clearing out the new year

i've been reading around the journals, and there seems to be a "tag" thing going on where you list five strange habits.

i haven't been tagged, but i'll list mine, as one of them ties in with the subject line.  you'll know which one.

so my five strange habits are these:

1.  in the grocery store checkout line, i have to place all heavy items first.  it HAS to be that way.  first the canned goods, then heavy produce such as potatoes.  next, meats, and so forth until i get to the light items like eggs and bread.  and they have to go in the cart the same way they were bagged.  when it comes to loading them in the trunk of the car, the light items go in the back seat FIRST, then the other stuff in the trunk.

2.  nobody can load my dishes in the sink but me. the glasses go in first.  always.  i hate to see a glass that has even a hint of residue of any kind on it.

3.  i have to try on hats in stores.  they're cute.

4.  when reading a book, i always read the end first.  then i go back to the beginning and see how the author got from point a to point z.

5.  and when it comes to new beginnings, i have rituals.  when i let something go, i get rid of every trace of it, physically. 

that's not quite what i'll do with 2005.  it was both good and bad, just like life is supposed to be...but there are personal aspects of it that have to go. 

so today i'm clearing out my little room where i come to type nonsense.  i'm clearing out my email, jotting down addresses, and placing what i'd like to keep of 2005 in scrapbooks and boxes...

i'm wiping all slates clean.  if anyone in my life has a conflict with me..then it's their conflict, not mine.

and i truly don't have resolutions, but i do have goals.  and this year, i'll be my own woman as well as someone's mother, daughter, or friend.  and i won't be afraid to say what i want, or go after it.  i will, however, be careful of how i say it or go for it.  the woman i aspire to be won't hurt another human being...

this new year, i'll be who i am inside...and looking deep down, that's not such a bad person to be.  but one thing i do want is to be the person libby sees.  i hope i already am.

i tag sandi, paula, liza, bert ladybug...all of you.

HAPPY 2006!!!  Here's hopes and prayers not only for us, but for the world.

 

libby's eyes

yesterday was supposed to be carol's last day at the hospital.  she retired...but she didn't make it in that last day.  her father passed away.

tonight, the ladies of mccain made their way to a small town far away to be there for our friend.  she was glad to have us there, yes - and as bad as this might sound - we were glad to be together again, although we were far from happy about the circumstances that brought us that way.

i don't know that i've ever told you about libby.  she was the clinical social worker at the unit before she retired a year ago, and she will always be a woman i deeply admire and respect. 

i've met few women who were stalked by an ex-inmate, but libby was.  she served on a dcc hearing board and denied promotion to the man.  he never forgot...and when he was finally released, he walked up to her at her night job, told her he knew where she lived, her phone number, and how to get to her.  then he walked away.  for weeks, her husband escorted her to and from work.  they slept with one eye open, looked over their shoulders when they were awake.  shortly after that, the ex-inmate was arrested for disemboweling a woman not too far from where libby lives.  he's serving a life sentence now.

that particular experience didn't affect her work.  she was social worker, patient advocate, a compassionate, empathetic fireball unafraid to tell inmate or officer what was what and where to get off.

i'll never forget how she looked, bowing up to the officer in charge of transportation when one of her clients - a cancer patient - was told he couldn't go to his doctor's appointment because the unit was too short staffed to get him there.  she was as fierce as a she-wolf.  and she made sure her client was seen by his physician.

and i'll never forget how she came in at 5 a.m. to sit with a young man who was dying.  his family was far away, the nurses were short staffed, and he thrashed so that he fell out of bed or banged his head.  she and another woman sat by his side and kept him from falling.  they couldn't do much more than that, but libby was not about to let him die alone and without some semblance of dignity.  he was a favorite among hospital staff - had done something terrible when he was younger and under the influence of drugs that he regretted profoundly.  never a trouble maker, always accepting of his fate.  for three days, she came in early and stayed late, and we, aware of the drama occurring just one floor above us, could feel the thrum of something undefinable surround us.  i've always believed it was libby's prayers.

i wish you could see libby's eyes...they're as grey as the sea, and just as deep, as though they've seen all and know too much.  wise. solemn.  but when she smiles, it reaches those eyes and lights them in an ethereal way.

