Offense Taken

 I teach social skills. When I started over ten years ago, my friends often told me that many of their co workers could use my class. I will admit to seeing some overlap with my students and all the adults I see and hang out with.

The two biggest reoccurring themes I see:

Compromise= everybody gets something, nobody gets everything

This idea of compromise is tough in this all or nothing climate. As a board member for my Condo HOA, there has been considerable conflict over bollards and bollard sleeves. First the controversy seemed to be about the color - fluorescent yellow. I can understand the desire to look at other color options. I mean , we're not an airport. But that wasn't good enough; there is one community member who has been very vocal at community meetings and through emails. For her there is only one way to fix this hideous issue:  the removal of all bollards on her street. 

"Our street wants the barriers/bollards removed entirely from our street immediately" Carol stated with emphasis at the virtual meeting. "Those bollards are an absolute EYESORE!"

When this problem didn't get taken care of fast enough for her she began putting up hand made fluorescent pink signs asking the other community members on her street to email all board members with complaints and demand that we "make Woodley (her street) great again!"

Unexpected behavior = uncomfortable thoughts and feelings from others:

At an early fall party with other teachers I was shocked to see a fellow teacher behaving unseemly while eating from a big bowl of snacks. He was standing over the bowl, picking out his favorite parts of the snack mix (coincidentally, the same parts that are my favorite), the cheesy ones! He was licking his lips and fingers and double dipping. I saw several other teachers watching with looks of disgust and shock on their faces.

"Eww, do you see that? That is terrible." One of my close friends said to me as we were standing in the kitchen talking.

"Yeah, that is gross." I agreed shaking my head, thinking,  Well there goes my appetite.

His "spidey senses" must have been tingling because he turned and asked us, "Something's gross?" He looked panicked for a minute. "What's gross? Is it what I'm eating?" I think he was worried he was actually eating something that was bad.

"Well... the way you're eating that mix is grossing us out." I told him, looking him in the eye."I mean, I don't want to eat that now."

I guess I'll never be out of a job.

First Rule of the Strange Club

A few years ago, I was walking with my friend and our dogs through a little shopping center. As we walked by the CVS, I saw a man standing outside the doors to the store wearing oddly fitting clothes and muttering to himself. I started watching him, because I wasn't sure how cognizant he was about people and the space around him ... and I wanted to be out of the way in case something went sideways. 

As I was watching, he looked up and we made eye contact. First rule of how to act when someone or some animal is acting strangely: Don't make eye contact. It encourages engagement.

"Shit!" I muttered to my friend "Now he's probably going to follow us," I was whispering, I didn't want to bring any more attention to myself than I already had.

"WHAT?!" Lauren yelled, "WHO's following us?" 

"Don't look back - keep walking." I instructed, hoping to salvage the situation.

About three minutes into the walk home, I heard some strange noises behind us and the dogs started dancing and tapping nervously.

"Do you hear that?" I asked Lauren,  "What does it sound like to you?"

"Umm, someone making strange noises," she said flatly.

"Yeah, but, does it sound like someone is barking?" I asked her.

"Actually, yes, it does sound like that." she anxiously.

We kept walking but by silent agreement, we walked faster. It seemed like no matter how fast we walked, this guy was walking faster. I knew because he was still barking and it was getting closer and closer to us. Lucy was unnerved by the noise, she kept trying to turn around; she was practically walking sideways trying to keep this guy in her sight.

He was going to be right next to us any minute.

"What should we do?" Lauren asked.

Without warning, I spun around and yelled, "Hey!" I put my hands up in the universal stop gesture, "You are too close! You're making my dogs upset!" 

He was still barking but he looked me in the eye and smiled. That made me mad.

I took a step closer to him, "I'm going to let the dogs bite you!" I said with the creepiest smile I could muster. "Over and over. I won't stop them. They're just going to keep biting you." I threatened.  Thankfully, the dogs were barking, growling and sounding mean.

"Back off!" I made a pushing gesture with my hands. It was like I had magic in my hands. He took a few steps backwards. And Thank Goodness because Lauren, her dog, Bug, and Lucy were all behind me - waiting for me to take care of business.

"You stay there and stop following us!" I yelled, and then whispered to Lauren, "Come on, hurry, let's go"

We hurried through another complex to get to our houses but he didn't stay still. I could hear him walking and barking as we were hurrying through the courtyards.

In the time since, I have occasionally seen him when I walk Lucy, but I steer clear of him. He is always staggering around and barking, and other people are always trying to ignore him.

Just last week I took the windows off the Jeep to enjoy the beautiful weather we were having. As I came to a stoplight on the ride home from school, I noticed an odd man walking with a staggering gait. I was watching him because he was kind of close to the street. And then I heard it, the barking.

As he approached the corner, I was thinking to myself, Don't do it, Heidi. Don't do it.

I did it. I just couldn't stop myself. I turned my head and looked. We locked eyes. 

