My hubs went to Memphis for several days beginning last week. Last Tuesday. The few days stretched into a few more and now he will return tomorrow. it has been like a mini vacation! Only I am the only one to feed and let the cat out in the middle of the night.
When he left last week I thought, Oh Boy! I can lay around and read as much as I want and eat what I want and no fighting over the tv programs!
The reality is this, I started a book I could not get into...Little, Big. I am just not much of a "fantasy" fan. I enjoyed the imagery of the prose (...His hat looked as if it had been in a fight....) but I could not for the life of me get interested in the story. I would begin to read and find myself asleep. So much for reading.
I made my current favorite dish, Chicken Pot Pie. I have discovered the joy of using my eight inch iron skillet as a pie pan! Golly gosh (this is how I cuss these days because of my career at the People Pleasing family oriented Biscuit Barrel and their three strikes you're out cussing policy)it makes for a flaky crust! I might buy another one just for fruit pies! Anyway, something happened to my broth. I'm not certain what I did, maybe not enough chicken stock and onions. I used the Barefoot Contessa recipe as a guide instead of just winging it. It did not have the usual "Hamburgers! that's good!" kick to it that it always has when Joe is around.
And I thought I would breeze through a project I have been working on, off and on, for several months on the computer. Guess what? Never looked at it.
What I have done is sleep a lot, eat a lot and not read a lot. Download a ton of music from the MP3 program and work a lot of extra hours. And not care a fig about tv. (Anyone watching Survivor? I love that guy Russel from New Orleans. What a peacock!)
And it all ends tomorrow. I have missed him. Life is sweeter with him around, if not more hectic and demanding.
Sunday, November 15, 2009
Saturday, November 14, 2009
Farmer in the Dell
Early to bed and early to rise makes a person healthy wealthy and just a plain old bore.
Actually, the damn three legged cat begins walking across my chest around 3am. And he is heavy! I am able to steal another 50 or so minutes of sleep before giving in and feeding that lard ass cat and then letting him out into the neighborhood which is his jungle.
It's 4am and I am awake. I like the very early hours. It's quiet and I feel like I am the only one awake....besides the farmers.
A lovely quiet. A delicious quiet.
I did a short four hour stint at Biscuit Bucket yesterday and not much happening of the unusual sort. A kid with a broken foot hobbling around on one of those foot boots, "What happened?" I asked as I have found people love to talk about their injuries, and since she was a young kid of about nine I added, "Did you kick a boy?" She laughed and told me she was going to tell everyone from now on that's what happened because it sounded better than tripping over her wiener dog.
The only other good action happened over by the Alan Jackson display. A young couple had taken the hat (Stetson knock off for $49.99. You too can look like Alan Jackson!) and she was taking a picture of him with her cell phone.
I swooped down on them and slipped one of the red and black cowboy ostentatious shirts with embroidery and snaps galore and said, "Here, slip this on, put the hat back on and hold up the back of the CD! " I was recreating the back cover. "Tilt your head down. You will look just like Alan Jackson." They loved it! "Are you sure we can do this?" I looked all around and put my finger to my lips, "We won't tell the sales person on duty what you are up to."
"Brilliant Face Book photo!" he laughed, "Now, who is Alan Jackson?"
They were not from around these parts. I laughed, they laughed and the older couple standing in the clearance corner laughed.
"You're next!" I called to them.
The older couple ended up buying several John Deere head gear hats.
I'm good.
Actually, the damn three legged cat begins walking across my chest around 3am. And he is heavy! I am able to steal another 50 or so minutes of sleep before giving in and feeding that lard ass cat and then letting him out into the neighborhood which is his jungle.
It's 4am and I am awake. I like the very early hours. It's quiet and I feel like I am the only one awake....besides the farmers.
A lovely quiet. A delicious quiet.
I did a short four hour stint at Biscuit Bucket yesterday and not much happening of the unusual sort. A kid with a broken foot hobbling around on one of those foot boots, "What happened?" I asked as I have found people love to talk about their injuries, and since she was a young kid of about nine I added, "Did you kick a boy?" She laughed and told me she was going to tell everyone from now on that's what happened because it sounded better than tripping over her wiener dog.
