Old Age Confirmation

I think I'm getting "old."

I struggled with going home and facing the music (aka the little candy beggars--er...little darling's), or hiding out at a friends house in the country--at least until it was over. I rationalized I had very little candy to give them. In reality I had plenty. 

I finally decided to go home for Halloween. 

But not before stocking up on candy at Sam’s. The deciding factor was the absence of DDP in my pantry.  And only one flat fizz-less bottle in my fridge. 

I'll only run in, grab a bag of candy and a case of DDP.  Then I'll be on my way, I rationalized.

Like that has ever happened 

True to form I got my two items. And true to form I added a few others. 

Pasta, red sauce and white sauce, bread, grated Parmesan cheese.  Just the essentials. 

Then I thought, "I may as well look at the puzzles and books 'on my way' to the soda corner. What could it hurt?!"

When I made my way to the register I had the meager items I had run in to grab.  Plus the Italian additions. And I found a planner that checked off many of my boxes. (Really, I am a planner snob. They have not made the planner I want. I need to show them how it's done. But this one is doable.) 

And not one. Not two. But THREE books. I usually wait until they hit the dollar rack at HalfPrice Books.  So three--at full Sam's prices--felt like a huge splurge. 

My total was almost what I had in Sam’s Cash. 

I don't believe in coincidence.  It was meant to be. My entire haul was free. All because I decided to get the candy beggers some treats. 

But it gets even better. 

I meet the door checker and she says, "You're good--but hold on a sec--I've got something for you."  

This is new. 

I tried to recall a special event. Nothing comes to mind. She presents me with a huge bouquet of flowers. 

It's not quite my birthday. Not my Sam's anniversary. Not even a special Sam's multiple year. 

It's because they are getting a little wilty and they would rather give them away than trash them. Awwww. I may have to actually buy some flowers next time. Good marketing ploy. 😉

So my picky self found a workable planner, received flowers, and "free" groceries, AND three books. Not bad for a 20 minute shopping spree. 

But the BEST?! 

I got TWO really good boxes for my stuff. 

That's the kicker. The confirmation I'm old. I get excited over a good box. 

Unrealized Sojourn to the Closets

Straight off the bat I can't figure out how to add the meme. So I'll tell you what it says:

"I don't know who needs to hear this, but you still have clothes in the dryer."

That meme, by The Crockpot Ladies, made me snort and spit-take my DDP. It is Soooo me. 

I'm a tad behind...this week (right, it's just this week)😉😉😉...the clothes are in the dryer, on top of the dryer, and beside the foot of the dryer, and the rolling clothes rack is filled with hangables.  

None of the clothes have yet to make the journey to the closets.  

Adding to that clothes-army, a new load is amassing in the washer even as I type this.  

However, the partial filling of the washer is part of The Plan. 

You see, I only "sort" when I wash new reds or jeans the first time. 

Otherwise, everything goes in the washer at the same time, along with man's greatest invention of all time...a color catcher...or two.  

As I remove pjs or nighties in the am--into the washer they are tossed. After I've soiled bathroom or kitchen linen throughout the day, they initially make it to the side of the washer. 

The casual observer, or those with snarky attitudes,  might liken the damp edge-clingers to an acrophobiac--frozen on the ledge, but determinedly on the verge of conquering their fear.   However, the damp linens are actually there for a reason:  The washer lid stays open until the dampness has dried to touch.  Only then  are  they allowed to take the plunge. 

Okay, so what really happens:  When they are dry, I toss 'em in the washer. 😏

Laundry Room Tough Love.   

It's my way to preload the washer, and still be able to thwart the unwanted appearance of mold.

The washer pre-filling continues as I disrobe after running post-work errands. 

I "joke" with friends and tell them, "Every thing  comes off when I hit the laundry room door."  

However, in reality it's not a joke.  It's  true.  

Unexpected visitors will almost always find me in my nightie. I only "dress up"at home (e.g. throw on a caftan, housecoat, or loungewear), when I'm hosting a party.  

The neighbors pretty much expect to see me in my robe if I'm taking the trash to the curb, picking up forgotten mail, or tracking an escaped pup--or two.  

Or a wayward cat. 

The only reason I was in regular clothes the last two dinners I hosted? 

I had to run to the store for a last minute purchase, and guests arrived early--before I finished preparing, and had a chance to change into something more comfortable. 

The early arrivals put me in a foul mood.  

I had the holiday off so I invited my guests earlier than I normally can be home. They know I'm time challenged to begin with, so when they arrived 10 minutes early it threw me into a tizzy. 

