the friend...

...I met yesterday when I went to spend the day in Decatur goes back a long way. Her husband was in the Army, which is how they found themselves in the steamy, humid climate of central GA. He was a Captain when I met them, they were living in post housing - with all the odd, often unreasonable requirements that the military imposes on those can make demands on.  No heat or cooling until the Army says you are hot or cold enough to need the temperature inside adjusted. No painting or marking on the walls without the Army telling you a change is required. Mow the grass when the Army says it needs cutting.

We were pregnant together. Which sounds sort of odd, like something that might occur in situations with multiple wives. Somehow, I had not been able to get into a class that would make me a bit better prepared for the inevitable: childbirth. Only one way in, only one way out. And I was so unbelievably naïve, though I had read stuff, and knew the basics - as in the previous sentence. So I found myself in a 'prepared childbirth' class with this other couple, E. and the prospective dad, M., offered to military families in the base hospital. She delivered on post, and my first baby arrived at a hospital in town. In January, during an ice storm. Several weeks after the 'due date', which was a good thing, as it gave me enough time to finish the classes and  be as 'prepared' as I was ever gonna get. M. was in the Army for some years, they relocated several times, then they moved back to WA where they had both grown up.

E. was in Atlanta a couple of years ago, coming to the metro to attend the wedding of an adult child of a cousin. We had a good visit, roaming the streets of downtown Decatur, talking and reminiscing, sitting on benches on the courthouse square, filling in the gaps that occur over the years. She was in town yesterday for the same reason - another wedding of another adult child of that same cousin. So we got together to do some more remembering, and spent the day talking about families, history and reconnecting.

s-word story...

... about how they thoroughlytotallycompletely freaked my mother out. She was so un-nerved by them, she would not even say the word 'snake', but would only say 's-word' in reference to the reptiles. I don't know why - but she was undone by snakes. Don't start Freud-ing on me. I never understood her, and certainly can't begin to explain her now.

Over the years, when I was till living in the house they built and I grew up in, there were a number of times Mr. No-Shoulders would be an uninvited visitor. The last one I recall getting out of the house was in the room where the TV was, where they spent lots of time sitting, viewing or reading, resting or relaxing. An addition to their home they loved and lived in. I got the broom and swept it out the door.

Another one was in the bathroom. I got a shoe box, and the broom and swept it into the box, clapped the lid on and called my cousin, the snake lover, to come and get it. (He had snakes deliberately living in their house - I am still astounded his mom allowed that.) And the very last one that I remember being in that house was one my brother exorcised. He said mom told him she would see it scooching across the floor and just pull her feet up onto the couch to be safe. He found it wrapped around the warm, cozy tube in the innards of the TV. I assume got it uncoiled from it's nesting place and took it outside for release. Creepers!!!!

I don't like 'em and certainly don't want to live in the house with them, but I know that in their place in creation, they have a purpose.  Designed to be beneficial predators, as well as a vital part of the food chain higher up. But I do get along much better when I don't have encounters, up close and personal.

bad word, well applied...

... was said when I was out with my wheelbarrow loading up tree trash. Picking up sticks and limbs that fall from dozens of trees when we have a hard blow. I would like to believe I am pretty conscientious about looking twice before I reach to pick anything up off the ground. With years and years accumulation of leaf mulch, sticks often get buried when the deciduous trees shed in the fall. And it is easy when not being careful to mistake a 'something' for 'something else'.

It did not happen today, the 'mistaking' and accidently reaching for a stick that suddenly moved. But I did say 's#%t' when I looked over and saw that s-word in the patch of ivy.  Out where my little flock of pink plastic flamingos graze. There are some late summer blooming yellow daises, wildflowers that come up in that spot, which is the only reason I have not applied the weed killer I continually spray to keep undergrowth at bay. Apparently a large reptile (at least three feet, so not a youngster) has established residency in the ivy. After I said the s-word several times, I took out my cheesy little old school phone and tried to get a photo. But there is so much stuff on the ground, amongst the dead leaves and green ivy, I am not sure anyone could identify the uninvited guest.

It is actually the first one I have seen in a long time. Maybe because I don't do much work out there in the summer heat, to run up on Mr. No Shoulders. I used to think we didn't see them because there were always cats around. Not that this is reason enough to want to have pets to maintain. There are felines in the neighborhood - I am forever looking out a window and seeing them casually strolling by, establishing ownership, looking confident and proprietary. No, thank you, I'm fine without any.

