the thing is
Not much content around here, eh?
Not that I feel I must justify, but, well...I was thinking about it last night. I've been in a whirlwind of activity and a monsoon of weather. But really. And it isn't that I'm not seeing all the things I usually see: the German couple on the train behind me each day, she in her sturdy shoes and he with his little hat, the guy with the hair-plugs in front of me (why? hair-plugs guy, why would you bother?!) it's just that I've been so busy I guess, limping from one thing to another (the knee, it's better) and, in my head, I'm saying: oh, I should blog that and then I get home and crash and sleep and...so it goes.
Youngest is doing Earth Science in school this year. Year after year I make this joke: Earth Science, yeah, great curriculum! Water plus dirt equals mud! (Yeah, yeah, I KNOW.) And year after year my boys have Earth Science which, with the right teacher, turns out to be fun and informative. Anyway, Youngest was pleased to tell us that he can now identify rocks. He went round the house identifying (we have rocks in the house all over the place) and then told us about schist and did a drawing of it on the big board in the dining room. Because our collective mental age is 12, many schist jokes followed - during dinner, which eventually lead to this superlative sentence:
bb: Get the fork outta your hair and eat. Holy schist this is good tonight!
It's been raining for days and days and days. The sidewalks in the city are littered with damaged umbrellas. They look like dead birds with broken wings lying around. It would have made a good picture - but I didn't have my camera.
Have I mentioned that Middle and I love seeing the different members of the armed services in the train station in the morning? We do. Loaded down with equipment and standing halfway between "at attention" and "casually observing" these people are posted throughout the station. They wear varying uniforms (Middle and I are into uniforms) and carry an enormous amount of anti-terrorist stuff: masks, guns, radios, pouches of stuff and are heavily armored. Then there are the rifles which I would need Middle to describe to you. He knows all of them, as he is a military buff, and each day he will tell me the names of them and what they are capable of. You might think this conversation would upset me, but it doesn't. Somehow, when The Buddha of My Family explains guns and ammo, I am interested. On the other hand, if Oldest attempted such a conversation? I'd run screaming from the room. All this to say, I missed Middle the other day as he was sleeping and I was in the station with the Railway Special Forces Mobile And Tactical Unit positioned around the building looking very very impressive. Photos are not permitted.
One day, a couple of weeks ago, Middle and I were surprised to see SWAT teams surrounding the outside of the rail station and we stopped to ask if there was anything in particular going on. Of course they lied to us - citizens are never told if there is anything in particular going on. Nevertheless we thanked the guy we were talking to and told him it was nice to have them out there.
Gee, really, he asked, his all-business demeanor now gone.
Yeah, really, I explained, sometimes I feel a bit scared when I see all you guys with your gigantic guns and armor - but, then, I see you all here and feel safe. SafER.
He was genuinely touched and I saw his face change. He didn't look so impersonal anymore. He looked like a guy. Tough to put into words. He went from on-duty-ever-vigilant-scanning-for-danger to A Guy.
We left him smiling.
Do you know, on my office blog, I don't know what to write?
Such a thing.
Not that I feel I must justify, but, well...I was thinking about it last night. I've been in a whirlwind of activity and a monsoon of weather. But really. And it isn't that I'm not seeing all the things I usually see: the German couple on the train behind me each day, she in her sturdy shoes and he with his little hat, the guy with the hair-plugs in front of me (why? hair-plugs guy, why would you bother?!) it's just that I've been so busy I guess, limping from one thing to another (the knee, it's better) and, in my head, I'm saying: oh, I should blog that and then I get home and crash and sleep and...so it goes.
Youngest is doing Earth Science in school this year. Year after year I make this joke: Earth Science, yeah, great curriculum! Water plus dirt equals mud! (Yeah, yeah, I KNOW.) And year after year my boys have Earth Science which, with the right teacher, turns out to be fun and informative. Anyway, Youngest was pleased to tell us that he can now identify rocks. He went round the house identifying (we have rocks in the house all over the place) and then told us about schist and did a drawing of it on the big board in the dining room. Because our collective mental age is 12, many schist jokes followed - during dinner, which eventually lead to this superlative sentence:
bb: Get the fork outta your hair and eat. Holy schist this is good tonight!
It's been raining for days and days and days. The sidewalks in the city are littered with damaged umbrellas. They look like dead birds with broken wings lying around. It would have made a good picture - but I didn't have my camera.
Have I mentioned that Middle and I love seeing the different members of the armed services in the train station in the morning? We do. Loaded down with equipment and standing halfway between "at attention" and "casually observing" these people are posted throughout the station. They wear varying uniforms (Middle and I are into uniforms) and carry an enormous amount of anti-terrorist stuff: masks, guns, radios, pouches of stuff and are heavily armored. Then there are the rifles which I would need Middle to describe to you. He knows all of them, as he is a military buff, and each day he will tell me the names of them and what they are capable of. You might think this conversation would upset me, but it doesn't. Somehow, when The Buddha of My Family explains guns and ammo, I am interested. On the other hand, if Oldest attempted such a conversation? I'd run screaming from the room. All this to say, I missed Middle the other day as he was sleeping and I was in the station with the Railway Special Forces Mobile And Tactical Unit positioned around the building looking very very impressive. Photos are not permitted.
One day, a couple of weeks ago, Middle and I were surprised to see SWAT teams surrounding the outside of the rail station and we stopped to ask if there was anything in particular going on. Of course they lied to us - citizens are never told if there is anything in particular going on. Nevertheless we thanked the guy we were talking to and told him it was nice to have them out there.
Gee, really, he asked, his all-business demeanor now gone.
Yeah, really, I explained, sometimes I feel a bit scared when I see all you guys with your gigantic guns and armor - but, then, I see you all here and feel safe. SafER.
He was genuinely touched and I saw his face change. He didn't look so impersonal anymore. He looked like a guy. Tough to put into words. He went from on-duty-ever-vigilant-scanning-for-danger to A Guy.
We left him smiling.
Do you know, on my office blog, I don't know what to write?
Such a thing.
Comments
And yeah, WHAT UP HAIR PLUGS GUY? Going bald gracefully = sexyhott. Fighting it? SO NOT.
People just drop their broken umbrellas? Just leave them lying there? What's up with THAT? I believe down here that would be considered "messing with Texas". (Punishable by death.)(Not really.)(But almost.)
After all, what the schist?
To me, a military presence ALWAYS makes me feel more secure.
I live in a town surrounded by 6 (six!) military bases. When a soldier comes into the shop I always tell them that they're doing a great job over there. It doesn't matter where "over there" is, They always appreciate it, some are quite surprised to hear it. If I'm at Starbucks and see a man or woman in uniform, I always make sure to pay for their coffee. I figure its the least I can do for someone who's doing a job that I certainly don't want to do.
Thanks for your post. It brought back some food memories.
I predict the same will happen soon with breast size. Soon busts in proportion with one's body (natural) will be back in style. I wonder how many women will pay to have their implants removed?
Sometimes I have to remember that high school has changed just a trifle since I was there.
Thank you for thanking them.
jbhat