Venturing Out

I went out into the world this week. Several times. A trivial task to some, executed without a whole lot of forethought each day as they drag sleepy eyes and asses onto the highway for the two hour commute. I used to do that. Every single day, twice a day even, at least on those days when I actually got to leave work. But that was then and and this is now. I've been working from home these last five years, and excursions to Midtown Atlanta, let alone the Publix down the road, have become more infrequent, which makes it all the more exciting when I do go out. Did I say exciting? I meant exhausting.

This week I started off by actually going into the office. Don't faint. Take a deep breath. Yes, you heard right. I went to work. (They gasp).

There's something to be said for going to work on a semi-annual basis. Mostly, you feel like a celebrity when you hit the elevator, until you realize you haven't worn pumps in four months and your feet already hurt, so you shift the backpack with the laptop inside to the other shoulder, and walk like a drunk has-been movie starlett to your cube, which you have because you work from home, and even though your position would warrant a less-than-cushy office with doors and windows, there would be mayhem if you had one since you only show up on the third new moon of each millenium.

Ah! A phone message... lemme check. Oh, just a telemarketer. How did they find me here? Oh, right, they didn't find me here.

I run into my old friends. They seem happy to see me.

"Jeneane! How are you? Haven't seen you around here in forever--how long has it been?"

"Forever," I smile.

And the inevitable question: "What brings you in today?"

I tell them the truth. "I saw the email that we were having a party at 3."

They laugh and nod. Tell me it's always loud when I come in. I love them and they love me. Humans are so interesting!

I make the rounds, full well knowing I won't get much done there and I'll have to make up the time later, at home, where I can think. But that's okay. Shooting the breeze with other adults who do what I do for a living is refreshing. I'm wanted. I get to tell lots of stories. Talk about "remember whens." I'm glad I made the trip. Except that the party got postponed until a day when the attendees of honor, hard at work at the client's site, can actually be there.

Even with the extra work waiting for me once I got home to make up for my socializing, I know I did the right thing. I remember missing my work friends as soon as I see them. We've been through a heck of a war the last five years and have lived to tell about it.

Heart doesn't die easy in tech.

My next two adventures were school field trips with Jenna's class. Talk about contact! 20 little 3-6 year olds running mostly amuck from a pumpkin patch at a local YMCA to a Native American demonstration in a huge tepee at a nearby campground. I helped supervise the kids, which mostly meant making sure they didn't escape into a parking lot or down some slick ravine, or at least if they did, that they didn't get killed. I think I did a good job. Everyone lived.

I got that good feeling--just like the one at work--being around the kids. You could tell they thought I was the cool mom. I talk to them like real people--I yell at them just like their own moms when they fight, push, or run off into the nearest nest of copperheads. I took Jenna and her best friend to and from the events in my Escape, turned Earth Wind and Fire up loud, and laughed with them as they danced in their seats...

Searching in the sky one night, while looking for the moon
I viewed a mighty light approching in a zoom
Need was there to tell someone of my discovery
Fifteen seconds later, a light appeared in front of me
To my surprise, there stood a man with age and mystery
His name was Jupiter and came to visit me

The name is Jupiter, from the galaxy
I came to meet you, to make you free
Deliver to you a flower from
A distant planet, from where I come

Keep your eye on Jupiter, such beauty in the sky
We will wait for your return in the by & by
Keep your eye on Jupiter, memories we shall fulfill
Just to view a brighter day, and do a righteous will

Watching and considering my visual state of mind
The flower fragrance help reveal to me the sign
The sigh of love, I had confessed to live and really know
The sign of love which I had failed my fellowman to show

The name is Jupiter, from the galaxy
I came to meet you, to make you free
Deliver to you a flower from
A distant planet, from where I come

The name is Jupiter, from the galaxy
I came to meet you, to make you free
Deliver to you a flower from
A distant planet, from where I come
--Maurice White, Verdine White, Larry Dunn and Philip Bailey

All of this is to say, that there is life out there beyond my Dell Latitude. Who knew? Apparently not me because I was surprised by it all. And every once in a while, I guess, I have to nudge myself to go out and participate in it. Lots of things are waiting, like tree smells and other loud people, some of them very tiny and fast moving, and even good friends that you forget you have unless you make time to stop by and say "Hey" once in a while.