and then it was Thursday....(and Friday)

I told my spouse well over a week ago, when I knew how much travel was involved here, that I needed to let him know what was going on - but he was not allowed to make any comments about how crazy it all sounded.
So he listened, though he cannot do so with interrupting to offer advice, then, of course, said: That's Crazy!

But it all seemed to pile in together. Not deliberately or intentionally, but since I am the one who continually consults the calendar due to not storing anything to do with numbers in my ill-equipped, math. impaired brain - I have to shoulder the responsibility for being so irresponsible in the scheduling.

Sunday: worked at Publix
Monday: drove to Decatur for the day, and home again
Tuesday: worked at Publix, drove to Decatur
Wednesday: drove to Greenville and back home
Thursday: drove to Valdosta and Quitman
Friday: drove to FL, and back home
Saturday: trying to justify such craziness.

I went to visit my auntie in Valdosta, for a few hours. Had a nice visit and admired her gloriously blooming beds that she has enjoyed planting and watering over recent months. And Moe's burritos for supper. But the primary reason for going to south GA was to spend the day with a friend whose mom had died the end of last year. She is so smart, and resourceful and practical and sweet and funny and honest. She teaches yoga among her many other talents ,skills, endeavors - so I went to  my first yoga class. I was thinking I need to start going to the Y and do something like that, or tai chi plus get back into swimming. So I have dipped my toe into yoga and find it relaxing, plus got to be good for me.

Then we went to Tallahassee (regrets to RG) to the nursery, where she bought too much stuff, and I bought things I did not need, but have the perfect place to put as they will be a great addition to my plan to be more welcoming to pollinators.I hope I will get the red pentas planted today, and looking forward to clouds of butterflies, busy buzzing bee visits and whizzing appearance of hummingbirds when they see what I bought for them to enjoy.

Got home about dark, but too loaded with caffiene to go to bed, so I was up reading at nearly midnight

then it was Tuesday... (and Wednesday)

So I got up the next day and put on my green shirt to go to work for four hours.

And did some things at home, ran a few errands, and lingered around until about 6 o'clock. Packed up and left to go back to Decatur to spend the night, so I would have a head start on driving to SC on Wednesday. Went for a shorter than usual walk to exercise dogs before leaving ATL during eight o'clock traffic craziness. But it was not really bad, since I was going in the opposite direction of most everyone else who had left for work twenty minutes late and was desperately trying to make up the lost time by traveling at the speed of sound.

The drive was pleasant, as I was immersed in a story I had started earlier in the week, reading talking books/recorded CDs. (Not my usual choice of material, but so intriguing I wanted to drive on to SC Tuesday night to get to the end and rest assured all the right people survived... weird stuff about time travel and psychics. They got sorted out Wed. morning by the time I got to Greenville.) I had a nice visit with my pen pal. We made plans to go to the 66th Division reunion, June 2013 in Nashville. And talked about him completing the paperwork I had printed to apply for the French Legion of Honor medal that could be awarded for his Army service in 1944. I read something about it in the newspaper a year or so ago: a handful of WWII vets being awarded France's highest honor. I clipped the article, kept it in mind, finally pursued it by locating an embassy in Atlanta. Looked up an address, phoned for more info., and had the required form emailed to print and take for him to complete. I hope he will get family to help him gather the necessary paperwork, and will send it all in to qualify for receiving the award.

Drive back to Columbus:  not so much fun. Due to hitting commuter traffic at 5:30. Listening to the radio, I heard the south bound lanes on the west side of the perimeter are all blocked due to a semi-trailer accident: the south bound lanes on I-285 on the east side are moving like cold molasses; traffic on I-75 is barely creeping along through mid-town... arrgggghhh. So I got off and went through town, as best as I could, for someone only vaguely, slightly familiar with surface travel in north Decatur. If no one else had been on the roads, I could have made that part of the trip in about twenty minutes, but it took me an hour... though still much better than sitting on the six lane interstate highway going Nowhere, while the overturned truck gushed a mystery liquid across the lanes.

Got home about dark again. That was about seven hours of driving.

maybe the best Monday ever (you know how Mondays can be....)

It has been a busy week of travel. But today: nothing. The past five days draw a comparison to the time I clearly remember when I drove to Savannah, then nearly to the Florida line and back to sleep in my own bed on the same day: possibly 12 hours of travel time.. I do not have the stamina for that anymore, though I believe I could possibly do it with a nap tucked in at some point to give my bones and brain a little rest.

 It is sad to think there is no need to set an alarm when I have a reason to get up really early. There is not really any joy to be had in the statement 'old people don't sleep well', but in my case -unless I stay up really late I'll be waking up in plenty of time to get on the road at 5 a.m. Being startled awake by a jangling cartoon-like bouncing, maleovlently grinning clock is not necessary - my brain does it without prompting. Perhaps the good news is there are some places I like to go that are far enough away that getting started well before the crack of dawn isn't completely undesirable: it gives me more time to spend with my faves when I get there!
 
