I’m a problem solver. I see situations and figure out ways to make things work better. I cheer people up and look for solutions. I suppose it’s all based on my very selfish need to have my world to run happily and smoothly. It’s difficult for me when people won’t cheer up. “Tension” is an over-nice word for my feelings when the world is chaotic.
It’s been one of those weeks when I can’t fix the problems. I can’t resurrect the dead and I can’t make survivors happy. I can’t keep certain people out of jail or self-destructing. I can’t even find my brother’s cat.
When I told my brother that the word of the week was “tension”, he gave a derisive laugh and said I could blog about his life, “in fact, tell the whole sordid story!” Well, I won’t. I have self-imposed limits for this blog of keeping it to one typed page or less, and I’m pretty sure my brother’s love life takes more than a page.
Let’s just put it this way, his scheduled May 18 wedding day has come and gone, and he’s still single – and in the process of dashing those hopes and dreams, he lost his cat. He’s missing the cat much more than the fiancé, and he isn’t missing his potential mother-in-law at all. I have to admit I’m not missing either woman and am quietly thankful he very narrowly dodged a bullet.
In the meantime, we’ve spent the weekend moving his stuff to my place, and I am convinced that man stuff is much heavier than woman stuff. His weight bench attacked me when I tried to pick it up, which just goes to show that exercise is bad. I’m not quite sure why lumber also attacked me. It was by the weight bench, so maybe it was in collusion with the exercise stuff.
Mom and I agreed Brian owns too many books, and way too many artists’ coffee table books. Them things are extra heavy, no matter how much inspiration might be found inside. He also has piles of old textbooks, books on philosophy, comic books, notebooks, sketchbooks… Paper is heavy. I swear he’s responsible for the death of an entire forest for his current store of knowledge and creative writing and drawing. He also is very fond of rocks and metal.
So, I can’t mend the world or broken hearts, and I can’t find the cat, but I figure I can put my brother on the market in search of a better life partner. He’s 42, obviously fit because of all that blasted exercise equipment, just as obviously literate and artistic, and interested in various forms of philosophy. He loves pets, and would probably be willing to love your dog or cat provided it isn’t one of those little yippy things that jumps on him all the time. He likes dogs you can take for a 10-mile hike in the park. He has some money too because I found a jar of coins.
As for the other unsolvable problems in my world this week, prayers are appreciated for Phil and his family, Chris, the heartbroken, sick, and catless, and oh yeah, that I get through an internal audit this week at work.
I’m going to spend the rest of my 3-weekend in the garden or find my kitchen counter under all the superfluous stuff from my brother’s kitchen…
These are doodles with my new Faber-Castell PITT artist pen. It’s a marker that’s kind of like a brush, with waterproof ink, and comes in different colors. I love it. Much happiness can be found in new art supplies!