Friday, April 23, 2010

“Wax On, Wax Off, Annie-son”

Just for reference sake, I am Annie – hence…you get it. Anyway, in the world of secretaries, you can be asked to do some pretty "servant-type" things from picking up someone’s laundry to making sure their cup of Starbucks (no offense, Ashley! LOL!) is waiting just how they order it to paying their personal bills. But, thankfully, never have I been subjected to such crappy scenarios. What I have found myself in the middle of are circumstances in which I look around and just shake my head and simply ask, “What am I doing holding this lamb?”


In this episode, we find the lowly, meek secretary, Annie, in the middle of assisting in preparation for the Christmas program “A Mayberry Christmas”. The program has grown in local popularity over the last few years, and after last year’s hiatus, has made a comeback due to popular demand. The program quickly becomes a machine of phone calls, meetings, script re-writes, prop preparation/ordering, lighting/sound programming, set building, casting, choir, cast and orchestra rehearsals, promotional items/advertising, and those “other various duties” that has been aforementioned. Of course, Annie is not involved in every aspect of the machine, but she never knows when she might be asked to step in and, as is the fine duty of the common secretary, assist when needed (save the universe).

Busily typing away at her computer, Annie looks up to see her boss come rushing into her office with a look of panic (OK – taking some dramatic liberties here). “Annie, I need you to do something, if you don’t mind!” At-Your-Service Annie jumps to her feet with a dutiful, “Yes Sir.” (A little too dramatic? I’ll back off just a bit.) Her boss goes on to explain that another organization has generously allowed us to borrow somewhere close to 80 or so headsets (little FM radio thingys that allow a group of people to all tune to the same frequency acting as little monitors in order to record vocal tracks…I think) and they all need battery checks and ear bud cleaning. (With a slight head turn…) “An ear what?” Annie asks. “The head sets need to all be wiped down with alcohol or whatever you can find to sterilize them. Do you mind?” Realizing that jobs are scarce and she would like to keep hers (in order to hide her super hero identity), Annie answers, “Sure. I’ll get right on that.”

Finding the large container full of headsets and realizing that she does not have enough batteries with which to replace the MANY inoperable ones, Annie dashes to the local Walmart to purchase an adequate supply of AA batteries. Upon returning to the office, she notices the lights off and a door left eerily half opened. She slowly approaches the door to find……(oh, sorry, had to do that, couldn’t resist)! Ok, upon her return, and realizing that she only has an hour or so to work on the headsets (because of course we don’t plan ahead and they must be used TONIGHT in a recording session – high drama), Annie retrieves a bottle of alcohol, some cotton balls, and a pair of very old plastic gloves from the office kitchen first aide kit (no joke, cause ya never know when you may need that flair that's in there) and runs back to begin the task of sterilizing the headsets (she is accompanied by a seemingly sweet older lady who has agreed to help-seacret arch-enemy disguise?  Nah, not this time.  No, seriously, a really sweet older lady did offer to help – did more talkin’ than work – but she was a sweetie.) No big deal right, just clean a couple (160 – OMW!) ear pieces and switch out some batteries. Ha! She does this kind of thing in her dreams before her alarm goes off in the morning! She’s got this!

An hour later, 160 ear buds and about 40 batteries later, she realizes just how GROSS THIS REALLY WAS, THANK YOU!!! Ummm…snap to reality here! I just got asked to sort through these things, not realizing that the cords would be all tangled up, etc., and…I JUST GOT ASKED TO CLEAN OTHER PEOPLES’ EAR WAX OFF OF A BUNCH OF THINGYS THEY’VE RAMMED DOWN IN THEIR EARS! UUUUggggggg!!!

Let’s just say that the beautiful, oh wait, I meant dutiful (still in the creative liberty mode there) Annie came across a chunk or two and some sticky stuff along the way. Yep, no glamour there, but …she still has her job and her identity. And it was a service to the wonderful people who did make the program an amazing, enjoyable event. (I guess I didn’t mind getting a little “waxy” with it for a greater good – but this OCD heroine narrowly escaped the evil, slimy clutches of the “Wax Warlock.”)


Join us Monday as we hear our heroine Annie as she asks, “You need woofle ball bats and moss for what?”