no, she isn't a saint, but she's as close to one as i'll ever come.  she was with us tonight - the first time i've seen her since her retirement.  we hugged each other and she said the same words she spoke to me on my final day at the hospital - i love you.  you're so easy to love. 

i don't think that's it...i simply believe that libby has a surplus of love, and i was fortunate enough to soak up some of the overflow.

planing for clyde's

a few weeks ago, my son asked me to go with him to a place called clyde's.

what's that?  i asked him.

he told me it's a big old barn in a town called carthage where, every tuesday night, they have bluegrass music and free food.  well, that didn't sound quite right to me - and it was so close to christmas, there wasn't time to check it out.

today, there was an article in the paper - it's true!  clyde's does exist, and the price of admission to listen to bluegrass and gospel bands is a covered dish.  can you imagine?  i had no idea what i'd been missing!  but dale knew - and he's ready to take me there.

it's amazing what's out there to do...and we never even know about it.  wow!

and now for the new year

well, christmas is over.  we've shopped til we've wanted to drop, cooked until there will be leftovers for a month, and had enough chocolate to qualify us to wear a hershey's wrapper.

it was a good christmas...i was excited about what i got for everyone, and they loved it.  i kind of reconciled with my daughter (that's a long story), and spent christmas eve in the company of a young lady who is a breath of fresh air - my son's girlfriend.  he can marry her anytime, now!

and now the new year is just around the corner, and you know what...i don't think i'll make a new year's resolution.  this year has changed and shaped me so much that...my new self has already begun, and i'm actually liking what it's doing to me.  the old is gone, and everything is new.

it don't get no better than that.

 

 

Merry Christmas Eve!

You know - shopping this year has not been quite the ordeal it has been in the past.  I'm finding that maybe - just maybe - the Christmas Spirit has found its way into Walmart, Pier 1 - definitely not in one of the bath and body shops, though.  Those women are rabid.

In Walmart the other night, I was left with a full cart and no help at the checkout.  It had been a long day, and I must have looked tired because the gentleman behind me began helping me unload my cart.  I was hurrying, I swear - so it had to have been some surge of seasonal spirit that inspired him.  Not only that, as the bags were being filled, he put them back in the cart for me!

He left me smiling - it only takes one act of kindess, no small thing, although the giver of it would protest that it was nothing, to make a person's night.  The thoughtfulness of it is all it takes...

Then, there was the gentleman at McDonald's.  My son and I walked in, and I was giggly and bubbly, and noticed an older gentleman looking at me and smiling.  He was amused, no doubt.  While my son waited for the food, I got the drinks and condiments.  It was a load, but my waitress days and wide hands serve me well. The gentleman came up to me and said - do you have that ok?  do you need some help?

and i was thinking - what a sweetie!  he reminded me of dr. h with his kind eyes and gentle smile.

and then there was the other gentleman in walmart who helped me pick out some blank cd's for my computer.  he told me about his new digital camera, and how he had waited five years to get the one he wanted.  he told me about lenses and other camera things i know nothing about, and that the difference between men and boys was the price of their toys.  so i asked him - are you a professional photographer?

he blushed, i swear, and said..no, but maybe i should have been.

i would've liked to have talked more with him, but the crowd jostled us along.

such interesting people, such kind folks out there...and that's what i'm gonna focus on.

and now, to beat the crowds and head out shopping by 5 a.m.

y'all - have a merry, merry happy christmas! 

 

..but i LIKE emerson

As long as a man stands in his own way, everything seems to be in his way.

Character is higher than intellect. A great soul will be strong to live as well to think.

Nothing can bring you peace but yourself; nothing, but the triumph of principles.

The invariable mark of wisdom is to see the miraculous in the common.

What lies behind us and what lies before us are tiny matters compared to what lies within us.

What you do speaks so loud that I cannot hear what you say.

Make the most of yourself, for that is all there is of you.

 

 

yet another story

a while back, i bought a book called, If You Can Talk, You Can Write.

Not necessarily so.

I once knew a man named Geech (not his real name, but damn, it sure did suit him) who could talk up a blue streak, but he couldn’t write. Nor could he read. I met Geech long before my restaurant days. He was one of Dad’s white lightning henchmen. He, along with Big Freddie, Son, and Robert McCrimmon, were around the house during hog killing season and liquor making season. Don’t ask me when the latter is. I suppose it’s just after the corn crop is harvested?

