Fear not, you have not been totally abandoned. Only partially abandoned as the life, it does go on.
As we speak I am sitting here trying to recover somewhat from the past month or so of activity. In a lame attempt at combining literary genius and the calendar, snorts of laughter and tears of both sadness and joy, I will now attempt to let you in on what has been my world these past days.
I am a grandmother again.
The Little Prince was born as I was frantically speeding down the highway trying to reach the hospital at 7:34 a.m. on June 15th in the Year of Our Lord, 2010.
His father called the house at 2 a.m. to let me know labor was in process, but the phones were on the blink. Finally he called Hubster at work at 5 a.m., Hubster called The Girl on her cell phone, The Girl came in and woke me from a stupified slumber, I showered and headed down the road.
However, the road is over two hours long and I didn't get a chance to start out in time, so I missed it. By the time I got there he had been weighed, measured, bundled, held by his big sister and other set of grandparents. It was like coming late to a party.
I did get there in time for lots of snuggling and birthday cake.
The Girl is now a graduate of High School. Mom was unable to attend, of course. Dad, being very ill himself, was also unable to attend. That left Grandma, her 95-year-old remaining grandparent, to represent all of her grandparents. There was a short time when we thought Grandma wouldn't be able to make it, but in the end she came through.
Pay no attention to blob on the left.
Sunday afternoon after the graduation we held a reception for the graduate at a park. Thousands of cookies were baked, including those from wonderful friends who saw me in need and helped (thanks Fab and Judy!) and more were bought. There was tea and lemonade, bottled water and fruit. Many showed up to celebrate with us. A good time was had by all.
The girl with her soon-to-be college roommate.
A better time was had by the mother of The Girl after it was all over.
During that same week, our office decided to move from one building to another. Since I ended up being mostly in charge of the move, there was a bit of stress. At the last minute we found the phone service we used wanted to charge us $7.25 per line per month to temporarily move our phones to the new location. $7.25 per line X about 90 lines X almost 6 months is a great deal of money to spend for a not-for-profit organization such as ours. So, working with another company we were able to forward all of our phones to the new numbers instead.
Needless to say, we are not pleased with a certain provider who shall remain unnamed at this point.
The move went off really well, but resulted in a lot of 12-hour days for me, trying to smooth out the little kinks. We are now settled in and seem to be running fairly smoothly. However, I know that each and every one of us wants to get back to our original office as soon as we can.
Because the cubicles? They suck murky pond water.
Cubicles are a creation straight out of the pit of hell. And since you know I never exaggerate or hyperbolize, you can be assured I am telling you the truth of all truths, Interpeeps.
There is NO privacy. People think it's funny to sneak up behind you as you work and scare you (hence my installation of mirrors so I can see whomever is behind me). There are no windows to the outside world. The noise factor is atrocious. I can hear people from two rows away talking. We are not allowing the use of radios or speakers, but are allowing earphones so that people can listen to music. That is one of the only things that makes it bearable.
You may now call me Whiney McComplainerson.
In short, I wanna go home. I have never appreciated my office, with its own little door and the windows to the outside world, so very much as I do now.
Because that's just the kind of gal I am.