Blogging about work is a dangerous world. I desperately want to blog about work since work has taken a turn for the very weird but I am afraid to blog about work because of the Dooce factor (that's for the 2 people left on this earth who don't know what being Dooced is. My manager reads the blog and it isn't her who is the problem. It's the owners of the company. Here is what I can say: I might get to work from home for the entire month of July. Until 5 pm last Friday I definitely could. I am going to ATL next week some time to rpesent a paper on some of the stuff I do when I am out taking notes on Corporate America earning a wage. I am hoping the presentation is accepted for a national audience but every other presentation I have done has been rejected so I doubt this one will accepted (my manager is now mumbling something under her breath about 'The Gift' and how I am setting myself up to fail by thinking it will not happen).

But I think I get to work from home.

Home.

Yeah! Home.

My own bed home.

Near Noodle home.

Near Hubby home.

Cross your fingers and rub the buddha belly I actually get to work.

from home.


PS - I couldn't add a title this morning.

Love and Empathy

Sarah Lost. Well, not really, we are going to the Poice instead of Blogher BUT Kara says she is running Marine Corps marathon this October and if she does I will either run it with her after I go completely insane or support her and make sure we meet up with the mother of the infamous goon squad. Either way I will probably be there that weekend.

When I am depressed I listen to stunning piano. Ann Adams and I have repeatedly discussed the inneffable qualities of the Rachmoninoff 2cnd. I credit my mother for her amazing taste in music and her ability to instill in others the desire to listen to great music. She has been in my thoughts a little more than usual these days because the school we chose to send our daughter to has been left behind. The school failed to of 19 metrics, neither of which or family can relate to. Hubby and I went to a parent teacher conference to understand how we can help, express fears, blah blah blah. Private school gets more and more tempting. At the end of the meeting Hubby said two things: he felt better about Noodle's school situation and we really would have to be the people teaching her, because school won't keep up. My mother would know what to do about all this, I am sure of it.

Today my brother brought over a photo album of my family when we are younger, I think I am 7 or 8 so he is 9 or 10. There were some fantastic pictures taken by my cousin Emily. There were also great pictures of family gathering in Atlanta, where my family are smiling, all dressed up and ready for Thanksgiving or Christmas. In particular there are some wonderful pictures of my Uncle and his family. One is of his wife and his step sons, one of him holding my cousin K8, she may have been 6 in the picture. They look so young and well kept (not that they look unkept these days). They look the way I always think of them. I always think of my Aunt A in a poodle skirt, they were so popular in the seventies because of the show Happy Days.She gave me a poodle skirt for christmas one year and I loved it so much, I wore it until wearing it was practically obscene. I think of her husband, my Uncle B in golf pants, bright and plaid. I see my Uncle L as he was when he was in his 40's and my Aunt S as she was when they first married. I think of each family member from a different time, and not always based on the the time I spent the most time with them. Images drift through my head and I see my cousin R as an adult sitting next to my grandmother from a time before I was born, she successfully planted that image into her grand daughter's mind, that is effective marketing. I think of Hubby in a blue patagonia light weight capeline shirt, he wore it every day he raft guided the summer we became an item. In my mind his hair is still brown and shaggy.

Sadly, my uncle L is at the end, suffering of cancer. His wife is watching and caring for him as he wastes away. I will miss him. He has a wonderful sense of humor, dry and intelligent and southern gentleman all the way. I will miss his huge bear hugs, he was built like my grandfather, tall and broad shouldered. In ways my uncle is already lost to me because he cannot speak well anymore because of the tumor in his brain. I have not spoken with him since he was diagnosed. I have let my Aunt know I love them both and I owe her an email which I am still trying to write. I think about his daughter, who, like my cousin K8 and I, has had a similar experience with an alcoholic parent but each father chose a different path just as each of us have chosen different paths. I want to reach out to my cousin but fear I will isolate her with what I have to say. I have asked the advice of other family members but none of us are close to her. I have to follow my gut and hope she can hear that I am reaching out in love and empathy. Unfortunately the common ground we share is painful and I am not really sure she wants to share.