I tried to be gracious.  

I reminded myself they were brought up to believe 10 min early is "on time." 

However,  I failed. 

Miserably.

My philosophy is:  Start on time.  End on time.  

And at work:  Only hold meetings when there is a purpose.  

If someone arrives to the appointment, party, or meeting late--it's their loss. Their consequence. 

I accept my consequences when I miss out due to an untimely arrival.  At work it really hurts when I have to use precious annual leave--especially since I already give them so much free time at the end of the day by not claiming overtime, or leave later than I'm supposed to because I continue to work 15-30 minutes into my sick leave--that one really hurts because I am paying (using my sick leave  while continuing to work--but limit setting and self-tough love works and I'm getting better.

Although I've made significant strides, I'm way too distractible and I easily lose track of time. 

Distractibility is the reason (sure it is 😉) this week's laundry hasn't made the trip to the closets. 

Yet. 

That's my story and I'm sticking to it. 

😏

Testing My IT--ness

I'm just testing out the editing. Last time I was here I didn't like it. Seems like it is still the same.  Wait...

I punched a bunch of keys and my auto correct seems to be working again, and the font is one I like.  Maybe I fixed it? 

It would seem my computer skills are sharpening themselves. LOL. 

Because I haven't got a clue how I fixed it. Just like at work today. 

Everyone in my workgroup got booted out of our main program, and I was the first one back in. LOL I said it was because I was insistent (code for impatiently  tapping ALL the keys--not waiting to see what, if anything, was the result), and most importantly, I used the Mommy Voice. LOL. 

IT probably just had a fix rollout that started with me. Because I'm pretty sure anything I did/did not do was ineffective.   

And here on Blogger it's still acting up. Next test will be to see if I can compose elsewhere, and copy/paste it into my Blog. It wasn't allowing it before...

New Set of Friends?

I may  have a new set of friends. 

Don't get me wrong, I love my old friends, and am not in the market for replacing them.   However, remember a few months back I started receiving calls from Lloyd, Gilly, and Randy? 

They were all attempting to confirm plans they were making with Brenda. 

Unbeknownst to Brenda--or them--they were getting my  voicemail. 

They sounded like a really fun group of friends. They liked playing board games, and card games, eatting out, and they were starting to attend a quilting class. 

I liked them. They sounded like good, salt-of-the-earth people. 

I mean, they kept including Brenda/me in all their plans, even though she/I appeared to be pretty much blowing them off. 

They never gave up. They never got bent out of shape. Although the last time Lloyd called, he did sound a wee bit frustrated. 

I felt really bad for Brenda, since she was not receiving, or returning any of their telephone calls. I hoped they weren't expressing frustration with her in person. 

So, when Lloyd sounded frustrated, I finally broke down and let him know they had been leaving messages on my phone. 

I assured him I really enjoyed their calls, and they could call anytime, but they might want to check with Brenda to get her correct telephone number. To ensure they actually reached her. I envisioned the conversation they would have, and Brenda's response. 

Sadly, that was the last I heard from them. 

However, I may have a new set of friends: Alice has started calling Shirley. Or visa-versa. I got the message mixed up. 

It seems the one will be unable to provide the other a ride someplace on Sunday because the driver is going to the Corn Hill then Seton picnics. Two picnics in one afternoon? Sounds like some mighty fine Church vittles might be had. 

I know Seton, but had never heard of Corn Hill. So I Googled it. 

Corn Hill is a small ghost town, in what is now the small town of Jerrell. 

When the train bypassed Corn Hill in 1909, some residents moved to New Corn Hill. Now, the only thing remaining is the cemetary.  The last remainder of Corn Hill (the original) was a hotel. 

But I digress, I did not want Shirley (or Alice) to be stranded come Sunday, or a falling out to occur because of the potential stranding and lack if message response, so I called and left a message. 

Actually, I left two. 

When I called a second time, my message asked if Shirley (or Alice) knew Lloyd, Gilly, Randy or Brenda.  

I'm thinking Shirley (or Alice) sounded like they might have the same background (e.g.  regional accents or speech mannerisms), so they may all be in the same small community. 

Maybe their common Church or Senior Center Directory has a typo in the phone number for Brenda and Shirley (Alice).  

Or maybe Brenda and Shirley (Alice) are related and use the same phone. 

We could all  be friends.  We've already exchanged cell phone numbers.  Sort of. We live fairly close. We speak the same good ole Country Boy/Girl language. We like games, arts and crafts, small town country life. And we like eating out.  

