Wednesday: Weather, Work, And The Wonderful World Of Peanuts

Wednesday morning was cold, grey, and threatening rain. Our forecast looked bleak and foreboding:  more high winds and heavy rain showers were on the way, and we were under a flood watch. When Rick left early for the gym, I grabbed my grocery list and headed out for the store. If I didn't dawdle, I might beat the rain entirely.

Because there weren't too many items on my list, I was able to get through the store in pretty good time. I did have a brief and spirited discussion with a gentleman as I grabbed a bag of raw peanuts in the shell. He wondered why I liked raw peanuts, and I explained that I buy them not for myself, but for the blue jays. "But how do they eat them? Do they bust them out of the shell or eat the shell or what?" he asked, fascinated. I told him, and he was astonished. "I been buying birds the jars of shelled peanuts, and now you tell me I coulda been buying these bags? They's so much cheaper!" 

I didn't have the heart to tell him that, all along, he also could have been buying three-pound bags of shelled, raw peanuts in the bird food aisle up front. Who knows how he'd have taken the news?

Only two cashiers were available this early in the morning, and I didn't know either of them. That's been the rule more than the exception lately. And the employees in general have gotten older. The woman who rang me up was probably in her late 50s/early 60s.

She was pleasant and efficient. "Let me wrap up that meat in a plastic bag before you put it in your bag," she said. "I don't want it to leak, possibly. I used to work in food service, and that has stayed with me."

In the course of me bagging my groceries in my reusable bags, I learned that she:

*was a manager then regional manager for Taco Bell and took many food safety/food science courses

*left that to work in health care and then took care of her husband who had cancer and early-onset Alzheimer's

*worked in various retail jobs and in the service industry

"You've really had a varied career," I said, "and in each job you've had, you really relied on your basic skill set, being organized, efficient, and good at working with people."

"Well, except for working with teenagers when I was their manager," she said. "That about drove me crazy."

I smiled. "I was a high school teacher for 30 years," I said. "I loved it. I love teenagers."

"Oh wow," she said. "You win!"

******

I wasn't thinking about my victory on my way home--I wasn't even aware there had been a competition. Instead, I started thinking about all the jobs I've had and how, perhaps, they've had an impact on me. Here's a list of all the jobs I've had, paid and unpaid, since I started working, starting with babysitting.

1. Babysitting

2. Paper Route

3. Reading Tutor

4. Catechism Teacher

5. Bank Teller

6. Pet Department Clerk

7. Warehouse Worker

8. Substitute Teacher

9. Teacher

10. Freelance Writer/Editor

I do think the majority of these have influenced me, and I have lots of memories--good and bad--about all of them. Maybe I'll write about several of them in subsequent blog posts. Some of you may be curious about #4. (I still can't believe that one myself.)

Is your list of jobs a long one or short? Do you find yourself in conversation in the grocery store? Is there a job that you miss?

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Simple Pleasures And Surprise Joy

 March is here! I'm always glad to leave the -Uary months behind; they're so decidedly part of winter. At least with March, there's a wisp of hope for Spring. Even if there is sn*w, it's usually not long-lasting, and I can feel as if it's more a bug than a feature. (My father always called March's weather Women's Weather since it was so changeable. He was a terrible chauvinist at his core, but he could be surprisingly enlightened about so many things. In truth, he was more Marchlike than he would ever admit. If you're into that sort of thing, he was pretty much The Pisces Man.)

Anyway, we've had plenty of changeable weather here:  a couple of days ago we reached 77 degrees (F), had a stretch of 60's, and today there is bright sunshine, but we're struggling to see 40. Winds have been high and gusty and from all different directions. A couple of days early in the month we had a bit of frozen precipitation, but nothing that required any action or caused me to despair. I'm grateful.

I did have reason to despair recently, however. I ended up with a nasty cold that hung around for about ten days. So aggravating! I hadn't had a cold for years and years. This one really sapped my strength and stamina--so much coughing! Unfortunately, I wasn't able to take walks during some of the really nice weather, but there will be more. And Rick brought out two chairs onto the patio so that we could sit and enjoy the sun and warmth at least.