"Hi Lady," He smiled at me and gave me a little wave.

I gave him a chin nod and a sneer and turned my head to look forward.

"Hi Lady," he sing-songed and then began barking. I stared straight ahead as he danced and barked, worried he would approach me in the wide-open Jeep. He kept it up until the light changed and I drove away.

I never learn my lesson.

Oh Honey

We have a plot in a community garden, but I have to admit, I'm not much of a gardener. Although I AM an eater - so I have to be willing to do my part. I hate to weed. The white beetles and grubs in the earth  FREAK ME OUT.  In my defense. there was one time when I was sitting on my little weeding seat, and I felt pain on my legs. Ants - all over my legs climbing under my shorts hem. What happened next was embarrassing to all involved. There was jumping, stamping, screaming and maybe, yes, crying. 

All gardeners, whether they like gardening or not, have to commit to 4 work days over the season. On work days, there is a list of "chores" that need to be done. The list includes weeding the garden for the food assistance center, weeding the flower gardens in the common areas, weeding the fence line, weeding the bee garden, (do you sense a pattern here?). BUT, if you get there early and sign up (there's only 2-3 spots depending on equipment functionality)... mowing the grass. 

I get there early and sign up to mow the grass. I can barely help weed my own garden, so there is no way I'm signing up to weed some other garden! But... no matter how early I get there, if a guy shows up for the work day, the women in charge let the men mow the lawn. No matter when they get there. No matter if they signed up for it. No matter if I'm standing in front of a mower.

"But I signed up!" I explained as earnestly as possible with my hands palms up and bobbing, "AND I was here early! I should be mowing right now!"

"Oh Honey," the older woman said with a patronizing look, "Just let the men mow." She patted my hand, "That's what they like to do."

The blood pressure spike I felt after that exchange almost made me pass out. I decided I needed to find another way to do my part. So...

Over the winter I took a Bee Keeping class. Our community garden has bees and I thought this would fix all my garden problems.  Bee keepers are a kooky bunch. They all know a lot about bees - it is fascinating. I'm lucky, because I'm not establishing my own hive. The hives are in the garden, working. I just join the other bee keepers and help care for the bees. Problem solved.

This past Saturday was the first meeting and work day of the new season. I got introduced as a new bee keeper and stood with my new pack, feeling large and in charge. 

"No fighting for mowing for me this morning," I thought, smirking. 

Patricia, head bee keeper, said the magic words, "There's too much activity in the garden this morning." she said as she shook her head. "The bees are already ready to swarm, everyone needs to steer clear today." She looked at me and winked, "You can go home, we'll call you when they swarm."

I can't wait!

Dial T for Tracey

Last week, I got my hair cut. My stylist recently moved locations and I now have to park in an unfamiliar garage. Believe it or not, I find this nerve wracking. As you may know from a recent post, I am of the directionally challenged tribe. No directions make sense to me. I must be told how to drive somewhere by the landmarks I might see, not cardinal directions. 

"Get on the highway like you're going to school," my dad used to tell me to get me on the highway going in the right direction.

My stylist asks me after every cut, "Which way are going to turn when you get out of the garage?"

"To the right," I reply with raised eyebrows.

"Right!" she exclaims. I always feel like I should get a sticker after answering correctly.

BUT... the elevators in the parking garage are funky. Not all the elevators go to all the floors. WHY?!?! Why would someone engineer it this way? 

When I got to the lobby, I pressed the down button and one of the "bad" elevators opened it's door. I let the doors close and waited a few minutes and pressed the down button again. The same elevator opened.

"No," I groaned. I tried this two more times all to have the same elevator open. I then tried getting on, pushing buttons, not getting off, and going back up to the lobby. I stepped off the elevator, waited a few minutes and pressed the down button again. Yep, the same elevator opened. At this point, I was getting frustrated and frazzled. 

I had noticed that the "bad" elevator had a button marked with an M. I thought, "What the hell, I'll try it."

It put me on P2. I needed P1. How does M equal P2? How? 

I thought, "I give up." I called Tracey.

"I can't get to the right floor in the parking garage!" I whined to Tracey as soon as she picked up the phone. "I've tried and tried. I can't do it!"

"Wait, what?" Tracey said, "Where are you?"

"I'm in the PARKING GARAGE!" I whisper yelled (no telling who was around).

"Umm..." Tracey started.

"I go up in the elevator, I go down in the elevator, I get off the elevator, I get in the elevator." I think I was wailing now. "It doesn't matter. It's the 'bad' elevator, I can't get to the right floor!"

"What floor are you on?" Tracey asked (I don't think for the first time.)

"P2," I said taking a deep breath.

"And what floor do you need?" Tracey asked patiently.

"P1." I moaned.

"Well... what about the stairs?" Tracey asked.

"The stairs?" I parroted back to her.

"Yes, the stairs, aren't there stairs by the elevator?" she asked again.

"The stairs?" I asked again.

