Poor guy

Do you think Santa is out of sorts in January? You know, overtired, discouraged by commercialism, strained back….

I’m only asking because I think I saw him shopping with Mrs Claus today at Freshco and he was pretty grouchy. He kind of cheered me up (just as you would expect Santa to) Here was someone shopping who was feeling grouchier than me.  Poor guy. It made me want to go home and bake him a cake.  

A no

“Do you want to keep your plan?”she intoned. 

“Oh, yes, unless there is something cheaper,” I added hopefully.  I heard a muffled giggle. Then another. 

I took that for a no. 

coughing

"You can just go on YouTube. Everything you need to know will be there," murmured the clerk. "Or, you can come in for free, one-on-one lessons," she added, coughing into her elbow.

stash of cash

Children were out and about today, spending their Christmas money.
Thank goodness for Zip Loc bags.
Two little girls emptied one onto a counter and their auntie sorted through their scrunched up bills, and at least a pound of assorted change that included tokens from Disneyland.
There were some pretty nimble mathematics performed as toys were considered, minus the sale price, plus the tax, times two little girls, divided by the available stash of cash.

tea time

I had an early morning appointment today.
What was I thinking to book an 8 am dentist appointment?
I suppose I figured that since I start work at 7 am on days I work, that 8 wouldn't ripple the pond of life.
I was wrong.

I actually don't mind going to the dentist.
It feels so good to have freshly cleaned teeth.
And it feels pretty good to lay back in that big, soft chair with my feet pointing to the ceiling and my thoughts freed to roam at will for a blissful hour.
At least that's how I usually feel.
How I expected to feel.
I was wrong.

My hygienist is a calm, particular, methodical woman. These are delightful qualities in a dental hygienist. She shares her workspace with another equally dependable woman. Sadly, a car accident has resulted in this co-worker being replaced by a revolving door of temporary help. Routines have changed. Supplies have not been reordered. Things have been moved and things are missing and things are stressful.
I suppose that isn't so surprising.
What was surprising though was how I absorbed that stress like a thirsty sponge.
I felt a buzz the whole time I was there.
My husband would high five me because that is his usual response to a trip to the dentist.

A long hour later, I staggered out into the cool morning air where I revived just enough to mislead myself into thinking a trek to Target was called for.
Target is closing and a few crumbs of sale items remain. I had a particular mission in mind. I figured I'd just pop in and out and then hasten home for tea.
I was wrong.
Again.
It was early enough that most of the mall was still closed, so everyone in Langley with a yen to shop was crowded into Target.
Rock stars wish they had as many people lining up to buy tickets as Target had lining up to buy the strangest assortment of things.
And I was one of them.

Time seemed to pick up speed after that.
Isn't time a funny thing? It can creep along, come to a grinding halt, race ahead...you just never know what it will do.

I realized as I was writing this that I never did get my cup of tea.

comfortably light

This is one of my favourite bracelets. It is not an original idea but it is an original none-the-less. A few years ago at an Arts Fair, I saw button bracelets for sale. I made one of those mental notes, the super size kind.
When I got home from the fair, I rushed to my sewing cupboard and plucked out a piece of wide black elastic. Then I rummaged about in my button stash for white and cream gems; Mother of pearl and vintage alike. I stitched them on with black thread to make a statement. The statement was, I will never fall off, I will never fall off.
It made for a comfortably heavy cuff bracelet that somehow lightens my mood whenever I slip it on.

at every turn

Today I saw a man living on the edge of danger.
He was smoking,
while wielding a gas weedeater,
as he leveled a patch of tall dry grass....

Today I saw a young mother making time stand still
as she crouched beside her baby in a stoller.
A little flock of Bantam beauty pecked and fluttered just beyond the fence.....

Today I saw row upon green row of bedding plants.
Infant flowers.
A thousand summer gardens all in a row.....