The only other good action happened over by the Alan Jackson display. A young couple had taken the hat (Stetson knock off for $49.99. You too can look like Alan Jackson!) and she was taking a picture of him with her cell phone.
I swooped down on them and slipped one of the red and black cowboy ostentatious shirts with embroidery and snaps galore and said, "Here, slip this on, put the hat back on and hold up the back of the CD! " I was recreating the back cover. "Tilt your head down. You will look just like Alan Jackson." They loved it! "Are you sure we can do this?" I looked all around and put my finger to my lips, "We won't tell the sales person on duty what you are up to."
"Brilliant Face Book photo!" he laughed, "Now, who is Alan Jackson?"
They were not from around these parts. I laughed, they laughed and the older couple standing in the clearance corner laughed.
"You're next!" I called to them.
The older couple ended up buying several John Deere head gear hats.
I'm good.
Friday, November 13, 2009
In The Groove
I have about twenty minutes to kill before heading into work and I thought I would dust off the keyboard.
I meet the most interesting people on a daily basis at Biscuit Bucket. On the whole, very nice folk, but there are those who are a bit testy. I love hearing the stories that pop out of their mouths. The type of stories that you tell perfect stangers that you will never see again. Probably, you hope, never again.
It's my job to entice people to at the very least consider looking at our merchandise. I talk to everyone. Men or women, young or old, angry or sad. You just never know who will respond and in which way.
Headed on thier way out the door last evening I thanked an older couple for dining with us and that hopefully on the next trip they would look at our new Alan Jackson stuff! She turned to me and began to tell me all about her trying day. She went to town to find wall paper. Did I know they don't sell wall paper anywhere in this town?!! (It does not surprise me, the town with no used book store nor a Fresh Market). And that she went to Walmart because a friend had told her that she bought a do-hickey that you put around your pie edges and it prevented them from burning. No one had heard of such thing at the Walmart!!! The they went to the doctor and found out they both had high cholesterol!! High cholesterol!! And she can't take the medication! Fish oil pills! Can't take those either (try freezing them and then taking them! "Does it work? No burping back up the ...fish?" "Guaranteed!")
"Have a nice evening. Maybe you will find something nice the next time you come back in."
"I doubt it, he is tight as a tick! Never should have married him. Hummphhh" and out the door she went, a full five minutes behind him. He was probably revving the engine and restraining himself from tapping on the horn.
Everyday I have three or four encounters like the one above. People just spill their guts to me. I should write a book!
I meet the most interesting people on a daily basis at Biscuit Bucket. On the whole, very nice folk, but there are those who are a bit testy. I love hearing the stories that pop out of their mouths. The type of stories that you tell perfect stangers that you will never see again. Probably, you hope, never again.
It's my job to entice people to at the very least consider looking at our merchandise. I talk to everyone. Men or women, young or old, angry or sad. You just never know who will respond and in which way.
Headed on thier way out the door last evening I thanked an older couple for dining with us and that hopefully on the next trip they would look at our new Alan Jackson stuff! She turned to me and began to tell me all about her trying day. She went to town to find wall paper. Did I know they don't sell wall paper anywhere in this town?!! (It does not surprise me, the town with no used book store nor a Fresh Market). And that she went to Walmart because a friend had told her that she bought a do-hickey that you put around your pie edges and it prevented them from burning. No one had heard of such thing at the Walmart!!! The they went to the doctor and found out they both had high cholesterol!! High cholesterol!! And she can't take the medication! Fish oil pills! Can't take those either (try freezing them and then taking them! "Does it work? No burping back up the ...fish?" "Guaranteed!")
"Have a nice evening. Maybe you will find something nice the next time you come back in."
"I doubt it, he is tight as a tick! Never should have married him. Hummphhh" and out the door she went, a full five minutes behind him. He was probably revving the engine and restraining himself from tapping on the horn.
Everyday I have three or four encounters like the one above. People just spill their guts to me. I should write a book!
