Why I like pit bulls more than some people

OK, the title of this post should not be misinterpreted as meaning that I like pit bulls. I actually am terrified of any dog over about 5 pounds–dobermans, german shepherds, and chows are near the top of my list, but pit bulls are definitely my number one disliked dog. I know, I’m sure you know one that is just adorable and so sweet, blah, blah, blah. I’m just saying I got bitten by a dog when I was little and I don’t like anything besides maybe a cocker spaniel or a papillon (which would just be a little amuse bouche for a pit bull).

So, there I was last night in my yard putting down mulch on my flower beds when a couple with their pit bull came walking down my street. My body immediately went into “fight or flight” mode, but I stayed put. They got into earshot and I heard the man saying, “Well mulch is just stupid. You just have to do it every year.” His companion replied, “I know, I think I’ll put down rocks this year, but mulch is a waste of time!” While this conversation is taking place I am maybe 6 feet away, big as life. I think about the social contract that we have that prevents us from butting into other people’s conversations, so I keep my lip zipped (especially because the guy was about 250 pounds of unruliness and remember, they had a pit bull with them). But REALLY, I was RIGHT THERE!!!

It reminded me of when I was dropping Greg off at Ball State and buying him a few things at the local Target–some towels, sheets, shampoo, and so on. The woman behind me in line talked really loudly to her daughter about how she’d better not think that she she went to college that she would get all the junk that most of these college kids get.

So in conclusion, I rest my case. As much as I dislike pit bulls, there are some people I dislike more.

Lardarse

The title to this post is a word that Paul H. tried to use on me in a Scrabble game–I know! I challenged it right off the board (although it is a beautifully descriptive word). It is also a word that applies to me at the moment, although I am happy to report that when I lose two more pounds I will move from the “overweight” category on Wii Fit to the “normal” category. I will be so happy to be normal in any small way!

Can I get swine flu by eating like a pig?

I’m getting over a cold, and everyone at work keeps asking if I might have swine flu–and veering away from me as they eye me suspiciously. I’ve felt pretty yucky, but just keep doing what most Americans do when they are sick–going to work and keeping up the same pace as usual.

On Saturday Liz and I walked about 4 miles, and I am really wondering if I can do the mini-marathon this Saturday. My knees were sore, my toes were sore, and I was so tired! But I’d worked for an hour in the garden before we went, so maybe that took a bit of a toll. Liz was rocking–didn’t break a sweat! We’ll start together on Saturday, I’ll let her finish, and then maybe I’ll hop on the “sag wagon” and get a ride to the finish line. I at least want to walk the lap for the Indy 500.

I’ve let my poor body get pretty out of shape, but no more! My Wii Fit age was 40 this morning, so I’m feeling pretty good about being 57! Onward and upward.

Suicidal Squirrels

This post is for all the suicidal squirrels who are running in front of my car today: Don’t despair, take heart, spring will be here soon. Think about your loved ones and all you still have to do in your life–wires to chew, nuts to bury in gardens, plants to dig up….on second thought, never mind.

The “BLM” theory of work behavior

Today I had lunch with Hannah, and she elucidated a very interesting theory for me. Known as the “BLM” theory of work behavior (at least in her household, since her husband made it up), it explains the way a lot of people behave (i.e., annoying people). The name comes from the summer that Hannah’s hubby worked for the BLM as a firefighter. The agreement in the group was that they would do the job in a way that would not encourage further work assignments–in other words, just the bare minimum, with perhaps some mistakes–not enough to get fired, but enough so that someone would think twice to call on them the next time.

So, a more practical application: suppose Paul asks me to wash his clothes. I willingly agree to do it, but then I turn the dryer on high and don’t take them out–so they are all wrinkled. I can’t be faulted for not doing it–I’ve just done it in such a way that I’m unlikely to be asked again (thus saving me a great deal of time in the future!)

I’ve always assumed that when things like this happen in my life (when I’m on the asking side) that a poor job is accidental–the person just isn’t good at it. But what if that person just doesn’t want to do it and this is her (sorry, men, but more often his) way of getting out of it? How very brilliant and evil?! Why didn’t I think of it before? Luckily, I still have plenty of time for implementation!

Happy Birthday to Me!

Once again, it’s time to change the title of my blog. It will now be “Fantastic at 57″ to keep up with my steadily increasing years.
Paul gave me a Wii this morning–Yay! I can’t wait to figure out how to plug it in, make an avatar, and begin to use the “Wii Fit” portion to transform myself. OK, maybe my expectations are slightly high for what a video game can do.
Right after work we’re going to Chicago to go to the Green Zebra for dinner–a vegetarian place. Then we’ll hang out with David and Susan for the weekend. Can’t wait!

