If there's a crisis, I'm probably not your girl

So, yes, there was an earthquake today. I feel sort of irritated that this will probably be the 7 millionth blog post about this East Coast quake, 5.8 on the richter scale, but who cares? Some things just need to be recorded.

I was at work, sitting down to my lunch break, when we heard a whooshing noise, and looked at each other, confused. The floor and walls were shaking (really? is that what happens during an earthquake? enlightening, isn't it?), and the length moulding started sliding around where it was leaning up against the wall. The water cooler was our proof that it wasn't over yet. I thought to myself, "I should do something!" and continued to sit blankly. "I'm not with my kids!" was the only other coherent thought that passed through my mind. After a couple of minutes, we started trying to reach our loved ones, see if they felt it, shake off some of the weirdness. I think that the undercurrent of our strange inability to focus on our jobs was the idea that if it could happen once, it could happen again, and worse.

So yeah, I am not the quickest reactor, or the best at thinking on my feet. If I have a few minutes to process, I can rise to the occasion admirably, but if action needs to be taken within a 2o second window, well, I just might get knocked on the head.

And of course, Rowan and Genevieve were delighted. Experiencing an 'earthqueg' was on their list, too.

4-year-old bucket list

We went camping with all 3 kids last weekend. OK, wait, 2 weekends ago now (sometimes it takes me a while to get back to a post hastily written and edit). It was a mixed bag, to be sure, but there were moments of absolute delight. We will do this again. Camping is a funny thing. Part of me feels like an elf, as if I ought to be wearing a woodland crown of leaves and berries. Part of me feels like I ought to have packed up my nonexistent athletic gear and my imaginary mountain bike... neither one of these is quite right, although the first one is closer...

Rowan caught a large-mouth bass, though. Amazing! At least to me...

So there's one experience the girls can check off their list. Actually two; camping was on there, too. They have quite a long list of things that they have never done. It doesn't matter to them at all that a lot of these things are not experiences that Dan or I have had either. I am loving that they have such a grand list. Here are a few:

-ride on an airplane

-ride on a motorboat

-go parachuting

-ride a camel

-go on a submarine

-ride on a space shuttle

-go on a whale sighting expedition

cheeseball post

They're round, orange, salty, crunchy, and they stain the tips of my fingers. What's not to love?

I do love cheeseballs. But this post ain't actually gonna be about cheeseballs.

When I was in high school I was in a play called "Our Town". It was my first and only foray into drama, without props, songs, or even costumes. Lately I keep thinking about one of Thornton Wilder's lines, and I only remember it because it belonged to my character.

Well, I died rather young, married, and maybe even with kids (can't quite remember). And I am reflecting on my life, revisiting the place that I lived and loved, a small quiet town. I am looking around and naming the places and things, for the sake of the audience, because, remember - no props. A tree that I especially loved, favorite spots, that sort of thing. I remember the director getting frustrated with me, as far back as auditions, because I couldn't get the gist of listing these items with any real feeling; he told me I sounded like I was reading off a grocery list.

He was so right, I just couldn't wrap my brain around it. "Do any people realize life while they live it? Every, every minute?" That was the question I asked, or something like that. And the answer was "Saints and poets maybe, they do some." I don't think you have to be a saint or a poet, to realize life though. Maybe you feel it more, the highs and lows, the beauty and the pain. But you can live your life. You can live it fully, and remember to examine the moments with appreciation. Take a mental snapshot. Feel the exquisite perfection of a funny little laugh from a child you love, or watch the clouds turn pink or gray or golden-edged. My goodness, does time ever speed by. It seems to slow down a bit, though, when you grab a few moments and squeeze them dry, drain all the sweetness and cast away the sting.

Thanks Dave Saadeh, for trying to teach me something. For teaching me something, even if it took me 17 years to learn it.