Quite Contrary

I was there first.

In general, I try to avoid gardening when the lady from the next plot is there, mostly because she's snide and judgmental, and I don't really need that vibe when I'm struggling to tame my plot. Oh, sure, it would be easier to tame said plot were I to spend more time there, but I dread running into her, so it's a conundrum.

This morning, my heart sank when I heard the clank of the gate latch and looked up to see her familiar blond pony stalking my way. I'd already fed, watered, and pruned all the vegetables, but there was so much more to be done, I decided to stay. We exchanged pleasantries and small talk about the dry weather and hot day approaching. I weeded my side of the border between our beds and then moved on to the ubiquitous wiregrass along the fence. 

When she went out to the other side of that fence with her shovel and gardening stool, I knew she was modeling what she wanted me to do next, which was clear the fence line and dig up the grass out there. I continued in my own garden, though; Lord knows there was plenty to do in there. I did show her that one of the strands of barbed wire that tops the chainlink fence was broken and sagging into both our gardens.

"Can you stretch it and hook it on that clasp?" she pointed, but I showed her that the snapped wire would no longer stretch that far.

"Who's responsible for the fence, us or the county?" I asked.

"Probably us," she answered in disgust. "Do you want us to cut it or repair it?" she asked. 

"I don't have a strong feeling either way," I replied.

"I'm in charge of the next two work days," she told me. "We'll take care of it then."

I nodded, but before I could return to work, she continued, "Can you believe that every single garden got a satisfactory in the last inspection?"

I inhaled sharply. Here we go, I thought.

"I called them on it," she said. "There are definitely some plots that need attention, at the least." She shook her head. "There are going to be some upset people in the coming weeks," she said, "because I refuse to look the other way."

"Well," I nodded, "you've been here a long time, and you're not afraid to speak your mind."

At that, she guffawed, and I laughed a little, too. "I don't think anyone will be too surprised when they see the inspection," I finished.

Do You Mind?

"How old is elderly?" I Googled this morning.

The AI bot tactfully informed me that there is no set age at which one becomes elderly, but traditionally, in the US at least, anyone over 65 could reasonably be put in that category. 

My query was in response to a headline I had seen about the tragic deaths earlier this week of "three elderly people" hiking in the Grand Canyon. Their ages? 73 (I can see that), 68, and 67. Um...

I remembered a story my mom used to tell about a time there came a knock at her door early one Saturday morning. One of her neighbors had called the police about some suspicious activity, but she was unaware of it when she answered in her pajamas and found a police officer on her front porch. "Is everything all right here?" he asked, looking over her shoulder and into the house. 

She assured him it was, and when his radio squawked, he reported the all clear. "Nobody here but an elderly woman," he told the person on the other end.

She laughed when she recounted the incident, because at 68, she felt anything but elderly. 

I sighed and extended my search. "Is it rude to call someone elderly?"

Swimming in the Memory Lane

We ran into an acquaintance at the pool this afternoon. She is a neighbor, but to be honest, we usually only see her in summer when we all frequent the pool. "Do you have any travel plans this year?" I asked as we waited for the required 15-minute break at the end of the hour.

"Oh," she waved her hand. "No. But I could go to Oakton and back, and never remember even being there, so there's that.' She laughed wryly.

I nodded in amusement and slight confusion.

"But I'm also starting my infusion treatment," she continued. "It's every other week for 18 months, so I don't want to go far."

Again, I nodded, but I was lost.

"I don't remember if I told you or not," she added, "but I have early-stage Alzheimer's. I did the genetic testing, and I qualify for the new treatment. I'm so grateful and optimistic."

I expressed my support, and she went on. "I might tell you all this again," she laughed. "But so what?"

Blue Skies Smilin' at Me

Although the day dawned a bit gray, the first day of summer break turned out to be gorgeous: a high of 82, breezy, with plenty of sunshine by the afternoon. We went to the pool for the first time this season, and the water was pleasant and refreshing. When the guard called for the 15-minute break at the end of the hour, Heidi and I sat wrapped in towels, chatting about the future—in addition to a trip to the beach next week and other travel plans, this summer and fall bring a wedding and 2 babies to our immediate circle. Plus? On a whim, we toured a nearby house for sale yesterday afternoon, and who knows?

Anything seems possible on the first day of summer break.

A Wrap and a Roll

"When did you start this tradition?" someone asked at the table this afternoon as we enjoyed our traditional, last day of school lobster rolls.

"Tracey and Heidi did it first," Mary explained, "and then they invited me. They used to go to the movies afterward."

"We've been doing it for years," I nodded. "Maybe ten?" I looked across the table at Heidi and thought back. "I think the first year we went to see Finding Dory after lunch, right?"

She shrugged. "That sounds right."

I grabbed my phone from the center of the table and tapped the screen. "Finding Dory came out in 2016, so that must be when we started."

I put my phone down and considered the seven of us at the table, and then thought of all the folks who had joined us over the years. It is a nice tradition, indeed. 

Top Down

I closed out the school year on my consulting gig at a company lunch. All my interactions with the president, educational officer, and my fellow coaches had been virtual, so this was the first time we met in person. It was almost as awkward as it sounds, but not quite. Everyone was easy to recognize and not so difficult to chit chat with. Once the president arrived, she commanded our attention with her wrap-up report and remarks of thanks. 

I listened carefully and tried to make sense of my place in the organization. The firm was founded 3 years ago by a former school administrator and leadership coach, and the world of applying for contracts and vendor opportunities was alien to me. Less so was the notion of designing programs and curriculum, but all the women present were very focused on leadership rather than the everyday frontline classroom teacher.

Such an attitude is anathema to me, but I stayed silent on the topic. The work I did involved coaching teachers, and I expect to be offered an opportunity to continue. Despite its leadership-skewed focus, the culture of the company is nurturing and expansive, so there's a chance that I can nudge them in the direction I know would be productive and impactful.

Expert Advice

As I wheeled my cart around the corner to the seltzer aisle, I noticed a woman, perhaps fifteen years older than I am, scanning the endcap. There was something about her hair and makeup that looked vaguely familiar, and I momentarily lingered on her face, trying to place her. We made eye contact then, so I smiled as I passed. 

"I've been feeling a little faint and weak in this heat," I heard a voice behind me say, and I turned to see her closing in on me, "so my mailman told me I needed Gatorade!" she laughed. "And here I am."

"Maybe the electrolytes?" I offered.

"But my mailman!" she repeated.

"He probably spends a lot of time outdoors," I suggested.

She shrugged in amusement. "My husband is a doctor!" she informed me, and he never mentioned any such thing. "Now, where do you s'pose that Gatorade is?"