So, I've started at least a dozen posts, but I seem to lose my focus before I finish. When I try to wrap them up, I can't get into it again. I suppose this is a sort of manifestation of the unsettled thoughts I've been trying to reason through. I am just going to let them float up in my mental stratosphere for awhile until they're ready to come back down. Let's just see if I can get through a list of blurbs for the time being.

• I am working on my Master's Certificate in Project Management. In a risk management class last week, the professor emphasized to look ahead and envision what success looks like so that a PM can route a safe path to the end goal. I'm sure this works well enough in business, but the single-most beneficial risk management tool in my personal life is looking back to learn from the past. Bring the risk on! I know how to handle it!—but if I don't, I will next time.


• Yesterday was Syttende Mai. I find myself getting more in touch with my heritage as I grow older. I am 75% Scandinavian (50% Norwegian, 25% Danish). I do not have to go very far back in the history books before they share a common history…heck, Denmark even owned Norway for a bit there. Besides, they're best buds! I include both in my celebration of Syttende Mai, especially since they share somewhat ambivalent stereotypes of the Swedes (Syttende Mai celebrates Norway's independence from Sweden). It makes sense in my head…it doesn't need to be logical.


• On the subject of Syttende Mai, Nick and Michelle are walking 17 miles with me on Saturday for Stoughton's annual celebration weekend. (Stoughton is a Norwegian stronghold here in Wisconsin.) I am so excited...I even bought myself a shirt with an abstract Norwegian flag to wear (I am making Nick wear a festive shirt as well).
  


• Last Sunday was Mother's Day. You would think that they would get easier in time, but they don't…not when I allow myself to think about who isn't here. I had such a lovely mother. I am very blessed to have had her for the time that I did. There are just certain days every year when I find it really hard to feel blessed through the ache in my heart.


• I attended a seminar on anti-inflammatory foods this week, and I am considering an elimination diet to see if I can figure out my food sensitivities. My C-Reactive Protein, though lower since my hysterectomy, is still elevated. Inflammation seems to be at the heart of every major disease…I really don't know enough about it (ignorance is bliss). The diet would be strict for a few weeks while I would try introducing new foods, and Nick is nervous that I might actually do it. Jury is still out…


• I've had an attack of comment spam this week, so I have made all comments subject to moderation for the time being. Sorry about that…comment spam is the most annoying kind of spam if you ask me.

Sophie got a new collar this weekend. The breakaway catch on her existing collar and been broken away too many times. She was regularly stripping it off to traipse around naked…hussy. We (or at least "I") need her to wear a collar, or anything that will make noise, so that I know she's in the vicinity and to watch where I step. Otherwise she's a naked ghost that tries to make me fall flat on my face.

Since she seems to be against me braiding bells into her tail, a collar it is.

In retrospect, the amount of time I spent considering various collar patterns was really quite silly…but it was a big decision! The choice I made may last for years. We decided that the cat needed new jewelry to go with her new wardrobe, so we updated her tag as well…a cute gold fish to replace the pink heart.

I forgot how trying it is to get the fit right on a new collar. I could not use her old collar as a guide because it had lost all integrity in becoming Sophie's latest chew toy. I took a guess and snapped it in place. A few minutes later, I came across Sophie on the stairs with her head down and struggling against something. Alarmed, I picked her up to discover that the little idiot was trying to strip off the new clothes as she did her old, except the clasp was brand new and sturdy instead of sad and broken down. As it was, she had her lower jaw caught beneath the collar and could not free herself.

I reached for the clasp and freed her. I tightened the collar and snapped it back in place. A few minutes later, I heard her panting behind the chair in the living room. Same thing—pretty, not smart. I started berating her as I freed her once more, tightened the collar once more. "You're going to break your jaw if you don't knock it off!" She looked at me like I was the subject of an inside joke before flouncing away, her plume-like tail whispering through the air.

It wasn't until later that I considered the possibility that she was just trying to go fishing.

---

One final Sophie moment: I'll apologize for the photo quality, but this was too cute not to share.

I spend a lot of time getting caught up on the people who cloud my days. How many times have I vented about this person who irritated me, or that person who has no respect for others? How many times have I fumed over that harshly worded email or the guy who decided not to compromise? Why is it only the hard parts of people that I hug close?

Such a sad subconscious summation, isn't it?—And I'm actually a positive person!

I was unaware of this pattern until one day last week when I was leaving work and noticed an ordinary but wonderful thing. To leave the building, employees have to go through a set of secure doors to enter the skywalk that leads to the parking garage, through another set of secure doors that lead to an enclosure, and finally one last set of doors to actually get to the place where we park the cars (there must have been a good deal on doors when they built the place). I was approaching the second set of doors when I noticed the sound of footsteps behind me. I looked back to judge the nearness of this other person.

It's a little game we all play. Is she far enough back that I can make my merry way without holding the door? If I walk really fast, can I get to the door far enough ahead of him so I don't have to wait while he shuffles along? The binds of polite society can be so bothersome.

The gentleman was far enough back that I could have sped along without holding the door, but only just. On a split-second decision, I decided to be a nice guy and hold the door. He looked up, surprised that I waited for him when I had enough clearance to leave without being outcast. He tilted his head and smiled. "Thanks," he said as he reached the door.

I smiled and nodded before continuing on…I felt good. From the corner of my eye, I saw him begin to follow my path but stopped with a jerk and caught the door behind him before it closed. Looking back, I noticed someone else in the skywalk. He was far enough back from the door, yet the man waited for him. The man in the skywalk smiled, surprised that someone so far ahead of him held the door.

I don't know why the simple observation reverberated so much…but I haven't been able to stop thinking about whatever it is that causes a person to make a split-second decision, or the driving force to take a tiny piece of kindness and share it with someone else.

I guess people aren't really so bad after all.

The Ugly lives. I continue to be wholly repulsed by the well-loved "fird."

Even so, I dearly wish The Ugly had held her complete attention during her frisky mood last Friday afternoon. Instead, she made it her day's work to spur me into a homicidal-rage-like state. I was playing with some arrangements of photographs that I plan to hang at my new desk. The best place to do a project like this is, of course, the floor. I did not affix the prints together very quickly…this is part of the reason I am no longer employed in an artistic profession (nothing ever seems perfect enough to call "done").

I don't know how many times Sophie charged my loose mosaic, skidding across the prints and chirping with pure glee at the fun she created. Of course I didn't move my project elsewhere—I told myself, "It's my floor, dammit, not hers." Go ahead and laugh. I too see the holes in this logic…now…but at the time, I was prepared for a warring of our wills: just me and the imp.

Yeah, well, imps always win.

When Nick arrived home, he thought that (A) I was incredibly naive to have even entertained the idea of victory in my waged war and that (B) the situation was incredibly humorous. Instead of responding to my desperate cry, "Control YOUR cat!" he grabbed the camera.

Maybe you don't know her face as well as I do, but that's clearly mischief I see brewing in her eyes:

The things that come out of Nick's mouth…you can't just make this stuff up.


We're out for a walk to enjoy the sunny evening as dusk falls. Rounding a corner, Nick sees a sign advertising for psychic readings.

Nick: Do you want to know your future?

Me: I'm better off not knowing.

Nick: You know what I think? I think that if I am going to schedule a psychic reading, a good psychic would call me first to help me make the appointment.