Monday, November 09, 2009
Autumn of your Life crisis
My dreams have been multi-faceted, richly textured, incredibly entertaining, all in living color as of late. My mother is young and handing my younger sister (who is a baby of about two) a Pez candy dispenser in the form of Bozo the Clown. My father, also young, is smiling from a passing car. There is my old grammar school friend, Flea, running down a dark street that is pocked with spectacular glass shards as he calls to me to wait for him. I run on pain free knees. I run very fast! I am weaving my way through a bistro, people gathered and laughing, waving interesting cocktails in shades of chartreuse and ruby. I carry a shopping bag. My cell rings and I step out onto a back patio to answer and enter a zoo with swimming dinosaurs and toothy snakes!
I awake, feeling the comfort of my hot-dog bun mattress bed, with my three legged cat lifting his head to gaze lovingly and beseechingly at me (because he knows its about chow time) and I think....
I finally understand! Mid-life crisis!
Since I can put a name on it everything falls into place. Only, I am well past mid-life! So, it's post mid-life crisis. Autumn of my life crisis. Maybe I can accept the condition I find myself in, the circumstances so appalling and so embarrassing...maybe it's time I just close my mind to the "what-ifs" and the "I should haves" to the peace of just being where I am and not fighting it.
I awake, feeling the comfort of my hot-dog bun mattress bed, with my three legged cat lifting his head to gaze lovingly and beseechingly at me (because he knows its about chow time) and I think....
I finally understand! Mid-life crisis!
Since I can put a name on it everything falls into place. Only, I am well past mid-life! So, it's post mid-life crisis. Autumn of my life crisis. Maybe I can accept the condition I find myself in, the circumstances so appalling and so embarrassing...maybe it's time I just close my mind to the "what-ifs" and the "I should haves" to the peace of just being where I am and not fighting it.
Saturday, October 24, 2009
Break it to me gently - The End
Part IV
After four interviews and spending $25 at Fed-Ex Kinko's, putting together a killer proposal, day dreaming for two and a half months, mentally putting together sales proposals for partnership solicitation for the children's center, making a list of the organizations I would join and the publications I would subscribe to, putting together my resignation letter to HeatherBeThyName and visualizing her begging me to stay ...after asking my Mother to have her prayer circle pray for me(!) and even taking a talisman with me the last two meeting. After having three "off the record" interview encounters at the Biscuit Bucket...I did not get the job.
Because it would not be doing me a favour to offer me a position when I had minimal exposure to managing a Mall. The learning curve is too large, too something or another (I was zoned out at this time realizing I was OUT) and would I consider taking the Assistant job.
Certainly. I had also contemplated this offer. It had to pay better than slightly above minimum wage at less than 30 hours a week.
I could be Robin to her Batman.
I should have realized that I was too - overqualified - for the second banana job. Under experienced for the first, too much for the second.
But, in some half assed way they offered it to me. That was last week. Last Monday. Almost two weeks ago. I had to "interview" with the girl/woman they gave the job to to make certain we jelled. ("The temp we have really wants the job and I told her to go back to school! That she would have plenty of opportunities in time.")She was to email him and let him know we hit it off okay.
Still, nothing from him.
I call - "I've been out of town, as you know, and have your paperwork her in front of me. I will get it together and hand it over to HR by tomorrow or the next day."
"OK, I will not panic until Wednesday after noon."
He laughs.
It's Saturday afternoon and I have not heard from them. Hope evaporates and I have not ever known the depths of depression and frustration as I feel now. Calling him again is out of the question.
It feels like ashes in my mouth. I never knew what that meant before, but I feel like I have ashes in my mouth.
What a terrible place this is to be. Maybe they will call. I feel like the teenage girl sitting by the telephone waiting for the call that never comes.
After four interviews and spending $25 at Fed-Ex Kinko's, putting together a killer proposal, day dreaming for two and a half months, mentally putting together sales proposals for partnership solicitation for the children's center, making a list of the organizations I would join and the publications I would subscribe to, putting together my resignation letter to HeatherBeThyName and visualizing her begging me to stay ...after asking my Mother to have her prayer circle pray for me(!) and even taking a talisman with me the last two meeting. After having three "off the record" interview encounters at the Biscuit Bucket...I did not get the job.
Because it would not be doing me a favour to offer me a position when I had minimal exposure to managing a Mall. The learning curve is too large, too something or another (I was zoned out at this time realizing I was OUT) and would I consider taking the Assistant job.
Certainly. I had also contemplated this offer. It had to pay better than slightly above minimum wage at less than 30 hours a week.
