At the Market

Velvet posted about an overheard conversation at her local supermarket and I thought I would post about my eavesdropping at my local Trader Joes.

Trader Joe's is a gourmet food store but with incredibly low prices. They save money by having manufacturers private label food just for them.

As I was working my way down the nut aisle, I overheard a woman inquiring from one of the helpful workers as to where the Quadratini had moved. I'm sure you've all had wafer cookies with that sugary, icing between the layers... usually vanilla. Trader Joe's version is lemon. It is a tart and sweet and crumbly wonderful thing! Very addictive.

The worker explained they had discontinued it. (They do that from time and time!)

The woman's response: "Well, I guess I'll just take up crack cocaine then."


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Shoe Fetish

Janet's post about trying to get her city to pick up some rubbish has me reminiscing about a similar event from my childhood.

My mother hated a sweet gum tree in our front yard. (She eventually would come to hate and murder every tree in our yard! But the sweet gum was the first.) She was forever stepping on the spiny balls it dropped in the yard and was sick of the mess.

She petitioned the city to remove it as it had come up through the sidewalk but it was mostly on our land. The city refused because it was a living, healthy tree.

My mom's reply: "I can fix that!"

So she started a small fire at the base of the tree. It was quickly going out and she ran into the house to get more fuel and left me in charge of the dwindling flames. (I was five or six...what could I do if it got out of control???)

Within seconds she was calling for me to come inside and grab some old shoes to throw on the fire. I ran into the house through the living room (don't know why we call it that... we never lived in there!) and around the corner to her bedroom. She handed me five pair of shoes - more than I could hold. I ran to the fire with a few pair and back for the rest... only there were extra shoes in her pile and she was digging in her closet for more!

Back and forth I ran, to the fire with shoes and into the house to get more. And I kept count with each trip. I was amazed that every time I ran back to that bedroom, my mother's pile of shoes had grown. I didn't think I would ever get them on the now blazing fire. (I do think Mom put some gasoline on it as some point because shoes don't really burn all that well.)

When she was finally done, seventy two pair of shoes had been sacrificed on my mother's altar of "getting-the-city-to-do-the-right-thing." SEVENTY TWO! And... it didn't even make a dent in her shoe collection!

The tree died and the city cut it down. But to this day, it always amazes me that my mother will comment on both my sister and I having "too many" shoes! Both of our reply is always the same:

"Too many! Just how many would that be?"

She seems stunned by our reply and grumbles a bit.

"Mother, I certainly don't own 72 pair of shoes I can burn; I don't even have 72 pair shoes period! Until I have that many, I don't have too many."

This is one of the few times my mother will have nothing else to say.

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Bittids

I've had so much going on and too little time to blog and instead of a post about any one thing... here's a summary:

Lack of Funds Desperation: I was freaking out about money or lack of because I had a $3K property tax bill when out of the blue I got a job bidding commercials. As I am extremely overpaid to do this work, it was quite a blessing even though I was only booked for a few days. I grossed over half my tax bill. Yeah!

Worry Flurry: I should've been suspicious when my mom volunteered to go see a doctor. But, I was busy working and didn't give her, "Oh you know I was so sick with that cold and couldn't get into a doctor cause I don't have one so, if I get one while I'm well, it'll be better the next time I'm sick, " routine a second thought.

Turns out she had one of her bad dizzy spells that makes her certain the aneurysm in her head is bursting. It wasn't... and now we know it hasn't changed size in the last decade either. Aside from her being very weak for a few days after the tests and an upcoming visit with a vascular specialist, she's still the busiest, hard-workingest 86 year-old I know.

Then there was the not as good news my sister got from her doc. Let's just say it's menopause related and she's not happy but she'll deal.

Testing, Testing: A few months ago, seeing that my business was going South, I decided to get certified to substitute teach as it pays decent here in LA LA land. No special educational requirements or degree...just pass the CBEST test. 1 part reading comprehension, 1 part math, and 2 essay questions. As luck would have it, the test was right in the middle of my working. No time to study. I did download the sample test, completed two reading problems, two math and looked over the essay. As I was out of time, I prayed that my once 146 i.q. was still somewhere in the neighborhood and hoped for the best.

Test day was a freaking zoo. Well over 500 people... that many people want to teach??? I was quite annoyed that our room number and seat number were buried in our confirmation numbers emailed to us. There were no signs to decode this bit of info and there were several deaf test takers with no one helping them.

It was also amazing that despite a warning about no cell phones allowed in the testing rooms, hundreds showed up with their phones and had to wait in line to leave them with CBEST employees.

Preparing to take the test took another 45 minutes with I.D. verification, thumbprinting, another cell phone check, removing water bottle labels etc. I finished the four hour test in three... I have no idea if that's good or bad...just glad it's over. I will get scores in a few more weeks.

Out of the nook: Mabel and I had a huge fight. After a wonderful hour and fifteen minute hike, she took off on me and it took me another hour to find her. I was furious and she knew it. We spent the next few days tap dancing around each other and each of us generally ignoring the other. She would still sleep with me but way on the foot of the bed.

