I met a genuinely happy person today

Seeing as I had not turned on my television in 4 or 5 months, I finally cancelled the non-cable-but-still-get-the-news-and-the-Simpsons-on-local-channels television portion of my U-Verse account. I think that takes off about $20 each month – that’s enough to buy 120 limes when they’re in season. Or 200 key limes when they are in season and on sale. While on hold with AT&T waiting to speak to a human, I marveled at the image of the spread of key lime pies my savings could produce. I wondered if they had key lime festivals in Florida – including best pie, Miss Key Lime, and best marinade with key limes cook-off.

When I pulled into the otherwise full strip center parking lot, I spotted an empty spot directly in front of the store. I was almost expecting to see a sign with my name on it. While I consider it a bothersome practice to circle around looking for a close-to-the-door spot, there seems to be something magical that happens between the consumer and the store when the consumer finds a close-to-the-door spot. It makes one feel welcome, expected. Like a neatly decorated place card at a dinner party given by a cherished friend.

When I got out of my vehicle, my eyes were immediately engaged with a set of frighteningly rhinestone-studded flip-flops, worn by a woman who was also wearing a displeased look on her face. I stepped inside, television unit thing in hand. It smelled like a combination of dog shit and new, cheap carpet. And there was some tapping – no rhythm, just random… but persistent – coming from a wall of the store. The rhinestone flip-flop woman then walked in. She had anger about her, so I stepped back – I figured something happened and her transaction had not been completed to her satisfaction. The noise from the wall kept making itself known. I stared at it in an effort to survey the happenings, in hopes of discovering the source.
There was a man in front of us sending Folgers coffee, paper towels, and some other items to someone in Pennsylvania. He spent about $40 to send what appeared to be about $38 worth of products. He knew the address and shared it with a conviction of someone who loves another – the recipient.

When he was done, the rhinestone flip-flop woman stepped forward – I tried to make eye contact with her to let her know that I understood that while she walked back into the store after I’d been waiting in line for a few minutes, she was probably wrapping up what she’d recently stepped out on. But she did not meet my eyes.

It was then my turn. I handed over my television device thing with power cord. Matt asked if I was returning an AT&T device – I breathed a sigh of relief and thanked him for knowing, then said that I was, indeed, returning such device. There was something about this guy that just got to me - he seemed genuinely happy. I said to him, “You seem un… unusually happy to be at work. On a Saturday.” He smiled. I went on to add, “There's something... you seem to be smiling. Even when you’re not smiling.” He smiled even wider and said, “Well, I hope it’s contagious.” I assured him that it was.

acornautics

What do you call a group of squirrels?

Where is this going?

A swim team. I was out walking this morning and counted seven squirrels – enough for a swim team.

What makes you think squirrels would make good swimmers?

I didn’t say they’d be good. But their eyes are naturally bulging so much that one might think that they’ve worn goggles under pressure their entire existence. They’d use their long muscular tails as propellers. And like humans, they’d let their hair grow out during training season, then shave it off just before a competition. Can you imagine what a naked squirrel would look like?

They’re always naked.

You know what I mean.

I rarely do.

What would you call a team of swimming squirrels?

More importantly, would the butterfly stroke still be called the butterfly, or would it be the flying squirrel?

Now you’re making fun of me.

I’m completely serious.

Sometimes it’s hard to tell.

I can imagine.

she wanted more

Female, mid-40s, recently divorced (within the last 2 years). She was the oldest of three children, raised in a middle-class family in southeast Oklahoma. She did well in grade school, then went on the earn a full academic scholarship to OU for biology. While she enjoyed it, she changed her major to zoology after the second semester of her sophomore year. This was a difficult choice, as she lost some of her scholarship... but earning a BS in zoology then going on to law school to ulimately work in bioethics in animal research was exactly what she wanted to do.

She took a part-time job at the university in her department, as an assistant to a masters student working on a thesis the diets of invasive species and their impact on the land and natural habitats of native species. It was then that she met the man who would later become her husband. She was sent out to find someone who might help her better understand the traditional and since modified-traditional/modern diets of Native Americans in the area.

