Verklempt

I'm quite sure that's not how you actually spell that, but it applies anyway. There are some major changes happening at my work that are making me uber depressed. My workplace is changing significantly, and, for all intents and purposes, I'll be getting a new job, even though I didn't feel finished with the old one yet.

I like my job. I like the people I work with, and the stuff I do, and the environment in which I do it. My workplace has been through several significant periods of change in the last couple of years and it had recently (I thought) settled down again. But alas, no. More big changes. And I don't wanna!

Maybe if I try the Little Man's tactic of screaming, carefully laying down and banging my head against the floor repeatedly, I'll make it all stop. It never works for him, but for me? Maybe.

I'll let you know how it goes.

I See Stain People

I can't remember a time when I didn't see people in the stain on doors. It's kind of like seeing shapes in clouds, only with wood grain its easier because it doesn't change shape and there are some doors that you end up staring at a lot (bathrooms . . .)

When I was growing up our bathroom door had what looked like a man in a hooded cloak imbedded in it. Over the years he was a monk, a wizard, the grim reaper - whatever I happened to be into at the time. My bedroom door housed a couple of gorillas.

I find it oddly comforting to be able to see images in the wood grain. That's one reason why I prefer houses with stained wood. It gives a place personality.

I still see weird things in doors- in the bathroom door at work there is a cartoon goat in the corner of the door, and right smack dab in the middle is what appears to be a woman in labor (or as Mr. Me would say, "waiting for a bus"). I have to admit, it's a bit unsettling to have to stare at that every time you sit down for a tinkle.

Next time you see a stained door, stare at it for a minute. What do you see?

More Tidbits

I'm so very out of vacation mode. So the promised vacation stories, they're not coming. I live in the here and now, baby, and since I didn't write them down at the time, they're lost. The end.

Oh, my Little Man. What a character. He grew at least 3 feet when we were gone, and aged 5 years. I swear! I wouldn't exaggerate these things to you. When we saw him for the first time after our trip I actually didn't recognize him for a moment or two. And when I did, my internal monologue was saying Really? Surely not. That looks like someone else's kid.

Happily, it was our adorable little guy. He did cool things for the grandparents, like climbing into the full bathtub fully clothed, and bringing Grandpa his shoes every morning.

Since he's gotten home he's developed an intense fascination with my chest. Especially when I'm wearing only a bra. He pokes, and prods, and pinches until mommy says "stop! that hurts Mommy's boobies" This morning, he morphed his new word of the day - happy! - into boobie! And now he wanders around saying "Happy! Boobie! Happy! Boobie!" I don't think he remembers nursing, but if he does, the memories are fond ones.