Some days are long. It's 6:11 pm and I have finished up a day that started at 6:45 am. Those morning meetings that I thought would last the morning went until mid-afternoon and then there was still the drive home, plus sorting through the e-mail of the day. Add the fact that many people are off on Friday and there was no time left to slack off. If it doesn't get done in the next 24 hours then it's Monday before anything happens again. Yesterday this seemed like a great concept. Now that it's here everything is piling up in a rush as people all over realize that there is an early deadline.
After playing corporate entity all day, I came home to a street of children who had set up tricycle camp in the road. This makes a nice transition out of work mode and into neighbor mode. The children (those that have sense) go running into their driveway becauses they know the ball bounce is about to occur. (The slow one couldn't quite figure it out that there was him in a kid car and me in a big car. He stayed put, I drove around.)
Sure enough, there are 4 beach balls in my yard just waiting to be returned. I complete my task and within the hour, New Mr. Mom comes to the door asking if I can get the green ball. I have to explain the rules to New Mr. Mom (not really sure where he came from) and then I bounce the ball back. Shortly there after, the balll frenzy stopped. (New Mr. Mom was slightly stunned that there were rules.) I have observed that it's never the children who get the momentum for the high bounces. The Dad's are the ones who invent the game of seeing how far up on the roof they can send the ball. I have to admit that New Mr. Mom had the most impressive roof bounce that I have seen to date and that ball went the greatest distance into my backyard.
So now it's 6:19 and all is quiet. The secret dinner bell has gone out and the street is empty again. I sort of miss the noise. It reminds me that life should be normal and balanced. And even I get to play with beach balls once a day.
After playing corporate entity all day, I came home to a street of children who had set up tricycle camp in the road. This makes a nice transition out of work mode and into neighbor mode. The children (those that have sense) go running into their driveway becauses they know the ball bounce is about to occur. (The slow one couldn't quite figure it out that there was him in a kid car and me in a big car. He stayed put, I drove around.)
Sure enough, there are 4 beach balls in my yard just waiting to be returned. I complete my task and within the hour, New Mr. Mom comes to the door asking if I can get the green ball. I have to explain the rules to New Mr. Mom (not really sure where he came from) and then I bounce the ball back. Shortly there after, the balll frenzy stopped. (New Mr. Mom was slightly stunned that there were rules.) I have observed that it's never the children who get the momentum for the high bounces. The Dad's are the ones who invent the game of seeing how far up on the roof they can send the ball. I have to admit that New Mr. Mom had the most impressive roof bounce that I have seen to date and that ball went the greatest distance into my backyard.
So now it's 6:19 and all is quiet. The secret dinner bell has gone out and the street is empty again. I sort of miss the noise. It reminds me that life should be normal and balanced. And even I get to play with beach balls once a day.
So beach ball girl, let me know when you want to hear the uke band and Taylor and I will meet you for some pizza and beer
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