Do You Answer Your Phone?

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Our phone rang 5 times last night between 8:30 and 10.  Neither of us so much as twitched. "Why do people call us?" I asked Blair. "We hate talking on the phone."

I remember being young and dropping everything when the phone rang. These were in the days before Caller Id or even answering machines. If you missed the call, you missed out.

"I'll get it! I'll get it!" came the cry from me, my sister and my parents as we thundered out of our rooms and down the hall, racing for the ringing phone. Injuries weren't unheard of in our race to the receiver. It also wasn't uncommon for the caller on the other hand to hear: "Hello?" followed by a second family member saying, "Hello?" and if they were really lucky, a third breathless, "Hello?" from a latecomer to the phone.

And God help you if you were in the bathroom or outside when the phone rang. Toilet paper was grabbed with a quick flush as you held your pants around your waist and waddled out to the phone. Or gardening shears were tossed in the air as you yelled at the phone, "Hold on! I'm coming!"

I think answering machines and Caller ID have desensitized us. While I appreciate Caller Id's ability to screen out 1-800 or 888 numbers, I find I really don't screen my calls. Instead I just ignore the phone, safe in my knowledge that the person can either leave a message or I can check the screen later to see who it was. Unlike childhood, there is no more excitement when the phone rings...we just turn the volume up on the TV until the person finishes leaving a message.

It's rude, I know. Plus counterproductive. Better to take the call when it comes in and be done with it. Now I have guilt hanging over my head that I have 3 phone calls to return today.

All I know is those people on the other end better pick up.

The Cats Take Over

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This is Olivia, our youngest. Every morning when Blair sits at the computer, she climbs in his lap to be combed. Me, not so much. She demands I vacate the chair so she can curl up in its warmth and only then will she allow me to comb her.

kittyperch005.JPGUntil this morning, that is. I did not feel like handing over control of the chair so I scooped her up and deposited her in my lap. That lasted for all of .000046 seconds, but instead of hopping down, she created a new home for herself on top of the sliding tray that holds our keyboard. No longer shall it be known as the keyboard tray. From this day forth, it is now the new and improved kitty grooming area.

Olivia was living it up--purring and rolling over and having a fine time (until Mommy ruined it by grabbing the camera). Still, my girl is a cute one. Gutsy too. Lucy has claimed a corner of our couch for the past 2 months and spends all her time there.  Lo and behold yesterday afternoon I came downstairs to find Olivia curled up in Lucy's spot on the sofa and one ticked-off black and white cat pacing the floor beneath her.

"You're on your own," I informed Olivia. "I can't help you here."

I don't know what transpired, but when I came downstairs again 30 minutes later, Lucy was on the sofa and Olivia nowhere to be found. 

Frankly, I'm happier not knowing.

Tunnel Vision on Work

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Do you ever have so much work to do you're almost scared to get started? That's the situation I find  myself in this morning (and why I'm choosing to blog right now).  I have so many articles to write, phone calls to return, meetings to coordinate and general catching up to do with friends and family that I don't know which way is up.

I'm trying to avoid my natural tendency which is to knock out all the little stuff before hitting the bigger projects. The little stuff can wait--the big stuff needs my attention. (But I do so love the feeling of accomplishment that comes from crossing 10 things off a to-do list in the first hour because BAM! BAM! BAM!--I just peeled right through them).

With all the work, I'm still going to fit in a 9 AM yoga class. The thigh muscles remain a wee bit tight and an hour of  forced stretching would probably do them good. 

I forgot to mention the massage I had the day before the race. My friend and I splurged at an upscale resort and had an hour-long massage and access to the whirlpool, sauna, steam bath, and relaxation lounge. The upsetting news is that I failed my massage. At one point Jenny was working on my shoulder and I said, "That hurts a little."

"I'm not surprised," she said. "I've been working on it and keep trying to get it to release but your body is defying gravity. It won't let go."

She had me play dead (She literally said to me, "Play dead.") and that helped momentarily but then I tensed it up again. 

The massage was from heaven but unless I receive them a couple times a week, I just don't know that they do much good. All it takes is one day back to tense up again. I think I was almost as relaxed just standing on the beach and staring at the water.  As my friend said, "The beach cures everything."

Here's wishing you many relaxing waves in life.