Tidbits #2

This week's winner for most annoying event goes to the lazy asshole at the hardware store who couldn't get off his duff to come over and actually help a customer. I'm standing in the plumbing aisle looking at these $10 kits for faucets thinking, "I was just figuring on buying a washer for the leaky faucet." As I'm pondering this and letting my eyes scan the entire wall for just washers, a kid from the yard walks by and asks if I need help. When I explain my confusion, he tells me that he's not familiar, but will get someone who can help me. Now, six feet from me I can hear this kid telling the wizard sitting on a stool behind a counter what I'm looking for. Rather than get up from his comfy perch, he just yells over to me that I'll need to know my faucet brand, then I can just use the chart by the stacked drawers full of washers. I quite seriously considered yelling back to him, "Are you fat???"

Let's just say that I won't be going in there again anytime soon. I'm going back to the friendly little corner hardware store that has the oldtimers and less convenient parking, thankyouverymuch.

My guilt trip for the week happened on Wednesday afternoon when my mom stopped by to say hello and pick up a dinner treat I made for her and my stepdad. Bear in mind that my mom sometimes get information she really shouldn't have courtesy of a coworker of mine at the restaurant who also moonlights as a housekeeper at my mom's workplace at a retreat center. And it's really not a secret that I'm trying to write more these days. But let me digress just a little and tell you that despite what I told you in a previous blog, I've been rather careful about who has the url to my meanderings. I have not shared it with anyone I work with because that would take away my freedom to rant and rail against "my" establishment and those housed therein. I have not given it to friends who might pick and poke at my embellishment tactics because, well....I wouldn't be able to ad lib like I do sometimes without someone calling me on the table for not presenting just the facts ma'am. And I sure as hell am not sharing it with my family, for if I did, I would feel awkward and aware of every small thing I divulge about my stupid life.

So when my mother asked me if I was sending my writing to anyone these days, I glazed over it with a "I'm just trying to write more regularly right now." But there was a look. It swept across her face for one brief second while she absorbed the blow of my not sharing my grave visit publication with her. I'll admit it made me a little sad for a moment. Only for a moment though, because the wave of guilt over the lying by omission that crashed over me after that made me step up and gasp for air. I immediately went about printing off my "Oh Marley" post for her to take along with the homemade grape jelly, beef stew, baking powder biscuits, and Tollhouse bars. Anything to avert the discussion of me being published! I guess it seems harsh that I've chosen not to share my published piece with my mom. Maybe it is. However, discussion about my father has never been an open forum, and I confront some of those demons in my journey to my father. I don't want to bare that much of myself to the woman who gave me life. I don't want her to have to accept that I know why my father died in our garage three weeks before my fifth birthday. And I don't want her to misconstrue my words about her.

So it's complicated, you see? And she's my hero so I can't disappoint her. I think if she "heard" the story from me it would hurt her. I'm guilty as charged, but only because I'm trying to protect her and me, and our relationship. And hey, ya know what? Maybe I'm being a little selfish too because I don't want to share my dad with her. I guess it doesn't matter. It was a deluxe guilt trip, complete with first class accomodations here in my head.

I had a great compliment this week when someone shared with me that another person asked him to describe me. He said he'd like my opinion on how he did. He told the person that I was "a big person in a little body." I think I like that.

I had a kind deed done unto me by a couple who waited and watched as I put air in my tires at the gas station. The wind blew one of the little caps away because I didn't hang onto it while I struggled with the hose, pressure guage, and awkward position of the tire stem. Though I did a quick search of the area, I couldn't find it. I pulled over to fill up my car and as I was getting out, the woman from the minivan came over and presented me with the little black cap, proudly announcing, "We found it!" I laughed and gave her a nod of appreciation. It's nice that strangers still help strangers sometimes, isn't it?

I watched the movie "Flight 93" this week. It was poignant. The movie makers did a great job of putting us in those seats with the passengers. I think it's good to reflect on the precariousness of our existence. I realized that the one person I would probably want to call is someone I wouldn't be able to call if I didn't have my cell phonebook available. How pathetic. I will memorize that number by the end of the weekend. We need to be more aware that the current goodbye we are delivering may well be the last goodbye we get.

I watched people greeting arrivals a few months ago at an airport. I was appalled at the disregard I witnessed. Obvious couples grunted and glanced at one another, almost angrily. If I ever get that indifferent to the people I claim to love more than anyone, please shoot me. How sad it made me to watch these families coming back together with such disinterest in one another.

I'm taking Sunday for a day away with friends! House of Blues and Chicago style pizza are on the agenda. It's a good way to start the week, don't you think?