Monday, June 6, 2016

Phone Call

Been a long time, dear friends. No excuses.

I pick up the phone, after procrastinating for a few days/months/years. You'll see.

Hello, ___ Condo Association.

Hello! My name is Sharron. I live in F-8. I want to file a formal complaint. Can I do it over the phone?

Of course.

Two years ago (I told you!), the landscapers cut down the roses behind my condo. They were beautiful, classic, and very old. A board member told me, 'Your neighbor said she couldn't take care of them any longer.' I spoke with the neighbor, she never gave them permission to cut them down. ( I felt tears welling/they were beautiful roses.) But never mind that, it's over and done with. Two months ago, (I told you), they cut down the lilac bush next to my condo. Besides the fact that it was a glorious lilac that people would sit in their cars and contemplate, they had not bloomed yet. Who cuts down a lilac before it blooms? 'Your landscapers,' I tell her, 'couldn't tell a rose from a hole in their heads.' Two days ago, (I'm not saying a word), they cut down my mums. Mums don't bloom till the fall. You don't cut down mums anyhow. Once in awhile, if you want them extra full, you trim them, but you never cut them down. So I want to lodge a complaint against the landscapers.

Of course. And I'll tell Todd and he'll come right over and see.

Thank you. There's more.

All right.

My dog poops in my house. Sadly, he punishes me when I leave and his pooping is his sign of rebelliousness. I am even pulling up the carpet and putting down wood floors so I can easily clean his little presents. If he surprises me, and poops while I'm walking him, I run back to my condo and get a bag and scrape up his business and put it in the proper trash container. If someone else walks him, and he leaves a present, they clean it up. You can ask all my neighbors. I grabbed my cane and walked to the hose at the back of the condo. I turned the corner and almost stepped in dog poop. There are about twenty little piles of it all behind my condo. It is not my dog. I told you about my dog. Please tell Todd about this, also.

Yes, I will and he'll come right over and see.

Thank you. Have a good day.


Now why on earth would Todd come over and look at poop. And why on earth did I start the poop conversation they way I did. My daughter said the woman on the other end must have thought I was smoking something, or so old and decrepit, I'd lost what marbles I had.

We laughed for hours after I told her about this phone call. I hope you enjoyed it, too. I am a nut. I know!

Monday, December 28, 2015

Don't Make Assumptions

Christmastime, this year, evolved into something different. Thankfully, I've re-written the above 3rd of the 4 agreements (see link below) to no expectations.  

My daughter and I seem to have accepted and integrated this agreement into our lives for Christmas did not occur in its usual way.

My son invited us over for dinner on the night before Christmas Eve. We had a wonderful time. I did not bring their presents - we have a Christmas brunch at my house every year. Mark is a supreme chef and made a wondrous pork roast with glorious baked, herbed potato-wedges, and a tasty green-bean casserole - not the kind with mushroom soup and onion rings on top - but a delightful and different one. Their tree sparkled and shone in their redecorated living room. I grew tired too soon and the party broke up, with many hugs and kisses and terms of endearment. It was lovely. I went home steeped in peace.

Sometime the next day, I realized that my son and his beautiful wife were not going to come to my house on Christmas morning. 

Christmas Eve I dressed for the evening's frolic at my daughter's home. When I arrived, my niece and her Rich were in the process of leaving. No others cramped the living spaces. Hmm. My granddaughter came out with her new and beloved American Girl doll - both dressed for the festivities. We left shortly after for services at our church where the little one sang in the choir. The priest delighted us with an uplifting and humorous service and my little one shone, of course, more than any of the others (Grandmas are allowed to be prejudiced). After the service, I learned that none of the other family members were coming back to my daughter's - they were planning on seeing each other on Christmas Day in the afternoon. A care package with some cookies and ham accompanied me as I was escorted from the home - the family was going to a friend's for the rest of the evening. Pippin and I drove home, surprised at the turn of events, but, after a few choice tears, the blessedness of a quiet evening soothed my soul. I slept in contentment.

