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At the moment my baby is talking rather loudly.  Not angrily.  Just loudly.

She tends to find her voice in cycles, so that a week will go by without much of anything besides the occasional whimper, but when she cycles back up it will be with an increased vocabulary of inarticulate coos and babbles.  We are at the peak of an upswing, so my wife and I have given up on trying to hear the TV over her conversations with her chew toys.

At the moment, we are waiting for an unpleasant phone call.

An old and dear family member is in the hospital in palliative care, and we are simply waiting for the inevitable.  It is the second time in just under a year that we have been in this position, waiting for the call, and it is no better now than it was then.  Part of me wishes that it would happen sooner rather than later, and part of me dreads hearing that another person I love is gone from this life.

At the moment I am between massive workloads.

New jobs always mean new acronyms to learn, and this last one has been a monster.  I still don’t know what all the letters mean, and I am not positive about the order of them, but I managed to at least report on this one in time for a weekend off before I dive headlong into the next.  I plan on spending my brief window of free time with my family and getting the house cleaned up from a week of me ignoring my chores.

At the moment the wind is blowing angrily.

It is reminding me that I have to start putting things away for fall.  The patio umbrella has just lifted off and is on its way over the nearby highway; let’s hope it doesn’t land on a transport truck this time.  The chairs are now pressed against the fence and are slowly being gusted up toward the neighbour’s house, and the BBQ has run over the table and pinned it to the stage.  (Why is there a stage in my backyard?  I’ve already asked that here.)

At the moment, I am wondering how things will shape up, but I am reminded that worrying about tomorrow offers very little.  I will lie with my family on our couch, listen to the gusting of the wind, and worry about tomorrow when it gets here.

 

Update: A purple kiddie pool has now blown into the backyard and is dangling precariously on our fence.  I feel that there is no reasonable way for me to find its owner, so I am going to allow the wind that brought it to find it a new home somewhere else.  It is probably a profound sign of something, but I’ll be damned if I could tell you what.

How did it land there? How is it staying in place? When will it leave? Only time will tell.

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