It is said that, in his younger days, Geech could wrestle a full grown boar to the ground, with his legs. He was a stout, flat-faced man, but it never occurred to me until later that his stoutness was all muscle. And then he was in the car accident that almost killed him, and made him a wealthy man, by local standards. It also ended his ‘wrestling’ days.

At some point, when I was older, Geech started bringing me his mail.

“Miz Lady, would you read that for me and tell me what it says?”

And I would. At first, it was junk mail. As time wore on, it was hospital bills. And I became his secretary, calling doctors’ offices, making appointments, straightening out bills.

But one day, Geech brought me a real, honest-to-goodness letter. It was from his wife, who was in a nursing home.

“Miz Lady, would you write her a letter back for me?”

Of course I would…wasn’t I his secretary?

But what really prompted the yes was a soulful sadness behind his eyes. The poor old sick thing missed his wife.

“Tell her that I’m doing ok, and that I’ll be down to Wilmington to see her real soon.”

So I wrote. I threw in an ‘I love you and miss you,’ because that unspoken was in his face.

His health failed steadily. The day came when he was too sick to come to the restaurant for his morning coffee, or to bring his mail to be read. Dad grieved his old friend even before Geech left this world, and sent Mom and me to deliver any number of tempting dishes that might prompt him to eat. A platter of fried fish. Chicken and dumplings. Ginger ale. I suspect Dad didn’t deliver the food himself because he couldn’t bear to see his friend, once so strong and robust, weak and wasted by cancer.

His house still stands, all these years later, the steep steps leading up to empty rooms. Occasionally, I drive past it, and remember him. And the irony is – for someone who couldn’t write a word, he was a remarkably writeable character.

mysterious ways

and so i climbed my grumpy self out of bed this morning, upset that i had to go to work when i was supposed to have the rest of the week off.  it would have been nice - and it sure felt like it was something i needed after the last couple of months, but it just wasn't meant to be.  and now i know why. 

i walked into the prison at 7:40, hung a right in the lobby and checked the mail.  greeted the officers in c-1, grumbled my way down the hall and up the stairs to gh&i where i emailed dr. h about the dictaphone in my mailbox that i sure as heck wasn't carting all over the building in an attempt to locate its rightful owner.

oh yeah, i was as sour as green persimmons. 

at nine o'clock, something made me go back down to the mailroom.  no reason that i can give - just an inner voice that said - oh, just go check the danged mail again. so i did, even though it's something i never do twice in one morning, and there they were where they didn't belong - sick call requests.  they go into a designated box in the kitchen so the nurses can pick them all up at once.  several months ago, my boss had instructed me to return them to the sgt. to give back to the inmate to put in the proper place.  it's procedure, after all.

so for about five minutes, i tried to track down a sgt., but their offices were moved and where the sgts. are hiding in that long, gray concrete building is a mystery.  they blend in quite well.  no way was i going to traipse up and down stairs, mumbling and grumbling under my breath - medical would just have to take 'em from me today.

i took the sick call for central to the nurse's station and handed it to smith.  she had just finished clinic, and wasn't too pleased to get another request, but she located the inmate to see what his major malfunction was.

it was major.

i poked my head out of medical records a little later - mackey, our PA was running.  my boss yelled at me - call 911 and put in a ur for the er!

the man's pulse was 44.  his ekg was off the charts.  he was scared to death, and my boss, who has no bedside manner, told that to the officer outside the door and then added - so am i!

that was just after nine this morning.  the man still hadn't returned from the hospital at closing time, and i hope and pray he was admitted.

but it's so strange, the way it happened. i never check the mail twice in one morning.  i always give the sick calls to the officers to be put in the proper place. 

my conclusion is - it wasn't his time, and between the mailroom and smith's hands...well.  i had to be there today.  no, i wasn't responsible for saving his life...but i was a link in some kind of chain, and i had to be there.

makes you realize that sometimes our plans aren't that important - it's the plans Something Else..God, or the Universe, has in store, and one or the other will put you where you're supposed to be when you're supposed to be there.

it's a lesson i didn't mind being taught, after all.

