Perspective

Well, you’re alive and can be thankful for that. Then you can worry about finding any job.

~ Overheard while walking through a park in Ireland

The Irish seem to have remarkable perspective. For instance, while walking around in a park, I overheard a grandfatherly gentleman tell his young female companion the statement above. I can only guess about the backstory. Was she ill? Was he ill? Was this just the sharing of a lesson learned through many decades of living? Does the backstory even matter or is the lesson enough?

While traveling around Ireland, I was amazed by how everyone we met was friendly, engaging, and happy, and not in a superficial way. When I talked with someone, I felt as if the person listened to what I was saying instead of thinking of what he or she was going to say next. People seemed truly interested in the conversation and the shared story we were creating together. A thread of genuine curiosity underpinned every conversation, and each person seemed to embrace the advice of the grandfatherly gentleman who extolled the importance of appreciating life. It was exhilarating!

I also marveled at the public art we saw and the stories we heard. Walking around Dublin, you will see statues and architecture devoted to writing, music, and wit. I don’t recall seeing a single object honoring or glorifying war or military might or victors who forcably conquered others. Instead, the culture appears to place other things on a higher pedestal, and I love this the most about Ireland. Heck, their national symbol is a harp! Again, the Irish seem to know what to value and have the right perspective about life.

I miss Ireland, and the re-entry into the United States didn’t supply a soothing balm. Instead, I was jarred by the crass abrasiveness of the very loud, very obnoxious American in the airport lounge. He had not kissed the Blarney Stone in his life and was not given the gift of gab. Instead, his story telling was self focused and more of an assault on one’s ears than a tender lithe tale of ones adventures. Nope, it was a litany of “accomplishments” and what I can only assume to be “sharing of wisdom through his awesomeness.” Maybe I’m being too harsh on the poor guy, or maybe we could all use a bit more of the Irish perspective in ours. If an Irish cabbie can curse you from a place of love and make you laugh at the same time, then maybe we can be more welcoming and opening in our general interactions.

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Photos not (always) included

Yes, it’s been awhile.

I’ve been a touch busy for the last few years. The Little Bear grew into a Teenage Bear, and I was flummoxed by the amount of time it takes to cultivate a teen into a functioning facsimile of an adult. His entry into high school with the very real, very quickly approaching deadline, burned into my conscientious just how little time I had left with him. Instead of writing or fishing or knitting, I spent what time I could with him, trying desperately to cram every last bit of adult knowledge I could into his teenage brain. I’m pretty sure I failed and left him with huge gaping gaps in knowledge, but I tried.

I still have much to say, and now I have time. I’m determined to fill the time and prove to myself I am not boring. I can survive life after direct parenting as I shift to indirect parenting and maybe, just maybe as a guide and student of the Teenager’s learnings. Until then, I will write.

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I was told there would be no math

Remember those days in high school when you sat in various math classes thinking, “Will I actually use this stuff?” There are really only a few times in life outside of a classroom when remembering Pythagorean’s theorem becomes vital. Other than the occasional need for geometry and algebra, my life has been rather void of mathematical equations; that is until last week.

Last week, I received a fax (yes, some people still send a fax) of my accident report. My lovely little blue Element had been sandwiched between a Chevy Tahoe and a Ford Escape. Unfortunately, that is not what the accident report stated. The report stated that my lovely little blue Element crashed into the stationary Chevy Tahoe and moved it forward into the back bumper of a Ford truck. I’ll give you a moment to let that sink in.

From Irish Clover

My lovely little Element was supposedly able to push a stationary Chevy Tahoe forward into another vehicle. At this point, the logical part of my brain began to compare the size of my lovely little Element to that of a Chevy Tahoe. Just on the superficial level, the Tahoe appeared longer than my car. The Tahoe seats over seven grown adults in it and I can only seat four. Hmmm, my airbag didn’t deploy, so I know I was at a near stop when struck from behind. Then I began to wonder if it was possible for my lovely little Element to actual do what the report said it did.

Dusting off my calculator and finding the physics formulas to calculate the force needed to move an object one meter in half a second, I did some math and discovered that yes, it is possible for my lovely 1599.8 kg Element to move a stationary 3084.4 kg Chevy Tahoe. In order for my car to produce the necessary 42,595.6 Newtons, it needed to be traveling at a speed of 29.75 mph, way faster than I was going and fast enough to force my airbag to deploy (did I mention that it didn’t?). I passed along the information to the wonderful lady with my insurance. I’m pretty sure she thinks I’m a bit obsessive now. Then I did some math on my sock.

From WIPs

I wasn’t thrilled with how a standard gusset and heel impacted the color flow of the yarn, so I ripped it back, put in some waste yarn for an afterthought heel. I need to then calculate how long to make my foot. I guesstimated, which turned out to much easier than calculating force required to move mass, moved the toe stitches to some waste yarn and then added the heel. The universe is slowly getting back into alignment, much like the alignment on the Element.

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