you imagine working here, with cancer patients, and having to deal with it in your family at the same time? It’s just so sad. 

Me, No Longer Able to Resist The Temptation of The Socially Inappropriate: Actually, I can imagine. My father died last year rather suddenly after being sick with cancer for two years, and he lived in Philadelphia, so there’s a lot of parallels.  You’re absolutely right, it’s very, very sad. 

KMACIDKVW:   ……………………………

Me: Here’s your card back. I know Jane will appreciate it.

Happy, today

Happiness
by Jane Kenyon

There’s just no accounting for happiness,
or the way it turns up like a prodigal
who comes back to the dust at your feet
having squandered a fortune far away. 

And how can you not forgive?
You make a feast in honor of what
was lost, and take from its place the finest
garment, which you saved for an occasion
you could not imagine, and you weep night and day
to know that you were not abandoned,
that happiness saved its most extreme form
for you alone. 

No, happiness is the uncle you never
knew about, who flies a single-engine plane
onto the grassy landing strip, hitchhikes
into town, and inquires at every door
until he finds you asleep midafternoon
as you so often are during the unmerciful
hours of your despair. 

It comes to the monk in his cell.
It comes to the woman sweeping the street
with a birch broom, to the child
whose mother has passed out from drink.
It comes to the lover, to the dog chewing
a sock, to the pusher, to the basketmaker,
and to the clerk stacking cans of carrots
in the night.
       It even comes to the boulder
in the perpetual shade of pine barrens,
to rain falling on the open sea,
to the wineglass, weary of holding wine.

I’ve learned to love

Consumerist.com - This is why Al Gore invented the internet.  They have secret customer service phone numbers leaked by sympathetic employees, employee manuals the public wasn’t meant to see, a motherlode of information on every airline company that ever abused a customer, and even a recipe for easy homemade pickles.

I’m excited about The Lifelong Activist, because dude, I don’t want to sell out, but I don’t want to burn out either.

It rained off and on all weekend, which I really appreciated, seeing as how it’s pretty much impossible to feel guilty for sitting around the house when it’s pouring rain. Instead I just curled up on the couch and played Knytt and Knytt Stories. They’re free! Download ‘em and save them for your next rainy day.