As a teacher for over 43 years, I feel guilty when there is nothing for an eager reader to learn from my posts here on the blog, but sometimes, actually quite a bit of the time, I am tired of teaching. If someone wants to learn about gerunds or how to instruct a dog to “heel” or about writing that is as crisp as a pickle or about the psychology of women, well, he or she should ask me. Then, I am happy to teach.
For now, my blog has deteriorated into my eclectic (a fancy way of saying jumbled) thoughts that go with no apparent organizational thread in a zillion directions. Perhaps your thoughts occasionally have the same zig-zag trajectory?
For a multiplicity of examples of my latent eclecticism, read on:
Within the next four hours, my husband will be arriving home after a nine-day journey to the outer reaches of the Aleutians in search of silver salmon. While he has been gone, I have been doing exactly what I want to do such as texting our neighbor, who has a “ranch manager,” who has a barking dog, which he leaves out at night (hence, the barking). In my stern text I write that if I hear that dog rattling my peaceful sleep at 3:00 am one more night, I am going to call the police. She was attentive to this text and texted her ranch manager. Very nice.
My screen name for Words With Friends is Cheribabu. This name is an accident, one committed when I was trying to do too many things at once and didn’t finish my intended screen name: CheriBaby. Although Frankie Valle and the Four Seasons spelled their Sherry with an S, I had a deep affinity for the song from the moment I heard it and like to use it as a screen name. At any rate, I’ve been playing Words With Friends in between walking, exercising, drinking lattes on my patio, and nibbling small healthy crackers dunked in low-fat humus. Sitting around playing games on my iPad is not my usual affair. Shouldn’t I be doing something productive?
I heard gunfire at the end of our road today. Our neighbor up there is running a shooting range in the middle of one of the last havens of pastoral quiet in our city. I power-walked up to noise (about 1 mile uphill) when I could have driven, just to confirm for myself that the automatic weaponry was coming from his place. Then, I sent him an email, asking why we were not notified of this activity on a quiet Sunday.
Clearly, since my husband has been away, I am a woman with too much time on my hands. But that is OK. In fact, it is more than OK. For the first 60 years of my life I had too much work on hands ( I mean, plate). It’s OK to listen to oaks rustle, right?
I’ve checked and rechecked the olive fruit fly traps, hauled two heavy garbage cans and recycle bins up our driveway and out onto the road, I’ve made pickles, thrown all of our spices out and purchased $68.57 worth of new spices ( I did forget the oregano, however), have given the dog three medicated baths for her skin condition, have used the blower to clean off the driveway of oily acorns (otherwise the dog will eat them), and have vowed to stop yelling at the idiots on the Park District property that parallels our house when they hoot and holler at 5:30 am. I’ve renewed my driver’s license online (thank God), have supervised three men putting up a bat deterrent system, have observed that the ollalieberries need more water, and have gone outside at night in my soft robe just to look at the stars. Let me also add here that after ordering my customary “lime and cilantro chicken salad” at the Nordstrom Cafe, I discovered that the company has removed the limes and the red peppers, along with serving a smaller salad–all for a whopping $12.95. I called the store manager, Joanne, to discuss how a salad could still be called a lime and cilantro salad with no limes. Surely a salad with less lettuce, no limes or red peppers should be priced accordingly.
Yes, in four hours my husband will be home, so I am now going to cook dinner, an act of love I haven’t done in nine days. I’ve eaten yogurt, salads with fruit and granola, small bowls of low-sodium soup, and more salads. Tonight, I pulled raw meat out of the freezer.
I’m going to have to be back on my best behavior and get that meat in the oven (which needs cleaning but which I chose to skip in lieu of working the New York Times Crossword).
So much for the “education” part of the tagline by Notes from Around the Block.