Not in the clamor of the crowded street, not in the shouts and plaudits of the throng, but in ourselves, are triumph and defeat.--Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
REDIRECT ALERT! (Scroll down past this mess if you're trying to read an archived post. Thanks. No, really, thanks.)
Due to my inability to control my temper and complacently accept continued silliness with not-quite-as-reliable-as-it-ought-to-be Blogger/Blogspot, your beloved Possumblog will now waddle across the Information Dirt Road and park its prehensile tail at http://possumblog.mu.nu.
This site will remain in place as a backup in case Munuvia gets hit by a bus or something, but I don't think they have as much trouble with this as some places do. ::cough::blogspot::cough:: So click here and adjust your links. I apologize for the inconvenience, but it's one of those things.
Friday, April 02, 2004
Giveth and taketh away
Reading over this post from Marc, I am reminded of two recent incidents. First was one that happened this afternoon as I came back from lunch, when I met two of the ladies from downstairs as they came out into the corridor. I said "Hey" to them (as I do to everybody, both out of general friendliness and also just in case I know them but have forgotten that I do) and one of them said, "You know, Terry, you just haven't gotten any older." I've been here for nearly ten years now, so she does have some time reference to go by. The other lady agreed with her, and such positive reinforcement, coming without having to be begged or wheedled out of them, sort of took me by surprise. (Frankly, I think it's the blue checkered shirt I have on today--it makes me look like a little boy.) I thanked them, profusely, and allowed that I may not have gotten any older, but my hair sure has. They tsk-tsked my suggestion and we went on our separate paths.
It was certainly a very nice and unexpected compliment to receive, and almost makes up for what happened last night.
Rebecca got through with her practice and walked over to where I was waiting for Jonathan to get through with his. I stood there, my mind a complete blank. Bec pulled and tugged on the bleachers a bit, and chattered about what she did in school during the day, and about things, and stuff, which I answered with my normal, "Mmhm." Then, she got quiet, and a few moments later I sensed that she was staring at me. I looked over at her, and she was intently studying my head. "What is it, sugar?"
"Daddy, why do you have hair growing all out of your ears?"
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