In the Face of Death

December 12, 2013

     “What do you think happens when we die?” The question shot out of my mouth before I thought twice about it.  “I don’t know and I don’t want anyone telling me what I should believe,” was the immediate response from Mrs. B.  “Do you think that we should know?” I refused to allow her to get sassy on me, nevermind suggesting I have any agenda here, she outta know me better than that by now. Then we got down to the nitty gritty, sharing stories about the process we each witnessed, while gently resting alongside someone who was actively dying. Oh, isn’t it an honor to be present with a soul, leaving the loved ones behind, not having one iota of control, or do they?

     Discuss.  

Efficient Elf

December 11, 2013

     My first job, outside of a carhop/general server, at the family-owned A&W was being an Elf at the Dunkin Jewelers at West Town Mall in Madison. I had an ugly green cap that slung off to the side, trapped alone in a bay window with mounds of gifts to wrap while the customer waited. To this day, I wonder how many same-sized boxes went to the wrong woman. Wasn’t on purpose, mind you, yet the receipt slips occasionally slid to the floor and became detached from its box. Without a price tag, would she notice it wasn’t so special, just as shiny and bright as the ring a few hundred dollars less expensive. Nonetheless, I learned to wrap efficiently, using the least amount of paper. The end result, a beautiful gift to present to its recipient. Whether it was hers or not. Yes, the majority of our customers were men.

     Spread all of the presents out on the livingroom floor this afternoon, wrapping paper, tape, scissors, tissue (mostly crumpled bits with holes here and there but colorful, nonetheless,) cheerful tags, and black Sharpie marker accompanied me.

     It used to be, when I traveled for my job, to a different city each weekday, for nine long years, that I could find wonderful items for each of my people, unique and charming, throughout the year. Now, I have to be very intentional about the person, have them in mind as I search for the right thing, the present that will amaze them in its exclusivity, it shouts the friend’s name as she/he opens the gem. It seems to be getting more difficult to be the wower.

     I also have a number of friends and relatives who have the audacity to have a birthday within spitting distance to Christmas. Makes it even tougher to track down the non-sensible gift item. What do you get someone who has everything, returns everything, collects nothing, buys whatever they actually want or need, has a completely different taste in clothing than I, eats no chocolate, doesn’t drink anymore, has only a shower for bathing, doesn’t need anything, has too many health issues to eat or drink anything fun, and is too old to enjoy nearly everything. I have two weeks before the holiday in question. Think I am down to the option of a box of Chiclets for the remaining parties on the list.  

Give me a Brake

December 10, 2013

     The brake bid came in just over $1000. Heard a squeal, like a squad car was following behind me, on Saturday, during the snow fall. Only the next day, when it happened several more times, did I realize it must be the brakes.

     Jim, at Pace Auto in West Saint Paul, is such a welcoming guy. Who shakes your hand anymore when you arrive to get your oil changed? Who greets the dog with the same enthusiasm? I asked him to look into the high-pitched shriek, hoping it was an ailing squirrel or the vehicle simply needing more brake fluid added. The service took longer than expected this morning so I sat, with the guys, chatting a little, about nothing in particular after walking Tyrus around the neighborhood for 45 minutes. He started lifting his paws up in the air, one at a time and my toes were numbing, so it was time to turn in.

     The owner announced his birthday is coming up and he isn’t looking forward to turning 60. Said he had forgotten all about it until his wife mentioned having cake and ice cream to celebrate. The big bearded fellow with a heavy pockmarked face, ill-fitted burnt orange bib overalls and clunky salt-stained boots suggested he doesn’t want to get old and lose control over his bowels. Then added, without a breath in between, “Well, I just lost it pushing the truck out of the driveway so I guess I shouldn’t worry about that part of being old anymore!” And I shot back “And you were probably relieved since it warmed you up!” Everyone bust a gut, and we all rambled on like old war buddies after that.