Thursday, April 22, 2010

Update on the Mother to Son Talk

I've received lots of really good advice and I appreciate every bit of it, guys!  I just couldn't resist updating you on the origins of the conversation where my son decided that he was ready for the "s - -" talk and the progress made so far.

Cooking supper one night, I overheard my son and daughter as they were discussing school, friends, etc.  My son shot his opinion out of how stupid something was and then commented that one of his friends had kissed a girl...RIGHT ON THE MOUTH!  I said, "Eewww!" and he said, "Well, you and daddy kissed before!"

Somehow the conversation TOO quickly turned to "He just kissed her, Mom.  It wasn't S-E-X!"  I just laughed and of course we know the next question..."What is sex anyway?"  (Ok - laughed too soon, and now it has been replaced by an awkward giggle)  Now, in the last couple of months, my son has made various comments and asked vague questions.   Occasionally, he will remark, "That's about sex, isn't it?" (regarding a Cialas (spelling?) commercial that he hates; or, one of my favorites is when he whispers (because he realizes that at 10 he is mature enough to say it, but at 8, his sister is too young to hear the word) "Are they having sex?"  Suddenly, he informed me that ALL the guys at school already know about it - they talk about it.

I, instinctively, turned 5 shades and swallowed my stomach after realizing that the drum beats in my head were my heart and not some cool Seether song playing in my mind.  The rest of the conversation went a little like this:
"Oh, me." (Mom)
"What!" (son)
"Well, what exactly do your friends SAY about it and where do they get their information?"
"I don't know!  They talked to their parents."
"Oh!  Well..."
"Mom, we've already had the sperm and the egg talk - don't you remember!?"
"Well, yes, but what else do you ...well...ok...oh me."
"Mom, we're WAY behind, here."
"OH!"
"Ok, well, I guess when you get ready...I mean...when do you want to discuss this?"
"I guess now."
"Well...I'm cooking supper, but, well...ummmm."
"Nah, mom, let's just wait 'til this weekend.  Besides, we're fixin' (have I mentioned we're in the South) to eat...and I'm already a little nauseous!"
"OK!  Me too, son."

NO JOKE!  What a classic!  Leave it to the kid!  Love 'em both!!!
Needless to say, we have not yet had "the talk".  The kids are going to their dad's this weekend, so time for me to spend some an afternoon in the bookstore with my head pulled into a book praying no one sees me or asks me if I need any help!  Money that they do!  I do have a jacket I could wear with a hood I could pull over my head...too much, you think?  Who knows, I'm sure I'll learn something this weekend, myself!

My So-called Secretary Life

Long story short (yeah, right!), I’ve worked at my current place of employment 3 separate times in the last 10 years. Am I one of those hot-heads that can’t keep a job, a mid-lifer criser who is desperate for change, or a flighty employee who’s never satisfied so they move from one job to another? No – and if I tried to explain, it would only look like I’m trying to pass some buck that I don’t care to carry, SO…we won’t go into that (unless you all comment and BEG me to do so…arms can be twisted but only so far, ok?).


The first stint was back in 2000 after my first child was born. My title was “Music Secretary”. I was satisfied enough with my job, filing music, pulling music, copying stuff, more filing, preparing music for the orchestra/band/choir, and other various duties (ha, she said duties – sorry, my kids are into it so I had to drop to juvenile level for just a moment), and did I mention – filing. I had a couple of chiefs at the time to whom I answered. Liked the job, no problems really, but quit after my second child was born to attempt being a "stay at home mom".

The second stint was about 3 or 4 years later. I needed a part time job and they were gracious enough to mention to me that they could use a part time secretary. Title this time – Secretary of Outreach and Administration (and yes, for you English snobs – I realize that’s a sentence fragment – grammar schmammar!). I had a character of a gentleman for a boss, but we got along wonderfully and I grew to see him as a father figure (a very high-strung father figure). Responsibilities included gathering area maps, marking them for “visitation”, entering individual’s information into a database, updating this information, editing and updating a personnel manual (that is still under continual, eternal evolution), and again, various other duties as assigned. I was able to move from this job into one that I hoped to have for a while in hopes of “get my foot in the door” to a teaching career.