I could be Robin to her Batman.
I should have realized that I was too - overqualified - for the second banana job. Under experienced for the first, too much for the second.
But, in some half assed way they offered it to me. That was last week. Last Monday. Almost two weeks ago. I had to "interview" with the girl/woman they gave the job to to make certain we jelled. ("The temp we have really wants the job and I told her to go back to school! That she would have plenty of opportunities in time.")She was to email him and let him know we hit it off okay.
Still, nothing from him.
I call - "I've been out of town, as you know, and have your paperwork her in front of me. I will get it together and hand it over to HR by tomorrow or the next day."
"OK, I will not panic until Wednesday after noon."
He laughs.
It's Saturday afternoon and I have not heard from them. Hope evaporates and I have not ever known the depths of depression and frustration as I feel now. Calling him again is out of the question.
It feels like ashes in my mouth. I never knew what that meant before, but I feel like I have ashes in my mouth.
What a terrible place this is to be. Maybe they will call. I feel like the teenage girl sitting by the telephone waiting for the call that never comes.
Saturday, October 10, 2009
Break it to me Gently - Part III
Today I was called into the back of the office - again - and told that one of the area VP's, the head bitch of the Retail Department in this area, had entered our Biscuit Bucket and "observed". One of the things she "observed" was that when I came out of the bathroom and squirted some hand lotion onto my raw chemically seared hands, I just sashayed off and did not "greet" her and Great Heaven to Betsy, did not try and sell her any hand lotion.
"Don't freak out" my Amazon manager told me, "But later she stated that she saw you again in the "clearance" area and once again you did not greet her or acknowledge her in any way."
"Great!" I thought to myself, "I'm going to get canned from the dag gone Biscuit Bucket."
Truth of the matter is I was selling my ass off all morning! I had it going with this particular display, which was 40% off. Anyone came near that display, I was on them and showing them "my favorite" thing, a basket that is the perfect size to put in a pie or a casserole dish. Dazzle everyone at those family gatherings or pot lucks!
Feature and benefit, baby. I sold about eight of them. I only had about two people who could resist me!
I had it going yesterday too. I sold the Hell out of our Halloween merchandise. No one could resist my powers yesterday. And today.
I am a selling machine.
But...always the big BUT....I can not do it for six straight hours. It's torture. People every where, blocking the aisles, lugging along babies in carriers, some people pissed off because the wait is 35 to 40 minutes, talking on cell phones, giving you the "I don't respond to sales people" cold stare as they brush by you ...
....(and I hum the Rolling Stones song in my head at these moments...
Who would believe you were a beauty indeed
When the days get shorter and the nights get long
Lie awake when the rain comes
Nobody will know, when you're old
When you're old, nobody will know
that you was a beauty, a sweet sweet beauty
A sweet sweet booty, but stone stone cold) ..........
Because 9.9999 out of 10 they are a young woman who sneers at you.
Because I do not talk to everybody. I just can not. Will not. I do not have the emotional energy.
Anyway. This comes after another set back last week when another VP came into the store (are they any other Biscuit Buckets in the area!!) and was not "greeted" for 30 minutes. The manager on duty took me aside that day and began his spiel to me, "You have great potential........." The kiss of death when someone begins a "pep talk" that way.
Man, Retail sales is not Rocket science! It's harder!
(P.S. we have been breaking sales records and setting new ones for the area. You'd think they would have something positive to say, wouldn't you?)
"Don't freak out" my Amazon manager told me, "But later she stated that she saw you again in the "clearance" area and once again you did not greet her or acknowledge her in any way."
"Great!" I thought to myself, "I'm going to get canned from the dag gone Biscuit Bucket."
Truth of the matter is I was selling my ass off all morning! I had it going with this particular display, which was 40% off. Anyone came near that display, I was on them and showing them "my favorite" thing, a basket that is the perfect size to put in a pie or a casserole dish. Dazzle everyone at those family gatherings or pot lucks!
Feature and benefit, baby. I sold about eight of them. I only had about two people who could resist me!
I had it going yesterday too. I sold the Hell out of our Halloween merchandise. No one could resist my powers yesterday. And today.
I am a selling machine.
