Saturday, October 27, 2007
But then I saw an add in the local paper. A woman was advertising some openings and I called her. Thanksgiving is coming up and I have to do some travel for business and perhaps it would keep me saner if I got someone to help.
So then she came over. She has OCD which stands for Obsessive Compulsive Disorder.
She used to work in the medical industry but then decided that she should use her gift that God
has given her and cleaning just made sense.
I am wondering what I have gotten myself into. She wanted to know where all my cleaning supplies were, and materials. I showed her everything that was in my closets and cabinets so that she would know where everything went. She says she has to put things away and nothing can be on countertops (when I suggested that she just leave the cleaning supplies on the counter etc.) The beds all have to be made. Everything has got to be perfect. When she saw the cupboard where I keep rags and brushes and vacuum filters she asked if I would mind if she reorganized that. Well, sure. I do myself sometimes. And, my cupboards and pantry do look pretty disheveled at this moment in time. I usually ignore those kinds of projects till the weather turns bad.
As we walked around the house and talked she picked up paper scraps and bits off the floor. She has given me a list of special cleaning supplies and tools that she will need. I am a vinnegar and water, bleach and ammonia sort of person depending on the job. I use an old fashioned rag mop to do the floor. I like things simple and basic and without the filler (all those chemicals whose names cannot be pronounced). So now I have a list of supplies that I have to get before she starts next week. I am not sure I will be able to handle this. I really am not interested in perfection.
Today I am reorganizing my pantry and the place I keep all my cleaning supplies. I would hate to send her into a tailspin on her first visit.
Tuesday, October 23, 2007
When we were in our early twenties, my little sister was visiting me at college, and I had a friend whose parents were farmers. My friend took us over to his parents place, so we could see the woods and go for a walk. We had to cut through this pasture to get to the woods and so we had to walk through this field that had a couple of cows resident. The cows tried to stampede us, well sort of. My sister has brought this up a number of times recently. I asked her why this had such an impact and she said because cows aren't supposed to behave this way. They are supposed to be gentle and quiet and sweet, but I think she has been watching too many movies. I guess this must have been one of those traumatic, life changing experiences for her.
Now I have had some experiences with cows. This wasn't the first field I had been chased out of by a bovine. From my view, they appear rather slow and thoughtful (er stupid is probably closer to the truth), but it is possible for them to sometimes get anxious or feel threatened. Fortunately though, it has been my experience that thoughts do not come very quickly to a cow, and they usually chew on it for quite a few minutes, which gives you sometime to realize their intentions. On this particular occasion, we were in this pasture, headed to the woods: my sister, myself and my friend. My friend was distracted by the gate and had turned around. All of a sudden these two cows lunged toward us. Well they did not move that fast, but it totally startled my sister and I. The thing that got me, was not the cows coming at us, but our response to them. For my sister, I think the adrenaline kicked in and she went into survival mode. I tried to get in front of her and I swear to God, she, on the other hand, was pushing me out of the way and knocked me face first on the ground, (I'm exaggerating because i never actually fell) so she could have a clear shot at a run in the other direction. Fortunately, my friend noticed the whole thing, before the two of us trampled each other in our panic to do something. He shouted a couple of WHOA WHOA and waved his hands. This was enough to make the cows stop in their tracks and run the other direction.
My sister and I have a lot of shared experiences. We don't talk about any of this too often, and it is surprising to hear, sometimes, her perception and memory of various incident that we experienced together. For her this incident was some kind of traumatic experience, for me it was just something new I learned about my sister, and now that I think of it, the way we responded probably had more to do with the roles we had within our family.
For a long time, one of my measures of human worth based on behavior, is whether I would want to be stranded on a desert island with a person. Since this incident, I had decided that my sister was not a good candidate. I've changed my mind about that. Actually, both my sisters have been there for me recently, providing me with much needed emotional support, and just a little bit of good advice to get me through some very tough times. I have decided that I am very lucky, and very glad that they are here helping me.
Thursday, October 11, 2007
My sister's family lost their dog Tucker to old age about 6 months ago. He was part of the family for many years, and well loved by all. Recently, my niece bought this little hamster and named it Pufkin.
Tuesday, October 9, 2007
This is my friend Doreen, standing with my husband. The story behind the picture is this: she needed a car for awhile. I drive used cars. My current vehicle of choice are station wagons, and for some silly reasons, we had two. She borrowed one for about a month and then when she gave it back, she gave us a gift certificate to a restaurant. So then, when John and I used the certificate, we invited Doreen out to dinner with us, our treat. It was fun.
Doreen died this weekend. She was recovering from treatments for MDS, a precurser to Leukemia. She had a blood cord transplant three years ago, and just never got better. Before she contracted this disease, she was so lively and so much fun. There were many things I wanted to do with her, and things we had planned. I will miss her alot.
Friday, October 5, 2007
What the spotter does depends on the strategy that the team puts together; and ours was a pie shape where the baseball field was fractioned from one to five as if you had triangular wedges. My job was to call out which area the ball landed in. So I would shout a number one through five if the batter hit the ball and it went somewhere. I would name the area that it fell. And then the person in that area would scramble to get the ball, and there were rules as to whether you could run back or forward, to avoid other players.
So, about the game; we had two spotters in the field, one on the left and the other on the right side of the field. I shared the spotter position with another fellow who had a son on the team, so the other spotter was maybe in his sixties.. One time he got hit by his son, wouldn’t you know, who was young and reckless, and did not follow the rules or the plan. For Christ sake, all these guys out in the field have to handle the ball in less than seven seconds and none of them can see. I say seven seconds because that is how fast a runner can run to the base. We used to time it. The fact that everybody listens to the rules and pays attention is very important. Actually, that is why John eventually quit. This same individual wasn’t listening and went the wrong way and hit John dead on with at least 180 lbs of force and John was concerned about his face and his smile and good things like that. Ok.
Wednesday, October 3, 2007
Boy, that's what I would have said if I were having a bad day.