So here we are, third stint, and as you can guess, never achieved the career in teaching. However, I am here again, this time, as music assistant (whatever the “politically correct” title is – I’m happy with “music secretary”). Once again, I have a similar job description as before with a couple of additions and, of course, those “various other duties.”  It has been my experience that these “various duties” in the past have been pretty predictable and mundane. Contrarily, my current boss is proving to be, shall we say, a little on the UNpredictable side. Let’s see…shall we glimpse into the world that has become my secretarial adventure? Yes…let us prepare for the adventure...tomorrow. 

I did the chapter and/or Title thing with the “Food Oddities”, so this time, I will write in a series of, shall we say, “short stories”. Since I’ve already gotten a little long-winded (WHAT? ME?), I’ll just start tomorrow with my few little tid bits. (Long story short? No such thing with the bloodline from which I sprang!)

Tuesday, April 20, 2010

Mom...let's have the "S - -" talk

Agggggggggg!!!  Why does this always happen to me!  My son - age 10 - has decided that he is ready for "The Talk".  I will blog on this later - but please feel free to laugh your head off until you hear from me later!  Yeah - laugh now - cause I may be asking advice - you just have no idea!  Me, Lily?  Trying to explain the birds and bees - why in the heck did they ever even call it that in the first place?!  Any explanations? 

hhheeeeelllp meeeee............(spoken in a desperate hushed tone)

Wednesday, April 14, 2010

No Way! There's a Chapter 3?! (The Final Chapter)

“Alright, Let’s Take This One Food at a Time”: This has become less and less of a problem for me, but I mention it here just for the sake of showing how much improvement I have made over the years. I used to eat one thing at a time on my plate and work my way around. Occasionally, I inadvertently revert back to this habit. I would start with my least favorite item, saving the most coveted victuals for last. I no longer do this because I have learned the art of actually trying to enjoy a complete meal (not mixed, mind you, I do try to cleanse my palate before the next food is consumed) to decide which one I like best. Oh, no, maybe I do this so I can decide which one I’m going to eat last…maybe I haven’t really escaped it entirely! Oh well, it’s my food and I’ll eat it how and when I want to!



“Grease Monkey”: I may embarrass myself and others when eating pizza in that I don’t care where I am, I will take a napkin and dab the excess grease from my pizza. This habit is becoming less common because I’m finding it harder to eat pizza in my "elder, more hormonal years". I love it – but it don’t like me! The thought of putting that grease into my body is like running up to an Express Lube and asking to lick the pan. (Hasn’t stop me from consuming a funnel cake or two, however.)


“Seasoned or Waffle Fries with That, Ma-am?”: I’m a prejudice fry eater. I’m sorry…but I will not eat any fry that does not meet my credentials for perfection. I stop short of interviews, but I check them over with the fervor of a judge on Next Top Model. If they’re too crispy…NO! If they are too mushy…NO! If they have any discoloration…NO! Too much salt…NO! Too greasy…NO! Not goowd enough! I vhill nowt eat you! Go avay!



“Hold the Mayo Yeah, That's It… Just Keep Holding It”: I can detect mayo like a blood hound picks up a scent. I am proud to say that I have made great strides concerning this aversion also. I would never have put the stuff near my mouth three or four years ago. I’m not even sure as to what made me actually taste something that contained it, but today, I am able to eat SOME potato salads, SOME chicken salads, and spinach dip if it is not solely mayo based. But that’s it…not stickin’ my toe too far into that pool.

“Even Distribution of Goods”: This could actually be an addendum to the Meat Inspector, but it deserves to be on it’s on because of the story here-to-follow. When I am eating my sandwich or burger or any food for that matter, it all has to “look” right. It has to be evenly distributed. Just the right amount of meat to just the right amount of bread and a reasonable amount of condiment to flavor; just the perfect amount of cheese on that noodle in mac-n-cheese; the loaded mashed potatoes must have just the appropriate amount of cheese, bacon, etc to be considered worthy. If there happens to be too much bread, I’ll pinch it off and put it aside. If there’s too much meat, I take a bite of bread to even it out. If there’s too much mustard, ketchup, etc., well, that just gets wiped off. This oddity has even led me to a "cat fight" in the office with a fellow co-worker. After running to a nearby McDonald’s and getting two cheeseburgers, I returned to work and was joined by my friend in my office. After watching me eat for a minute or two, she asked me what I had gotten at McDonald’s. I told her and she remarked, “You should’ve just gotten a double cheeseburger meal!” I explained that I don’t like that big of a burger – it was too much meat and not enough bread. She then snarked back, “That’s just crazy! All you have to do is take the top off of one of the burgers you have and put them together and you have the same thing!” “But if I had wanted that, I would have ordered that!” I retorted. She continued to chide me about how stupid that was, and I held my ground on the fact that it was my taste buds and I would please them however I wanted!