there's a great big sofa

being advertised above my journal.  you guys have a seat and make yourselves comfortable on it.  i'll get the coffee/tea/cocoa and a whole bunch of decadent sweets and we'll have the last laugh.  ;-)

under the direction of The Task Master (stop chatting and start writing!), i have been writing up a storm, but it's odd...the more i write, the more certain people from my past pop into my mind.

for instance - there's little Nut Dockery.  He was a thin little wino who walked with a limp - not a bit of harm in him, he just liked his wine.  and he was actually a bit of a hero for me, in that he was responsible for my lecturing a customer in the restaurant who later turned out to be something he didn't appear to be.

it must have been spring or summer, because i remember being hot.  mike had told me nut had been terrorized out of his social security check by some of the thugs who had moved into the little community behind the store called The Line.

that burned me up and made me hotter.  the nerve of people too sorry to work for the money to support their own habits.  sure, nut spent his on thunderbird, but it was his to spend.

it was that very day, during a lull in business that he walked in.  didn't know him - but we had a lot of road traffic - travelers, fishermen - and this guy was wearing a fishing hat complete with hooks.  he wanted to chat, and he seemed nice enough, so i propped against the counter and talked.  it didn't take long for him to lower his voice and lean forward to say - you wouldn't happen to know where i could get some smoke around here, would you?

i wasn't sure i'd heard him right, so i said - excuse me?

you know, pot.  maybe something stronger than that.

right before i saw red, little Nut Dockery flashed before my eyes.  such a small little man..and i saw him being terrorized by those thugs.

i cannot believe what you just said to me.  do you know that old people are being strong armed out of their social security checks?  it's all they have to live on for an entire month, and just today, my brother told me these hooligan drug users are waiting for the first of the month and the mailman to roll around so they can bully these poor people out of their money to get drugs.  it's a damned shame, and somebody should do something about it so people like poor little nut won't be harrassed and robbed by local terrorists.  so NO, i don't know where you could get pot or something stronger.  now might be a good time to stop looking.

i'll never forget the look on his face.  i expected anger, but never surprise.  he looked absolutely puzzled.

it was about two weeks later, in the middle of the lunch crowd, that my buddy and coworker, lola, stopped in the middle of throwing a cheeseburger together and said - who's that man behind the counter in the store?

that was a good question.  he looked like some kind of inspector - he had a flashlight and was looking up under the counters.  about that time, he turned his back and we were able to read the letters on his jacket -

DEA.

poor lola's hands began to shake.  oh damn, it's the DEA!

and stupid me said - what's that?

and then the men in yellow jackets with black lettering multiplied.  they were all over the place, and i recognized one of them, even without his fishing hat.  he never looked my way...and he never set foot in my side of the business.  none of them did.

and i have little Nut Dockery to thank for that.  if he hadn't been strong armed, if he hadn't been so frail and old that my protective side kicked in, i might never have been hot enough to tell off an undercover DEA agent, and might have landed in jail beside the coworker from the store, who was selling pot.

poor little nut.  i wonder where he is now.

the task master from..

ah, no, he found me and read what i wrote about him. LOL!  i'm busted.

keith is right - he's not the taskmaster from hell, and some people do need a little pushing...

so i'm publicly apologizing to my bud and taskmaster, and thanking him again. but i meant every word written about his novels, so i'm not apologizing for that.

 

thanks keith!

hugs!

one more word about cats and other stuff

and then it's goodnight irene for me.

one more thing about cats:  you had better give them the food they like (isn't that right, paula? *wink*).  if not, they'll let you know in no uncertain terms how dissatisfied they are.  for instance, my other cat, Coot does not like a particular brand.  i know this because when i poured it in her bowl, she sniffed it, turned around and aimed her rear at it, and proceeded to try to cover it up with imaginary cat litter.  you know what she was saying.  wicked, that one is. and quite outspoken.

my boss shocked me today by telling me she's going to work at another state agency.  lord knows, she's earned part time contract - she's 65, and deserves to let the 12 hour shifts go...but there's no way i'm staying at that facility without her to run interference. i'll never have another boss like her...that's a shame, because in the end, we became friends without losing the professionalism.  i LIKE her.

the last few days, i've been having fun laying groundwork for keith's assignment.  it IS fun!!!  there's another journaler out there who writes short stories - very good ones!...and i think sandi should try her own novel.  she definitely has what it takes, and i have this sneaking suspicion that she would enjoy the groundwork and the process.

and now that i have written my Letter to the Internet, it's bedtime...

y'all have a great rest of the week.