He was a history major from El Paso, Texas - his family had lived next to an Indian reservation while he was growing up. By the age of 12, he was spending most of his free time hiking to his favorite secluded spots in the mountains. He carried his backpack full of worn paperback books that his uncle had handed down to him, dried apricots, and two bottles of pineapple Jarritos.

So they met. Their first date was supposed to be at a museum, but once they arrived, they realized it was closed. So, they went to a nearby Mexican restaurant that was painted pink and teal on the outside. There was no patio. She was surprised - and a little impressed - when he ordered dinner for the both of them in Spanish.

13 months, 2 weeks, 4 days later: she discovered that she was 8 weeks and 4 days pregnant. She didn't want kids. He did.

3 weeks of arguing and frustration, they both decided to drop out of school and work on building a home for their new family. They got married at the local justice of the peace. His family attended; her family had no idea of the marriage.

6 months after the marriage, she lost the baby. The doctor said it was stress-related. It took her a couple of weeks to tell him. He went into a deep depression for 8 years. They lived in the same house, but at opposite ends. They adopted a dog on their 10 year anniversary - this brought them together for a short time, but once she started taking over all of the dog's responsibilities, health issues, feedings, walkings, vet appointments, etc., he went back into a depression. The dog was all she wanted. She had no need for him.

The next 10 years were a blur. They spent the holidays apart. He would go home to his parents while she would entertain at their home. He was a professor of history at the local community college, but his time there was running short. He missed lectures. He missed teacher meetings. He failed to post grades on time at the semester's end.

She finally got the courage to tell him that they needed a divorce. They'd be better apart. He needed to gain his own independence once again. And she needed the freedom.

So here she is now. Shopping on her own. She likes ice cream. As a young girl growing up near the Southeast, she has a taste for good ice cream.



French Vanilla - not just vanilla, but French Vanilla. With a lower case f - perhaps a political statement, or perhaps just her style. French Vanilla ice cream means more eggs, and a richer flavor than traditional vanilla. Popular in Louisiana and other Southern areas.

The rest of her items are all capitalized. See this when individuals are dissociated with the English language due to outside stress. Or when they just don't know. I'm going with the former on this one.

Butter Pecan - another Southern favorite. Hands down delicious.

Carb Smart - early mid-age woman (40s) product

Miller Lt - Blt - Midwest girl faithful to AB, on a semi-diet

Plates - going to have people over, don't want them to judge my home or how I clean, and I don't want to have to clean after them

Lettuce - please help me with my new diet

Saltines - guilty pleasure that does not feel too guilty

Coffee - I don't trust anyone who doesn't drink coffee

Sasa Packets - no idea... looks like Salsa Packets

She wrote this on a purple post-it.

While I am not familiar with the origin of 'angry as a hornet,' it strikes me as a southern proverb. It finds itself shelved alongside 'frog strangler' and other sayings that tie in creatures we find in nature that somehow describe our situations and innermost thoughts and feelings. These colorful expressions are of our doing, the creatures were not at all involved in the negotiations when we were so brilliantly forming these sayings. It doesn't seem entirely fair, but I suppose that is a burden that birds, amphibians, insects, etc. must bear. Then again, perhaps the joke is on us; we depend upon them to communicate our emotional language to one another.

My mind wanders back to hornets. Are they always angry, or is it simply that their exhibition of anger seemingly goes to the extremes of poisoning its target of discontentment? I found myself questioning this as I was sitting at my back door, reading... then quickly became distracted by two hornets (while I am not sure exactly what they are, this is what I am calling them) that appeared to be arguing.



When they become angry with one another, do they sting their hornet victim? It would seem odd that one could poison the other. Logic would dictate that a hornet would not be affected by the sting of another hornet. But then, nature is not logical. Maybe hornets do not hold natural antidotes to hornet stings. It then came to my mind that I did not really know how hornets reproduced. I have some reading to do.

