That three throw closeout

Events this past week have brought my head space back twenty years in some ways. A lot of thinking where I was, where I went and why, and where I am now. Somewhere in all that is the how.

And it's such a horrible tragedy, that accident involving the hockey kids in Saskatchewan. Communities are devastated, social lives are centered around those junior leagues on the prairies. They were good kids, I met a few like them, back in the day.

Last night one of our new neighbors invited us over to their place for beers and an outdoor fire. We had a very good time, a beer too many in my case and walked two blocks home. I have not been able to do that for years, maybe since when we lived by the Crest Tavern, when it had real dartboards.

A British dart throwing legend died last week. I was not familiar with him, but my wife was, and friends of mine. I have a board, a good one, waiting to be set up on a bare wall downstairs. I just can't find my darts right now. So I've put a set on my Amazon list. I'm one click away.

There are a lot of things I'm missing right now: the address on a water bill, my concentration to be able to read a freaking book, let alone write anything coherent or meaningful. Some days, when you're under the stress of finally finding a summer caregiver for your son, or selling a house that has a nice personality but some real problems underneath, it's all you can do to be able to get up in the morning with not quite hangover but a bloated uneasy feeling in your gut. I'm so grateful and lucky to have the space to go to and try to get through it all.

This and that on three and a half hours sleep

While on an after dinner walk around German Village earlier this evening, I realized it has been eleven years since I lived there, and eleven years that I have lived in this house. It's the longest I've lived in one home. Now I'm trapped by the market, and other reasons, and cannot get out of there to live, where? Someplace where I can walk to something other than an IGA where a girl got shot in the face and a half-assed but not altogether unpleasant carryout.

Getting really tired of lists. Every time I see a Buzzfeed.com post on social media that has a list of something like "Fifteen Best Bob Dylan Songs With a Horn Section" or something similar, I scroll past. That and people labeling a TV show or cultural event as the best of all time, or the second best of all time after _____. Something else to scroll past. Great stuff is great stuff. Lists are arbitrary and yes, I'm a bit tired and cranky.

My son fell asleep on the couch at 9:30 last night and woke up at 2:30AM. Did not go back to sleep until about 5. He woke up and ate well, but then his bus was late. Again. Had to drive him to school. Again. Yes, it's getting worse. It was so bad last Friday that his bus was two hours and forty five minutes getting home from school. Yes, you read that right. Complaints have been made, investigations are supposedly happening. One justifiably worried parent filed a police report after her children's bus was missing. When you're not able to get through to transportation, what recourse do you have? Even after all this, I'm not sure the district gets it.

Yesterday morning I got to show my wife the International Space Station as it flew overhead. It was a bright, solid, light that moved across the sky in the pre-dawn hour. A good thing that shows cooperation can happen even as the ground below spins out of control.

The one hour move

One week later and the move at work has gone well enough. There is a new hire and the department head wanted to keep everyone in the division together so I'm the one to move, about twenty five feet.

To the right of my cubicle there was a huge window that overlooked a parking lot. Still, it's a big window and I'll miss not having to get up to see it.

Now, to the right is another cubicle. To the left is another cubicle. Just over my monitor is the back of an E. Gordon Gee bobblehead. The person who owns the bobblehead graciously offered to turn it around so I can see him all day, even offered to lend him to me.

I politely declined.