Is there blood on the carpet?

Do you really need to call me at work? When my sons were adolescents and I was a working single mom we developed a useful guideline. I expected the boys to settle disputes and handle problems themselves up to the code level of blood on the carpet.

Tonight Dad has his undies in a bunch for no reason. Having left one phone message on my cell, he's calling and calling my home and cell phones so I can't even get a return call through to him. When I finally catch him he says he was about ready to call my brother to have him call me. What's the emergency? What's the problem? Is there blood on the carpet?!

Dad was just calling to tell me about his supper. This is our daily call. Sometimes it is the first of several evening calls. I remind him of the days when his grandsons had the blood-on-the-carpet rule. He remembers and laughs. For a second we are in the present remembering the past together in a relaxed way.

I love you. I'll call you tomorrow when I get home from work. Don't call me unless there's blood on the rug.

© 2010 Nancy L. Ruder

Pink Floyd switches from Daylight Savings Time

Time waits for no man, and it is scary to consider Pink Floyd wearing Depends. Time is preoccupying Howie today. I called to ask him the name for workshop masonite with holes because I was having a brain meltdown. He knew "pegboard" immediately, and I hit my forehead and said, "Duh. Thanks."

Dad was fretting about finding the instructions for his Seiko watch to switch from daylight savings. Had I run into those instructions in the chest of drawers at the house? I told him they were probably in the top middle drawer of that chest of drawers which is actually right there in his Eastmont bedroom. He was too anxious to check that out to continue our conversation.

Time is too slow for those who wait, too swift for those who fear, too long for those who grieve, too short for those who rejoice, but for those who love, time is eternity.
Henry Van Dyke (1852-1933)

Ticking away the moments that make up the dull day. Fritter and waste the hours in an off hand way...

© 2009 Nancy L. Ruder