Considering the anger and competitiveness of insects begs the question of how mosquitoes interact. Andrew and I spent a good part of yesterday morning discussing mosquitoes, and we soon came to realize that I would need to do further research before forming an opinion on their place and my perceived lack of their contributions in this world.

I once read that the strongest athletes help out his/her greatest rival, thus making the rival that much better and increasing the standard at which both hold themselves... ultimately motivating the first athlete to become ever stronger. This came to mind when we were on the topic of mosquitoes. Would a mosquito act in this way? Or would one competitive mosquito decide to bite another one to gain more blood? Can a mosquito bite another mosquito and effectively drink its recently attained blood supply?

Thankfully, I was soon distracted by a couple of plants I'd adopted from a local nursery. As I was repotting them, I dug my hands into the warm potting soil and realized that it was life. Simply life. I felt as a surgeon of sorts, digging my hands into the blood that plants required for being and thriving... then my mind was back to mosquitoes and their lust and reproductive need for blood.

Choose your towels carefully

Friday evening was certainly not the first time I'd considered my favoritism for particular bathroom towels based on color, which of course was correlated with each towel's personality.

The green towel - green, of course, being my favorite color - is the king of all my towels; it is only to be used on days that I expect good fortune. It would be disrespectful to use it otherwise. And it is only to be washed with the smallest amount of bleach in order to preserve its power, exhibited by its rich green color.

The orange towel is a fairweather friend of sorts. I really don't keep up with its best care, but I do appreciate its presence when I am heading out for a trip and it is my last option to pack. We don't have much in common, but I do appreciate its vibrance.

I feel a bit sorry for the yellow towel, as it is somewhat drowned out by has-beens. You see, yellow used to be my favorite color many years ago, so all of my old towels are yellow. Rather, were yellow. They have had more than their fair share of bleaching, so they are a worn out, exhausted shade of yellow. So, while the new yellow towel is promising, it does fall into the unfortunate circumstance of being related to its substandard relatives of mine. It can be difficult for a flower to get noticed when surrounded by weeds.

Blue towel is good for weekends, as it is such a fun-loving color. He gets the light bleach treatment, too.

The red towel, by nature of its color, has control issues. We have come to an agreement that it gets used on Wednesdays, as Wednesdays are when I engage in weekly operations team meetings, and a little back-up of someone (rather, something) with power issues is rather encouraging and sometimes reassuring.

So you can imagine my confusion when I arrived at home on Friday evening and found the floor between my bedroom and record room covered in water. I couldn't use green or blue out of respect... red was in the laundry... I had some has-been yellow and the good yellow and orange. It felt as if I had to pick which child to send to war. Why did this happen? Were the towels really the best choice to remedy the situation? Did I even have the proper towels for such a task?

As this rain continues, I hope we can figure out ways for my towels to maintain their integrity while also taking care of domestic issues.

English Morphine

It's even capitalized on both words, as if it is an actual formal item that one would include on a grocery list for shopping on a Tuesday afternoon. At first read, it sounds like a harder version of morphine that a regular user would have to ever so carefully titrate up to in order to tolerate. On second read, it sounds like the name of the next Placebo album.



Morphine would sound like muffins if you were speaking in a cloud or carwash. But the idea of the writer of this list expecting to pick up some English Morphine rather than English muffins lends to the magic of interpreting strangers' grocery lists. And that it was actually written as "Morphine" on the list means the only cloud this writer likely experienced was the pink one she felt before relapsing.

This list is clearly written by a female. The handwriting, vegetable items, decided periods on ends of items, and corrected writing... it just speaks female, older woman. Older woman because if you look at the handwriting - look at the way she moves from letter to letter... example: corn. See how the end of the c leads to the bottom of the o. The writing of this o is a sort of backwards approach to how children are now taught in handwriting (an o would start at the top rather than bottom). She actually uses an ampersand in her writing on the celery & milk entry. Many folks born after 1955 don't regularly use these in handwritten notes (however often still used in typed notes) unless otherwise formally taught.

