Insider Trading

Our neighbor was bursting with excitement when we ran into her walking the dogs this morning "I got the DNA results back for Benny!" she told us.

And before we could even say Cool! she continued. "I'll tell you what they are, but you can't tell anyone. The big reveal is tonight."

We knew that a group of her buddies had chipped in on the test as a birthday gift earlier in the summer, and it made sense that they would get together to share the results. 

We looked at Ben: 85 pounds, short white hair with a few brown patches, huge gray eyes in a giant block-shaped head, and a big smile. "Can we guess?" I asked. 

"Okay!" she answered, "but you'll never get it. There are four breeds."

"Pitty?" Heidi guessed.

"Yep!" she answered. "We expected that, right?"

"But those eyes!" I said.

"Great Pyrenees!" she revealed. "And then there was Boxer, and... Husky! Can you believe it?"

We agreed that he was an unexpected mix of mutts, and patting him on his Great Pyreepityoxerusky head, we went on our way.

A little while later we got a text from the dog friends. We are going to find out today what breeds make up our favorite gentleman Mr. Ben, it read. Come on by my house at 6:30 and participate in the best guess contest. He has four breeds, so bring your four guesses in a sealed envelope.

I looked at Heidi and laughed. "I think we can win this one!"

Day Shift

I spent the day somewhere between Monday and Tuesday. Summer vacation can do that, especially one with so few breaks in the break. Every day blends thoughtlessly into the next.

Now that I'm pushing sixty, I have a couple of those 7 compartment pill and vitamin organizers, and they ground me in the calendar at least once a day. Oh, it's Monday again, I told myself as I chewed my gummy multivite. But then I forgot.

Floating in the pool later I mentally checked my fluid agenda. Soooo... Teachers "report" 2 weeks from today? Or was it yesterday? And students start 4 weeks from... today? Tomorrow?

In the end I was certain we have roughly 2 weeks to get ready to spend, more or less, 2 weeks getting ready for whatever is going to happen in around 4 weeks.

I'm on it!

Never mind the obvious follow up question: how long will we have to get ready for the next thing?

To Float

Recently, we've been booking the 6 PM slot at our community pool. At that hour it is less crowded; most families are at home for dinner, and the golden slant of the evening sun over the aquamarine of the still water is beautiful. We enjoy treading and floating in the deep end and talking away as many of our cares as we can. That's a big job this summer, but the weightlessness of the water helps.

It takes a little planning to make it to the pool at that time. We eat dinner when we get home, so I like to have our meal ready to go. Lucy needs exercise, and I have all number of other chores for myself. Some days I go to the garden, some days are for baking bread, and every day is for writing, reading, and working out. Having all of those things taken care of before we go to the pool makes the evening much more enjoyable.

And so here you find me, but not for long: exercise ring closed, tomatoes picked, bread rising, summer seafood chowder simmering, dog exercised, and blog written.

The pool awaits!

Something to Look Forward To

Since my vacation was canceled (Yes! I'm still bitter!) I was poking around looking at other rental options for the near and distant future this morning. One place I found was on a farm just outside Gettysburg, PA. The chickens and horses were part of the experience, which also included six bedrooms, a game room, hot tub, and, wait for it... an indoor heated pool!

This is the perfect location for Oscar weekend! I thought. But wait! When are the Oscars next year?

I can be forgiven for not knowing-- they have been messing around with the date for the last few years. In 2018 they were in early March to make way for the Winter Olympics, in 2019 they were the last weekend in February, as they have been for a while, but this year they were moved all the way up to February 9, so early that we were caught unprepared; we barely saw any of the movies, and our annual holiday was canceled. (Yes! I'm still bitter!)

And it turned out to be wise that I checked the date, because next year the ceremony is scheduled to be held on April 25! It's COVID, of course, and, wouldn't you know it, the perfect house is already booked for that weekend. "But we can plan on it for 2022!" I told my sister on the phone this morning.

Put it on the calendar, gang: February 27, 2022, Oscar Weekend in Gettysburg!

The Grapevine

When I was a kid, it was just about this time of year that they published the school classes in the newspaper. Back then we would open the local evening paper and turn eagerly to the columns of small print in the somewhere in the back pages. There, listed by town, then school, then grade, were the classes. Once we found our own names, we would scan with excitement and a little dread, to find our friends, and then get on the phone to see what everyone knew about kids and teachers and our new classes.

I thought about those days today as texts were flying between colleagues at our school. Have you heard yet? What priority are you? Who else has gotten the call?

The priority system was put in place by our district to manage the discrepancy between teacher requests for distance vs. in-person learning and those made by the families. Priority one teachers will be the first to return, whenever it's safe enough (but not safe for everyone) and priority four will be the last. In between staffing will be determined by enrollment.

Our principal is calling staff alphabetically, and folks are sharing the news anecdotally as it arrives. We are waiting with excitement and more than a little dread to hear the news.

Maybe they should just put it in the paper!

Cynosure

I had another frustrating customer service experience today, and I was really tempted to use this space to vent a little, but I was very mindful that I did that yesterday, and I try to avoid too much griping, because, well, it's boring. So, as I sat at the keyboard watching my cursor blink and still steaming about my mobile phone company, I took a deep breath and considered my day, looking for that bit of glory in all its banality.

And it occurred to me that I had a perfectly delightful customer service experience while shopping this afternoon. As Heidi and I scoped out the long, long check out lines, we spotted a young man standing at a register nearby. The light was not on, but since we were tenth in line for self check, I made eye contact and asked if he were open. He politely informed me that he was not, and continued with his task. A moment later, though, he scanned the lines and called us over, opening his register for us and several others after.

It was a small, unnecessary kindness, but I appreciated it in the moment. I would have totally forgotten the gesture, too, if I hadn't been looking for an antidote to the toxic interaction I had recently concluded.

So often it's easier to fixate on what nettles us than what soothes us; I'm glad I had a chance to refocus today.

Amateur Hour

Recently I've begun to shy away from shopping at what was once one of my favorite groceries, and I couldn't figure out why. But today, the time and the place and the list seemed right to give it another try, so I parked in the garage, masked up, and climbed the stairs to the store. This particular location is only a few years old, and it has the compact layout of one of this chains urban outlets.

Before, I enjoyed being able to find what I wanted quickly, scanning the app on my phone for my discount, and paying by tapping my watch, but since the Covid shortages, I've been frustrated by spotty inventory, which is more of an issue when there are fewer items to choose from.

I realized today, too, that my fellow shoppers are also contributing to the decline in my shopping pleasure. Most of the people in the store were paid shoppers; all of their attention was on the lists on their phones, rather than social distance, or even the courtesy of selecting an item quickly when someone was politely waiting to get to the same shelf or cooler.

Personally, I enjoy grocery shopping, it's an aesthetic experience for me, but there was no pleasure or appreciation in their activity; shopping with them was like trying to make dinner in the kitchen at a McDonalds while the staff was serving customers. Don't get me wrong, there was no animosity, but in my encounters with them, whether it was pushing my cart past theirs in a small space, or trying to get to the cilantro, I felt the pressure to step aside and let the professionals do what they were hired for.

I guess that attitude is completely understandable-- they are at work! But I'm not. And it will be a while before I go back to that particular store.