Way-back machine #2

My father mentioned raking leaves in one of his recent emails and I thought, I have a picture to go with that. (Hope you don't mind me using you, Pa)
" Just reminiscing about the old days - we'd rake up a big pile of leaves and the kids would play in it for hours! So did we, now and then! No need for Ipods and Blackberries and Game Boys! And much less expensive and simpler, and just plain fun!"

That is an uncle with me in our front yard.  A yard filled with oak trees which provided many, many leaves to rake and play with, and best of all, burn! Yes, the good old days when no one knew about the ozone layer and everyone burned their little piles of leaves on the gravel driveways.  My father was in charge, but we got to push the edge leaves in further and let them catch on fire.  I don't remember ever being in charge of a fire, but maybe the younger kids got to do that later on, when they were the only ones home.

I do remember my brother had the chore of burning the trash out back (another thing everyone we knew did back then) until the day he somehow set the backyard on fire. Not a big fire, just a little more than he could quickly douse before being noticed.  

I miss the smell of burning leaves in the fall- the crisp days and bright colors just don't seem complete without that sweet aroma. We do have the smell of woodsmoke in the air since several neighbors heat with wood, and that's nice, but it's not the same.

Mr Crazy sings- or not

I've mentioned before my constant desire to burst into song + my tone deafness = keeping my singing private. A few days ago I was once again lamenting my lack of talent, when J kindly told me I sounded fine. In reply to my raised eyebrow, he said he hears me in the shower and it's not bad.  Maybe, I do sound better in the shower because I'm not worrying about inflicting my dulcet tones on others. Maybe I shouldn't be so self-conscious and dare to sing aloud.  Maybe I better remember J's hearing loss.

This morning, after a fine rendition of "It's a small world, after all" I realized I have never heard J sing in the shower. 32 years and the man has never sung in the shower?

"J, how come you don't sing or whistle? "
"I listen to music, I don't sing it"*

Later, as we drive by an organic beef farm, I point out two little baby calves. As I fondly think how endearing wobbly baby creatures are, and check out the lambs in the next field, I hear: "I haven't had veal parmigiana in a long time".

I look at him and Mr Crazy says with dignity "I don't sing, I ponder."



*However, he has been known to sing at parties 

Back to work

This was it- the end of my 6 month vacation from work. I had 6 hours of refresher training tonight and 6 more Friday, during which I will take live calls. Yikes.

I am going back to the same workplace for the seasonal ramp-up, but taking order calls, at least at first. My job used to be taking internal calls from reps, and the escalated customer calls. At first I thought, no way will I ever go back to the old days, but as it grew closer and closer to spending 6 or 8 hours at a time taking order after order, I caved.  When I was asked to go back to the research job, I said yes, but it will be 3 weeks or so before I change over.

 I was pretty relieved when I was able to remember how to place an order - I mean of course I can take the information and by golly, it will be accurate, but there is a mandatory call flow to maximize the time/cost ratio and I worry about that. But, since I am scheduled for just 4 shifts before I switch over, I should make it okay. I would hate to not do the job well. Seriously. I don't want someone telling me I did it wrong. And have to be gracious about it and thank them for the constructive criticism.

Since I told them I had no restrictions as to days or times, my schedules are all over the place, ranging from starting at 2pm to 7:30 pm. Which means my end times are 8pm to 1:30. Another plus to changing from order taking- I will have a more set schedule.   It was strange driving home at 11 tonight- I haven't been out that late in a long time. I've been up, just not out.

And then, adrenaline rush at the train crossing! The back road I take runs parallel to the tracks for a mile or so, then crosses it. Sometimes the freight trains stop there to pick up or leave cars at the siding, which can really mess up the timing of my drive to work. I don't usually leave much margin for error, and sitting there for 5 minutes is not good.

What is equally annoying is sitting there at 11:30 at night and watching the train go by slowly, slowly and praying that the last car will come into sight. Then, just as you watch the car get to the crossing, the entire train shudders to a stop, groans and starts backing up! It is 8 minutes to my house from there. If I turn around and go the long way around to town to get home, it takes closer to 15 or 20 minutes. I sit there and watch the clock, trying to decide when it would have been the ideal time to detour.

So, I drove down that road tonight and saw the train was moving, but couldn't tell for sure in the darkness which direction it was going. As I pulled closer, I saw the giant headlight pointing the same way as I was, and sped up a little. Could I get to the crossing before the train? And how far ahead of it? There is a flashing light but no rail that drops down, so no barrier to driving except common sense, or the train itself.

It turned out that it was almost stopped a good 200 feet or so from the road and the warning lights were not flashing, so I cruised over the tracks safely. Still gives you a jolt though when you see that big light shining straight at you as you cross its path.
That's as close as I get to being a daredevil.

He'd die without me

My husband loves to watch movies: war movies, scary ones, zombies, ninjas, spies and stupid giant anaconda movies. You'd think he would get useful tips from all of these, but no. He would be fated to be one of the folks that get killed by the vampire/psycho/backwoods mad scientist, because he NEVER looks behind him.

When he gets up from the table, he's done. Not talking dinner time when we both clear up afterward, but when he has a snack or fixes his own, he can happily abandon the bowl and the parmesan cheese sitting on the table, waiting for Rosie to slide her nose over to grab them.

He can walk out of the bathroom, and ignore the puddle of water on the floor that I step into.  He has no idea how it gets there. "Did you forget your towel and have to grab one around the corner?" Nope . "Did you grab a razor? Open the curtain for any reason with the water on?"  Nope.  It's there because he doesn't make sure the curtain is flat against the wall. Behind him.

Trims his mustache and lets the little hairs fall where they may. Leaves his slippers in the living room with two crazy dogs.  You get the idea.

So, if a homicidal alien came to town, J would never see it coming. He'd be that person with his back to the door, crossing the room to close the shades and getting zapped. "Did you hear that funny slurping sound as you left the room?" Nope.
Of course not, it was behind him.

And if he keeps walking faster than me in parking lots, he won't have to wait for a homicidal alien to get him.  Just saying, it gets annoying.


(Of course he does his own laundry, including ironing, cooks at least half of our meals and feeds the hens, but for the purposes of this post- none of that matters)