This is a small portion of Jerry's conference room wall.
Jerry is a great Second Helpings board member, volunteer, employer of our graduates, and larger-then life personality.
You can't help but giggle when he yells "Spitznogle" in a meeting.
Do you have an 'isms' or a motto?
I have 'Don't Let Logistics Get in the Way of a Good Idea' on my office wall.
I also try to come up with a motto for the year.
2012 was It's Not About You Sunshine. I've always known that the world doesn't revolve around me, but I used to think that every interaction I had was about me. I would take it personally if someone didn't use their turn signal or if a cashier looked frustrated. I knew that people didn't wake up each day plotting about how they could piss me off, but I needed to wrap my head around it.
2013 was Graceful Conclusions. I worked on not getting too worked up about
things before they actually happened. I tended to worry about every
possible negative outcome of any possible situation. Often things have a
graceful conclusion - no reason to be a jerk or get in people's
I've finally settled on Trust the Process for 2014. I'm going to work on not micro-managing everything. Even if I didn't articulate my concerns, I was certainly rearranging things in my head.
Okay. I feel like a bit of a jerk, but I'm craving some time alone.
Between the neighbor (who's last name
I still don't know) being at my house for the last two days and will be sleeping on my sofa again night and the harrowing drives to work and the constant decision making about the weather and such, I am frazzled.
The only option for being at home alone involves my basement, which is pretty damn chilly with the -15 degree weather and all.
Sweetie got a service call to fix a leak at a
neighborhood bar. When I asked to go along I think he assumed I was
going to help and hold wrenches and stuff.
We walked in the back door and I hightailed it to the
bar, tossing him the tools I was holding as I ran.
The glow you see in my delicious Vanilla Porter is my
Kindle downloaded with the latest Janet Evanovich novel.
I'm still close enough to my days of living paycheck to paycheck and juggling utility bills that my first thought when the power goes off is that I forgot to pay the bill. I immediately run to the window to look down the street to see if any of my neighbors have lights.
While my lights were only out for about eight hours on my side of the street, they still don't have power across the street and a good chunk of the neighborhood.
It feels like I'm bragging by turning on the porch lights. Hey, lookie over here! I have lights, and heat, and water and you don't! Nannie nannie boo boo!
After yesterday's storm the temperatures crashed to below zero and the frigid air was starting to take its toll on fingers and toes and water pipes and people's nerves.
I was grateful to be able to open my door for cell phone charging and toe warming. I met folks I'd never seen before and was glad that old friends walked over.
In fact I've got a neighbor sleeping on my sofa tonight. I'm pretty confident of his first name, but I don't know is last. Nothing weird about that, right?
Except for my unnatural affection for my iPhone and MacBook, I pretty much live like it's 1957.
I listen to a transistor radio, hang my clothes to dry, read actual books, hand wash my dishes, and love my old refrigerator and stove. I'd totally raise chickens in the backyard if it wasn't for the occasional wild dog that wanders through. Or that fact that I had enough of feeding and watering and butchering and plucking chickens as a kid.
I've been getting fruits and veggies and other groceries delivered to my doorstep every other week for about a year now. I'm eating better and enjoy coming home to the Green BEAN green bin on my doorstep. Packing my General Electric 1950s fridge makes me happy and feel like a grownup homemaker.
It's not pretty, but I got the sidewalk in front of my house and most of the driveway shoveled by 7:00 this morning.
Even if I'm the only one on my block that shovels the sidewalk, I feel weird if I don't. And as the landlord, I also shovel the driveway and a path for the tenant to get from the driveway to his side of the house and a path through the front yard for the mailman.
As a kid on the farm the most delicate tool we used to move snow around was a scoop shovel - the same one we used to "clean out" the cow barn, I might add. At least shoveling snow with it knocked some of the stink off.
Snow removal typically involved the John Deere B tractor and the attached front scoop. I loved being part of it when I was younger even though that meant freezing my little arms off to do it. Note the lack of cab or any sort of windbreak.
Shoveling snow is the city is a privilege that I enjoy. We're supposed to get walloped with snow again this weekend. I'll be the one on Winthrop with my shovel, Uncle Cletus' potato fork, and a big frozen smile on my face.