OK – so I have food issues! I have heard it all from, “You don’t know what you’re missing!” to “You are so particular!” to “That’s just plain weird.” My mom was a great cook, one of those good Southern cooks – you know, the one who cooks good ol’ comfort foods. Chicken and dumplins – yuck; peas and cornbread – sickening; homemade vegetable or beef soup or gumbo – eeeewww; and biscuits and gravy – no way! How in the world did I manage to make it to the ripe old age of 36 and not suffer from severe malnutrition? How could I have managed to live in a household full of awesome foods and with such a great cook and not have a well-rounded appreciation for all things culinary? I pretty much survived off of hamburgers, chicken, peanut butter (thank God He spared me that one), jelly or ham sandwiches, pizza (greaseless, mind you), and spaghetti. Is it OCD, a habit conditionally formed from childhood, or just me being me…whatever the case, I don’t need an intervention. I have learned to eat a casserole (only certain ones), stomach mayonnaise (if hidden with enough disguises), and to mix it up on occasion by eating one or two bites of one thing and then one or two of another (after a palate cleanse). Why, I’ve even learned to try different foods if I find myself in a particularly brave and carefree mood. Who knows, I might even take a bite of my burger this week without looking at it, but let’s not get too crazy! So strange eaters unite! Let me know that I’m not alone in this savior faire of sustenance. And I will end on this note…VegAll is from Satan! No offense to the fans of this canned catastrophe, but I'll never be convinced otherwise on this one!

Tuesday, April 13, 2010

Chapter 2: There's More?

“Beans, Beans, They’re Good for Your Heart; the More You Eat ‘Em the More Your Gag Reflex Kicks In”: This was one of the reasons I included the preface of the allergies, having to watch out for those beans. But I always assumed that it was only green beans, because, unfailingly, Mom and Dad would try to get me to eat blackeyed peas, pinto beans, etc. Some may want to blame my aversion on another culprit – a horrific babysitter. I stayed only a couple of times (thank heavens, or, I am convinced I would have shriveled and died from starvation) with this notorious sitter. She always had stuff that I found unappetizing for lunch: once, it was butterbeans – who feeds kids BUTTERBEANS FOR LUNCH!!?? (Can you detect a hint of bitterness? I have since forgiven, but I shall neva’ forget!) This babysitter insisted that we clean our plates before we could go out to play. Needless to say, you guessed it – I sat there, and yeah, I tried, but nope, they didn’t go down. I don’t know if I fell asleep or if I swooned from the trauma – all I remember is that I didn’t get to go out to play, and the beans were still on my plate when Mom came to get me! You may be thinking, "Dadburn (and I know that's the very word you are thinking), she’s stubborn. No, my friend, I just simply couldn’t get them down. I have a feeling that my plate would have been clean but I would’ve had a floor to clean up – neither way would I have gotten to go outside to play, so better to just sit that one out!  Better beans on a plate than in the floor, I say.  Yet again, a consistency thing. I’ve tried many beans, so it’s not for lack of trying! I begin to chew them and they grow. They have this mushy texture that immediately induces a gag reflex. They just won’t go down!  IRONICALLY, guess what bean I can stomach and, in fact, love...GREEN ONES!!!  Only green beans, because they are crunchy and I love the taste.  If the bean is outside the shell though, I will eat around those.  I love the crunchy, stir fried green beans at one of the local Chinese resturants.  Mental, I know!


