New mug

 

It’s my birthday, so I dropped in to see what condition my condition is in. If you know the movie source for that phrase, drop it in the comments.

It seemed like a good day to try my new mug, because coffee tastes better in a good mug. This one was handmade by Chris Klem in Media. He shaped it with a lot of care and some information from me. He’s a geek. I love geeks, people who are openly excited about what they love.

There’s Black Rifle Tactisquatch in the mug, along with just a dab of stevia, because that stuff is too sweet and I want to taste my coffee. I have found the Soren Bebe Trio, now playing online, and I have played with the second litter of foster kittens. It’s been a good morning.

This house has been full of life this summer. It started with baby rabbits in the front and baby groundhogs in the back, then expanded to baby robins on the side. Everyone seems to have fledged, and I wish them well. We’ve also had two litters of foster kittens. The Dessert Kittens – yes, it seems that a litter must have a theme – have found their furever homes: Brownie, Cannoli, Cinnamon Bun, Crème Brulé, and Licorice have also fledged. The new girls, Firefly and Sparkle and Willow, are very friendly and very talkative, and they will be ready soon. They love purritos, by the way.

So another trip around the sun, starting on 8/13 at 8:13, because that’s how this adventure was always going to be. I will start my sixteenth year as a school psychologist soon, and the kids, especially the little ones, are intensely interested in my age. They are at the stage where you get to be “and a half” and birthday parties are a Very Big Deal. However, I don’t tell anyone my age.

I’m not embarrassed by it. I’m really amazed to have made it this far, with some of the stupid shit that I have done. By the way, most men will have that discussion readily. I won’t be confessing to any of it, though. I am so grateful that it was all before the internet recorded everything publicly and permanently. My memories are my own.

No, I keep my age private because when you say how old you are then people treat you as though you are what they think that age means. Don’t put that on me. It doesn’t belong.

I tell the kids that I am 300 years old. They laugh and tell me that this is impossible. I tell them that they will believe it when they turn 300 years old. I had a teacher back me up last year, by saying that he was 305 years old. Adults have to stick together. We’re way outnumbered.

Whatever my age means, that’s not me. I can touch my toes – in fact, I can put my knuckles flat on the floor with my legs straight. I can sit on the floor and not worry about being able to get back up. I couldn’t do those things when I was younger. I keep getting faster on sudoku and I’m almost able to have a short conversation in Spanish, too.

Far beyond that, I’m building something new and huge that will be finished in the next six months or so. I believe the advice to build privately so that nobody interferes with your work. It’s just like the stevia in my mug.

My personal motto, Semper Discendo – always learning – still holds true. So does Sapere Aude, dare to know or have the courage to use your own reason. Good thing that these phrases still make sense to me. I have them tattooed on my arm.

I’ve been reading for fun this summer, about the psychology of high performers and about power dynamics among people. The next one should be good, “Mistakes Were Made (but not by me): Why we justify foolish beliefs, bad decisions, and hurtful acts” by Tavris & Aronson.

I’m finding new solutions for old problems and I’m finding that the smart-ass kid who I once was actually had some good ideas. Mistakes don’t bother me as much, either. They’re also opportunities to learn.

I believe in right and wrong, and how most moral failures are really failures of courage. I believe in the rule of law, and how it applies to everyone. I believe in geeks and kittens and fledging, flow and grit, the power of “now” and the power of “yet,” and I believe in saying a bit less.