The Bees Got Nothing On Me!

I say that because I've been so incredibly busy. The past month has been a whirlwind of activity, and even a little bit of productivity, too. My organizational skills are really being put to the test, which can only help me improve them -- and as so many of my friends can tell you, this is a good thing.

Several personal projects, though, have been put on hold until I can get a better handle on the whole time-management thing. So, if you haven't heard from me in awhile, or haven't spotted me around my usual haunts, worry not; It will only be a matter of time before I resurface and resume a more normal schedule.

It's baaaaack!

The camera. The memory card. And, most importantly, the pictures.

They all arrived (safe and sound) in the mail this afternoon. No surprises. I still can't believe it, but am glad to have the photos and movies which had almost been lost forever.

On a side note, I saw a young woman (24 years old) nearly die right in front of me this morning. She is a diabetic who relies on an insulin pump to help keep her sugar levels in check. Anyway, she hadn't eaten for several hours in the morning (around 11am) and was under a little bit of stress (buying a new car), and she simply tanked. . . FAST! Actually, she began convulsing first, then she stopped breathing (turning her lips and face first blue, then ashen gray.)

I thought she was going to die.

She didn't. . . and responded very rapidly to very intensive and immediate treatment. But man, it was scary to see.

An Update

It seems that the nice people at Hershey Park may have found my previously lost (read: stolen) camera (see previous post). They called today for a more specific description of the pictures conatained on the memory card, mainly because the card itself was still in the camera. It also matched the brand and size which I stated in my initial report.

You see, when you submit a report on the item lost, all the information is entered into a computer database and is cross-referenced with items logged into a database of found items. When they get a hit on this referenced search, someone examines the items and their descriptions to see if the item found is indeed the same as the one which had been lost.

It's a simple, but apparently effective method. And, based on the conversation I had with one of the "Lost & Found Dept." personnel, the pictures on the memory card appear to have been taken by me. If the story ended there, I'd be happy. But that would be too easy, wouldn't it?

Some of the pictures described to me didn't sound familiar at all. So now I wonder silently, "Could it be that the person who had my camera during the past two weeks left additional pictures on my card? Could it simply be the wrong camera? Or maybe it had been stolen, as I suspected, and somehow found its way to the lost and found in spite of the fact? What additional clues will the camera offer?"

It's a mystery.

I had written-off the camera and its contents the day after it vanished. Other family members held out hope a bit longer, including my mother -- a sure sign of eternal optimism and unwavering faith in mankind. I had no such illusions; clearly, the camera had been stolen, and the culprits had gotten away with it.

I have to admit -- they were probably right. But I'm still wondering what those 'other' photos could be. . . ?

Summertime

My brain seems to have taken a break to soak in the sun. Either that, or my life just isn't interesting enough to blog about lately. Maybe it's a bit of both. . .

About the only real news in my life, is that some slimeball stole my digital camera last weekend during my return trip to Hershey Park. It was a family outing we had planned for several months after I visited the park during their winter festival. In true amusement-park style, the place was crowded with families, school groups, and rogue teens. It was also unusually hot, which made for excellent weather for the water rides, too.

I was sitting down on a bench, trusty camera by my side, waiting for my youngest cousins to return from their ride on the Skyway. Then, the fatal mistake. . . I left my seat (don't ever do this if you have stuff on the bench) to consult the park map. It was only a few seconds, but it was all the thief needed to carry out his/her dirty deed.

As if by magic, the camera had vanished into thin air. The scoundrels were kind enough, however, to leave my souvenir mug in its place. Perhaps they are nostalgic and wanted me to have a memento of the occasion.

Now, the camera is just a camera. In fact, it's only one of several that I own. But the photos and movies from the family trip which were on the memory card are irreplaceable.

My heart sank.

Sensing my distress, cousin Diane summed it up thusly: "Well, you lost your pictures that were in the camera, but you still have the pictures in your memory. And you'll have those forever!" Leave it to a ten-year-old to put things in perspective for you. In that instant, I was freed from the prison of my own negative thoughts, and was free to enjoy the rest of the trip unaffected.

All in all, everyone had a really fun weekend. Besides, I still had my spare camera in the car!

Frustration

It's annoying, isn't it?

Some days, I feel as though no matter what path I take, the universe conspires against me, mocking my every move. It's a very uncomfortable feeling -- you know what I'm talking about.

So we rely on family and friends to help validate us, to give us some encouragement. But sometimes even this backfires, and they are unable to provide us with any wise counsel, or even a vote of confidence.

Finally, the realization that "this, too, shall pass" kicks in. And it is apparent that we're deep in the middle of the fray, like a giant, cosmic game of chess, except we are every piece on the board from pawn to King. Our opponent only wants us to believe we are losing. It is his last desperate attempt to undermine our confidence, and hence, our good judgement. His only hope of prevailing waiting for you to blunder.

What's your move?

Babies & Funerals

We're drawn to them both.

They are subtle reminders of the interconnectedness of all our lives. In babies, we experience the awesome sense of possibility, the limitless potential; the miracle of life. With funerals, no matter whether we know the departed well or only casually, we feel as though we should be there. We seem to know, somewhere deep down inside us, that our lives affect all the other lives around us. Even when we are unaware of it.

I've been thinking about these and other things lately, especially after having read a poignant entry in my friend Tara's blog, where she speaks of a young boy she knew named David. Although David's life was tragically difficult and short, he had a tremendous impact on the lives of all who had the privilege of knowing him. Even know, his story and his spirit continue to impact the lives of we who are of this life.

So the next time you feel alone, scared, uncertain, abandoned, or otherwise disenchanted, rest assured knowing that your life has made others possible. That your life has made others easier. That your life has made others worth living. Rest assured in the all the reasons we're drawn to babies and funerals.

From the Mouths of Babes

My cousin Diane is 10 years old, and had the following conversation with me at our big family dinner yesterday evening:

Diane: "Was it *really* a flat tire which made you three hours late to our house today?"

Walter: "Yes, of course. Why?"

Diane: "Well, I thought maybe you were really on the internet. . . y'know looking for a date or something."

Walter: "Really? What makes you think you can find dates on the internet?" [She doesn't have an internet conection at home]

Diane:"Oh, I dunno. Maybe some [in a snarky voice]technology-girl thinks you're cute."

You just can't make this stuff up.