Perfect Dance Partners

At the library the other day I was pushing a cart of books to the stacks when a lady asked for help. I abandoned the cart and helped her. As I returned to the cart I noticed an 80 something year old lady thumbing through the books. I waited patiently, but after a second she noticed me and said, "Oh you need to shelve these." Before I could tell her, "no problem," she reached out and patted my butt and told me to get back to work.

!!!

Yesterday I had training at another library, and as I approached the building a mentally challenged (but only in some ways - I despise our characterizations of special individuals) young man (about my age) started singing "pretty girl, pretty girl, pretty girl," and as he sang it was apparent that he initially said what came to mind, but as the two words slipped from his mouth he realized how much fun they were to say. His caregiver looked towards the ground with a red face, but I grew inside. I understand those feelings. To want to blurt a sudden thought, and to taste a word more than once, but unlike this man, I am usually imprisoned by fear of embarrassment. I smiled at him before entering the building, and wondered why I hadn't said thank you.

Later I realized I didn't want to interrupt him.

In a few days there will be something very special on Waldo the Line Tamer , but because it is so special to me, I am going to claim it first.

With His Stability and Her Agility, They Were Perfect Dance Partners:



Why does this mean so much to me? Because it describes Robert and I so perfectly.

Drip. . .

At my nonprofit job I work in a large building composed of many little businesses. On each floor is a john with three stalls (the men’s bathrooms are different I’m sure). After much research I figured out which stall sees the least amount of action. This is where the tired argument concerning other people doing the same research and therefore all clamoring for the same potty comes in, and yes if all of us researchers are using the same toilet then the research is rendered slightly invalid, BUT (no pun intended), and there is a but, even if the toilet is seeing more tushes, I’d like to think that these tushes are using the seat covers, or in the very least, because they’re the type to do the research, are slightly cleaner than the rest.

Today my research was tested. Upon my first visit to the restroom I discovered quite a bit of water on the seat. Dismayed, I used the toilet ranking second on my list of toilets that see the least amount of action. Every preferred toilet has its bad moments and disrespectful users. I didn’t think very much of it until the second time I used the restroom and discovered a different array of splashes on the seat of the preferred toilet. Shocked, I begin questioning not only the carefully compiled data, but all the other facts and figures in my head. Suddenly all the graphs and numbers of my life were before me, turning into squiggles and mocking faces. If this toilet was the wrong one, what else had I miscalculated? Was my preferred parking spot at the library suddenly going to produce a tree teeming with birds ready to drop their bowels?

As I stood in the once preferred stall, with the door open and my hands raised in desolation, a tiny drop of water pinged my face. Horrified, I looked up. There, above the stall, was a tiny water stain. For a moment the self doubting eased, and relief set in. But once I regained composure I suddenly became aware that I was on the first floor, and that it was likely that there were other bathrooms on top of the one I was standing in, and that the water that just fell on my face. . .

Since we last talked. . .

Robert and I have begun the process of relocating our kitchen to the back of the house. The current kitchen is just too small, and its location is rather sucky.

I am still working at the library. And the non-profit – we educate people (mostly young folks) about organ donation, in addition to mentoring people (transplant families, recipients, people on the waiting list). I have been looking for a full time position at the library. It’s no secret, and it has been a long but interesting and educational process. Yes, Robert and I are still completely devoted to the idea of working on the road and traveling full time. We have been applying for jobs in that area as well. So why relocate the kitchen? Because it needs to be done. And we’re going to keep living while we’re stuck here in the great toilet of Kansas City.

Mostly we’ve been doing a lot of dreaming and waiting, which provides plenty of room to dream. I know that no matter where I am as long as there is a library I am home.

And probably the most exciting, amazing thing that has happened to me since we’ve last talked is. . . MEETING MY BROTHER JASON!!!!!!! I’ve been waiting for this moment for a very long time. And we finally met in July.

He is an amazing individual. A gentle, goofy brilliant soul. And also he has the cutest dog on the planet (sorry Rose and Ella).