You might have noticed that, with the exception of a few photographs, I’ve been largely absent from the blog in recent weeks.
Or then again, maybe you haven’t.
That’s okay. Sometimes, I don’t even notice when I’m missing.
June turned out to be busier than I anticipated. I had an impromptu week-long visit from two of my nephews, participated in Camp NaNoWriMo, turned forty, traveled to our nation’s capital on vacation with the family, and had an unexpected sharp increase in caseload at the office. This inability to adequately judge my level of anticipated activity seems to be a recurring theme in my life. You would think by now I’d have worked out the kinks.
As you can imagine, all of this activity came with a laundry list of new things learned. Over the last month, I learned…
…that no matter how you try to spin it, turning forty sucks. And, please, spare me the “forty is the new thirty” bullshit. Turning thirty sent me into a depression so deep it took four years to recover.
…that my nephews think that I may not be completely human. Here’s how that conversation went:
Nephew #1: Aunt Peggy, don’t you ever get tired of typing (I was working on my NaNoWriMo word count).
Nephew #2 (in a hushed voice): Aunt Peggy is a cyborg.
This revelation was followed by a fit of giggles. Of course, in response, I gave them my best stink eye. I have a reputation to uphold, after all. This earned me a fresh round of giggles. It seems my stink eye needs an upgrade. I’ll have to work on that.
…that as humans, we have been conditioned to stand in line, to patiently wait our turn. It is ingrained in our psyche even as we whine and cry and complain about it. If you have ever had the opportunity to visit Washington, D.C. or any tourist hot spot, for that matter, you know that a great deal of time is spent standing in line. There are lines for transportation, lines for security, lines for admittance, lines for viewing. It is the way the world works, and something that we’ve come to accept as the natural order of our day-to-day lives. It brings us comfort, gives us a sense of organization, and takes the thought process out of our hands.
At the National Archives, they like to mix it up a bit. Sure, they shuffle you in like herds of cattle. Force you through a line for the metal detector, another to search your bag, then corral you into a long snake-like line at the base of the steps into “the vault.” However, once you cross the threshold into the room that holds our nation’s most revered documents, the rules of the game suddenly shift. You will be instructed to go against your intrinsic nature. Lines are not permitted. You must move freely about the room and view the displays at your leisure. Such a radical departure from the norm will cause you to cast a panicked look at the person standing behind you. They will appear as shell-shocked as you feel. No lines? Crazy talk. That’s simply not the way these things are supposed to work. Of course, in reality such instructions are futile. Humans behave invariably in the manner in which they are most accustom. On my visit to the National Archives, that’s exactly what the masses did – they filed into the room, walked directly to the exhibit at the far left, and worked steadily to the right, in a nice neat single file line. Myself included.
That’s the most barbaric thing I’ve ever heard.
…that in large metropolitan areas where public transportation is consistently utilized, there are rules of etiquette that must be followed when riding the escalators that lead to and from the underground metro system. Stand to the right, or get your ass run over. Lesson learned.
…that my family doesn’t understand or share my love for history. This week I learned that some of the Dead Sea scroll fragments, along with other artifacts from the time period, are on exhibit just up the road in Ft. Worth. So thrilling! After a little digging, I discovered that in addition to the exhibit, there will be a series of lectures offered on varying subjects related to the scrolls and their impact on the history of Judaism and beyond. I enthusiastically shared this news with my husband, my mother, my best friend, and my daughter. All of them metaphorically patted me on the head and said “you have fun with that.” I guess that means I shouldn’t buy them a ticket.
…that taking 5 days off in the middle of Camp NaNoWriMo is detrimental to the success of the project. I did manage to rack up 30,000 words in the first 20 days. That’s pretty darn good for me so I’m going to take a page out of the Book of Sheen and declare myself a winner.
…that the path that hugs the Tidal Basin and offers up a view of the Jefferson Memorial across the water, looks better in my head than it does in person. I will now have to adapt a scene I’ve already written to accommodate the lack of suitable spots for a clandestine meeting. Bummer.
…that my daughter thinks my detailed character profiles complete with photographs are “cute.” I’m not really sure, but I think she is mocking me.
…that last, but not least, this week’s (month’s) awww moment is brought to you by a duck I encountered while visiting the Tidal Basin in Washington, D.C. I had the distinct impression that he was a waterfowl on a mission. His waddle was very determined.