How I spent my spring vacation

1. I read 2 books and listened to 3 others in the car: When the White House Was Ours (good, but brought up unpleasant memories of the 70’s for me); The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society (absolutely loved this book); two P.G. Wodehouse “Jeeves” books that made me laugh out loud numerous times; and Bless Me Ultima, which I did not like and thought was repetitive and heavy-handed and took 10 hours to listen to—why didn’t I stop at 2 hours you may wonder? I just kept thinking it would get better, but it didn’t.
2. I drove 38 hours.
3. I witnessed Dolly Parton’s Dixie Stampede in Branson, MO where hundreds of people spent $50 apiece to eat a whole chicken with their hands and watch people square dancing on horses (the show also included long horned cattle, doves, pigs, magic, and patriotism). We were served by people in Union uniforms (we were on the north side, and the people on the south side were served by people in Confederate uniforms—disturbing, to say the least). It was TOTALLY worth the money.
4. I thought I saw Van Halen at the SXSW festival in Austin, but then realized it was a van that was nick named “Van Halen.”
5. I DIDN’T see Metallica at SXSW, which was posing as a band from Norway.
6. I got scammed out of $20 by a skinny blind man named Nate who told me he needed it to buy a new cane. He asked for help to cross the busy street in Austin. I helped him across the street, gave him money, and sent him on his way to get his cane. Two hours later I saw him asking someone to help him across the very same street. I have lost a bit of my milk of human kindness (not to mention my balm of Gilead).
7. I took 23 minutes to get out of a maze that it took most children about 12 minutes. It was actually kind of scary, but then Rachel told me that if I just followed either the left or the right side of the wall, I would eventually go through the entire maze. That worked like a charm.
8. I went to a “cattle drive” in Forth Worth at the stockyards that consisted of about 6 people on horses accompanying 5 completely disinterested (and possibly drugged) long horns down the street. I found out they were also available for rental, which gave me great pause in terms of thinking about what type of event would be made better by a cattle drive. A wedding? A bar mitzvah?
9. I bought a swimming suit and then never went swimming.
10. I drank a Dublin Dr. Pepper, which is Dr. Pepper made in Dublin, TX that has cane sugar instead of high fructose corn syrup. Tasty!
11. I bought Greg beef jerkey that had Dr. Pepper as the second ingredient.
12. I visited the Precious Moments Chapel in Carthage, MO, otherwise known as the “American Sistine Chapel”: http://www.preciousmoments.com/content.cfm/park_chapel But where is the 17th chapel? I was happy I didn’t get in trouble for taking flash photos (like someone I know). I bought Liz some Precious Moments socks that I know she will treasure appropriately.
13. I got to meet Chippy the Cat.
14. I heard Mike playing in the band DMStith. I was proud of myself for being up so late (it started at 1 am EST).
15. I bought a mug that said, “I childproofed my house, but they keep getting back in” for my friend Ariane who has two sets of twins.
16. I essentially ate my way across 4 states and back. Favorites included Greg’s chiles rellenos, Chezch food in West, TX, black beans at the Magnolia Café in Austin with a sign that read, “Sorry, We’re Open,” a chocolate malt at Whattaburger, and the salad bar at a churrascaria.
17. I shamed myself by asking what “English Peas” were at a diner in Missouri. The waitress looked at me like I was brain damaged and said, “you know, the small green ones that come in a can and you mix with mashed potatoes.” I’ve never heard them called anything but peas, and I thought “English Peas” were somehow special. I ordered them, and they were right out of a can, just the way she described them. Yum.
18. I got to see daffodils in bloom. It’s spring a few hundred miles south of here!
19. I saw Milk, and thought it was good (although too long). I must be getting old. I want movies to be no more than one hour and thirty-eight minutes).
20. I saw hundreds of exotic butterflies at the Butterfly Palace.

All in all, a totally satisfying week!

Rummaging

My mom loved rummage sales. The Provo Unitarian church had them regularly, and she was usually there. I loved going with her and looking with amazement at the tables covered with things that people were willing to discard: dolls, clothing, and toys (including a tiny washing machine that could be hooked up to the sink and could really wash doll clothing).

Mom was an early recycler, and having grown up poor, was more than willing to wear gently used clothing—and buy it for her kids. I had some great outfits that she found at the Unitarian church.

But when I was about 10 years old, I had a sudden and horrible thought. I can remember being in Primary (which then was after school on Wednesdays). We could bring pennies in and put them into a wooden replica of the Primary Children’s Hospital. I was walking up to put my pennies in, when a couple of girls behind me giggled at something, and I became convinced it was at me (early signs of my paranoia?). I was further convinced it was because of what I was wearing, and even more convinced that what I was wearing must have at some point belonged to one of them—so they KNEW I was wearing donated clothing.

It was horrible! I was ashamed, even though five minutes earlier I had loved my dress. I ran home after Primary was over, took it off, and never wore it again.

It was years before I would wear used clothing, but in all ways am becoming more and more my mother—and can’t wait for yard sale season to begin.

One Year

Today is the one year anniversary of my dad’s death. I have missed him every single day.

Driving Ms. Eleanor in Heaven

I bought a newer car last week. It’s a little embarrassing because it’s exactly the same color and style as my last one (except that it has some very cool little features like remote start and a sunroof). Anyway, I was thinking about how important driving is to my independence.

About a week before my dad died last year, the hospice people came to his house to tell him what to expect in the coming days. They talked about moving from a walker to a wheelchair, about the eventual possibility of a hospital bed, about what kinds of drugs would be available. Near the end of the conversation, the nurse said, “And of course you won’t be driving.” That seemed to be the only thing in the entire conversation that my dad heard—forget wheelchairs, hospital beds, and imminent death—when he heard that he got the saddest look on his face and said, “You mean I can’t drive anymore?”

It struck me so forcefully how driving in our country is almost the only way to get around. When we can’t drive, we can’t be independent. Something should change here.

My dad was competitive, so he liked to drive sort of fast. He didn’t like anyone passing him on the freeway—or on Center Street. He’d immediately speed up to catch up and pass the offending vehicle. I talked to him about it when he was in his 80’s and he agreed it probably wasn’t a good idea and said he’d try to stop doing it. I’m not sure if he was successful. But I like to picture him in heaven in the ’68 Thunderbird he had for a while, with its giant engine and its super get-up-and-go. My mom is in the seat next to him saying, “Hell’s bells, Ed, you’re going to kill us both!” He’ll say, “Eleanor, don’t you remember? We’re already dead!” as he puts the pedal to the metal.