"Yes, the stairs." Tracey emphasized the word stairs. "Usually there are stairs near the elevators. Look for them." Tracey directed me as you would a 5 year old.

"You want me to walk up the stairs?" I questioned. There were a few moments of silence.

"Uh... well yes," Tracey replied, " It doesn't seem like a terribly unreasonable request." 

"Oh, ok," I said with chagrin, "I'll walk up the stairs."

I walked up the stairs to P1... and there was my car. Right where I left it.

Til Tuesday?

Happy March 31st!

 I started this challenge because so many of my colleagues were writing and I hoped they would be pleasantly surprised if I joined. It's motivating to have people read my writing and sometimes commenting on it. Some days it was hard to find something to write about, but I was always happy when I finished it. 

About halfway through the month, I told my brother about it and he asked for the link. This was interesting, because, what if I wanted to write about him? 

"You have so many great stories to tell," he said encouragingly, "You should keep going after the month is up."

I'm not sure how I feel about that idea. I do have stories to tell. But, I'm not going to lie, I'm looking forward to not having to worry about what I'm going to write tomorrow.

I like the idea of Tuesdays always being an option. Maybe I'll see you guys on a Tuesday.

On The Road Again

 "We do road trips right," I told Tracey on our way home from Buffalo. 

"You think so?" Tracey asked.

"Yep," I nodded, "I've thought about this a lot."

What makes a road trip great? Heidi's criteria.

• Plan Your Stops

"Are you ready to stop?" Tracey asked me about 2 hours into the trip.  

"Well, I think Lucy would like to get out." I replied, 

"Then let's go a little further," Tracey thought for a minute, "I know of a better stop for Lucy." 

Of course, she was right. 

• Good Snacks

"Hand me some of that leftover cheesecake from your mom's dinner party." Tracey said, "I cut it in small squares so we can eat it without a fork." 

"Sweet!" I replied, "But I'm gonna eat the vegetables and dip because my blood sugar is too high for me to eat cheesecake right now."

• Good Games/Playlists/Podcasts/Books

"Can we be finished with Name that Tune and listen to the book for a while?" I asked, "It's gonna be a bit before I can play another game after the beat down you gave me in Name that Tune and Yitch Yitch." 

"Sure, let's listen for a while." Tracey paused, "But first, let's do a recap about where the story stopped."

• Good Company

There is no better company to my mind than Tracey and Lucy. 

 

Party Post-Mortem

"What did you think of the party? Was it a good one?"I asked my brother this morning about my mom's 80th birthday party that we hosted last night.

"Well... there were no problems," he noted. "That was a good sign,"

"What kind of problems are we talking about? Like snafus in the running of it? Or like mom fighting someone?" I inquired. I think those are two different criteria.

"Either," he said.

"Hmmm," I thought. "He was NOT everywhere."

What does make a party great?

According to Bunny Holmes, The 5 Core Elements of a Great Party are:

•  Attended by Good People: 

"Oh, you put the compost directly into the garden bed?" my cousin Jacque (Dad's side) asked my cousin Sandy (mom's side). "Do you use all of your food scraps?"

"Well, we have pet pig, so all of our food is repurposed," Sandy replied. 

"You have a pet pig?" Jacque asked, "Is it potty trained?" she seemed skeptical about this. 

"Oh sure, she lets you know when she had to go outside AND when she wants to be covered by her  

 blanket." Sandy answered with a smile and a smirk.   

• Beautiful/Appeals to the Senses. 

The scent in the party room was roses (from the flowers bought for the birthday girl) with an        underlay of cooked beef.  I found it a little nauseating, but everyone else seemed to think it smelled really great in there.

"Those flower smell amazing... and is that prime rib I smell?" asked my Aunt Kathy when I greeted her at the doorway.

 "Yes and yes," I replied with a wide smile.      

            

•  Grants you permission. 

We played two games of BINGO with prizes! CASHOLA! My brother was the BINGO caller and my cousin Kristin had no trouble letting him know how he was doing.

 "Next number: N 57, N 57," my brother called out loudly.

"You're doing it wrong," Kristin yelled at him, "You're supposed to say N 57, N 5-7," she                reprimanded him.

"My apologies." Mark replied, rolling his eyes.

        .            

•  Dangerous/ Exciting. 

I believe any party with several participants over the ag of 75 is dangerous.

"Did you just take my picture?" my mother asked my cousin Denis. "DON'T EVER do that again. I don't want that to end up on the internet!" she yelled a little shrilly.

"It's just going in Tracey's album not online," he tried to tell her placatingly.

"Well I don't believe you, they always end up on the internet." she retorted with a serious side eye "I don't like that!"

"I promise, Aunt Louise."

        

• Makes a Good Story. 

          Recap:

✅ Attended by Good People.       

✅ Beautiful/ Appeals to the Senses 

✅ Grants You Permission 

✅ Dangerous/Exciting 

✅ Makes for a Good Story 

I rest my case.