     The mechanic came out of the back to hand me my key ring, loaded enough to make a janitor jealous, telling me I’m ready to go. Jim promised to email me the brake quote, told me the usual brake inspection fee of $20 is waived, and gave me a $19.95 coupon for the future. He extended a large palm and told me to have a good day. I opened the door for the dog, realizing my windows are immaculate, inside and out, and the floor mats were hair-free. I ran a pint of maple syrup in to Jim, wishing him a Merry Christmas. Suppose, deep down, I was hoping it would butter him up so he wouldn’t charge me an arm, leg and one ear for the brakes. I should have known better.

Short Listed

December 9, 2013

     It’s someone’s birthday out there! You cannot pretend you don’t know that I know. 

     So cold my breath numbs my lungs as the air proceeds down my wool scarf-covered mouth. The dog insists on going out for a walk after I strolled down to the library and back for my meeting. Far better than to slip and slide in my vehicle along the slippery streets after dark. We race around the neighborhood, collecting greetings from the folks out shoveling, spinning motionless in their cars at the edge of the driveway, or coughing up smoke at the back step as they smoke and croak “Hey.” It has been a shivering day, avoiding the light dusting we got last night because my back reminds me just how much I do NOT want to attempt shoveling and encouraging pinching and stabbing pains in my lower torso. I’ll make a stab at it tomorrow, in the heat of the sunshine. Right.

     The Seed Library meeting outcome leaves me with more homework than I anticipated. I have assignments for my Developing Innovative Ideas for a New Company class and need to read my three Chapters in the book. Four video classes and notes (don’t do shorthand) force me to be in front of the laptop for hours per day. I am in charge of writing an article and press releases for the Seed Library group as well as putting together a list of gardening books to read to the children during story hour about plants and gardens and community-building fables to encourage the little minds to want to grow food. I am able to read Spanish at the preschool level, as long as I am not having to translate for the parents. Hmong is another story. I’ll be at the Riverview Branch Tuesdays at 10:30am, in case anyone wants to join me for story hour. I’ll be the one reading the book. In case you are wondering.

Disheveled Driver

December 8, 2013

     Raw, scraped knuckles are a direct result from an hour long freeway drive with seven hundred other vehicles, dodging snow flakes, skidding over ice patches on the off ramps, listening to my heavy breath since I am too nervous to have the radio on, praying I get to my appointment on time. Slide from one lane, avoiding the 20 mph brake lights only to be tailed by people in an OJ chase scene reenactment. The onslaught of real winter weather sets me in panic mode. I hesitate to go out at the slightest threat of snow, despite my tree-climbing-capable vehicle. I have never used four wheel drive in my life and I don’t intend to start now.  

     They cracked the wine bottle at 10:00 this morning so I was already behind upon arrival. I declined the bottle and requested coffee with cream (yes, milk is fine but, skim? I shudder and pour a splash in my cup, discouraged by the horrible taste and add white sugar, to make it even more despicable. The food consists of cut cheese, Ritz crackers, a bowl of dog chow (crispy Chex cereal sprinkled with powdered chocolate milk, I believe) salami and ham slices and canned pineapple. I was feeling sorry I didn’t eat before I left the house. Stabbed a few squares of cheddar and threw in a coupla crackers to appease the crowd. It is going to be a long day. I add more white stuff to my coffee for good measure.

     A couple of knuckleheads follow behind me, just off the trailer hitch. Little do they know I nailed one car on that baby in my driving career. The passenger must have made some noise because after I raised my arms in surrender, he backed-off a tad. He could not get around me on the single lane highway so he must have been ranting and raving for some time, before swinging into a turn after weeks of hugging my bumper. The sweat trickled off my brow and I meandered down another route only to find yet another guy in a big hurry. I let out a sigh that no one seemed to hear.

     Passed the Co-Op in frustration, realizing it is too late to stop and pick up real chocolate and/or pizza, pretzels, chips and salsa, authentic cheese and such. Drat! The dog and cat are surely waiting by the door, waiting to be served dinner or supper, depending upon where you are from.

