Something to Mull Over

Last night, I had a dream that I met a person was defending his house.  It was really just a small house with only a few rooms, and it was pretty old but it was a house.  Anyway, these people were attacking the man and he was fending them off.  He was already quite bruised and bleeding from the fight and as it went on, he fell more often and it took him longer to get up.  Then, finally, he put his hands up and called defeat.  The attackers took him at his word that he would leave and I ran over to help him up.  He thanked me for helping him and then I asked him why he gave up.  He told me, "What I was defending was not the worth the price I was paying to defend it."  He then showed me the house - there was nothing in it, no one he was protecting from the defenders.  Sure, it's a house and that's a place to live and sure, it's land but when it came to losing his life over this empty building, he chose his life.  I promised myself I would remember his words and think about them once I woke up.  So I did.

Something Beautiful

These are pictures from a rainy walk to work a few days ago.  

The Joy of the Children

That line - "the joy of the children was in his voice" - is hands down my favorite line from the book Christy by Catherine Marshall.  I don't even know what children she was referring to but I definitely know what kind of joy she's talking about.  It's something that bursts out in a tumble of energy and spontaneity and is both deep and pure. 

I found this gif today on tumblr for the moment (I'm almost sure of it) when Japan found out they were going officially to the World Cup in Brazil.
 

It's a moment when Hasebe literally jumps for joy.

I can't seem to stop watching it, marveling at how child-like he is in this moment - the joy of a little Japanese boy who dreamed one day of going to the World Cup but probably never dared to dream that he would be the captain that led his team there.  Part of me wonders if I'm the only one who could watch this all day until I think about his mother, who must absolutely adore this moment, when her 29 year old son seems no older than six.

We all grow up from childhood too quickly - we start to pick up burdens that are heavy; we start to concern ourselves with decorum and what is expected of us.  We rarely have those moments of completely giving ourselves up entirely to our joy.

But I confess, it is moments like this that I hope for most for my friends and loved ones.  Those are the moments that make all the tears and the struggles and the heartache worth it.  Those are the moments I remember forever. 

Baby Comes for Dinner

Baby stopped by with her mother yesterday on the way back home from a race in the mountains.  My sister had had a rough weekend camping and running on washed out trails in rainy weather.  Baby had absolutely no complaints.

Baby is growing up so fast.  She uses almost perfect grammar and has a very good memory.  When she was playing with my mini soccer ball, I told her to go get the big soccer ball and she immediately went to the cabinet where it was located.  But she couldn't remember which door so I told her the left one and she tried opening the right door with her left hand before I corrected myself, "No, I mean, the left door."  I'm just impressed by how much she can communicate and how much she knows. 

Here are a few of our conversations:

 <I picked up my dolls from Japan and handed them to her>
Me: Now, Baby, there is a boy and a girl.  Guess which one is which.
Baby: <points to the girl> Girl.  <points to boy> Boy
Me: Wow, you're good.  Is Mommy a girl or a boy?
Baby: Girl!
Me: Is Daddy a girl or a boy?
Baby: Boy!
Me: What about your cousin?
Baby: <thinks for a moment> Her is a girl!
Me: Her?
Sister: She uses all her pronouns correctly but she won't fix that one.

<We line up three little dolls from Japan and admire them>
Me: How many dolls are there?
Baby: One, two, three, Four!
Sister: She still hasn't learned how to count objects yet.  Baby, put your finger on it as you count it.

<Baby sees a penny. She picks it up and holds it up to my face>
Baby: MONEY!
<Later, she is playing with my markers and finds an entire pile of pennies>
Baby: Oh!  LOTS OF MONEY!
Me: You can have as much money as you can count.  (She only got through four pennies)

Me: Baby, what's your favorite movie?
Baby: Pocahontas!
Sister: Huh? But Baby, you've never seen Pocahontas.
Me: Hahaha.  You're always a surprise, Baby. 

Sister: Baby, thank Erin for letting you play with her markers.
Baby: Erin, thank you for letting me play with your markets.
Sister: Did you notice how perfectly she fixed those pronouns?
Me: Yeah, that's really impressive.

 

Baby had a pink and purple hand after playing with my markers

Picture of me taken by Baby.  I didn't realize she was taking pictures.

My Favorite Machinist

Have I ever told you about Ed, our lab's machinist?  He's special.  And not the weird kind of special.  He's the kind of special that you won't ever forget.