Lloyd, Randy, Gilly, Brenda, Alice, and Shirley could ne my new posse. 

We could have game nights, diner out,  and start our own quilting bee. 

(BTW according to Google, "the word bee was used in colonial America to refer to different types of communal work that benefited neighbors.")

Maybe I can introduce my old friends to the new friends. They are all good folk. 

My Wild Foxy Night Visitor

My after work errands ran long tonight, so I arrived home just before dusk.  This close to summer time, that translates to just after 9pm.

I pulled forward, then began to back into my drive as is my habit.  Trust me, you don't want to see me trying to hurriedly bug out at o'darkthirty in the morning. Especially not when my head is longing to return to visiting my pillow rather than clearly focusing on the rules of the  road.

Out of the corner of my eye I thought I glimpsed the uniquely slinking gait of a fox scurrying across my street. He was coming from the West, heading East. 

Of course I had to investigate.  

I pulled into the neighbors drive.  Yes, I could have walked, but I already had my 10K steps in (10,243 to be exact😏), so I decided to drive all of two houses down. When your mobility issues make you an easy target, you learn quickly to watch out for predators of all shapes and sizes.  That's my rationalization, and I'm sticking to it. 

Besides, the real reason is  my feet and back were aching. 

The fox was long gone--or at least hidden away in a great hidey-hole, so I returned home. Backing into my drive the second time, in the span of about a minute, I realized I was wrong about the fox.  

Because a second young grey fox romped across my street, West to East as well, and headed for the neighboring cemetery. 

I say it was a second fox; however,  there is always the possibility it was the same fox--who was circling around the cul de sac and cemetery fence, as if playing Follow The Leader with itself. But as quickly as it occured, that scenario is highly unlikely. Even though foxs are known to be nimble and quick. So I'm going with second fox. 

I've seen the neighborhood grey fox before. However, it was on the far side of the vacant field between my fenced backyard and a couple Main Street businesses.  I've also spied  an older fox downtown by the fire station and Nolan Creek. Both of the previous fox sightings were in the wee hours. 

I've never seen fox this close to my house--or this early in the night. 

While I feel perfectly safe from a fox family envasion I was glad Moggy met me, as I exited my SUV, without having to be called to go inside the house.

And I was especially  glad that he came to me from a Southern direction. 

Although Moggy is a senior cat (how can the time have flown by so quickly?!), and does not share my mobility issues, I didn't want to test his agility against a wild animal. 

Even a wild animal who appeared to be playfully entertaining himself. 

Wild is wild. 

Repaired Crowns, Parking Lot Prayers, and Wrong Number Llyod

I think my year-long relationship with Lloyd may have come to an abrupt halt today. I'll miss him.  

And Randy. 

And Gilly.  

And Brenda.  

Even though I never met them. 

But before I explain, I'll tell you about today...

I left work early for a dental appointment to replace the temporary crown placed last Wednesday. We had packed way too many fixes in the appointment and my dentist, who is normally very good, could not get my  lower right jaw numb to replace a lost filling. Actually, I think I was numb enough at one point, but the numbness wore off with the feeling of a sheet fluttering down my cheek.  

It was numb. 

The sheet fell. 

And I was no longer numb. 

It was the quickest un-numbing in the history of dentistry. 

So he administered additional anesthetics saying, "This always does the job."

Declarative statements like that are like the line being drawn in the sand. My body was having none of it. My dentist blew air on the tooth that should have been numb,  and I went through the roof. 

We mutually decided the refill could wait until the permanent crown was ready. 

I went home took pain meds and put myself to bed early. 

Thursday evening I was at a friends house and I felt something hard and crunchy in my mouth. I was eatting a noncruchy burger.  I pulled out what looked like half a molar. My tongue explored the inside of my mouth  and it felt like the outer half of one of my upper left molars  had sheared away.  

The following day, Goof Friday, I called my dentist. Fridays are normal half-days for their office, so I knew there was a  strong possibility they would be closed. In my answering machine message I said, "I'm not in pain, and it's not an emergency; however, I want to head anything off at the pass since we are going into essentially a holiday weekend." 

Sure enough, the Dentist also determined it was not an emergency and  we decided they would schedule me Monday when they returned to the office.

In the meantime, Saturday, while eatting a grilled cheese sandwhich, I felt another hard substance in my mouth. I spit out the second half of my tooth. My tongue explored some more and I realized it was just the temporary crown that broke in two--not one of my actual teeth. That both relieved me, and explained why I wasn't in more pain. Actually, the sharp cuts on my tongue were the only"pain."