“The Meat Inspector” (Or, “Inspector Gag-it”, sorry, that was bad.):  I have this compulsive habit of inspecting all meat before it can be put into my mouth. I look at a sandwich or burger; I note the distribution of bread, condiments, meat…I then determine where I will take my first bite. The bite that looks the best (differing with each burger or sandwich) is the one I, thereupon, consume. All subsequent bites follow same protocol. Any gristle, fat or “funny” looking meat will be removed and properly disposed. Steaks, grilled chicken, chicken strips or any other piece of meat will follow a similar inspection. NO gristle or fat is to be consumed if at all possible. Why? Am I watching my fat intake, cutting down on triglycerides? Again, I echo the answer…texture & taste – I just can’t stand the taste or the way it feels in the mouth. You picking up on the pattern here?

“Save the Last Bite for …No one”: This is probably one of my strangest habits. I cannot eat the last bite of something. I don’t have a clue as to why. I look at it and all of a sudden I am full. I cannot ingest it… I must put it down!  "Maaaam, put down the bite and step away."

“That’s So Touching…and It Shouldn’t Be”:  Certain foods absolutely cannot co-exist or merge on a plate – they cannot touch. Now this can get complicated and has many conditional factors. If I am at home or in a familiar, relaxed environment, and I notice that any food is touching, I will separate it. If any “juice” from one food has crept over into/onto another, then an immediate “cleanup” is initiated (a napkin grabbed and juice and food cleaned/dried) until all food is safe, UNLESS, the juice or sauce has found its way onto a bread item or fry. In that case, the bread or fry that has been contaminated will be “pinched off” and cannot be consumed. If I should find myself in a proper setting or with individuals with whom I am unfamiliar, I will not go to such unsightly lengths. I will, instead, simply avoid eating any of the items that have been touching. Don’t be surprised to find little “walls” or remnants of food that have served as barricades by touching one another. They have sacrificed themselves for the good of the whole (that phrase just made me snicker..uh-hum, sorry.) For example, if macaroni and cheese is touching a green bean or two, then the beans that have noodles or cheese touching them (no matter the amount) will not be eaten and vice versa. I was actually sickened once as I watched my brother mix three different cereals and eat them. They were all presweetened and probably all tasted the same, but YOU JUST DON’T MIX THINGS! I had to leave the room…the inhumanity!

Well, I'm getting close to the bottom of the list and will try to wrap things up tomorrow.  More?  Oh yes, there's more.  Hope to see you tomorrow!  And...thank you to all those who have shared your own stories - I knew I wasn't alone!  Thanks for the comforting affirmations!

Monday, April 12, 2010

Chapter 1: Strange Eating Habits of the Old and the Skarky

Ok, so I eluded earlier in one of my posts that I have been viewed as strange and chided for some of my strange eating habits. I hold strong to the belief that I am not alone in my oddities. So I make this plea:  If you know someone or ARE someone who shares any of the habits I am about to relate, please realize that it is we who are NORMAL and not the rest of the world. STRANGE EATERS UNITE!


Let me preface by saying that I was allergic to an array of substances when I was young. Now, I’m not talking your everyday peanut allergy or lactose intolerance…no I was allergic to things like…well, let’s just list a few…pollen, dust, any kind of fur or animal dander (ok, those are fairly normal), trees, clover, grasses, milk (not the lactose – just MILK), orange juice (oranges), green beans (GREEN BEANS ! – who’s allergic to just one type of bean!?), and the one that gave me the #1 most agonizing grief of all – CHOCOLATE! C’mon. Why, Lord? Chocolate, really!?

I mention the allergies so that we may have some basis on which to hinge some of my habits - the fact that I was unable to eat certain things and was almost forced to be so particular will hopefully prove that I ain’t all that strange or at least have a pretty darn good reason to be, anyway. I’ve struggled with how to list my oddities, maybe do a top 10 thing or what have you, but Letterman has the monopoly on that, so we’ll try listing by title.  The list grew as I was compiling so I will try to make it a little more easy to read by ripping it into chapters.  Hang on, here we go:

“It’s a Texture Thing”: I’ve heard quite a few individuals complain about the textures of foods, so already, I’m ok with this one. Some won’t eat coconut, pineapple, certain veggies, etc. because of the texture. My certain texture issue is with all things mushy. I have no idea how I got through infancy with the aversion of creamy textures. Think about it – everything you eat or drink is basically smooth, creamy, and pureed to a pulpless mush! Gag…spewt…ugaaaag. Sorry – just the thought even…! I would not eat casseroles, mashed potatoes, creamed soups, sandwiches with any condiments, salad dressings, or creamy desserts (aside from ice cream) until I was well into my teens and twenties. I would choke down the occasional chocolate pudding, but that was because it was CHOCOLATE, and what’s the one thing I WASN’T ALLOWED TO EAT? Yeah, I know - what a rebel!

