Thursday Night Special

I had the rare weekday pleasure of going to dinner at Bill and Emily's tonight. Heidi is out of town, so they kindly invited me over and prepared a delicious meal of grilled steak, pan-roasted Brussels sprouts, farro, and oven-fried apples. They even had chocolate chip cookie bars with a crispy meringue topping and ice cream for dessert. 

Treat came by for a late supper after the school board meeting, and the four of us stayed up talking much later than I usually do on a Thursday. Lucy had an exciting evening, too, playing with her cousins and searching for cats. 

But maybe it was a little too exciting, because she barfed up everything she'd eaten since dinner right as I was getting in bed. Not quite the perfect end to a lovely evening, but not a spoiler either. Plus, we can sleep in in the morning.

Eleven Twelve Ready or Not

I was surprised when the phone rang at noon today, but I picked it up immediately when I saw it was from the financial adviser. "For some reason, I have this call on my calendar for tomorrow," I confessed, but assured the team that this time worked for me, too. 

The surprise timing may have been even better, because it spared me the angst I often feel when something I'm not entirely comfortable with is coming. I hadn't even started to worry about it yet. And? I was prepared for the call, so everything went fine. 

Even so, it was niggling at my brain enough that I checked back over the email chain, and sure enough, I had asked for 11/12. The office is located in Minneapolis, though, and they had offered an 11 o'clock time slot, so I clarified: 11/12 @ 11, but that will be 12 my time. 

Admittedly, it was a lot of 11s and 12s, but aren't they supposed to be number people? 

C U

It's that time of year when people's social calendars are filling up. I could really tell today because usually? At the end of bowling, everyone says, "See you next week!" But today, because everyone's schedules are both intersecting outside of the league and conflicting with our regular competition, I overheard all sorts of goodbyes:

See you tomorrow!

See you Sunday!

See you Monday!

See you next week!

If I don't see you, Happy Thanksgiving!

See you in December!

It's a lot to keep track of, so I just used my standard, if aspirational, goodbye: See you soon! 

Life Imitates Life

As usual, the end-of-season meeting at our community garden was a bit contentious. This year, there was debate over the required workdays for next season: larger-plot gardeners would be required to do two, while newer, smaller-plot gardeners would be scheduled for one. The main issue is that the county is splitting our original plots in half so more people can have one, but the policy is being rolled out gradually; those gardeners who were there before the new rule can keep their larger plots. 

Naturally, the divisions have fallen along generational lines; most of the senior gardeners are older than the newer small-plot folks. As the discussion heated up, I noticed that the combatants were mostly Boomers and Millennials; like national politics, the Gen Xers were largely unrepresented. Oh, there was me, and the two chief gardeners are probably Xers, but we were a minority. Or maybe we were all just quietly sucking it up.

Also mirroring larger issues, the Millennials based their support for the two-vs-one work day on the argument that the larger gardens were "using more resources" than the smaller plots and therefore should contribute more. In addition to their generational confidence, they had a bit of an OK Boomer tone.

But the Boomers were having none of it; they were clinging to their wealth, experience, and influence. "Can we have two votes, too?" asked one.

In the end, we weren't equipped to count votes accurately; our show-of-hands, all-in-favor-say-aye style, couldn't yield a clear result on such a contentious issue, so we pushed the issue to email in the off-season, one vote per garden.

Having been part of the community for 16 years, I have a larger plot. I find the workdays onerous, mostly because of the unpleasant leadership style, and I would love to only have to do one. Even so, I agreed with another long-time gardener when he spoke up. "We've always had to do two workdays," he said, "so I'm not being asked to do more. Some of my fellow gardeners are being allowed to do less. There is a difference."

The Hang of It

In my third year of retirement, I haven't subbed, and my coaching-consulting gig has been in limbo. And, to my surprise? I haven't minded. Instead, I have been walking a neighbor's dog and babysitting for a friend whose first child was born in late August. 

Dogs and babies? Who can complain? And in addition to my field trips with Mary, writing group, and lunch and coffee with friends, I always have bowling.

Mutually Beneficial

“We were so glad to have you back as testing coordinator last spring!” A former colleague gushed at the happy hour yesterday. 

“Thank you!” I replied. “It was really great to be back.”

“I know it must have been good for you, too,” he agreed. “I mean, after 65? If you don’t use your brain, you’re going to lose it. Cognitive decline is real.”

Obviously a Middle School Teacher

My baseball name is Scuffy McSlugger, read the sticker on one of the teachers' shirts at happy hour. 

"What does that mean?" someone asked him. "Where do you even get a baseball name?"

"I have no idea," he laughed. "I just found this sticker on the ground as I was leaving school, and I thought it was funny!"