But...always the big BUT....I can not do it for six straight hours. It's torture. People every where, blocking the aisles, lugging along babies in carriers, some people pissed off because the wait is 35 to 40 minutes, talking on cell phones, giving you the "I don't respond to sales people" cold stare as they brush by you ...
....(and I hum the Rolling Stones song in my head at these moments...
Who would believe you were a beauty indeed
When the days get shorter and the nights get long
Lie awake when the rain comes
Nobody will know, when you're old
When you're old, nobody will know
that you was a beauty, a sweet sweet beauty
A sweet sweet booty, but stone stone cold) ..........
Because 9.9999 out of 10 they are a young woman who sneers at you.
Because I do not talk to everybody. I just can not. Will not. I do not have the emotional energy.
Anyway. This comes after another set back last week when another VP came into the store (are they any other Biscuit Buckets in the area!!) and was not "greeted" for 30 minutes. The manager on duty took me aside that day and began his spiel to me, "You have great potential........." The kiss of death when someone begins a "pep talk" that way.
Man, Retail sales is not Rocket science! It's harder!
(P.S. we have been breaking sales records and setting new ones for the area. You'd think they would have something positive to say, wouldn't you?)
Thursday, October 08, 2009
Break it to me gently - Part II
I dragged out the two containers of coffee I use every morning to make my one pot of the delicious nectar of life and discovered I barely had enough to last the week.
Running out of coffee is not something that is easily remedied. I do not run to the local Walmart, Kroger or even ALDI to pick up a new pound of freshly ground. No, I must plan my escape - I mean my trip to Nashville to visit Trader Joe and grab another canister of New Mexico Pinon Coffee which is only the best coffee ever!
I practically smile all day long knowing that not only will I grab some fine coffee, but I will also grab some Cranberry Oatmeal cookies. Yum Yum.
I'm showered and out of the house before 9am. I am in Trader Joe an hour later and happily munching cookies ten minutes after that wondering what to do with myself now - the whole town at my beck and call.
I make a run to the farmers market and find a 44 ounce jar of Wildflower honey made in Tennessee. I am a honey convert. A fine supplement to the sweet nectar of life is the sticky nectar of life.
After that I ponder my options and decide to find the Goodwill. I wander around town quite a bit, finding the hole in the ground where it use to be and a large sign telling me where it now resides. So I head off in that direction and after a couple of erroneous starts and backtracks I find the Mack Daddy of Goodwill stores all but hidden in a maze of back streets, clearly visible from the expressway, but difficult to maneuver.
As I stand in front the wall of hard back books I know all the trouble has been worth it! I begin on the left and work my way to the right.
I find treasure right off the bat. A first edition of an American translation.
Two rows down another find, 1st edition of The Fabric of Memory by an Eleanor Robson Belmont. I have not a clue who she is, but it was published in 1959, the book is pristine and the pictures reveal a magnificent woman in old turn of the century garb. I realize she is the Belmont of The Belmont race track. Yes indeed!
I find a lot of 1st editions and my arm becomes strained trying to hold them as I continue to read through the titles. I decide to park them on an end table positioned behind me. I keep my eye on them as I feel another person begin to study the books to my left, going through the titles just as I was doing.
I pull out a cook book or two and set it on my pile becoming more and more wary of the guy next to me with his long yellowish white hair, pulled back in a foot long pony tale. Obviously well dressed in pressed jeans and a corduroy jacket. "A dealer?" I think to myself.
As he gives up his search he walks behind me and toward the doors. He leans sideways and reads the titles I have set aside.
"Do you like John Updike?" he asks me.
I hesitate a moment and then say, "Sure, I like him."
He returns to the book case, pulls a book that I have already passed and hands it to me.
Rabbit at Rest.
"I see you enjoy good literature" he says, bows slightly and walks away.
As is my habit these days, I flip it open and look at the copyright page.
A first edition. Unread, perfect condition.
I place it on my pile and turn to repeat the thank you. He has vanished.
I was stunned when I researched the value of that book.
All because I needed coffee.
Running out of coffee is not something that is easily remedied. I do not run to the local Walmart, Kroger or even ALDI to pick up a new pound of freshly ground. No, I must plan my escape - I mean my trip to Nashville to visit Trader Joe and grab another canister of New Mexico Pinon Coffee which is only the best coffee ever!
