Friday, September 4, 2015

kinda' morose..

...from going through a box of moldy papers, exhuming lots of pieces of the past, with my dad's handwriting and signature. Lots of cancelled checks with my mom's impeccable name written on the signature line.

Spent several hours yesterday afternoon going through a box of papers that came from my parents' house. There was a file cabinet my methodical dad kept all his important papers in. I emptied the whole thing into a box to go through and be certain I was not putting anything important in the trash. Wanting to shred stuff that might have financial significance, though he has been gone for fifteen years.

I found dozens of cancelled checks with my mom's beautiful handwriting: her signature perfectly formed. I found lots of yellowed, ancient (from the early and mid 1940s) paperwork my dad kept from his active duty military service. As well as lots of documentation about his retirement benefits. Hundreds of pages of statements illustrating his careful husbandry of invested funds, diligently earned and methodically, wisely socked away for their golden years.

Amusing and bittersweet original receipts and invoices from equipment he purchased thirty years ago. Tidily typed letters he sent requesting information about replacement parts/operating manuals for ceiling fans, roto-tiller, home heating system/thermostat, electric hand tools, chain-saw. He was from the Christopher Columbus School of Typing: 'find the keys and land'. A two-fingered typist who could type rings around me, even after my two years of typing class. And his signature on all those letters and forms. Hard to let it go. There won't be any more.

I actually got tired (and hot and cranky sitting out in the carport going through musty, moldy papers) of the shredding.  Putting four or five sheets at a time - I'd still be doing it, if I had not completely lost interest.  And decided to take them to my friendly neighborhood State Farm agent to put in the big bin they send off to a commercial shredder. Still anxious about just putting the paperwork in the trash, so want to know it has been shredded, turned it into mulch. Wish I could get it back to put in my garden!

in addition to dirty towels...

...included in the laundry I do most every week for church are the little white square fabric communion covers. Theoretically keeping the bits of bread we dip in the grape juice sanitary and germ free for about an hour until it is time to dunk your bread square and consume the 'host'. My friend P. made the white cloth covers. Some are done with cross-stitching, red thread that says: 'in remembrance', and some are just neat little hemmed white squares that she did some fancy needle work on. She said the plain ones were some fabric I gave her that were part of a 'stash' of cloth from my mom. So that's pretty neat, to think that my mom had a hand in providing them as we partake each week.

I bring the nasty, smelly towels home each week, wash, bleach to get as clean as possible, though they look like some one has been mopping the floor or parking lot with them. Dry, fold and return to the kitchen to be reused.

When I went by the middle of the week, found some of the communion squares in with the wet dirty towels and brought them home to wash. They soaked in a bit of bleach for a while (grape juice stains) and I ironed them yesterday afternoon when I got home. I am most decidedly, definitely not one for ironing. Thankful for the advent of 'wrinkle free' (though not a fan of synthetic fabrics) and things that can come out of the dryer, get hung up right away and be passable without needing to be pressed. 

But saying that, I will also admit that every time I get my iron out to do the communion covers, I think of my mom: who taught me how to iron by starting me off on my dad's handkerchiefs and pillow cases. Now wondering if that is how her mom taught her to iron?  I don't even own an ironing board, so have to lay a towel down on the kitchen counter to do the little white squares, about the size of a man's pocket hankie. And every time I do, I think of my mom.

P.S.: I'm nearly certain she did not feel the necessity of teaching my brother how to iron. And absolutely certain the weekends he would come home from college with a laundry bag full of dirty clothes, she spent the whole weekend washing and ironing his shirts for him to return looking sharp on Sunday night.

first time...

...for this school year. I have a sub. teaching job, sort of. I think there should be a different word to use when it is semi-legitimate, in the sense that I am not actually the teacher. Today I will fill a position as the person who is replacing what used to be known as 'teacher's aide' and is now called 'para-pro.' (sounding only marginally capable/professional?)

You may have read the blog about going to the required training session mid-summer, where all potential replacements were informed we should plan to accept a minimum of ten jobs per semester. Or be dropped from the list of approved substitutes. I've laid in bed in the early mornings, pondering this and concluded that doing it two days each month would provide those minimum requirements. But we got into be Sept. and I had not started. Went to the website that is set up to show openings/daily needs on Wed. night and found me a little jobette for Friday. Going to an elementary school on the north side of town, to spend the day in a Kindergarten class as the assistant/aide.

I've been getting calls occasionally from the computer driven system offering jobs. The phone will ring at 6:00 in the morning, waking me, or in the evenings, startling me so I jump in alarm. Due to other things in  my life, like work and travel, assorted prior commitments, I've not accepted any of the substituting work. So naturally after I had already committed for today, I had a call from the office staffer that occasionally calls, thinking I might be available on short notice. Sadly, I had already agreed to this other position up on the north side. Hopefully I will not be pulling my hair out before it is over at 2:30.

I am definitely keeping score - it's such a thankless job I certainly do not want to do any more than the minimum. Plus: filling in for the aide doesn't pay enough to make it worth the stress that accumulates in the course of the day. Fortunately I can walk away at the end of the day, knowing I don't have to do it all day every day, five days a week for nine months. Teachers: whatever they are getting paid - it's not enough for what they do!

Thursday, September 3, 2015

when we went west...

...on our excursion to Washington in early August, one of the mildly amusing things that accidently occurred was finding one of those machines that will make an imprint on a penny. It was located at 'Ye Olde Curosity Shoppe', which is worth a trip all by itself. Sort of creepy in a 'Ripley's Believe It or Not Museum' sense, but pretty much un-explainable and indescribable, so you have to actually witness it to know what is before your disbelieving eyes: Stuff like the two headed calf, and the preserved 'merman' that appears to be half fish and half monkey skeleton. Creepers.