And one more thing about canned corn: I have to give a high five to my English Morphine addict friend... canned corn is so much easier than ears of corn. Sure, ears of corn when schucked and grilled are so much tastier, but the volume of available good individual kernels of corn (for soups, salsa, etc.) that comes in cans makes it a pretty damn marketable item. Especially if the shopper is an older woman who doesn't have the time or strength (or teeth) to grill then slice off (or bite off) the grilled corn.

Heads of lettuce: not just one, but multiple heads of lettuce. Again, this speaks of an older individual who grew up in the Depression or perhaps more likely was raised in the Depression. She still eats plain lettuce and doesn't exactly see the value in other more expensive greens like spinach or mixed baby greens. And most other greens are now in bagged varieties, for which you pay much more per ounce.

Cherry tomato: I'm guessing this means a pint of cherry tomatoes, since it is singular. Have noticed that lovers of cherry tomatoes and grape tomatoes are often folks who eat their fair share of vegetables, and often had or have their own home gardens. Yep, old lady.

Mushroom: let's just pretend she is talking about the vegetable. I mean, I think the English Morphine will be enough.

Cucumber: another item on which you will see handwriting that is not part of what is commonly taught now.

Celery & milk: for some unknown reason, these two are on the same line. With a period at the end. As in this is a definite need. Not just celery and milk. But CELERY & MILK.

apples: perhaps she does have teeth capable of eating corn on the cob.

As far as the paper goes, it is noticed that it is ripped at top and she only uses the bottom half for her grocery list (as it is guessed that the top half was already used). Another point toward a Depression era kid, knowing to waste little and make the most of anything - including free notepads. This particular notepad makes me wonder if it is a woman who recently lost her husband due to old age and she is looking to sell her house that they happily lived in for the past 58 years. The pain that would come with such a change in life and loss of love would help explain her need for English Morphine.

the hidden magic of grocery lists

A single grocery could be regarded as sacred as a personal journal entry that a pre-teen girl might write under the cover of a baby blue checkered bedspread with flashlight in hand. If you write in the dark, no one will see. If you write in the dark with a cloak of bedding, not even the spying ghosts can see. A grocery list reveals intimate details of a person's life that even his or her closest friends and family may not know about the individual.

Your over-the-counter sleep aid, the detergent used to wash your favorite gym shorts, the microwave popcorn habit you could never kick, the food you feed your adopted puppy, the coffee you buy to brew at home because the food you feed your adopted puppy tastes better than your office coffee, and exactly what sort of texture (and perhaps scent) of toilet paper you prefer to wipe your ass.

The items on a grocery list hold only a fraction of the story of the person behind it.



What sort of paper it was written on...
Stationery with a schoolhouse and a Bible quote
Hotel letterhead
A post-it
On the back of some unrelated print-out
Personal professional stationery
Back of a business card
Back of a napkin
Torn off piece of paper
Typed out master grocery list with items circled

Handwriting...
Manic, serial killer, all caps
Looks like your grandmother's
Obviously inked by an engineer
Carefully drawn letters of a control freak
Inconsistent, moody, identity crisis, multiple personality... or collaboration of more than one person
Written in a rushed, diagonal on the post-it fashion

Editing...
Place an "X" next to each item once in cart
Scribble through with fierce anger
Strike-through once
Leave alone, no written indication of whether item was picked up or not
Edit multiple times before even making it to the store
Other non-grocery list related items on list (phone numbers, directions, etc.)

Spelling and grammar and abbreviations...
R-berries
Deoderant
Veg
Desert
Frozen brocoli
Snack's

Categories...
Items in parentheses
Items with question marks
Items categorized by store and/or aisle
Items with no specifics: white soda; lunch meat

And any accompanying quirks such as hearts to dot the letter i, budget analysis for grocery trip, an EKG, and individuals' names linked directly to a listed item... always good.

I have over 5 years' worth of collected grocery lists that I'd like to share. Hope you enjoy as I add them.