Today I drove down unfamiliar streets.
I let the car choose the path home.
I was surprised at every turn.

press one

I have a very old Air Miles card. I usually forget I have it when I arrive at last at the check out counter. I suppose that is why, twenty years on, I only have enough points to taxi down the runway.
Today I decided to seize the moment. I had shopped at Safeway and received a little card along with my receipt. One of those little cards with a magic number inside. I would likely have tossed it but my eye focused on a picture on the back.
A Pfaff sewing machine.
It was available for Air Miles Points.
Lots and lots of points.

The possibility to win 10,000 points was dangled like a carrot in front of my eyes.
I looked at the Pfaff and headed for the computer.
I clicked and clicked and clicked.
I typed in numbers and clicked again.
As is sometimes the case, a brick wall was encountered.
I didn't have a PIN for my Air Miles card.
I guess my card predates PINS.
I tried to create a new PIN, or update my PIN or change my PIN or find my forgotten PIN, but to no avail.
I clicked on HELP and repeated the previous steps.
At last I picked up the phone and called the 1-800 number.
Ah, help at last.
What?
No?
A recorded voice instructed me to key in my phone number, my date of birth, my card number.... but alas, my phone number has changed in twenty years and the system rejected me.
I tried again and selected the option for a call back.
Perhaps it would be a real person.
The phone rang a few minutes later but it was the same Robot Lady.
I tried pressing zero repeatedly, hopeful that a real person would recognize the pattern of desperation, not unlike a prisoner tapping on a wall.
It worked.
I was instructed to key in my phone number and date of birth and card number again. Changes were duly made.
I was instructed to enter my new PIN and follow the instructions.
There was a pause.
A recorded voice informed me crisply, that they were experiencing a higher volume of calls than usual and to call back.
The line went dead.
Amazingly, half an hour later, the phone rang, and it was Air Miles. The Robot Lady.
It was a Customer Satisfaction Survey.
I was instructed to press one which I did with a dizzying sense of disbelief.
The line went dead.
The phone rang again and I listened in disbelief to the same voice repeat the same message.
Customer Satisfaction Survey.
Press one.
Press.
Nothing.

I am not feeling satisfied.
I just thought I would tell someone that.

a rose by any other name

While paying for my groceries, the clerk peered at my card and asked if I was named after someone. A short exchange followed and prompted the woman waiting in line behind me to blurt out a small story of her own.
Years before, she had announced to her mother that she was thinking of calling her unborn son Christian. "Oh good," her mother had enthused. "Then I can call him Chrissy." She had hesitated a moment in dismay and then added uncertainly that they were also considering the name Daniel. "Oh good," her mother had enthused, not missing a beat. "Then I can call him Danny." The woman confided that she had found this very irritating. "And so," she added, "We had our son and named him Cody."
I felt an urge to shriek with laughter.
If you can't beat 'em, join 'em, I guess.
I always wished for a nickname when I was a girl. Mine was the era of Deb and Sue and Val. My name just didn't shorten well though. Glenda. Take it or leave it. My name was also just unusual enough that I was forced to repeat it or be referred to as Glenna, Linda or Brenda indefinitely. There are probably dozens of people out there laboring under the illusion that I am someone else entirely.
It seems especially baffling to me then, that my own daughters have names that cannot be shortened easily into nicknames. Did experience profit me nothing? Mind you, I love my daughters names and felt that they were exactly the names they should each have. In those misty dreams new parents have, I saw my girls and they somehow became their chosen names; somehow fresh and wholesome, creative and charming.
Have you ever noticed that certain names arrive imbued with particular character qualities?
And that you yourself may shape someone elses vision of that name?
Have you ever noticed that some people are their name, they really are?
Were you named after someone?

one at a time

Nothing is worse than pants that are too long, unless it is pants that are too short. Too long pants feel sloppy and disheveled. A feeling that all is not right in the world, not unlike needing a haircut.
Too short pants are impossible to carry off with any shred of dignity. Maybe tucked into boots but otherwise, they languish accusingly in the closet awaiting the merciful re-hem or recycle.
I have made a sacred pact with myself to only purchase pants that are the right length. I avert my gaze from the sale rack featuring dangling legs and eye the petite racks with suspicion. My wardrobe may become more streamlined but that is fine because I only wear one pair of pants at a time.

