Push-Ups: Observations

Observing, while unobserved, those unaware. People watching. Human eyeball distractions. An oft practiced past-time of mine. Libraries, airports, ball games and wrestling matches, even grocery stores. Ooh, and Starbucks. Men, women, children. Employees. College students. Pre-schoolers. Toddlers. Octogenarians. En masse. Solo. Duos. Standing or sitting. Smoking a cigarette or pumping gas. Mothers who are forced to discipline their children in parking lots; fathers caught gazing far too long at the Hooters waitress. Little boys chasing little girls around the playground, behind the swing set, and across the merry-go-round.

MOM AND SARAH -- WHOLLY UNAWARE

When driving, by all means, especially those compulsive individuals who simply can't wait for the privacy of their own home to dig deep for their nasal obstructions. (If it's not crustily painful or emerging from the bat cave and and ready to take flight, you should really tie your hands down and back away from such nasty practices in public. I can SEE you behind the wheel! While it's grossly amusing, I'd rather see you rock out to your radio. Unless your drive through my town is your first and last, the chances are good that we will cross paths in the future. If you offer your hand in greeting, don't be surprised at my rudeness when I yank my hand away.) Did I ever tell you about the time I spotted the dude in the car right next to mine snorting cocaine on a CD case with a rolled bill while we waited at a stoplight? Can you say, "Hello, 911?" He didn't warn us so we could take an alternate route, far away from his illegal stupidity, did he? He did provide a real-time case study for my curious progeny. No photographic examples of these. Bummer.

Watching my kids while they watch TV or visit with their friends or simply sleep. Every once in a while, they catch me. Call me out. Especially the observant middle one. Sometimes it bugs her. I can't help myself. Can't stop myself. They are fascinating subjects. Brown eyes. Sculpted brows. Distinctive noses. Thick heads of wavy dark hair. Brimming with humor and life. They carry the sum of these past two decades. They reflect a shining aspect of myself back on me. It's quite hard to look away from all of that. The middle one will simply have to deal with her irritation concerning my maternal ogling.

Church is another fine venue for human observation. The pastor is an obvious one. No-brainer. Musicians on the stage. What they do with their hands, eyes, chins. (Yes, chins. Lead with 'em. Lift them to the heavens. Drag them to the chest.) Fellow parishioners roosting in their familiar chairs. Everyone seems to gravitate toward the same seating week in and week out. I'm a front row gal. Neighbors are another avenue of interest. I know my good neighbors on the left quite well. Busy and habitual folks. Always on their way to somewhere with a blue-eyed blond boy, or three, in tow. Hard workers. Great grillers. fast friends. Then there's the couple with the hostile German shepherd that they can barely contain with the industrial-strength coil of rope to which she's attached. I just heard them go by on their nightly 11PM walk: the dog barks as it passes the house. She bit my son's buddy when he rang the doorbell of her owner's house last summer. No one feels safe anymore. Not a good scene.

CAUGHT IN THE ACT OF NEIGHBORLY PEEKING

(KIDS AT CHURCH -- DOUBLE WHAMMY!)

The Earth Divas are a joy to visually peruse. The elegant one. Long-limbed and perpetually stylish. She transforms a simple blouse and jeans! The exuberant artist. A giddy giggle which ties my belly in knots with responsive laughter. An eye for color as function and fun that constantly impresses me. The deadpan gal. Tackles it all head-on. With unabashed frankness. The driest of wits. Practical from birth. All of them a feast for my eyes.

And that's merely the tip of an enormously satisfying and never-ending iceberg. I didn't mention my husband. Or Laurie Geiser. Or my mother. Or my brother. The vastness of the animal kingdom extends beyond homo sapiens. Birds. I practically weep over a great blue heron sighting. My cat. He enhances my affection for all things orange. Tomato hornworms. They turn my stomach, but so plump and juicy when they ooze green blood beneath my feet.

BIRDIE BUFFET ALA YUKON HOOD?

Pulling back for the panoramic sweep, trees, tall, short, blooming, dying. Mountains which end sharply against the plains. Rising oceans surging against sandy shores rife with kelp, sea glass, broken shells. Skies in hues of blues. Cerulean meets steel-gray meets scudding puffs of water mist. Give me a chance and I'd observe the planets. Contemplating their odds in a cosmic round of pool against the slate of the universe.