This post is password protected. To view it please enter your password below:

Password:

Sorry.  I realized today how things can sneak up on you, when you didn’t even realize that it was sneakable.   And it would keep sneaking up if I didn’t wash my hands.  Again.

It has to do with old memories, you know?  Things that were there this whole time, but it took something concrete to bring to the surface.

Today, it was Huberd’s Shoe Grease.  Somehow, I knew it was good stuff.  Couldn’t remember why or where I knew this from, but I decided that I needed to waterproof my boots with some Huberd’s.

The problem is, when I opened the container and saw the grease.  Dabbed some on the cloth.  Caught a whiff of it.  Had a horrible flashback.

See, my step-dad used Huberd’s.  It’s a great product – that’s why he used it.  To grease his work boots.  He used to pay a penny a boot for unlacing them when he came home.  The smell of dust and asphalt and Huberd’s is so clear in my mind now, when a few hours ago it was so sublimated that I didn’t even know how I knew about the shoe grease in the first place.

My first thought was to text my sister.  ”Using Huberd shoe grease.  Trying not to get icked out.”

She replied, “Oh man, haven’t thought of that for years.  Weird gagging in my throat and instant nausea.”

So it’s not just me – I’m not crazy.  I feel sort of bad for bringing this up to my sister, who has enough stuff going on in her life, but who else can you talk to, if not the person who was there with you, sharing the experience?

I tried to mention it to my roommate.  I’ve known him for…6 years?   More, I think.  8, maybe.  In any case, we’ve been friends a long time.  And I said, I’m going to have to have my daughter finish waterproofing my boots.  The smell gave me horrible flashbacks.

He replied, “My knee sure got stiff at work today, but I still wish I could have worked a full shift.”

I guess there are some things that you just can’t talk to a guy-friend about, huh?

Like how strawberry jam and shoe grease can take you back to being an 8-year old being abused by your step-dad.  Or how you feel weird taking money from people, because that’s what he did to try to make us stay quiet about it.  Or a hundred other stupid little things.

But that’s what blogs are for, right?  To let us prattle on about our hidden rotten insides without having to actually see people looking away, desperately trying to think of a new topic.

We went to see The Slants and Men Without Hats the other night.   It was an eventful day – I went to work, went home, picked up a couple kids, got stuck in traffic, got there in plenty of time, had the guy in line give us his spare ticket (score!  we were short one), got seats behind the sound guys, watched a great show, got pictures of my daughter with The Slants, got autographs, left, got stuck in traffic, got home at 2:18ayem.   Then got up at 7ayem to go to work.

But it was fun.  And worth it.  The kids had an awesome time, the traffic accident didn’t involve us, and all is well.  I have video of The Slants portion of the concert, but you can’t really see anything.  But you can hear it, by god, yes indeed.

Overall, it was a great concert.  It was put together by a band called Massive Moth…but I have to say, sandwiched in between The Slants and Mw/oH, they kind of got lost.  The kids wanted to dance, and they weren’t very dance-able.  The Slants opened strong and put on a great show.  Men w/o Hats…well, I couldn’t see much, but I what I could hear was impressive.  They’ve changed over the years, but not for the worse.  They did not disappoint.  And they were smart – they saved “the song” for last.  Well, second to last – there was an encore song.
Oh – and the played SOS by Abba.  HA!  It was great.

My daughter found it – it’s a pigeon by the way – in the dirt under the overpass near my work.  It didn’t make any move to get  up or escape, so she thought it might be hurt.  She had part of a shirt she’d been taking apart with her, so she used it to pick it up and bring it to me.  I borrowed a carrier from work and brought it home.

I took him home. I took him out of the carrier and took a good look at him. He seems fine – doesn’t have any asymmetry or anything like he’s broken a wing, doesn’t fight or struggle like anything hurts. He’s obviously uncomfortable at being handled, but I think being that young helped him adapt to the situation somewhat.