The 'Smash a Penny' machine, found in random places anywhere tourist traps might lure you in. It requires 51 cents:  put your penny in the machine, pick the design you want, and insert two quarters. Turn the handle and out falls your flattened penny, now in an oval shape, with a design of some local attraction. I have been carrying my Seattle penny since it came clinking out of the machine full of gears and levers. So it has been riding around in my pocket with change for nearly a month.

I have at least a dozen other ones that I have accumulated over the years from a variety of places we have traveled. Family vacations, trips to places of historic note or just tourist-ing.

Myrtle Beach State Park, SC.
National Zoo (it has an elephant on it)
Children's Museum, Washington DC (looks like it has a figure from the 'cootie' game)
Biloxi, Mississippi (lighthouse that sits in the middle of the street)
Wakulla State Park, near Tallahassee FL
USS Alabama, retired aircraft carrier
Aquarium of the Americas, NO, LA
Blue Ridge, GA,
McCaysville, GA
Frontier Land, Magic Kingdom, Disneyland, Orlando, FL
and the one that has been in my pocketa for a month: Seattle, WA, an image of the Space Needle,a well-known  local landmark left over from when the town hosted a World's Fair years ago.

second appt....

...at the chiropractic office yesterday. He told me about some exercises I need to be doing, and wiggled my knee some more. Charged me $30 and sent me on my way, after about ten minutes of his time - good pay if you can get it!  I laid in bed last night and did what I was instructed to do.

When I got up this morning about 5:15 to get to dressed and on to work, I was very surprised to discover I: a) slept all night without getting up to take a pain pill in the wee hours, and b) did not hurt at all. Sadly, it was not long before a dull ache took over, and I concluded I needed to continue to take the OTC meds I have been taking all day long for weeks and weeks. Sort of like a below ground storm shelter: hoping against hope you won't actually have a reason to need it, but you want to be prepared when the tornado blows through and you find yourself unexpectedly in the Land of Oz. Along the same lines: auto or health insurance, which we pay for every month with the optimistic thought of never needing.

I'll try to do the exercises and go back next week, see how this goes. I was amazed to get up and walk from one end of the house to the other- then suddenly think: my knee does not hurt!

chiropracticing...

... for the second time. Trying to figure out something that will resolve the problem I have been having with my knee. I had a random chance encounter with a customer at work recently that caused me to think this might be a way to get better/find someone who can help without having a knife in hand. I saw a woman who was walking through the store with one of those big knee support things that looks very mechanical. Probably Velcro on the straps on her thigh and calf, with metal in-between and a hinged joint to provide mobility.

Much more 'serious' than the brace I used for a while. And quit wearing when I concluded that the brace would bring about another set of problems when I would loose muscle mass and tone as I became dependent on that artificial support to provide stability. I told this woman who passed by my food demo. 'stand', that I could be sympathetic to knee problems, and hoped hers was getting better. She stopped and said:' let me tell you about my chiropractor', reporting that he had really been helpful. So I wrote down the info. and called several weeks ago.

And had to change the appt. so many times due to work, the last time I called to reschedule, I told the receptionist she was probably starting to think I did not really exist. I finally went the end of last week. I had been lead to believe my insurance would cover but when I got there, they told me it would not pay for adjustments to 'extremities'. And they sort of wanted me to write a check before I even got in to see the man. Which was, as you might expect, somewhat 'off-putting', causing me to question whether I should even be there?

But I answered the questions, and took my little disc of photos.  X-ray and MRI the orthopedic clinic copied for me, and I picked up last week. Surprised to get to the window and hear: have you paid for your disc yet? Whereupon I fork over $10 to get the photos my insurance had already paid for!!! And  him wiggle my knee. Made another appt. to return this week, and hope that I will get some positive results.

Tuesday, September 1, 2015

september...

...might represent the 'idea' of fall, but it will still be summer here until late November, when we will skip over autumn and possibly start into winter. Meaning it will be time to dig out the wool socks, and start layering up.

I was up at 5:10 to be at work by six o'clock in the produce dept. today with Alice. We get along really well. She tells me what to do and I do it. Except when I don't and she sets me straight. I work on a table facing a blank tile wall, and hardly see anyone all day long except co-workers, and lots of vendors who come in to put out sodas and bread/baked goods from the stock room. She looks out over the store, and greets customers as they walk up.

She was talking to someone today, while cutting up cubes of fruit. And I was facing the tile wall, working the slicer, preparing squash, onions, bell peppers to package. I don't recall the conversation, but I was so amused when she told her friend who had stopped by to speak with her that her mama always said: "At the end of the day, the pot rests on it's own bottom." I am still pondering what that  might mean? If you have any ideas, feel free to speak up, comment and provide your opinion.

I'm thinking what her mama was trying to help her understand is that we are all ultimately responsible and held accountable for our actions and daily activities. You might think you can persuade someone to believe an explanation for unacceptable behavior, but when all is said and done: It's Yours. You created the problem, situation, crisis, hot mess - so you will be the one who has to come up with resolution, clean up after your own self.

Some people will try to justify, make excuses, place blame due to not fully being able to grasp the necessity for accepting responsibility. But when you make poor decisions, there are generally repercussions, requiring accountability. You spilled it: you mop it.

At the end of the day: The Pot Rests On It's Own Bottom.