24 Days of Blogging, Day 7: A New Twist

When I was telling my friend and fellow blogger Andrea about my yearly Advent Blogging journey, she suggested that we try writing and publishing on the same topics once a week. We determined that we would agree on a title and nothing else, and neither of us would read the other’s posting until after we were done and posted.

Andrea’s post can be found at http://adkopp76.blogspot.com/2018/11/people-watching.html

Topic 1: People Watching

EOTS Journal, Day 1:

Its invariable, she always puts me on the bedroom shelf on the first day. It’s almost as if she read the box and felt this was the extent of direction for the entire operation. I slide behind the (empty) bank and book (apparently the caterpillar is still hungry) and begin my holiday surveillance.

Subject 1 and Subject 2 enter the room, significant growth from previous years. The elder one is probably near 10 by now and there and a knowing look in her eyes. I know she sees me with her side-eyed glances…how can she not, since I’ve been “hidden” in the same place on this date for the last 4 years?…but she’s cagey. She knows that to despoil the mystery is to close a door for her sister, and even one she is not completely comfortable with herself. “Hmmm I wonder where he is? I hope he can see how nice we are being to each other, dear sister!” Oh Brother!

The first day is usually consumed with noting differences. The bedroom decor has changed, probably reflecting the growth of the elder subject. The goldfish bowl is no longer on the desk and I suspect that Pearly has gone to her sewerly reward. Same bedspread and teddy bear on the younger’s bed. More toys. Lord! Is that a dog? I hope she doesn’t put me in any reachable perches or I may end up in a shallow grave. Music playing in the other room, “Baby, It’s Cold Outside”??? Don’t they read blogs?

In a lifetime of watching people from the periphery, one is not overwhelmed by the excitement or the drama of life observed. Rather, I am struck by the banality of it all. I observe and record petty arguments, and tiny gestures of generosity; frowns and smiles; white lies and painful truths. The kids are all right; the tally seldom totals much in either column. I watch, my tiny pencil poised to capture major infractions, identity theft, hard core drug use, insurance fraud, but I’m instead confronted with not putting toys away and hurt feelings. Like a homicide cop handing out parking tickets, my skills are not being well used.

When I’m put away for the night, or during my long wait from January to December, I think about the very pointlessness of my existence. Observing children aged 4-10 (at least that’s what it says on the box) is never going to bring hardened criminals to justice, never going to make a more peaceful society. In my darker moments I even wonder if this whole this is a made-up tradition designed primarily to sell merchandise.

It’s like Schopenhauer said….CRAP, the younger one saw me! That’s it for the day

One down, twenty three to go.