48 Hours

I had to drop my husband off at the train station this morning at 5:23 or somewhere there about. I was still sipping my coffee so I might be slightly off of the exact time, but either way it was just past 5 in the morning, it's still winter, it's dark, cold, and no one wants to be heading off to work at that time of day, I don't care if you are premier chocolate taster for whoever is the leading brand of chocolate right now. I don't think I can be convinced... unless you've been sleeping since 4pm the previous day, of course and really love your job like you would do cartwheels up and down the aisle of the purple line until it pulled into North Station.

So, we said our goodbyes and I watched him tramp up the steps and disappear along with the masses into the belly of the train, I put the car in reverse and made my way back home. It was when I pulled into the driveway and grabbed my precious coffee cup, pulled the keys out of the ignition, and reached for my phone when I realized that not only did I have one phone, I had two! Instantly I think, "I need to call/text him and let him know I have his phone!" Instantly, I realize that only I would be receiving that call or text. So ahead of me was a long day of no random funny texts or messages from my husband because I held in my hand his arms, legs, feet, and everything else. I had his source of life. It's so true that technology had become so necessary and important to us in our lives, that when it is taken away, even briefly as it was today, it sends one reeling in a way. I had to now call the actual place of employment and ask to speak to my husband. This is foreign to me. He answered so I didn't have to babble to a stranger so that was good! Calling a land line seemed odd to me. Furthermore, it was imperative that I speak to him because I hadn't a clue as to which station or at what time he would be returning in the evening. He usually calls or texts me and I show up. I got the proper information and was able to speak to him twice during the day, which is fine, but when I pulled into the station where he said he would be at the appointed time, my own phone's power ran out. This is when it came to me, that the 48 hour missing person rule is completely outdated.

In this age of instantaneous updates on all sorts of technological devices that reach everywhere and beyond the Arctic it seems, there really is no reason why a law enforcement agency shouldn't take seriously someone's claim that a person was missing. Granted there should be a slew of criteria, but today proved that even without cell phones, there is still the computer, the land line of his work, I could have called a friend of his who he worked with or any number of people or even driven to Boston and waltzed into his workplace calling his name like a raving lunatic. He would not have appreciated it and I would be mortifyingly embarrassed and would never do such a thing in the first place, but the point is that we no longer live in the days of horse drawn buggies where someone travels months and months somewhere with no word and that was normal. If someone doesn't text us back in more than a few minutes, we start to get antsy. If someone was truly missing, it wouldn't take two full days to know. Or would it?

Then again, maybe we have gotten too used to being so accessible. A few moments without the telephone ringing, texts binging and the little bleeps of chat windows popping up the second one logs into the computer, is almost crippling and piercingly silent. Where is everyone? A quiet panic ensues until the "dead zone" you might have walked into has cleared or whatever interference may have occurred is cleared up, and all is right in the world, everyone is where they should be and you are no longer alone. Maybe we are just too spoiled with all of this nonstop need for technological contact. If I don't get a text response from a friend for a few hours, should I panic? Is he or she in a morgue somewhere? Trapped in a mine? Trying to text me of some evil event and has no little bars lit up on their phone? The most likely answer is, no, they are probably taking a moment of real life. Maybe enjoying the silence, away from all the blipping and technological burps we have gotten so accustomed to hearing on a daily basis.

So, maybe there is a good reason for the 48 hour rule after all.

I Hate Wagons

We all know about "The Wagon" and we are all either on one, off one or mid tumble. I am mid tumble and I guess tomorrow I need to climb my chubby bum back up on this wagon of mine.

Yet another life lesson learned. What came easily ten years ago, does not come easily now. What worked ten years ago, does not seem to work now. Am I doomed to be a chubby woman the rest of my days alive on this earth? Good God Almighty, I hope not.

When Andrew and I first got married he used to tease me relentlessly about my little philosophy of "everything is re-evaluated in the morning." On evenings before our days off together, we would talk about how the next day "held so much promise" and we planned on waking up early and getting list after list of things done. We would prepare for the coming week and just talking about it, making a plan seemed just as good as ACTUALLY carrying it out. The next morning would come, "Doo doo doo!! The day has arrived," the little alarm clock seemed to sing to us, and would we actually go through with our productive plans? I don't recall anything ever really going completely as we had painstakingly planned because Andrew would always hit the snooze button and then ask me if we were really going to get out of bed and I would almost always say with my face still buried deep into the pillow, "Everything is re-evaluated in the morning." Off we were back to our slumber and when we finally rolled out of our apartment at noon or so, we got a few things done, but let's face it, we liked our sleep (oh the days before children arrived!!) and we enjoyed our leisure just as much as making plans and not carrying them out. This doesn't work anymore.

Missing a workout here and there and enjoying a late night pizza-fest wasn't a big deal at that time. Now, it's major damage. It's not just a re-evaluated dinner, it completely constitutes an official "fall off the wagon" status. Which means there needs to be a "climbing back on the wagon." I am still struggling at the ten pound mark and have a ways to go. At least it's something. Maybe I should re-evaluate my diet. If I can't seem to stay on the plan I have picked, does that mean perhaps, I should choose something to suit my needs and personality and eating tendencies a little better? Or does that mean that I have used my Re-evaluation Philosophy to my own detriment and health? I really can't say. Maybe a little bit of both?

Either way, I hate this wagon. Climbing back on it is a b****. (Forgive the *****, but that's how I feel)