The next morning, knowing no company would be forthcoming, I rested in jammies, held Pip on my lap and fend him wee Christmas treats, and opened a few presents. It was lovely.

Until my daughter called, inviting me to her house for Christmas brunch. I dressed in two seconds and Pip and I were out the door before the phone had cooled off. The morning was lovely, the breakfast was very good, and we ended up making more Christmas cookies, which was most fun.

The Four Agreements has been such a blessing to me. Neither my daughter nor I were upset by the oddity of the Christmas celebrations and rejoiced in having family at all and food and shelter and laughter.

I pray you all had a glorious Christmas - whether as expected or not - and that your New Year is incomparable, with warmth and joy, good food, friends, and health. But, of course, with no expectations.


Tuesday, December 22, 2015

Purses are the devil

Finished the cards (see earlier post) and put them in my purse to mail them.

They are still there! I can't believe it. Finally had the wherewithal to do them and then - the purse ate them. I'm sure of it. There have been other instances of cannibalism where it concerns my purse. It loves to eat my keys - it doesn't matter what kind - car, house, playground, laundry.  It eats insurance cards, too.

I didn't realize it, at the beginning of the year, that I had bought a rather voracious purse to accompany me on my daily tasks. It seemed like a good purse. Four separate areas for storing things - two of them with zippers - a heavy front flap, designed to keep things inside. Lovely little thing (well, not that little - cause it has to hold my cell phone, my purselet (?), my tablet, my writing materials, Kleenex, emergency supplies.... but with four compartments, I could organize things and have them always at my fingertips.

Not - Lovely little purse hides things, when it's not eating them. My keys go in the little pocket with the zipper. I put it there every day. When I'm done with the keys, they go back in the little spot and I am content. Until I go out the next day and they are not in the little compartment, they are not in the big compartment, they are not in the extras on the side. They are nowhere. After much grumbling and searching, finally pulling everything out of every corner of the bloody thing - the keys are in the pocket where they belong.

The purse laughs - I can hear it in the breeze - and I know that tomorrow, the purse will begin its little game with me again.

Help me, Obi Wan, you are my only hope.  :)

Saturday, December 19, 2015


Oh dear - some people love to write and send Christmas cards. I've gotten them for years with their cheery waving and hello's and well wishes. I love to get them. I hate to send them.

It's not that I hate to send them - being a procrastinator - I hate to see them lying in their little bin AFTER the event they were bought for.

Do you have a clue as to how many cards sit in peoples' drawers and sigh heavily? Do you not feel a guilt and sorrow for the little things - created with such hope and languishing in despair?

This year - well, about two weeks ago - I decided - ENOUGH. Send cards, blast you woman. The years of money spent and joy at picking them out are waiting for you to do something.

I sat down on Thursday with a truckload of new-bought cards - let the old ones languish - and vowed to fill them out and send them on their merry way. Hmm - finding addresses not as easy as I thought. A friend called. How about breakfast? Whoo hoo. Left the cards where they lay and ran out the door, coat flying behind me, obscuring the sounds of weeping coming from my desk.

Later that day, sat down and picked up pen. Friend called. I'll be over in a minute? Yes - please come. Darted about the room picking up dog toys and the ever-present dog-chewed kleenex. Wiped down the bathroom and poured the wine. Spent a wondrous evening.

Friday - doctor appointment. Baby-sitting my glorious and precious granddaughter. Exhausted by the evening. Closed my ears to the sounds of sobbing coming from my desk and slept.

Saturday - OK. Some envelopes have been addressed. Why is it so difficult to fill out the cards? I love these people that I'm sending them, too. They are worth every moment. It's delving down and opening myself up to nostalgia, sorrow, and joy. Tears spring to my eyes as I look at each name I'm sending these to. Bits of memory flood my soul and I am glad to be doing this.

But, mark my words, it's still hard. :).