I practically smile all day long knowing that not only will I grab some fine coffee, but I will also grab some Cranberry Oatmeal cookies. Yum Yum.
I'm showered and out of the house before 9am. I am in Trader Joe an hour later and happily munching cookies ten minutes after that wondering what to do with myself now - the whole town at my beck and call.
I make a run to the farmers market and find a 44 ounce jar of Wildflower honey made in Tennessee. I am a honey convert. A fine supplement to the sweet nectar of life is the sticky nectar of life.
After that I ponder my options and decide to find the Goodwill. I wander around town quite a bit, finding the hole in the ground where it use to be and a large sign telling me where it now resides. So I head off in that direction and after a couple of erroneous starts and backtracks I find the Mack Daddy of Goodwill stores all but hidden in a maze of back streets, clearly visible from the expressway, but difficult to maneuver.
As I stand in front the wall of hard back books I know all the trouble has been worth it! I begin on the left and work my way to the right.
I find treasure right off the bat. A first edition of an American translation.
Two rows down another find, 1st edition of The Fabric of Memory by an Eleanor Robson Belmont. I have not a clue who she is, but it was published in 1959, the book is pristine and the pictures reveal a magnificent woman in old turn of the century garb. I realize she is the Belmont of The Belmont race track. Yes indeed!
I find a lot of 1st editions and my arm becomes strained trying to hold them as I continue to read through the titles. I decide to park them on an end table positioned behind me. I keep my eye on them as I feel another person begin to study the books to my left, going through the titles just as I was doing.
I pull out a cook book or two and set it on my pile becoming more and more wary of the guy next to me with his long yellowish white hair, pulled back in a foot long pony tale. Obviously well dressed in pressed jeans and a corduroy jacket. "A dealer?" I think to myself.
As he gives up his search he walks behind me and toward the doors. He leans sideways and reads the titles I have set aside.
"Do you like John Updike?" he asks me.
I hesitate a moment and then say, "Sure, I like him."
He returns to the book case, pulls a book that I have already passed and hands it to me.
Rabbit at Rest.
"I see you enjoy good literature" he says, bows slightly and walks away.
As is my habit these days, I flip it open and look at the copyright page.
A first edition. Unread, perfect condition.
I place it on my pile and turn to repeat the thank you. He has vanished.
I was stunned when I researched the value of that book.
All because I needed coffee.
Break it to me gently - Part 1
I think no one cares why I don't write anymore. Yet when I come across the thoughts from someone else concerning why they no longer write (blog/journal on line) I find myself reading it, no devouring it with an obsessive curiosity. I try and find the similarities between us and usually they are there.
I miss writing down the hum-drum threads that make up the drama's of my life. I do not live with high expectations that I will ever be among the lucky ones discovered in the Blogosphere. Not now, not with the millions and millions of bloggers out here. Maybe when I started, over six years ago, it might have been possible. Maybe if I had not hitched my wagon to AOL...??
Anyway, I will never get my book deal.
I am a little fish in a big pond that gets bigger every single day. Just yesterday I was browsing and killing time at Borders and saw a book about Tweeter. Tweeter for God's sake! Blog creates writers who become celebrities, as does You Tube and I suspect Tweeter is not far behind.
So, I concede. I will ramble on about the boring aspects of my boring life and years from now when I am wondering what I was doing the first of October 2009 all I have to do is flip over here and....there I am.
I miss writing down the hum-drum threads that make up the drama's of my life. I do not live with high expectations that I will ever be among the lucky ones discovered in the Blogosphere. Not now, not with the millions and millions of bloggers out here. Maybe when I started, over six years ago, it might have been possible. Maybe if I had not hitched my wagon to AOL...??
Anyway, I will never get my book deal.
I am a little fish in a big pond that gets bigger every single day. Just yesterday I was browsing and killing time at Borders and saw a book about Tweeter. Tweeter for God's sake! Blog creates writers who become celebrities, as does You Tube and I suspect Tweeter is not far behind.
So, I concede. I will ramble on about the boring aspects of my boring life and years from now when I am wondering what I was doing the first of October 2009 all I have to do is flip over here and....there I am.
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