so was he

As I entered the store I noticed a man, eyes downcast, a few steps behind me; an older gentleman. It seemed respectful to hold the door, to wait the few moments it would take for him to come. In that very instant, he realized I was holding the door for him and his face was transformed with light. Nimbly springing ahead, he leapt through the door and spread his arms like a ballet dancer. Ta da! I was startled and delighted. And so was he apparently.

treats

Sometimes I buy my husband a little treat when I do my grocery shopping. You know, something for the "inner child."
I'm a big believer in treats, and not just edible ones.
I've come to think of them as a sort of reward. A small celebration. There are so many note worthy moments in our lives that are worth celebrating.
And just as many moments that can be made more bearable with a little hit of happiness, a little treat.
My reward for being a brave girl at the dentist could be a trip to the Thrift Shop.
A doctors visit dictates a stop at the Quilt Shop.
And have you noticed how shared friendship often involves shared food.
At those times it's more about the conversation than the menu.
Surprises and treats and rewards; little things that make a big difference.

knowing

As I pushed the shopping cart down the long, long aisle, I was suddenly aware of a sadness, a heaviness stealing over my soul like frosty air swirling in through an open window.
It has always amazed me that feelings can surface out of the blue.
I had no idea what strong emotion was there, just below the surface and why being in a grocery store would trigger it.
And then, like watching a figure appear out of the mist, I suddenly knew, and in that exact moment, tears sprang to my eyes and my hand flew to my mouth.
Then I understood and somehow, just the knowing comforted.

words to live by

As I stood in the soup aisle holding a can in each hand, a store clerk hesitantly asked, "Are you finding everything you're looking for?"
Looking is the problem, I thought to myself. "Yes, thanks," I nodded. "I just wish my eyes were still working."
His face brightened and he strode quickly to my side. "Hold your fingers like this," he instructed, pinching his pointer and middle finger against his thumb. "See that little tiny space here," he gestured. "You just hold that up to your eye and you'll be able to read...." He must have seen my expression because he added somewhat sheepishly, "Of course it looks sort of goofy."
"Oh," I hastened, quickly following his advice. "That's amazing." And then, " I wonder why that works?"
It must narrow the focus I guess, and get rid of the distractions.
Words to live by.

for He alone is worthy

The air is full of music in December.
Christmas carols known by heart.
We first heard them in church, joyously sung, voices separating into parts and blending in harmonies.
We warbled them in elementary school from news printed song sheets.
Hark the Herald Angels Sing.
Silent Night.
Joy to the World.
It is impossible to listen to those tunes without the mind singing along.
Last weekend as my friend and I wandered through shops in Fort Langley I suddenly stopped to listen. The words were there now, clearly heard by the ears of memory.
"For He alone is worthy," I intoned, startling the clerk.
"Isn't that O Come All Ye Faithful?" my friend questioned.
And of course, it was, but tunes have a way of being borrowed. Somewhere, sometime, someone had composed a very different song to that old recognizable tune.

O come all ye faithful
For HE alone is worthy

Word of the Father, now in flesh appearing
For He ALONE is worthy

O come let us adore Him
For He alone IS worthy
Christ the Lord.

finding it

"It's the last one in the store," he murmured, his voice low. "And I can't just give it to you because......"
"We'd be mobbed," I asked?
"Yes," he breathed. "And you can't go out that way, it'll make them go crazy."
"So, I'll have to exit the store, and come back around through the entrance." I calmly stated.
He nodded, stepping closer. Our hands brushed and I opened mine to see a folded square of paper;
A torn portion of a scratch and win coupon.
Desperate times call for desperate measures.
And adventure is where you find it.