“Chew Your Food!”: Not because it’s socially polite, not because it’s great for digestion, no – I chew AAALLLLL my food because it won’t go down a single finite measurement unless it has been chewed at least 8 or 9 times (or more). Gross, I know…weird, I know…but I even hold drinks in my mouth sometimes – should’ve used that for wine tasting, but don’t think I’d like it, besides, why do all those other tasters spit it out, right?! I have a friend who looked at me like I’d just grown a second head when I asked them if they chewed their mashed potatoes or ice cream. When I say I chew it, I really do. I’ve tried not to…but again…it won’t go down if it’s not chewed.

“Watch it Wiggle, See it Jiggle (no jokes about the thighs, guys)”: No, I do not have a jello phobia. What I DO have is a total disgust for the stuff. I don’t like how it feels or how it squishes through my teeth when I have to CHEW it. Tried just letting this one go down too…we all know the results. When I was a child, two of my nieces would take it and squish it through their teeth and then swish the liquid around in their mouth…OH GHYAAAH, the horror! I’m having a flashback…just hold on a sec! Needless to say, I CAN eat it now, but with much labor and concentration (I literally have to NOT watch or listen to anyone else eating it).

Enough for today.  The last flashback just took it all out of me!  I'll continue the oddness tomorrow...there's lots more where these came from.

Thank You, Ms. Anthropy!

I was surprised by another award, and I am embarrassed to say I'm very delayed in posting!  I want to thank Sarcastic Granny at Ms. Anthropy's for gracing me with this award.  She has a great blog, and I encourage everyone to head over and read her if you haven't already.  I am sure that most of you follow her already, but if not - she's worth the visit. 

Since I am still dabbling my toes in the waters of blogging, and since I have been introduced to many of the blogs I follow from most of you, I am going to skip the passing of the torch.  Not because I don't know of anyone worthy, but simply because, most of you have these awards already and I don't know anyone else to pass them along to - I will look though.  I will try in the following month to discover some worthy blogs (there are too many, I'm sure - I just haven't had the time to look for them!).  I hope this is ok with everyone!

 Here is Ms. Anthropy's (what a great title) blogsite:  http://sarcasticgranny.blogspot.com/.  Thank you, once again, SG!  Sorry about your empty nest - but what a sweet post and tribute to your baby girl!  Ahhhg!  I had to fight the tears! 

Thank you all for Skarken with me and allowing me to share the goofiness that is me.  Love you guys, in a bloggin' kind of way! 

PS - I will be posting about my odd eating habits this week - so maybe that will surfice for the 5 things I should list about myself.

Thursday, April 8, 2010

Brotherly Kind of Brother-in-Law

Today, I hope you'll read with a little piece of your heart.  I got a call this week from my brother-in-law.  I will try my best to lead up to why I wanted to paint for you a picture of him today...

When I was 3 years old, my sister married Rickey, my only and one-of-a-kind brother-in-law.  I can remember staying with them and playing at their house.  They bought me my first tricycle.  I kept that thing until it literally fell apart from years of taking off from the top of our hill and sailing to the bottom (Lord knows the times we were spared a thousand bloody knees and various other injuries and how many heart attacks my mom had as she peered out the back patio door!).  My brother-in-law always seemed to respect my parents, had time to spend with me, and took care of his family.  I remember him playing hide and seek with me when I would visit them.  I would hide under their little table with metal legs and a red, ball-fringed tableclothe in the living room (of course I was only 3 or 4 - but it's funny the things you remember).  I would peek out from under it and he would catch me every time!  Everyone seemed to love Rickey (and do now - if you know him, you love him).  He's always been fun-loving and goofy as all get out, but most of all, genuine.  Rickey is just...Rickey!

