One Who Wanders (abiona) wrote,
One Who Wanders

  • Mood:

the calcium catastrophe

I spent an hour walking in the rain, and though there are now ponds in my tennis shoes, I do not regret a minute of it. I am fond of warm summer storms. Few people are out, of course, so you can be by yourself. For a brief moment, the scent of earth and water overpowers all else.

Memories at the cottage of a blue row boat trying to return to the pier before the clouds let loose upon us, of sitting on rough orange carpet, watching rain hit the surface of the lake ... of running around with friends in the downpours that sometimes hit Soy Capital, of helping cars out of flooded underpasses in the dark. Recollections of attempting to brush a river out of my piano teacher's back yard. Horizontal rain coming off Lake Michigan, huddling under a blue tarp, hands playing with cards by lantern light and feet playing with mud under the table.


Normally it is Tuesdays I fear, but this Monday packed enough of a whammy to make me wary until next week. I learned that a coworker is quitting (more money, less stress), and since I helped her to create the database detailing the participants and their history for the men's program, its maintenance is very likely passing into my hands. I already enter all the forms for Cave Inc., Jr. (one entire county, primarily rural), and I pick up the slack for different regions in Cave Inc.'s very urban main county. Damn! Damn! I have concluded that as is, it is impossible to keep up with the inflow of forms because there are many field staff producing them, and only one of me. I worry that this addition might cause me to get dragged under completely. It'll be swim or sink. We'll see how it goes.

At least it is not retail. At least it is indirectly helping people. At least it is not retail. At least it is indirectly helping people.

Working with this segment of the population, you run into the frequent misuse of apostrophes and accents in names, and a grave tendency to substitute letters in order to be "unique." Yet recently, despite having grown accustomed to the strange syllable combos, I encountered a nomenclature which absolutely baffled me. It is "Crossciscocal." Some child out there has that in his name. What is it, and how the heck do the parents remember how to pronounce it?

It is probably impossible to accurately depict the psychotic rage Microsoft Excel the world at large inspiresd in me today. This new icon, which is otherwise completely irrelevant to the post, stands as a testament to my attempt.

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