Last year, we had a landscaping company take out all the stone paths and landscape beds in the back yard and put a lawn back in. (The black walnut tree behind us just kept killing everything, and we spend so much time at the lake in the summer that the maintenance was prohibitive.) I was more than a little regretful about all the daffodils I had planted back there in the beds. They were all different shades of white and pink, and I really looked forward to them as true harbingers of Spring each year (especially after the damn squirrels ate every single one of my tulips the year after I planted them). I consoled myself with the idea that I had a few clutches of them out front, at least.

Well, when the temperatures stayed warm for several days, even overnight, I started seeing shoots of daffodils coming up through the backyard grass! Even where I had never planted any. Some are in the middle of the yard where the flagstone path was, and some are in front of the swing where there was an entire area of flagstone. THEY ARE EVERYWHERE! I grabbed a bunch of plant markers from the garage and stuck them in the ground wherever I saw shoots. I HAVE FIFTEEN MARKERS IN MY BACK YARD WHERE THERE ARE DAFFODILS COMING UP! I am so excited. I feel like Surprise Daffodils are the best daffodils. I can't wait until they have buds and flower. 

It's always nice to have a little something to look forward to, isn't it? And isn't it so very pleasant to be surprised by something simple? I tell my husband often how Very Lucky He Is to have a partner whose Joys are so easily procured and provoked. He doesn't need to shop at Tiffany or Coach or places like that. He can bring me home birdseed, a water lily for our little backyard pond, or some raspberries. Or some really good ice cream. 

I'm really looking forward to those daffodils and getting the pond and waterfall up and running. Maybe we'll put a few fish in it this year for Theo to feed. Surprise fish! That should be fun.

This Old Lady

 This lousy winter has made me start to Feel My Age, and I wonder what kind of Old Lady I'll be. I mean, I've had several Old Lady examples to look to, but really, it's one of those things I have to figure out for myself. 

Certainly, I would rather not be an Old Lady. I'm resentful of the limitations I'm suddenly experiencing, lending me new empathy for my saintly grandmother Ethel who used to always lament, "My mind wants to do so many things, but this old body just won't let me!" She used to go to her doctor and warn him not to tell her that any of her problems were due to Old Age, or to be overly cautious in his treatments, either. Grandma once told him to just remove one of her toes that kept giving her problems; she was tired of dealing with it. She was still doing floor exercises on a mat in her nursing home room in her nineties. She made all my winter coats until I was 13, and she did that for dozens of grandchildren. Her sense of organization and ambition were formidable. I never inherited her skill in sewing, but I did inherit her arthritis, sadly, and I'd like to think I got my sense of order from her, too. 

Her mother, my Great Grandma Hetsler was the most horrible person I ever knew. On the unfortunate days that our visits to Grandma's house coincided with Grandma Hetsler's stays, I was devastated. She sat in the living room like a Puritan judge, ramrod straight, with her grey hair pulled back in a severe bun. She wore little glasses and her face wore a constant pained look. Her cane was always in her hand, at the ready. She disapproved of girls wearing pants, and she always said so, both to us and to our mother. And whenever we were close enough, she whacked us, hard, on the back of our legs with her cane. There was no reason at all other than she wanted to or took some perverse pleasure in it. I constantly appealed to my mother and my grandmother, but all they said was, "She's an old lady. Just never mind her." I made a vow as a child to never, ever be like her, and to always listen to my children.

My husband's grandmother, who liked to be called G-Ma, and who had a hand in raising him, was one of the kindest women I ever knew. Each and every one of her grandkids was perfect, a superhero, a genius, and the best at their job. They all made all the right decisions always. That woman was the biggest cheerleader for her grandkids and, eventually, their spouses and great-grandkids. She lived only a few blocks away from us when we were just starting out with our house, and one day she drove over with a huge watermelon she'd gotten on sale, and wanted Rick to cut it up so that we could have most of it. We did it right in the front yard on the tailgate of her station wagon. There were a lot of birthdays when her gift was a car payment or grocery gift card. She was special. I hope I showed her how much I appreciated her when she was still with us. She really knew the value of Truly Being There.

Today, this Old Lady went grocery shopping, swore at her car (I hate that it gives me a score for my driving that goes lower if I use the heat ), took a walk in the rain, and sat with her cat while he watched a video of birds and squirrels (because he asked to). She signed petitions against republican bullshit and wrote emails to Congress. She said The Eff Word about 20 times to no one in particular. And she ate lunch with her son. So, for now, I'm That Kind Of Old Lady.

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