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.  

Trendy

Here in Buffalo, there is a coffee place called the 7Brew. It's a drive through coffee place and it's wacky. This place is so trendy and popular that they have a guy who has to direct traffic. He has to make sure all the cars turn in form the same lane... no cheating coming from the other direction. You have to go to the end of the line and take the next spot.

"Start the stopwatch!" Tracey said once we were in line behind about 100 cars waiting to give their order.

This place reminds me of long ago, drive in fast food places, circa 1950. Once you are waiting in line in your car, the waitress comes to your window to take your order. In our case, we had two people, one was in training. The trainer was carrying some suspicious jug full of clear liquid. The label on the bottle said it was mocha flavoring but it was clear! SUS!

I'm not sure why the trainer was carrying the jug around. In my head, he was going to clock the trainee with it, or pour it over her head, or maybe shake it violently at rowdy customers?

Thank God Tracey had enough sense to make everyone pick out what they wanted before we drove there.

With 4 drinks to order, we had a big gap between us and the car ahead of us. 

"Let's move up," the trainer suggested.

"Should we try to drive at your pace?" Tracey asked.

"Yep," he replied. I really wanted Tracey to go fast, then stop, then slow, then fast.. just to see if the waiters would try to stay with us. But she did a nice job of keeping a slow steady pace they could mimic and walk along beside us.

By the time we received our orders and were on the way back to my mom's, the stopwatch said, 25 minutes. The coffee was fine, but not sure it was worth the wait. I never did get any clarification about the jug of mysterious liquid either.

Functional

Before we got Lucy, I was mesmerized by zoo and aquarium trainers using tricks and treats to teach their animals to get used to the way they had to be touched or manipulated to conduct an exam. This seemed genius to me, so while I was teaching Lucy the usual tricks (sit, give a paw, lay down, roll over), I was also trying my hand at "useful" tricks.

For example, Lucy's curly hair soaks up water and gathers snow on her legs like a runaway snowball going downhill, so it usually takes wrestling and "Twister" like antics to get her back paws wiped. One day it finally hit me: I could teach her to give me her back paws just like I taught to give me her front paws! Easier said than done. There was quite a bit of kicking going on during that learning process.

Next, I saw videos of orangutans and chimpanzees showing their teeth so they can get brushed. Of course, I thought, "Lucy should do that! Dogs mouth hygiene is just as important as humans, right?" We must have gone through at least 3 tubes of beef, peanut butter and mint flavored dog toothpaste. Lucy is NOT a fan of the mint flavored; noted by the way she spit it out and slammed her mouth shut whenever the tube came out.

I used to babysit a friends toddler. When she would see me eating something, she would come over to me and say "Ah." and wait with her mouth open. I thought "Eureka!" Lucy takes several pills depending on the season of the year. The best functional trick I ever taught Lucy is to say "AH".  

When Lucy needs to take a pill, we used to have to hold her mouth open and try to shove the pill as far down her throat as possible. Which caused much gagging and puking or simply spitting the pill out. Now I give the command: "Say Ah" and she opens her mouth wide. 

Next up: she has GOT to learn to pick up after herself and I know just what to do!