So now I finally understand her perspective. If it's something she doesn't enjoy, I'm a no-talent hack. If it's something she does enjoy, I'm teh awesomeness.

It wouldn't sting quite so much if I didn't remember that friendly little chat around my eighteenth birthday. The one where she made sure dad wasn't around and then sat me down at the kitchen table and screamed at me about how I'm wasting my life by trying to do that stupid music.

But in the end, all that really matters about it is that I'm mostly past all that. It's really just one of those little annoying pains in the back of my head, like a mosquito bite that never quite heals. I'm doing what I want with it now, and have grown up enough that, while part of me wants to lash out at her, I was capable of just saying, "thanks mom," and moving on with my day.

Her husband's insistence that I "get with an instrument dealer right away" to find out how to take care of the violins I've had for over twenty years was quite amusing as well. Mom and her new husband: always good for ironic entertainment.

BREAK

I talked with Gramps briefly over the weekend. He sounded fairly upbeat, considering.

I also talked with Grandma. Now, I think she's actually worried about him. Normally, so much as a trip to the doctor to check his pulse and she's got him on a death bed. This time all I got was, "there going to try some sort of brain surgery. They think it'll probably help him." That was it. No speculation. No dire prophecy.

This concerns me. It must not be good.

As I said, I'll be there for him when the time comes. Whether he asks me to or not. It's only right.

BREAK

BB and myself have ramped up the notifications to Destro when Zippy is late, as is frequently the case. And we do it in such a way where it doesn't come across like tattling. BB's method is, "hey, have you seen Zippy? I need. . ." and then something he might feasibly need.

So, this morning, around eight thirty, and I approach Destro's holding area (his office) and ask, "do you happen to know if Zippy's supposed to be here today?"

Panic stricken, he starts flipping through his home-phone-numbers list, "yeah, he's supposed to be."

"Ah, well, I just needed to know if he's got anymore of those terminals. We've got a dead one out in the plant and we need to get them back up and running."

Grabbing his phone, "let me. . ."

Just then I see him coming down the hall, "nevermind, there he is."

As Zippy passes Destro's office, Destro shouts on, "on the eight-thirty plan this morning?"

Everybody laughs.

But the notices are piling up. I'd think even a manager at some point would think there's something fishy going on there.

It was quite nice to be able to jump Zippy before he got his coat off with an actual issue though. He's done that to BB and myself so many times, it's just sort of neat to be able to turn the tables.

And that's more than enough for a Monday morning.