Wednesday, July 29, 2015

Phone Call.

We've been on the receiving end of a flurry of strange calls lately.

Yesterday, the phone rang. It was obviously a call center. You could hear the voices in the background, including a heavily accented voice that was screaming like crazy at someone. "I don't care..." the bellow went.

A little surprised, I said, "Hello?!!"

And a heavily accented voice (think Jamaica, or the like) came on. He politely said, "May I speak to Timothy please."

I said, "No."

He wasn't prepared for that answer. He hesitated.

I said "We don't wish to speak to scammers."

Long pause. Polite 'click'.

I hope the person who was being screamed at found the wherewithall to hang up the phone.

Wednesday, July 22, 2015

On the other side.

It amazes me the difference a job can make.

It's embarrassing to admit, but the pharmacy did not work out. It is the only job that I have ever worked that I left after giving a two day notice. In April, I received a raise that I'd been promised the previous August. A raise that was, after repeated questioning, finally promised in writing in October. As soon as I finally got that long awaited raise in April, my hours were cut from 40 to 30 hours per week.

That was the final straw.

I went back to what I know. I am working with the developmentally disabled. It is a 'fit'. I am happy in my job. I am earning a livable wage. I enjoy my clients, and I receive positive feedback from my superiors.

I also look back at the last couple years and realize that I've been dealing with a pretty heavy duty depression.

I don't know why that should be, that a job determines so much of my feelings of worth, but it does.

But I'm starting to love life again. I am a pretty blessed woman.

Sunday, July 19, 2015


Probably going to sound very stupid, but you know what I love? I love sitting in the semi dark and hearing the clocks strike the hour. First the clock in the hall (slowly, in a serious, deep tone), and then the clock in the library joins in (a tinkly, slower chime which continues on after the hall clock has efficiently done its job.) The two clocks seem to goad the livingroom clock in action, and it joins in, just as the library clock finishes.

As the clocks count the hours, I count my blessings. When the last chime fades into eternity, I sit there in silence, and I am counting still.

Tuesday, May 5, 2015

Karen in Texas wanted to know what was going on with the house. Well...we took a gamble. The house had been on the market for over a year. The decision was made that we would put in a bid once the house we'd been working on sold.

A friend noticed that the house was no longer on the market. She messaged right away to see if Tim had talked me into it. "No," I said.

Tim was dead certain that they'd pulled it and listed it with a new realtor, which had happened before, but I called our realtor just to be sure. Someone has put a bid on it. Tim still feels quite strongly about this house. I'm torn. It's a beauty of a house, but instead of the profit from the sold house going into our bank account, it would be going into yet another house. We have talked often about Tim retiring early. This purchase would have kept that plan on the back burner for a couple more years.

So, I'm okay with it. Tim is very disappointed, and is hoping against hope that the deal falls through. It was fun to daydream about it, but I'm happy where we are.

I had a nice moment Sunday night. The moon was glorious, just breath taking, hid within some clouds. I sat visiting with friends as the day turned into night, and I was grateful for friends.

Other than that, just working really hard right now.

Yearly cancer stuff on Monday, and I'm dreading it. I keep telling myself that I'm totally ridiculous that for the past 6 years every report has been good. I'm not sure why I'm being so superstitious.

Tuesday, April 14, 2015

Life and Death

Today, I was sitting at a red light at an intersection. The light changed and the cross traffic stopped. As I prepared to pull out, I noticed a semi truck coming very fast to my right. I hesitated, and watched him apply his brakes hard. The tires were smoking, and the brakes were hissing, and there was this horrifying moment when I realized that he was about to hit the little car waiting at the light.

My horrified gaze met the horrified gaze of the driver of the car and there was nothing to be done. I knew that it would be bad, very bad.

The truck got stopped. I mean, you can not even imagine how close this was. Seriously, the truck was no more than six feet from that little car.

It was over in seconds, really, although it seemed to take forever to unfold.

I finished pulling into the intersection and made my left turn.

I imagine that it was a terrifying moment for both the driver of the car and the truck. I pulled off to drop off a donation of hunting clothes to the Goodwill, and I watched that truck coming. He was flying in a 45 mile an hour zone.

I drove home the rest of the way wondering about that. How can you have such a close call and not be changed, not be filled with such relief and gratitude that you slow that rig down?