I was just having a conversation with the guys who do the mow-and-blow earlier this week, asking how frequently they encounter surprises. And saying how I try to be aware, out there in the wooded area, where skinks, spider webs and chiggers await the unwary. I am thankful I did not extend my gloved hand, thinking I would add that 'stick' to the wheelbarrow loaded with branches. And very curious to know just how 'friendly' the experts think this sneaking, sliding, slithering thing is.

nothing on...

my calendar today except a hair cut. Some plans to go to lunch and a movie with friends, but that is not even something I write down. I don't have any problem at all remembering Fun, anticipating being amused or spending time with people I care about. On the other hand: if it pertains to being employed and under constant stress/supervision, I have to write it down in several places, constantly consult my sticky notes, and continually remind myself to put on work clothes when I get up and dressed.

I've been needing to get out in the yard and pull some weeds before they go to seed and become a bigger problem. So will try to get that done this morning before it gets too steamy hot. And hope I will find the motivation to stake and tie up those tomato plants that are roaming, uncontained all over the garden plot in the corner of the yard. I've picked a couple of tomatoes that have been unusual. I planted one variety that was a 'heirloom' and would produce purple fruit. They really did. The ones I have brought in the house, have been only about half-way ripe, but a combination of purple and green. And have actually been purple, when compared to the image you would normally have of what a tomato is supposed to look like. I didn't get to taste it, so cannot report on the flavor. But the man who did eat it, adds so much superfluous stuff: mayo, pepper, salt, you don't actually know there is a tomato in there anyway, except for the juicy part.

The best intentions: to drive the stakes in the ground when I planted them, for the eventual need to tie the wandering vines up as they grew, went awry. So that project has been neglected far too long. I will coat my person with insect repellant, then armored with Skin-So-Soft, sally forth to battle the bugs, and steam in sauna-like humidity, work till it's too hot to do any more.

barely working...

... not really on a soapbox about my employment, but beginning to wonder what is going on. I am torn between trying to stay below the radar, be unnoticed, as invisible as possible, and asking questions. Like: the thought process behind my working a total of eight hours for the week?

I was actually prepared to ask, then looked at the schedule for the upcoming week, and find that I have twice as much for the week that starts on Saturday. I've been able to wheedle and finagle some more hours out of the produce dept. guys for several weeks, but think that might be coming to an end. So I either need to step up and get more assertive (not likely) or practice being content with just working two days a week. The theory of contentment looks more and more appealing all the time.

Along with going tomorrow to ask the people where I applied for another part time job last week when they might be likely to start interviewing. I'm in a quandary about what I would do if they do make an offer. Wondering about the likelihood of doing both, and still having time to ramble at will all over the state, visiting people I would much rather see than spending time with co-workers.

The upside of only working four hours today is that I can go to meet with community group folks tonight. I have been on the work schedule Wednesdays for weeks and weeks, and thus missing getting together with those people who have become a second family, loving, caring, supporting, doing life together. So it will be nice to have the time available to go and see/meet with those people in my church/community/fellowship group.

hours and hours....

...on the phone. With the pharmaceutical people who decide about my scripts. Hours and hours on hold, or trying to decipher the conversation with people who live in the Phillipines, and ESOL. Likely one of the most aggravating and frustrating experiences in recent memory. I can get this medication for 90 days for only $450.  The other three (generics) on my drug plan are free, no co-pay at all. And the best part is that I'll have covered my deductible ($320) for the year - I'm so excited. :-(

drivin' to Decatur...

... and back today, to spend the day with funny little boys. My cousin has family from India visiting for a few weeks: her son, his wife and two little amusing kids. They have lived in Moscow, Bejing China and now Delhi, India over the past eight years. And come to the states to visit family for a month or so each summer.

The auntie and I left about eight to drive up and visit for the day. Little guys actually spent a couple of hours re-charging after lunch, taking naps, so we had a nice visit with adults as well. Their parents decided the little ones needed to burn off some excess energy, so we walked a couple of blocks to a neighborhood elementary school to jump and run around on a really nice playground. Lots of climbing things, slides, suspended walk-ways to entertain little people: but oddly enough, not a single swing, which I would consider a playground staple. Plenty of picnic tables and benches for those amongst us who were less inclined to dash to-and-fro and fling ourselves around.

I had intended to leave the city mid-afternoon to get out of town before traffic got bad, but it was nearly five before we got on the road. I am glad I have been in the area enough to learn some routes that would keep me off the interstate as much as possible, so I wove through some surface streets, working my way south to avoid congestion. There was a place on I-85 northbound, as we were headed south, where there was a snarl, with traffic coming to a complete standstill for ten miles or more. I offered a little silent prayer of thanks that I was not in that mess, swearing, steaming and needing to pee while no one was moving.