Love, your fair-weather driver

Dodge a Bullet

December 7, 2013

     Michelle inquired about my Xterra. She wants to know if it is still for sale. I nearly deleted the message, thinking it is a crazy person from Craigslist and yet, a sensation in my gut, one that compelled me to put my vehicle on the market in the first place, urged me to reply to her. If in fact, it is a ”her.” She responded before the ink dried, with a slew of questions about the history of the car, which I do not know very well. In fact, I bought it from the parents of the owner, since she was unavailable, a veterinarian student, I was told, who drove back and forth, over the mountain passes, from Boulder to Seattle, to visit her folks. Story seemed viable enough. Dog hair is the second layer of the back seat and rear of the vehicle, impossible to vacuum out so I simply pass the wand over the top of it, hoping for the best. I explained to “Michelle” what I knew, promised to take photos of the interior, when it isn’t sub-zero temps and light enough to focus the camera properly, and sent the reply along the VIN.                   

     My first car was a three-on-the-tree Dodge Dart Swinger, yellow and rust. I didn’t even know how to drive a stick so my roommate, Ann, an auto mechanic, helped me pick it up. Dan, the bartender I worked with at The Valley in Dinkytown, asked if he could drive it and I let him behind the wheel, in exchange for driving lessons. He took me to a railroad crossing, happened to be on a perilous incline, and insisted I start it up. Soaked through my shirt that day but ended up back at home, intact, and here to tell the story. 

     Since the Dodge Dart, I have owned numerous Toyotas (solo new car was a Corolla) a few Volvos (wagons and sedan) and one Subaru. I drove a company car, at one point in time, in Dallas, a Fiero, black and sassy. It went back to the leasing agency, once the pragmatic company decided corporate cars were not cost effective.

     Tyrus has been limping a lot these days, jumping out of the tall vehicle seat. I choose to get something more gas efficient and lower to the ground, for the poor beast to travel comfortably.  He has one hundred pounds crashing into his shoulders. Not a good combination, in addition to long walks twice a day, chasing cats and squirrels in the neighborhood. I will take him along to test drive the new car, to be sure he approves.     

Tow Required

December 6, 2013

     Mrs B was angry with me for washing her blue bath towel tonight. I could not understand her reasoning. Maybe she thought I was wasting water and her clothes soap or because it might delay her bath time. I told her about an episode on New Girl” my new favorite show. One guy always came out of the shower to find his bath towel  damp and eventually one of the other guys suggested it was because HE  used that same towel. When was the last time you washed the towel, the first guy asked and the second chimed “You wash your towel, why?” She didn’t get the significance of the share. Yes, every once in awhile, I decide to throw her bath towel in the washer, to mingle with the other clothes in the basket. I gave up trying to figure it out and apologized for the inconvenience.

     My bad ankle is throbbing and swollen. Has been since I realized it was HOT in the shower, red and puffy. Dang, I kind of freaked out a bit, thinking something is terribly wrong, the bones aren’t healing properly, who can I call, what should I do. Spoke with my Essentials Oil Guru and she told me what to dribble on it, for good measure.  Slathered it in Frankincense  heat rub, tightly would an ace bandage around the sore foot, up to the knee and elevated it. Doubt I will have to extract the screws and plate but time will tell.

     No out of control sliding happening today, at least from behind my wheel. Crawled past two women on Highway 13, standing next to a car turned perpendicular to the ditch and the other vehicle slammed into its passenger door. The ladies, both young, dressed professionally, on their respective cell phones, appeared calm and rational. I tootled by, thanking my lucky charms it wasn’t me standing there, in a bad way. Also very grateful my car was parked in the garage from the night before and I only had to be subjected to the frigid cold long enough to unhook the gate and drive through the opening. For many years, I had to park on the street or in the driveway, often exposed to the elements, scraping the ice off the windshield with a credit card, nostril hairs freezing with each inhalation of bitter air.