I'm a schedule person - a todo list person - a boxes checked person. It feels so good!  And there is something in me that keeps stretching out, craving that schedule. A new normal. Something to organize and erect like a golden cathedral to look to - a bell tower to direct my days with its ticks and tocks.

But its foolish just now to try. This baby boy is yet to fit into any exact schedule, and I'm trying to let this change me a bit, reform me before I begin trying to squeeze him into boxes. For now, I watch his rhythms and I move with them. I study him and try to learn how he tells me what he needs, what he feels, what he sees. And I'm doing my best to learn how to fit the rest of life's requirements in there too, around him.  And I sometimes day dream about a predictable, organized life where I begin scanning my favorite blogs with a cup of coffee at ___am each day, drawing in inspiration. Then clocking into work at ___am. Nolan up at ___am. Down for a nap at ___am. Clocking out at ____am. Where I can schedule things, create calendars, have room.

Not yet. Right now I watch for little hands that still and lay beside him, long looks, a yawn. There it is - time for a nap.  And I note the time, watching for a pattern, ready for a schedule. Soon, I tell myself, soon.

I haven't blogged in a long time, but I need to write and for me it's an all or nothing practice. I can't let the waters run free in one place and damn them up in another. That's how this blog has always worked - it allows those odd streams to trickle out and find a home. Today, I'm writing bios and team descriptions for work and for them to keep moving I have to blot my pen a bit here too with thoughts about another person I know.

I was lucky enough to spend the weekend with some friends. John had arranged for the framing of the basement to start and we needed to get Nolan out of the house for those couple days. When a last minute invite to drive to some friend's family beach house came, I jumped and rearranged my previous plans.

All that isn't important to know. Where it gets us is here though - sitting around a kitchen island, talking about the man not there. John. Everyone was saying how much they wished he was there and how they missed him, liked him, yadda yadda yadda. I love hearing it. And I hear it a lot. More than I've ever heard anyone be liked - I hear people like John. And I'm an analyzer, I want to know why. I might come across like a terrible wife for it, as if I don't know that I married one of the greatest guys. I do know, but I know from lots of long talks, tearful conversations, sweet responses, humble replies, kind looks, hard work, emptied trash, thoughtful questions, sincere texts, boring nights and fun dates, secret gifts, and positive things said behind people's backs. What I want to know is how they all know, and how everyone seems to know so quick. What is it about the guy that made every person in my life tell me "I like that guy!" after meeting him for a second?

I don't really know the answer yet, but my current hypothesis is they can sense they're safe - he is kind, intelligent and humble, and that comes across quickly, maybe from his questions. He asks questions. And he makes people laugh. But he doesn't use sarcasm to do it. You know that quote you always see ascribed to Eleanor Roosevelt? "Great minds discuss ideas; average minds discuss events, small minds discuss people." John is never a small mind. I think that is why people like him so damn much. I like him for that too (also, his cute butt). ;)