 

The Great American Novel

My friend Keith has been my coach since...last April.  Had to stop and think for a minute.  He's one of those people you feel you've known all your life.  Just a few weeks after we met, his first novel was accepted for publication, and since then, he has sent me preview chapters for his second in the works - and it blew me away!  The man has a gift for plotting events and chapters.  His gift is a natural one.  He learns by reading.  As a matter of fact, he says it's hard to enjoy a book anymore because he's too busy studying the author's style and technique to enjoy the story.

I know that feeling because I do the same thing.  Could be why we feel like we've known each other all our lives - we have so much in common.  And he believes in me...he enjoys the short stories I send, and he has encouraged me to try for a longer work.

That's overwhelming, you know.  It's a commitment to something bigger than I am.  I know because I've tried and walked away from it, feeling very small at the base of that mountain...

Each effort, Keith asks me - what do you want to say?  What is the theme?  and you know, I didn't have an answer, until now.

Saturday night, he said - tell me in twenty words or less what you want to say.  and i did, and it felt GREAT!  but he knew the adrenalin rush that came with it, mentioned it before I did.  And so, yesterday was spent plotting and planning, writing and the cardinal rule Keith gave me - have fun with it.  You'll have to rewrite, but the important thing in the beginning is to just DO it, without fear of failure.

Not sure why he has taken such an interest in my progress unless it's one of those give and take things.  I read him, offer constructive crit from an objective point of view, and he reads me back.  Whatever the reason, I'm glad he's there.  He doesn't sugarcoat anything, and he's the taskmaster from hell, but I'm enjoying every second of it.

 

 

little lonesome rosie

the urge to journal strikes at the most inopportune times, for the most unlikely reasons.

this morning, i was sitting at the screen, reading an column on john lennon's death, really getting into it, reliving the shock of when it first happened when suddenly...

aol was disconnected. 

no, can't blame it on aol this time - the cause of the problem is a gray and white tabby named Rosie.  and something else occurred to me.

if you have a cat, you know that when you're reading the paper or a book, that sneaky little feline devil will crawl on top of the page, rub your nose with hers in some pretense of affection - thereby making you feel too guilty to remove her furry little butt from the words you were reading - for no other reason than your purpose on this earth is to serve and adore her?

well, that's Rosie.  and since i've taken to reading online, she can't perch herself atop the book or newspaper, so she has learned to disconnect the modem.  i am her property, you see, and nothing will do but my undivided attention at all times, except when she's napping. in that case, i had best not disturb her.

she tells me when she wants fresh water by sitting in the empty bowl.  i swear, she is the thirstiest animal that ever lived.  she lets me know that her food dish isn't quite full by jumping on top of the freezer where the bag is stored and knocking the bag to the floor.  at night, i am her mattress.  her favorite spot is over my shoulder blade so she can hang her face against mine.  and the bathtub?  it's disconcerting to have an animal stare at you while you bathe, let me tell you.

and she is a spiteful creature.  i can't tell you how many times she has attempted to trip me in the hallway, or why, but she somehow winds herself around my feet, fully confident i won't step on or maim her.  her objective, i think, is to bring me down like an oak.  or perhaps it's a game to see how far she can go before one of us dies.  methinks rosie has too much time on her paws and a human slave to experiment with.

but there are times when she crawls into my lap and purrs, no pretense or hidden agenda, just plain and simple cuddling.

and there she is again, trying to disconnect the modem again, so i have to go.

ROSIE, GET AWAY FROM THAT!

just in time for the holidays

the weather here is all mixed up - 60's one day, 40's the next, but tomorrow the highs will fall into the 30's.

there's something about cold weather that appeals to me.  could be how cozy it is with the fire going, a cup of orange spice tea or coffee.  just cozy.  or it could be how the cold makes the skin tingle and feel so alive after the sluggish heat of a carolina summer.  not sure what it is.

i like to walk past someone who has just come from outside, winter clinging to their coats, rosey cheeks and frosty hair.  and i like to be out in it - it's invigorating.

this is a poor excuse for a journal entry, but i'm a bit sleepy and can't seem to organize my thoughts well.

good night.