Most days, when I walk into lab and walk through the machine shop, he's there working and I greet him with a smile, "Hello, Ed."  If I'm later than usual, he smiles and comments on it.  If I'm earlier than usual, he smiles and comments on it.  If I walk through the shop later, he throws out a comment about the weather or about how I'm covered in oil.  If I need his advice or his expertise, he's always helpful.  He lets me borrow the shaker bath or gives me bolts and screws, quickly machines anything I need and generally proves again and again to be one the best parts about my lab.

When I came back from Japan, there were rumors floating about how people were trying to force Ed into retirement and how they don't need machinists.  Everyone who loves Ed got really upset with those comments because we understand that great is the worth of an experienced machinist.  In fact, when I got to research conferences and tell people how small our models are and how delicate the internal plumbing, they all stare in shock at how skilled our machinist must be.  The best part is, because he's in house, we can take our rough hand sketched ideas and talk with him until we both figure out a way to make the part fit our needs with the best machining methods.  I can't say enough good things about Ed's workmanship.

Or his character.  He comes to work every morning at 6:30 am and leaves at 1:30 pm sharp.  Every Friday, he leaves Little Debbie snacks for the lab on the plate on the microwave.  And then he scatters sunflower seeds and birdseed for all the creatures outside.  Someone once teased me when I said how much I loved the snacks he left for us.

It's not that I think Little Debbie is the best food - in fact, it's probably not very good for me.  However, it reminds me of my Grandpa Reed who used to make cakes for us when we came to visit.  Even when he was old and really shouldn't be making things for us, he still did his best.  I always knew that one way my Grandpa showed me he loved me was making those desserts for me.  The Little Debbie snacks remind me of my Grandpa who I miss a lot.  Ed reminds me of my Grandpa.  I like to pretend the snacks are his way of making sure I'm eating ok, and happy in life, just like my grandpa.

It's always a big question though of how old Ed is.  The rest of the lab has spent several times debating and wondering how old he is, as well as how long he's been working here at UVa.  He's old and apparently, he retired several years ago but still manages to come in every day.

Yesterday, our lab manager found me, "Erin, I found an article on Ed that was published in a UVa magazine in 2000."

I was so excited.  I went and washed my hands of oil and dirt and read it carefully.  It was delightful to hear a little more about him - he was born and raised in England.  He makes elaborate doll houses for his friends and family.

I turned to show the article to my colleague and he immediately asked the question I should have been asking, "How old is he in the article."

"It says here, he was 71."
"That was 13 years ago."

"HE'S 84!"

84, and still coming to work everyday.  Yep, that's our Ed.  I told you he was special.

Dreaming of Freedom

Yesterday was a gorgeous day.  Like a beautiful I-just-want-to-sit-down-and-watch-the-white-clouds-roll-on-past-the-bright-blue-sky-kind-of-day.

So, I indulged myself just a little at what I have decided is one of my new favorite spots at UVa.  It is a good imitation of the columns that originally inspired Jefferson's architectural style and it's simple and understated in  atypical UVa fashion, which just lends to its charm.

It was on the way from English class to the depths of the Alderman library where I would spend my afternoon.  Although men were painting the columns, construction and repair work doesn't even faze me and I walked right past their buckets and drop cloths and settled down into a seat where I watched a man mow the field below in perfect straight lines and let myself just be, without thinking about the things I needed to do or the things I needed to think.

 Thanks, world. I really needed that.

Welcome Diversion

On Wednesday, I convinced a good friend I hadn't seen in weeks to accompany me to Orange to drop off some parts for my pump.  We soon realized that our driving directions were taking us through an absolutely beautiful part of Virginia.

On the way back, inspired by the adventure of the drive, I pulled off the road and stopped at the Exchange Hotel and Civil War Hospital Museum to check it out.  We definitely enjoyed it although the lady telling us about paranormal activity before we went in more than freaked us out.  Even though it was day time, I think I stayed a little closer than is considered normal to my friend every time we entered a new room.

But the experience was definitely worth the $5 it cost for the self-guided tour.  It was definitely very Confederate in it's approach and presentation (which was fine by me) but let me just say, that Confederate or Yankee, I'm so glad I didn't live in the days of Civil War health care.  Did you know that only 5% of the doctors had only seen or performed surgeries on gun shot wounds before working on injuries in the Civil War?

For lunch, my friend and I stopped by Tastee Freez and then by Kohr brothers for frozen custard.

Overall, it was a wonderful afternoon and my friend and I parted feeling that we had created some wonderful memories.