 My sister and brother-in-law sacrificed a lot so that she could return to college later in life and pursue her degree in speech pathology.  When it came time for them to move away so that she could finish her bachelors, Rickey stayed behind to work, living with us and visiting his family when possible.  He tried to drive the long drive to visit with them more often during his work week, but after a pretty bad sleeping-at-the-wheel episode or two (and my sister and mom on his head), he decided it was just too risky and only went when rested.  I can imagine this must have been hard for him due to, not only the fact that he loved my sister, but that they had two young girls at the time. 

During his stay with us, Rickey instilled in me a love for 3 things - baseball, Moon Pies, and RC colas!  I was a teen at the time and in and out a lot.  But every time I would come home from whatever romp I had been on, Rickey would pronounce my arrival with the same greeting..."HEEEY, Annie!"  Now, this was funny to me, and I never failed to get a kick out of it, and to this day - I am still greeted with this same salutation!

After this stint, my sister was able to work toward her masters and, later attain a job in Florida, where she and Rickey went on to add two more beloved daughters to their family.  They now had four girls.  In January of 1999,  my sister and two of her girls were involved in a horrific car accident.  I lost my sister in that accident, and  3 1/2 weeks later lost my 18 year old niece.  A second niece, age 2 1/2 was also involved and was almost left behind had it not been for a very observant EMT.  While my sister and I were never what you would've called "extremely close" as sisterly bonds can be described, we had a special bond created by our 18 year age difference that few share. In the years prior to her accident, we had begun to renew our relationship and were growing closer. I truely miss her...

In the ensuing days, my brother-in-law faced a literal hell that only someone in his shoes could describe.  I wouldn't even begin to imagine a pain to compare to his.  Losing not only a wife, but a daughter, and the life of another hanging in the balance.  The youngest was finally released to come home, but during the meantime, Rickey's days were morbidly consumed with planning 2 funerals, dealing with insurance, and trying to juggle a job to provide for what remained of his family.  Subsequently, he was left caring for a recovering 2 1/2 year old comforting both her and his 6 year old daughter.  My brother-in-law never gave in to the temptation to lay down and quit!  He never pridefully resisted others attempts to help, but at the same time, never took advantage of any pity. 

Last year, I got a call from Rickey.  This time, the "Hey, Annie" had lost a little of it's enthusiasm, but was still spoken with the love it always had been.  Rickey was calling to let me know that he had been in a lot of pain and had made an appointment to see a doctor...the resulting news...he had cancer...Non Hodgkins Lymphoma.  He was still upbeat and ready to face what was ahead.  After chemo and many trying days, he got an "ok" to stop treatments and come back for check ups in the following months.  This chapter ended nicely and he and his family were able to enjoy Christmas.  (Rickey married a wonderful lady a couple of years ago who has served as an awesome mother to his two youngest and a good friend to me.  Funny...but when I speak of them, I call them my brother-in-law and my sister-in-law!  She is very much at his side though whatever life brings them.)

As I said when I started this post, I got another call from Rickey this week...his cancer is back.  Not what anyone wants to hear, but somehow, this kind of news just isn't right for a man like my brother-in-law.  We always reflect on the same question when things like this happen to someone who is so undeserving..."Why him or her?"  I don't know if Rickey has ever asked this question, himself.  But I can tell you that at the end of our conversations, he realizes the severity of his condition or situation at hand but is always thinking of someone else or claims, "It could be so much worse."  Rickey, you truely are a unique and very much loved individual.  Always remember...as my parents used to acknowledge..."there will never be another man like Rickey!"  My kids and I are very lucky to have you in our lives!  We're thinking about you guys and praying for you.  Love you, brother.