I refused to take her to the creek and instead went out to dinner and a funny movie alone. We finally ventured back to the creek with the Rhodie pack tagging along as unofficial supervisors. The girl did fine and we seem to be making up.

Who knew having a temperamental dog could be just like fighting with a loved one? Ick!

My Harshest Critics: Being back in the commercial field played quite a few games on my psyche. I spent every work day telling myself what an idiot I was and picking apart every thing I did. To make it worse, I had a class to teach my first day at work which made the workday thirteen hours long.

In spite of have extra students show up late and disrupt the class and having four people just not understand wire wrapping, I felt like I had done a good job and remained calm. Yet, the next day, I realized one of my students had stolen tools from me. When I called her on it over that weekend, she ended up calling the school the following Monday and picked apart my teaching techniques (and she was NOT one of the ones having trouble!). It's like, I can't steal from you so I'm going to tell your boss what a bad teacher you are! UGH!

The two experiences together just leaves me wondering if I'm fit for public consumption. I've spent so many years working alone and loving it, I'm simply terrified of being in the "real" world again. Most people just annoy the hell out of me. This post by Velvet pretty much sums up exactly how I feel.

Kudos to Lil' Ole Me?: Janet gave me the Gratitude with Attitude Award and even though I traced it back several blogs, I still don't get what it's for!!! But I'll pass it on anyway to Patrick and Becky. Many thanks to Janet for thinking I'm worthy!



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Breaking My Heart

As I left for work yesterday morning, my girl's pouty face just broke my heart. Her sad eyes wondering how I could leave her / why she couldn't go with me seemed to send daggers into my chest.

She watched me back out of the driveway, slowly walking toward the car. I shut the gate, backed into the street and waited. I could see her little feet under the gate, waiting to see if I was really leaving. I sat there idling, waiting to see if she would give up and go inside. Knowing this was a battle of wills that I would lose, I drove away.

All the way to work, I wondered, if it's this hard for me, how to people with human kids do this every day???

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Music to My Ears

I was in the pet store with Kat the other day, holding her hand through her Chihuahua pup's first ever professional bath. While stashing my shopping cart to check on Twinkie, I noticed a most disturbing product: Tag silencers.

Why? Why? Why would anyone want such a thing??? Is the sound of their own dog so annoying??

Since then, I've thought about the sound of Mabel's tags so often. They are the sound of my girl, my life. I can tell so many things by the rhythm of those two bits of metal clanking together.

I know where she is the creek. I can tell if she is on the prowl, giving chase or just lollygagging by the sound of her tags. I also know that I am not alone in that vast wilderness. That somewhere within earshot is my cohort in crime.

I love the muted sound they make underwater when she is taking a dip.

At home, there are other sounds. While she is asleep, they sometimes make a spacey little tink every now and again. Or if she is dreaming, the sounds come faster.

I can tell when she is digging a hole in the backyard. There are other rhythms for chasing squirrels, pilfering for food, anxious pacing for a door to be opened.

Then, there are the times she wakes from a nap and goes looking for me. Mabel never thinks to check the office first. I can hear her strolling through the house and out to the shop. When she doesn't find me there, the tinkling of her tags is faster coming back. If she makes a second round trip, the tags have a panic sound that make me stop what I'm doing and call out to her, "Mamma's here babe!"

There are also times when they are completely quiet and I know she's up to no good.

That little tinkling of her collar is so vital to my very existence, I simply cannot imagine life without it. My first two dogs, both in rescue for over a year, felt naked without their collar and tags - or as we call them in this house - their "jewelry." Poor Maggie May would get so distraught when I took her jewelry off to wash it, she would wait under the clothesline for it to dry!

And when those girls died, it was their collars, that gentle tinkling, that haunted me day and night. I would wake, certain I had heard it. Even wide awake, I would "hear" it in some distant room and go racing, looking for them.

Why would anyone want to silence all that?

Now, you'll have to excuse me. Someone is anxiously pacing by the back door.


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Jilted

I feel like a scorned lover this week... you left me without so much as a goodbye.

Just the other day, your warm breath whispered in my ear promises of warm sunny days and flowers. You caressed my arm and made me so grateful for the cool waters in our creek. When you were here, laughter and joy filled my soul. The very thought of you made me so hopeful for the future.

But now, you've disappeared and I am cold and alone. As always, my dark thoughts fill my head with the certainty that you never cared for me and will never come back--no matter what common sense tells me. Are you somewhere else, sharing your warmth and beauty with another? I am certain of it!

Oh Spring...you are a fickle lover indeed.



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Creekhiker's Dyslexic Dictionary - Word of the Day

Perildise -

Main Entry:

per·il·dise

Pronunciation:

\ˈper-əlˌdīs, -ˌdīz,

Function:

noun

Definition:

When paradise turns dangerous.

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Is it Animal Cruelty...

...to "make" the dog play tug of war only because it puts my tired, aching back in the most perfect, pain relieving stretch ever? If it is, please, don't turn me in!

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