Fast forward to this fine Monday afternoon. After being refitted for the second temporary crown,   I went to Sam's for DDPs and snacks. While loading my SUV a total stranger approached and asked, "Do you know me?" 

I said, "No. But you look a little familiar."  So he told me where we may have met. It was plausible. Then he introduced himself, and I knew we had never met. I would have remembered his name. 

Then, he asked me to pray for him. I readily agreed and he told me his specific request. So there in the Sam's parking lot, we held hands and I prayed for him. 

Fast forward to the present. As I checked my messages I saw my second call today from Wrong Number Lloyd. I smile fondly even as I type that. You see, I became aware of Lloyd through a wrong number about a year ago. I've looked forward to his calls ever since. 

He originally called to see if Brenda was going to play cards that evening. 

Then he called Randy to see if he had heard about Brenda's plans. 

Every few days he called about a quilting class. Or cards. Or dancing. Or dinner.  

I was living vicariously through Lloyd, Randy, and Brenda. Then today, Gilly called about cards, (after Lloyd called about a quilting class). Always from Lloyd's phone.  

As I was updating my notes in  Lloyd's contact information, Lloyd called again. I felt bad, and by this point I was pretty confident he was not a scammer. 

So I answered.

And the conversation went like this:

Me: "Hello."

Lloyd: "Hey girl."

Me: "I'm not who you think I am."

Lloyd: "You're not Brenda?"

Me: "No. I felt bad in case Brenda is getting into trouble for never calling you and Gilly back, but please don't be mad at her. In her defense, she hasn't  been getting your messages."

Lloyd: "She has said that a time or two." 

Me: "She's telling the truth. I think you Lloyd, Randy, and Gilly, and Brenda too, are all my kind of people--you like to do a lot of the same things I like, and you sound like a lot of fun...but I'm not Brenda. I've been receiving her messages for some time now."

Llyod: "I'm so sorry. I've been calling a number on my phone." 

Me: "Yes. Mine.  Not Brenda's--but don't feel bad, Randy and Gilly have called me too. From your phone." 

We laughed. Said our goodbyes. And hung up. 

I'm kind of sad. I hope Lloyd, Gilly, Randy, and  Brenda call from time to time to update me on the newest class they are taking.  

And the winner of the card games. 

I'm secretly pulling for Brenda. ♠️♥️♦️♣️😉

It's a Thing?!

Who knew eating while exercising was a legit way to get your steps in?  

I thought the bad of the one would cancel out the good of the other. In fact, I wouldn't have believed you if you had told me it was legit. 

At least not until I saw it with my own two eyes.

Two turns from a state highway I spied them: two  middle-aged women decked out in workout clothes--not just athleisure wear--they were not just out for an afternoon stroll in the 'hood.  They turned off the state highway into the neighborhood.  They wore full-blown, "we're serious about our health," head to foot , honest-to-goodness, gym-worthy,  workout gear. 

They both carried food.  Or at least food containers.  I'm pretty sure the food inside the containers was not rabbit food. Or food they were taking to a shut-in, or under-the-weather neighbor.  For those kinds of food deliveries you wear your Sunday Best. But not your Funeral Black--that is saved for formal funeral occassions, such as Church held viewings and actual funeral services. 

One woman carried an unidentifiable box. I'm not sure why my mind went immediately to brownies, but it did. Maybe it was the loving and overprotective basket she made out of her arms. Or maybe she watched football and knew to protect her precious cargo, lest it be stripped from her arms and stolen.  

The other woman munched  as she walked and talked.  I don't know for a fact what she was eating, but her hand was inside a rumpled family sized bag of chips.  The chips were the brand "so good you can't eat just one," according to their ad man. I personally prefer thicker cut chips with ridges myself, but when that "can't eat just one" ad came out during my childhood, it was the only brand I recall ever eating. And they were right, I couldn't eat just one. But unlike this woman, I hid my weakness inside, rather than parading it around the neighborhood. 

Okay, maybe I shouldn't be so judgy. It could be her decoy bag, her 30-mile reward bag, or her recycle bag holding her cut veggies--I use empty food containers for snacks, leftovers, and work lunches all the time. 

Just because you see me eating from a tub marked Bluebell, doesn't mean I'm actually eating the best icecream ever made.  

Not while I'm walking around the neighborhood anyway. 

However, I'll make the sacrifice...I'll give munching as I walk a try--if only to test the theory that it will increase my step count.

All to further The Science.  😉