Monday, April 5, 2010

Postal Pals



How can a mundane trip to the post office turn into an all out meet and greet? I am contemplating this as I currently snack on some Toy Story Cheez-its and Chips Ahoy! Candy Blast cookies– yes, the stark reality of a secretary’s life is one of glamour, philosophy, and Cheez – lots of Cheez. (Don’t be jealous.)
Back to the postal visit…I am handed an envelope by my boss and instructed to rush to the post office and make sure it gets over-nighted. (Crunch, Crunch…hey, I just ate Buzz – sorry, it’s the ADHD or whatever you call us overly thinking, creative types.) So, I dutifully head out on my errand. Arriving at the post office, I exit my car, blah, blah…fast forward to standing in line. So, I am standing in line, being anxiously observant of my turn to step to the desk for service. The line was growing behind me, and I was preceded by three fellow anxiety-ridden patrons. A voice blurts from behind, “You girls must be sisters.” What? Call me totally ignorant (heard it before), but what is your first impression when you hear those words? Who is she even talking to – is she addressing someone she has made eye contact with or just lettin’ it surface like canned biscuits fryin’ in grease (try it – just watch!)? I, along with everyone ahead of me, turn around to see this woman in knee shorts (hang on, this plays later into the story) looking and pointing out me and a lady two individuals ahead of me. Time for “first of alls”…FIRST OF ALL, we look nothing alike; SECOND OF ALL, we had nothing, seemingly, in common. We exchange glances and then begin searching for what could’ve provoked such an observation. Then came the reveal…”You both have the same wallet!” OOOHHHH! How silly of me!!! How could I have failed to notice this?! (Sarcasm duly invoked.)
Ok, dear people, I’m not really sure how carrying the same wallet could possibly parlay into a sisterhood, but somehow, this dear lady saw it without reserve. My “sister” graciously noted, “Oh! I was wondering – I thought we might’ve been dressed alike.” I was less gracious with my wonderment, “I was just standing here thinking, 'Poor soul, bless her if God gave these looks to two people!'” We all laughed and then the discourse ensured as to how “pretty” our wallets were, whether we carry one all the time, purse it sometime, or whatever, etc.
The friendly babble continued until awkwardly interjected with another random remark from our new “postal pal”, “I wear these knee pants all the time. You know, ‘cause it’s so hot where I work. That building I work in, the so-in-so building over there. I’ve worn shorts all winter!” Can we all say, RANDOM? What in the heck? Ok, having a mind that usually works about like a nat in a banana plant, I can usually deal with “random”. However, I guess my gears just didn’t shift fast enough on this one. But we all acknowledged her comment and gave our own sypathetic, but baffled head nods.
John, one of the friendly – and I do mean VERY FRIENDLY – postal workers behind the counter started spitting out funny remarks to a couple of “friends”. After a remark or two, our "postal pal" (oh yes, she did) threw her two cents into THEIR conversation, and oh my, the exchange that did take place. After an extended banter between the parties, I heard my name, “Next”. I rushed to the counter and explained my quest. Of course, there was a little paper work to be done, consequently putting me to the side while “postal pal” got called to the desk. John and Pal went at it, I didn’t realize how fun buying stamps could be, but the discussion was very entertaining! I think that by the end, John was going to pick "Pal" up in his limo and a steak supper was planned. Of course, all this was in fun, and I wish I could have remembered all the small talk so I could pass it on to you for the effect, but as “Lily” as I am, you know half of it went over my head, and I would have had to ask for far too many repeated phrases and explanations.
"Pal" finally left, exchanging her farewell with us all, and I moved over with my finished paper work. Now my turn to banter with John. Of course, I tried to hang, and did well for a minute or two, but it got to be too much work and I needed to be able to check this task off my list for the day. John saw my rush, and after we discussed why I was unable to get cable and internet, etc. in my area, and why I wouldn’t really want to go hand deliver the package I was attempting to overnight to Florida because of the gators, swamp snakes, and other critters (all his observations – thanks, John, for keeping me from that dangerous mission), he bid me good day and I was off!

OK – how did all this turn-of-events seem to happen with such the ease and conductivity of switching on a fan on a hot Southern summer day? Just that – Southern day! I guess that’s one of the things that I hate and love the most about this place called the South. As much has been joked, written, and sung about as “Carter had oats” (yeah, that one too), but it’s true. I do see the double edge to the sword: some days, I love being able to walk into a place and see at least 10 people, who, whether they know you or not, will say “hey”, smile, or wish you a good day; and some days (mostly my “make-up free” or errand days), it can be quite bothersome. But it really isn’t all that bad! I have been a few places where you look at people and, if they look your way at all, they scowl at you like they just sucked down a lemon soaked in alum – just to see one smile would’ve meant the world. So thank you, "Postal Pal" for introducing me to my long-lost wallet sister and John and the rest of the post office workers and patrons on Thomas Street!