The thing is, his legs don’t seem to work. At all. They are just kind of there and floppy. He can push himself along the ground with his wings, and seems to be somewhat practiced at it, but the legs just drag behind. Otherwise, he seems fine. He’s eating, drinking, reacting to his surroundings; all the stuff a bird should be doing. Just can’t use those feet.

Time will tell how this turns out, but maybe…just maybe…this one will live.

Don't you love how he manages to look indignant as he's being ushered out of our house?

Anyway. Last night, Mark went out to the back for a smoke. It was about midnight, maybe a little earlier. He suddenly comes back in saying “I need help” and walks back out. In the garage, he puts on his coat and gloves. I ask what’s up, he says, “there’s a cat in the fence”. So I grab the flashlight and follow him out. The cat is indeed in the fence. The neighbor cat. He’s gotten his collar hooked on one of the hinges of the dog exersize yard I use to keep the chickens out of the tomatoes. Looks like he’s been there a while – he’s kinda feeble, you know? I’m not like Mark – when I see something like that, I don’t automatically think, “protect myself”, I think, “Help the cat”. So I hand him the flashlight and hold the cat steady with one hand and unhook him with the other. Yes, I got a few scratches, and yes, I got some blood on my arm from the cat. But it would have taken him forever to get the cat undone with garden gloves on, and the coat probably wouldn’t have helped.

Poor Charlie (turns out that’s the cats name) went limp when I unhooked him, just relaxed into my arms. I took him back to his house, late as it was. I figured that since we knew where he was from it was the best thing to do. The blood was from his mouth, probably his throat was raw from trying to breath hung up like that.

Oh, and he’s fine now. He’s already been in twice this morning looking for food. Maybe I should recommend switching brands to my neighbor?

Thing is, the thing that keeps popping into my head to write about is not a funny thing. It’s actually pretty damned tragic.

Last week, I guess it would have been March 29, we all showed up for work at 8:30, as usual. We all set about our normal morning stuff, cleaning or straightening or whatever. The phone rang, like phones have a tendency to do. A few minutes later, we were all called up to the front.

Seems that someone hadn’t gotten my memo about Monday having been Happy Little Elf Day, and had committed suicide. Is that the right phrase? Killed himself, bought himself a one-way ticket south…whatever.

Of course we were all pretty shocked. TJ had only worked with us for a few months, but it had seemed like he was starting to warm up finally. He’d made it a point to stop and talk to me during my Sunday morning over-priced coffee stop the day before, and we’d chatted for about 15 minutes before we had to head to work. Seems like we’d talked again that night, as we were getting ready to go. Several co-workers said something similar – that TJ had seemed to be opening up a bit, talking and joking more. But then I had a thought…

When he talked to us, did he talk about himself at all? When he talked to me, he asked questions, commented on my replies, but I don’t recall him volunteering any information about himself. I say he seemed fine, seemed happy enough, but he hadn’t actually said anything to me one way or the other. Some co-workers knew his basics, but no one had any real insight into his mental state or mood.

TJ, We hardly knew ye. I don’t know about anyone else, but that not knowing makes it worse for me. If I’d tried harder to get to know him, if I’d veered from my self-serving chit-chat long enough to say, “But what about you? How do you like things? How’s your life going?”…maybe things would have gone differently.

Or not. The problem is, as it is with so many things, only the Universe knows the answer, and it ain’t sharing. So all we are left with is a hole in the shape of TJ, and probably some guilt and self-doubt.

Now, I work a job for much less pay, has much more physical activity, and not quite as good hours. But you know what…I’m so much happier there. So maybe now, now that I’m settled in to this job that I really like, I can start writing with my whole brain instead of just the business part. The following posts will, hopefully, be worth the trouble.

Snakes

Filberts

and best of all, I got two of these so far this month.

I know it’s hard to believe, but I did get something better. I got this:

That’s a lap quilt made for me by my mother-in-law. Er, step-mother-in-law. Um…ex-step-mother-in-law. Anyway. My daughter’s grandmother. Step-grandmother.

Ugh. It doesn’t matter. She’s an awesome lady, and is doing the best grandmothering she can from a state far away. I can’t wait to take a nap now.