The Best of Times, The Blurst of Times
On Sunday, while making the LONG drive from Portland to Salt Lake, I was treated to the news that my brother (Nick) and sister-in-law (Kat) had given birth to their first baby (and my first niece), Mary Olive. Babies don't happen often in our immediate family, and when they do they are a BIG deal. It goes without saying that I am over the moon for those guys and Baby MO. Ceci is already plotting how her and MO are going to take over the world with Girl Power. Take notice: the patriarchy is faltering and the future is bright. Believe it.
The tremendous high of new life was quickly balanced by a reminder of the tenuous hold we all keep on things next to the gaping maw of chaos that is our universe. On Tuesday morning I arrived at work to dark news. We are in the midst of a building expansion, and one of the electricians working on the project died onsite as part of a horrible industrial accident. It is easily the most traumatic thing to happen at the State Archives in my 15+ years, and it has cast a pall on everything: the construction crew, the Archives staff, and the building.
As a result of these events, I have spent time this week pondering these two poles of existence and the scant time we are lucky enough to fill in between them. There is nothing grand or insightful to say here, aside from old (but true) cliches: take nothing for granted, live each day like it could be your last, and, always leave them wanting more.