ohmygosh. this was my swan song every time we left the house when The Girl and The Boy were little. this is our swan song before we leave the house now. every time. some things don’t change. i know this has nothing to do with this flawed cartoon and the instincts of birds flying south (or the technology they pay attention to), but middle age and its challenges -and joys- dictate what i pay attention to. and the common theme songs are hot flashes and restroom locations. sheesh!
we have a group of friends that all go together to a winter festival up north a bit. we literally PLAN where we are stopping for the “rest” stop and snacks. and it’s only an hour and fifteen minutes away! we don’t have devices to alert us. they are not necessary. besides, charlie refuses to have any of that confounded stuff.
yup. sometimes nature and people and even geese don’t really need technology.
well, blackbeard may well be a goob, even the biggest goob ever, but some things are best kept to ourselves, eh? my sweet momma always said, “if you have nothing nice to say, say nothing at all.” there is candor and there is boorish rudeness and there is a very fine line between them.
we were at costco. in the fruit and vegetable section. pondering just how many blueberries and strawberries we could eat in the next few days; costco’s quantities are not meant, necessarily, for two people. but we are berry-lovers, so it works for us. we were in the middle of deciding to get both the 57 pint container of blueberries and the 28 quart container of strawberries when i felt a presence. right next to me. close. like next to my face, only my face was turned away. i thought – is this a mystical visitation? is this a sign? i turned slowly. she was standing rightnexttome, her face inchesfrommine. i have never seen this person before. she spoke directly -and loudly- to me, “are the blueberries any good?” she asked. “it’s only me. will they stay good?” i tried to back up, but our cart was behind me and she moved forward as i moved back. i was trapped. i answered (you owe me, costco!) that they were the best berries and would last and last and that she should buy them. and then she was gone. good grief. what i wanted to say was, “get out of my space!!!”
i know you know what i mean. (insert eye-rolling emoji here.)
it was close to midnight and we were on a pretty windy and mountainous road (might i mention with no guardrails?!) The Girl was driving and all of a sudden the deer ran out from the side, sprinting across right in front of us. she handled it like a pro; driving these roads can be stressful and dangerous, but she is level-headed and careful, a really good driver. and she kept us all safe. i was grateful it didn’t just stand there staring at the glare of our headlights.
i taught at a school in florida a longgg time ago. it was 1982 and i was in the teachers’ lounge eating a small snack lunch with one of the teachers, my friend lois. there was a group of teachers in there, all gathered around the stove (this alone seemed pretty bizarre to me – a stove in a teachers’ lounge. who has that kind of time??) they were cooking something in a large cast-iron frying pan, an economy size container of crisco on the counter next to the stove. i was new at the school and i was still trying to make friends, so i asked what they were cooking. “possum,” i was told. (possum?? insert grossed-out emoji face.) here’s the part where i slipped up: i -in all sincerity- said that i hadn’t seen possum in the meat counter at publix and asked, “where do you purchase possum?” without blinking (no pun intended) they told me that they go out most nights “shinin'” in the woods, snaring animals to hunt with the use of headlights. “you never know what you’re gonna get!” they added. i never really fit in there.
recently, while perusing facebook (which i actually don’t do all that often) i came across a post by My Boy. he had made homemade ravioli for dinner. wait! what?? homemade ravioli??? now, this requires making pasta from scratch as well as stuffing it with a delicious tuscan sausage mix. just sayin! this is the same person who, long ago now, used to be able to live on honey buns and swedish fish. he has amazed me time and again with his creative cooking and the photographs he has sent of yummy meals. one day he grilled shrimp out on his deck for dan and me and d. just as thoughtful as the birthday he made me mac and cheese after a long evening i had spent volunteering, but, i have to admit, much tastier.
the first time My Girl made us dinner we had gnocchi and an excellent sausage sauce. i hadn’t had gnocchi in years – since i had it with the hot chics in montana – and her recipe immediately made it onto our ‘what-should-we-have-for-dinner’ list of possibilities.
these are the same two human beings who would ask, ” what’s for dinner?” now i find myself asking them. funny how cooking creativity blossoms in each next generation.
i wish. i wish stress brought out my sense of humor. i suppose that sometimes it does. but more consistently would be a good thing. how does worrying help, anyway?
this is not my favorite FLAWED CARTOON. although it does actually make me laugh aloud, it also makes me cringe. (and, to take it further, it makes me want to be vegan.)
in the story i tell myself, she puts down the talking-intervention-chicken and it becomes a free-range fowl, roaming with plenty of fresh vegetation, sunshine and open space for exercise.
remember that day in school when the teacher passed out timed tests and told you to have a pencil ready? she or he specifically said to “read all the instructions first and read through the test before you begin.” and then – silence.
you grabbed your pencil, chewed nervously on the eraser or the side of it, put your name at the top and started answering questions as fast as you could, skipping the instructions or reading through it.
you got to the last question and it read “go back to the beginning and put your name at the top of this page and only answer question 1” (or some other such verbiage nonsense like that.) dang.
there’s something to be said for reading instructions. patience, baby, patience.
so, one of my least favorite things is calling customer service. of any company. insurance companies, airlines, stores, online retail, the cellphone company, and the worst-the cable company.
one day recently i literally called time warner cable to inquire about a less expensive plan. of course, the company has been acquired by spectrum, so i was talking to the spectrum folks. but, at the time, my bill still had “time warner cable” on it, so i figured that they were still somehow in the game.
i explained to the gal on the line what i was looking for, the reason for my call. this was misunderstood time after time, until i just blurted out “i want a cheaper plan!” she then proceeded to tell me that she would research that for me. holdholdholdholdholdholdhold……
she came back on the line to tell me -excitedly- that she was able to find a fabulous new spectrum plan for me and that i could sign up right away, over the phone. here’s the thing (the moment i was hit by the customer-taser): the new plan was $35 a month MORE than the one i already had and about which i was calling to negotiate. what?!?!?! i asked her if she understood what she had just told me. she (again, excitedly) said she did and that she could sign me up right away.
i told her i didn’t want to talk on the phone with her anymore. 45 minutes of wasted life. a taser would have been more honest.
my sweet momma had a sweet nose. but somewhere along the line my poppo, using a derivative of her first name ‘beatrice’ nicknamed her “beak” and, for a time, all hell broke loose. she railed against his perceived slamming of her nose (which was actually a perky little nose) and was questioning of his continued use of his (now) beloved nickname when it irritated (“irked”) her. “beak” morphed into “beaky” – the name by which everyone under the sun knows and loves her. eventually, she even grew to love her nickname and proudly wore a gold necklace my dad had specially made for her (no, surprisingly, “beak” necklaces are not mass-produced!) our sweet beaky-beaky. ohmygosh, how i miss her.
reverse threading 