Went up to Decatur on Monday morning to spend the day with my fav-o-rite people. The smart, sweet successful, hardworking one from TN had come down to overnight with her smart, sweet, successful, hardworking sister on Sunday, to be available on Monday morning. We had plans to go to the Jimmy Carter Library and Museum to see an exhibit about George Washington Carver's life and times. It was pretty interesting (to me anyway), reminding me of the major obstacles he overcame: familial, physical, financial, social, political, on his way to becoming such a remarkable educator and agricultural researcher. Makes me thankful times have changed so dramatically, while being appreciative of the vivid reminders that our society and nation was once so intolerant and 'closed' to those who just needed space and opportunity to shine and show their gifts/talents.

I had contacted a cousin in hopes of meeting her, possibly lured by the Carter Center, so she joined up for the Carver exhibit and lunch. I had never been, and found it very interesting. As you would expect, primarily devoted to the national campaign, presidenal years, and successful life he has experienced as a world traveler for human rights as an elder statesman. There were sections devoted to his early years of farm life in middle GA, and government service prior to the White House, plus quite a bit about changes he has been a part of effecting in world politics and especially health issues in third world nations.

We had a relaxing, tasty, charming meal on a patio, that was remarkably pleasant, though only about ten feet from roaring traffic on a major thoroughfare. Then there was a bit of hole digging involved... not surprisingly so: the whole back of my car was full of plants when I left home at 5 a.m. Some to leave in Decatur, some to travel on to TN. Remarkably, we got everything planted just as a drenching thunderstorm passed through, so all those hydrangeas happily settled into their new home.

It pretty much drizzled on me all the way south, but I did get safely back before dark, since the combination of night and slick roads multiplies the risk, and makes driving even more difficult than either is otherwise. All that fun - and it was still Monday when I went to bed!

not having fun any more....

I have been employed at Publix for nearly fifteen years, most of that time working as a part-time 'clerk' in the floral area, as a sub-set of the produce dept. I have seen a lot of management people come and go: some  escorted out the door, while others have been promoted to jobs of increasing responsibility and increased income in other stores... while I fill my lowly spot at the bottom of the produce dept. food chain.

There was a time when there were more hours involved: being part time in floral and three days a week in the bakery on the other side of the store, adding up to a full forty hour week. That endeavor lasted a couple of years, before I decided there might be too much drama occurring over there, and found other things in my life needed more attention than I could devote with full time employment. So I went back to the obscurity of two days a week several years ago - about the time the bottom fell out of the economy. And found my skills becoming more and  more superfluous, with many weeks that I had no work at all. (This is where the aggravation of substitute teaching proved marginally beneficial.) They would schedule me for an occasional four hours as a bagger and cart pusher/taker-outer just to keep me on the payroll. That was not fun, and hardly worth the effort to get my duds on and go to clock in... but it did keep me in the computer system instead of being dropped as an active associate/employee all together.

The corporate attitude has changed since the economy tanked, and many things have been implemented to try to improve the bottom line, make man hours/labor costs more effective and prevent lots of little generally insignificant losses that cumulatively leaked big bucks when multiplied by 1000 stores. But it seems to me like some of the changes that have been ordered from the corporate office (designed by people who have no idea what it is like to be out on the front lines in the retail world) are so focused on OCD behavior and looking at more ways to tighten up the bottom line that the emphasis is gradually leading toward what appears to be 'pockets': how can we be more adept at parting the customer from his/her wallet? Subtle changes that seem to create a bigger and bigger gap from the principles I heard when I first started working there - creating happy employees would give the associates the desire to provide uncommon, exceptional service and create happy customers.

It ain't so much fun anymore. I suspect that part of it is due to the fact that I have less and less tolerance for standing on my poor tired, aching feets for eight hours a day. Not that I ever did find that enticing (though I can remember 'way back in the fog of time when I used to spend 8 hours a day on  stilts/wooden shoes with at least two inch heels... What was I thinking?!?!... probably not....) I still enjoy talking to customers, helping them make good decisions, providing information and service to meet their needs, but there are definitely times when I feel like I'm not having fun anymore...

it all just fell into place

I went to Decatur to spend the day on Wednesday., with the intention of making a crazy round trip to Columbus and back to Decatur on Thursday.  As things evolved: the trip back to Decatur on Thursday afternoon became a family reunion, when she asked her dad if he wanted to go to the city to have dinner on Thursday night.

F. sent P. a photo that made her think she wanted to see her peeps, so she and C. drove down from TN to have dinner with us. Then F. decided she would tell her older sister who lives across town about the fun she might miss, so she and her hubby came too.

