The Office

Apple cinnamon muffin and a cappuccino:
the perfect companions for the morning's work.

Riding the lift today with a cappuccino in one hand and a cinnamon muffin (x3) in the other, I was struck by how much I love my desk job.

When people hear the phrase "desk job", there seems to be an automatic reflex involving gagging and profuse statements that they could never settle into one. I know because I'm one of those people.

As a kid, I used to dream of being a daytime dancer and then, when the sun set, I'd change out of my leotard and become a night time detective. Having a desk job was nowhere on the horizon.

And yet I have to admit that now I love office culture. I love all the trappings that come with it: the coffee, the chats between cubicles, being able to festoon my area with my own brand of decor, the faint resemblance to being in an airport lounge. For me, it evokes the better scenes from "You've Got Mail" or "Julie and Julia". I like being able to churn through tasks accompanied by my morning toast, and just as equally love being able to leave it all behind at the end of the day and still feel satisfied.

Being "all grown up" now, I've become aware of how rare it is to really enjoy what you do and that makes me even more determined to love wherever I am. Maybe one day, I'll start yearning for that dancer/detective career again. But for now, it's enough just to be content.

The Walking Dead

Scenes like this just look better on TV.

Someone just needs to say it. As non-parents, we sometimes feel like we're surrounded by zombies. And not the get-up-and-run-after-you kind. No, it's usually the moaning, shuffling variety that we're confronted by. I won't go into anymore details just in case I run the risk of turning into the moaning sort myself.

On the other hand, I found myself incredibly and pleasantly surprised today by my friends. Maybe even a little inspired. These friends of mine (who I should probably add are a couple) have been some of the most adventurous jetsetters we know. So I was a little nervous to find out that they were expecting a kid. From what parents tell me, the words "adventure" and "children" don't usually sit well together.

We finally caught up with them after several months of them settling into parenthood (I'm really fast-forwarding the story here) and were surprised to find out that they were taking a trip to Christchurch pretty soon. On further conversation, we found out that this was a "practice trip" for them taking their kid on a series of flights around the world. 

"Wow," I said, mostly to Chad. "That's like what we want to do." For the first time in my life, I found myself admiring parents for more than just how much they could get done on so little sleep. For the first time, I was an outsider looking in. And I liked it. It gave me hope - hope for a new breed of parents who don't have to look like the walking dead; who look and feel healthy; who are both a 100% parent and a 100% human. 

I came away feeling so happy for my friends. And feeling genuinely happy for someone else is just about as good as feeling happy for yourself.

Cheap Thrills #1: Pineconing

Free stuff. Oh so good.

There's something satisfying about collecting cheap, useful things. Even better when the cheap, useful things are free. So I've decided to start a new tag called "cheap thrills" in case anyone else shares my fetish.

Today on a damp autumn day with dog in tow and multiple plastic bags, I embarked on a pineconing expedition. Nevermind that I already have a fruitful pinecone tree in my backyard. This is beside the point.

What is the point? Finding an even bigger pinecone that the last one you picked up. Returning home with a bulging bag of free stuff. Enjoying the fruits of your labour when you have a roaring fire to sit by.

And the bonus? Seeing my hyperactive 9-year-old "puppy" exhausted and happy on the couch.

Stopping Myself

These two pictures represent milestones for me. Causes for celebration, yes.
But I also am aware that they're still not handstands!

Just a quick update on handstands. I still can't do them. I can't understand it because I know that physically, I am capable of doing them. But without a spotter, something very close to fear stops me from hitting the mark. So I end up kicking sideways, falling in painful ways or just not trying very hard at all.

Being upside-down isn't the problem. I've realized that it comes down to a mental thing. And maybe that's why it's so hard: trying to think yourself out of a thinking seems rather circular in nature!

I tried again today and after a warning twist in my neck (nothing serious, but enough to make me stop), I think I'll tackle this challenge another day.

Do You Dance?

I've often heard people say, "I don't dance". After last week, I don't believe them anymore.

Chad had a jazz gig at the zoo and I went, lured partly by the chance to see him solo it on his sax and partly by the proximity of animals. What I didn't count on was the entertainment provided by the vast amounts of kids there. And trust me, I'm not normally entertained by small human beings, so this was an unusual occasion.

Every time a song would start, the kids would rush up close to the band and start swaying and prancing to the beat. Some were more coordinated than others. Some were even executing some promising ballet moves. And then some others were just bobbing in their diapers, having not mastered the art of walking yet.

I was hard-pressed to find a single kid who wasn't physically responding to the music. And it told me something. People are born to dance. Whether it looks refined and elegant or like a body being defibrillated is beside the issue. Music wasn't meant to be only experienced through your ears. It was meant to be a physical experience as well.

Having said this, I am disappointed to say that I did not join the sea of bobbing juveniles. I wish I could have. But something wouldn't let me make a fool of myself. And because of that, I'm not entirely unsympathetic to those who say, "I don't dance". But I won't go so far as to say that I don't dance. Because I definitely do. I dance in the shower. I dance in my living room. While doing housework or cooking or even in the snatches of time when I'm in public but no one's watching, I dance.

One day, I hope to have the courage to dance in plain sight. But until then, I hope this drawing captures all my fascination with the beauty of someone who can fling themselves into a beat without a second thought.