"Orbit"

It seems to me that everything large, and everything microscopic, and everything in between acts the same.  Electrons orbit around nuclei, and moons orbit around planets, and planets orbit around suns, and the entire universe is spinning.  This can all make you kind of crazy if you think about it too much, and I don't even do drugs.

A former coworker once told me she was unfriendly and uncooperative when I started my job because she had really wanted her college friend to get the position.  How could I know her friend applied for the job?  How could I know my coworker's misguided loyalties would make my life difficult?  There were invisible orbits of people around me, and all I knew is that I was trying my best with inexplicable obstacles in my path.

Jennie Cramer was my Grandma's mom, Thomas L. Lee was my Grandpa's dad.

I don't know why I started remembering this, but then I couldn't stop thinking about it.  All this time later, I want to yell "I won't do crazy with you!"  This woman is still in the outer orbit of my life.  She puts effort into looking and acting professional.  You'd never know she'd sabotage her own job for the benefit of someone who didn't qualify for mine.

Sometimes we have to accept that there are invisible forces around us, and we may or may not learn what those forces are.  We just have to do our best despite it all.  I'm glad this woman confessed her motivations to me because she illuminated a life lesson that these people walk amongst us.  They look normal, and I don't think knowing her thoughts would've been helpful at the time.  What could I do?  Quit my job so her friend could be rejected again?

Don't judge my lit -- these are my popular light reading when I have a bad day :)

This is the kind of stuff I thought about while consolidating my library this week.  I built a bookcase because I had a vision of the perfect bookcase -- which of course nobody sells ready-made.  I'm not saying it's the best bookcase, but it's the best for my space.

Advertising on the back of the textbook.

I gathered my books from around the house (which are HEAVY by the way) and hauled them upstairs.  Then I had to sort them all, then of course I had to alphabetize them... well okay, I'm my own kind of crazy, but I was a great page when I worked at the Columbus Library, and now I can find any book in a moment, and all of my series are together.

Anyway, I mused about the old coworker and I handled my treasures, which include these old schoolbooks from my ancestors.  I love seeing the signatures of my great grandparents on the fly leaves and the old illustrations...  It takes a long time to shelve books when I have such lovely distractions along the way.

These books aren't in good condition, but I suppose they could be in worse shape.  To put it in perspective, they're from not long after the American Civil War.  You know, like when people were slaves.  That seems long ago to me -- or maybe the flip side of it is that slavery really wasn't long ago at all?  Which puts the idea of crazy coworkers into perspective, doesn't it?

You can see the bindings on the old books at left are gone or falling apart

If anyone knows the best way to store these books, please let me know.  I'd like to prevent further decay.  I'd like to put them in boxes, but not sure if I should wrap them up in something first?

"Moon"

I woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning, and then spent a stupid amount of time thinking about that expression, then thought about why things that bothered me before have suddenly become intolerable.  This must happen to others or the expression wouldn't exist, right?  Let's blame it on the phase of the moon.

I've spent the last couple of days doing some heavy lifting and cleaning.  Maybe all that effort broke down defenses that I didn't realize I had in place?  I fell asleep early from exhaustion and my dreams wouldn't leave me alone.  Maybe part of it was from a comment a friend made the other day.  He said nasty people say awful things to nice people because they know the nice people won't say awful things back.

Too true.  Bullies often win.  But it's a new year, I'm sweeping the dust, rearranging furniture, and somewhere in all this I'm tired of licking wounds that never heal.  I'm not much for New Year resolutions, but I am resolving to quit putting up with people who don't add value to my life.

There are nice, good people in the world.  If you've been blessed to spend your life around those kinds of people, I hope you appreciate them.  If you've spent your life around un-nice people, well, go find the nice ones.

Back in the olden days when children got muddy and played on the playground without safety equipment, we played on teeter totters.  Not the wimpy, plastic rockers that they sell these days, but long, hard, wood constructions.  I loved them.  Proper seesawing meant you needed to have at least one comparably-sized friend to play with.  If you were really social, you could put 2-3 friends on each end.  And yes, in those days the girls did this in dresses (though this pic is from before my time).

Back and forth, back and forth... and then when one of the players had been lulled into complacency... jump off!  If you did this right, your friend would be at the apex of the rocking cycle and suddenly crash to Earth in a tailbone smashing impact... with a bounce and a secondary crack to the coccyx.

Most often we laughed and the victim would laughingly vow vengeance.  The first perpetrator would get their comeuppance, though if you were really on the ball you could jump off before impact.  Once in a while the collision would actually harm a kid (which I suppose is why today's kids have plastic rockers) and the kids on the playground would sympathetically gather around the kid rolling on the ground with a broken tailbone while a teacher was found for her usually unsympathetic supervision.

This was all important education about the laws of Newtonian physics because we were living "for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction".

My New Year's resolution is to jump off the seesaw.  What's yours?