I discovered a couple of years ago that one of my most favorite things is having all my people sit down to a meal together. So that was one of my best days.

last sub. teaching job ...

I thought I was supposed to work at my little floral jobette today, but when I found that I was not otherwise occupied, I accepted what is likely the last school district job I will do for this school year. Actually - I thought the kids were finished in a week, and that next Monday would be the final day until they start back in September. But when I asked someone who was an Enforcer in the lunch room, I was told that they have two more weeks.

I was in a school on the south side of town, and replaced a second grade teacher. She is obviously very good at what she does, having been recently nominated by her peers as their Teacher of the Year from that school. So she is apparently very effective, and does better than average job of providing the instruction the eight-year-olds need to be fully prepared for as third grade students.

But it was a rough day. I sadly/clearly remember the attitudes and blantant disregard many students would show to substitute teachers all those many years ago when I was a grade schooler, and see that little has changed. Though I do think kids now are more disrespectful and come in with larger chips on their shoulders, having learned some unacceptable attitudes at home, that they put on every morning when they get dressed for a day in the classroom. Some probably come from homes that find their uncooperative, contemptuous behavior acceptable, but I fear what will become of these little people in a few years when they find that lack of courtesy puts them at such a disadvantage out in the real world, where they will be looking for employment and expecting to find people who will tolerate their lack of manners and civility.

I have heard about kids who turn into the 'class clown' to compensate for all manner of problems - personal, emotional, family issues, learning difficulties - and think I probably encountered one today. He was such a sweet guy, so well-spoken, so interesting to talk to, but so unwilling to focus on the assigned work. He could not keep his mind on the task at hand well enough to complete any of the work they were supposed to do today. So cute and funny - yet somehow distressing to think that even though is mom sent him to school to become a little better educated today, I do not think he learned anything.

And to top it all off - he left the room when his bus number was called, then came back, looking pretty upset,  saying he missed his bus. So we walked to the office to have the secretary phone his mom to come and get him. He probably got blessed out for that as well, when she had to stop what she was doing to come and pick him up. Then another teacher walked in and said: he missed that bus on purpose - I saw him out in the hallway when his bus was loading... So cute and funny, and such a trial.

a piece of the past comes back...

This story starts about fifty years ago. Not that I am that old, but I have to go back that far to help you fully appreciate what is going on now.

When I was in junior high school, my brother thought he wanted to participate in an extracurricular event that required all the members to plan and implement some sort of project that involved agriculture. Growing up in a county with an economy based on farming, where many of the students' families depended on either livestock or crops for their livelihood, most of the participants would have been raising some type animal. They would plan to procure and care for that animal until it was of the size and age to reach maturity, when it would 'go to market' (be sold for profit/processed for food). I honestly don't know what the other kids did for their year-long project, maybe growing and caring for chickens or beef. But for some reason what my brother ended up with was: bees.

The fact that there was a life-long beekeeper who lived a block away, readily available to offer advice, provide support, supervise, loan equipment could have been a factor in the choosing to become involved with raising bees. I don't know precisely how the decision was made - but I do know that my brother and dad got into the bee business... and long after my brother lost interest my dad was still tending the hives. Fortunately they are mostly low-maintenance, until it is time to go and and relieve the colony of some of that honey they worked so hard to produce. Then it becomes a Family Project... and not my teen-aged self definition of fun.

As most kids are thoroughly freaked out at the possibility of being attacked by insects of the 'stinger', it was excessively stressful to my young self when my dad would go out in the country to the tend the hives. Located in a  field several miles from town, the upper part of the hive would have to be 'smoked' to drug the bees and allow the upper sections (called supers) to be removed, placed on the back of the pickup truck and brought into town where the Family Project occurred on the screened-in porch. Bees angrily swarming on the outside of the screens, doors constantly slamming as supers were moved to the porch, frames were processed, brought in to be un-capped with a heated knife, honey extracted, and returned back to the truck bed amidst fiercely protective insects. A sticky mess.

When it is all done, the brick floor was covered with footprints of gooey honey, meaning that even when we were finished with the honey extraction, the work was not completed. It was a great location for doing the messy work, but everything had to be hosed down to keep from tracking honey everywhere. And the stacks of supers, emptied of honey, but with frames that the bees would busily start filling again were returned to the pasture for the bees to start back to work.

Honey put into jars to be sold at local grocery stores, with hand-stamped labels, and absolutely no health department inspection. Just good, wholesome, home-grown honey.

So there is the story of my dad and brother sort of backing into the honey business. But the really interesting part comes when I just suddenly realized that both daughters are owners of hives as well - so: that makes them unsuspecting Third Generation Bee Keepers.

How cool is that? Very. After all these years, Papa would be so amused.