Halloween Bunny Strikes Again

I’ve had several people send me carrot recipes.

You can see why….

Thanks Les for making this great photo

I’m not sure why I planted so many. I guess I was having a Scarlett O-Hara moment, feeling that  “Ah’d nevah be hungry again.”

I canned carrots. Froze carrots. I shaved carrots into all kinds of food…even brownies, until Scout and Dallas Cowboy found out and demanded no more healthy food additives for them.

Now, my latenights are busy with sneaking out and leaving carrots on folks doorsteps. BwahHaHaHa…

Beware!! The Easter Bunny is celebrating Halloween.

Cut the Cord

Scout told me that he can’t shake the feeling that he has homework to do.  One of his friends agreed. Even though school is out, there is a black cloud following them that picks at them as they relax into summer. It’ s the feeling that they have homework waiting for them.

I smiled. Welcome to the adult world where there’s always grass that needs to be cut, laundry that needs to be washed, and people that need to be called.

But they don’t have any homework, just the nagging sensation that they should, so when I heard the phrase, “Cut the cord” today, it made me think of all the situations that we need to sever and let fly away.

• Will there be enough money to pay for insurance, food, clothing, etc tomorrow?
• What about the next day? And then the next?
• What if someone in the family gets sick? Really sick?
• How can I make sure Scout has all he needs to become an outstanding young man?
• Will I be a mean old woman when I grow old, or a dottering old nutcase?

Okay…as you can see…I’m making great progress toward the nutcase end of the spectrum.

I like the image of cutting the cord and letting those worries float away. As the Bible points out…I don’t accomplish a thing by gnawing on those thoughts and roping them around me.

So I think, this week, I’ll find something to let go of each day.  Today it will be anger.

I’ll let go of the anger at the neighbor who keeps coming over and peering through my window to see if I’m home. I know she’s just lonely and wants to visit.

I’ll let go of the anger about people who stand in the middle of grocery aisles or doorways to visit. They’re probably so involved in their conversation, they don’t realize where they are.

I’ll let go of my ire about the neighbor’s dog who uses my yard as his latrine. (It’s not the dog’s fault, is it?)

Ahhhh. I like this cutting the cord stuff. I feel lighter already.

Mr. Spock Didn’t Have These Problems

I enjoyed the new Star Trek movie, nudging Scout and whispering, “It’s him!’ when the Old-Spock appeared on the screen.

The audience clapped when Leonard Nimoy’s voice intoned: “Space, the final frontier. These are the voyages of……”   You know the rest.

As we left the dim theater for the bright lights of reality, it stuck me that unlike today’s citizens,  no character  in the Star Trek movies ever looks for a job.  The industrial military complex of the Starship Federation provides millions of positions throughout the universe (with no discrimination toward multiple eyes, borg-parts, or creepy rippled foreheads).

In the future, folks wear attractive uniforms, bosses are almost always fair, and careers  don’t crush your spirit. Perhaps that’s why we enjoy the movies so much. They take us away from the reality of jobs that we don’t enjoy.

The good news is that in today’s market, simply having a job is a blessing.

I interviewed a stone fabricator last week. He was excited because his company had just received an order for a new construction project.  He’s done lots of remodels lately, but this was for a new home.  “Things are starting to tick upward.” He grinned with hope.

So if you’re looking for work, it’s possible that one will open up soon. If you’re in a job that’s a stepping-stone to your dream-position, then you may be able to hop to the next step shortly.

And if you’re a Trekkie…may you find work that allows you “to go where no one has gone before.”

Perhaps, this isn't the manager to work for????

No Hope in Reusable Grocery Bags

I know some of you come here for your zen moment. And I apologize in advance that it’s not going to happen with this posting.  If you need a positive moment, maybe you should go over to Laid Off Now What? Les is the most upbeat guy I know in the face of unemployment, but even the subject of reusable bags might knock him down.

Now I admit,  reusable bags save a lot of plastic trees and real trees too. I have 7 fiber bags and one nice plastic-coated one that I won at a “Sustainable Environment” show at the convention center.  I won it by knowing how much compost a pound of worms  could process in a day.  (Don’t hold your breath waiting for me to tell you, because I forgot. It was multiple choice and I happened to guess correctly.)  But the point is….I’m interested in doing my environmental share in case you were thinking  that I’m a complete eco-slob.

The problem with those dratted reusable bags is that they make my blood pressure spike.  My shopping trips begin as pleasant strolls through the aisles matching coupons to things that I need. Then I reach the check out and wait in line, and just when it’s MY turn. I remember those STOOOPID bags are still in the car.

“Paper or plastic?” the checker asks. Oooooh the guilt. Then then the irritation. What is this….the 50th time I’ve forgotten those bags?

“Just throw it all back in the cart. I’ll bag it standing at my trunk,” I reply.

Well, that was a lousy idea. Besides standing in the rain, getting wet, most of the people in the parking lot thought that I’d probably stolen a basket of groceries and wheeled it directly to my car.

I used to lament loudly over my bag-dementia. Folks with me  in the check-out line had lots of suggestions. Like a frantic victim looking for a cure. I’ve tried most of them:

• put them in your purse. (They’re huge. This only works if I’m carrying a gym bag as a purse.)
• put them in the front seat with you. (Nope. They blend in with all my other front seat essentials: Kleenex, Chapstick, mints, notebook, pens)
• set them on your dashboard. (I’m not a race car driver, but not even a hula doll with a suction cup will stay on my dashboard.)
• “I sit on them,” one overly eco-confident shopper bragged to me. (Well sitting on those scratchy little buggers would tick me off even more. I’m already kicking the pens, notebooks and sliding hula doll back into the car so I can close the door, now  I have to  fight with bags, too?

No way. Those bags have more evasive moves than Chuck Norris. They know when to collapse and go limp so you can’t stuff anything in them. They know when to take a dive and roll their contents under seats. They lure you with their roominess and then laugh when you can’t tote them with 18 pounds of kittly litter in them. Those bags are clever adversaries.

So I resolved there’s no hope for this situation—until last week. Last Tuesday,  I ambled across the parking lot and a sign over one of the cart “corrals” read: DID YOU REMEMBER YOUR BAGS?

Hot dog! Now that’s what I call a public service announcement.  I grabbed a bag out of the front-seat rubble and shopped with the smugness that sustainability experts  must experience—until I arrived at the check stand.

Somewhere in my aisle meanderings, I’d laid my bag down.

Who knows where?

I hate those bags.