Thursday, May 23, 2013
Flat Tires For Stress
Karma, when am I going to learn. As I was walking out of house last week, I noticed a flat tire on the truck. There is no such thing as -just a flat- on the this truck, I cringed. The tires on the big truck are costly. Visions of a month's worth of ramen noodle dinners floated through my head.
Don is out of town, so what should I do? Memories of my last tire escapade came back. One morning years ago, I thought my front tire on the mommy wagon looked a little low. I pulled into a gas station and fed the air pump machine. How hard could it be? I figured you filled them until they were round and didn't have a crease on the ground. I got to work and offered to take a large delivery to a company in the back of the wagon.
When I pulled out highway, I thought I had been bombed. Two tires exploded and left me sitting on the road. Someone from work came and offed the important delivery and I was towed to a gas station for two new tires. The other tires luckily didn't detonate before the workers released air.
Nope, I won't be fixing this big boy. I bought a can of fix-a-flat and emptied it into the tire. It didn't inflate enough to get it to a tire shop. I flagged down a community maintenance worker on a golf cart. He sent over another guy with an air tank to pump it enough to get to shop.
I pulled into Gerald's Tire shop and walked up to counter. They greeted me much like the cheesy commercials. I am thinking big bucks and having to cut back on chocolate consumption, so I am not so cheerful right now. Actually, downright cynical, I think to myself yeah you get paid to talk like that, no one is that cheerful at work.
The counter clerk tells me that it will take about an hour or a little more. Well, it's not like I can go anywhere. I have a flat tire. So, I plop into a chair. I was determined not to sit on the bench outside and become the subject of pity of the passerby's.
I spied a magazine rack and went and scarfed up my faves. Charleston Magazine, Garden and Gun and Towne and Country. That should do me.
Listening to the banter between the counter clerks and other workers that walked back and forth through the shop, I realized they really don't hate their jobs and they were actually having fun. They interacted a lot with the customers waiting.
I leafed through the magazine and felt my shoulders falling down a bit and just kind of settled in. I slid my feet out of my shoes and rested them on top, took a few swigs of water and started reading. I picked up the Charleston Magazine, surprised to find one that I didn't remember the cover. I was half way through when I saw Chef Brett McGee on a full page spread for the Oak Restaurant. Well, when did he go back to the Oak? Then an article on favorite ice cream flavors of Charleston's chefs. Mike Lata, you sure are looking good, I pulled the magazine up to my face to inspect closer. Dang, I think he's had work done.
Then it dawned on me. I flipped the magazine back to the cover. Spring 2009! I laughed out loud. About 15 minutes into the wait, a lady walked in with an overnight bag. They told her that the work will take quite a little while, she smiled undaunted and replied "That's fine." She sat on the outside bench and started pulling out yarn and needles, a bottle of water and commenced to work on her craft.
I looked around the shop. No one seemed harried, checked their watches or paced impatiently. I had memories of the men that used to sit on benches outside the gas stations, burning barrels and shade trees. They may be on to something.
After three magazines, one bottle of water and a half hour of Food Network and 5 M&M's out of the vending machine for a quarter.... they called my name.
"Ma'am we patched your tire, there's no charge." I thanked him sincerely grateful and left feeling better than I did after morning coffee, who knew.
By the way, ladies. I did figure out why all of the ladies sat outside. 2 hours in a tire shop does not a sweet cologne make.
Tuesday, May 14, 2013
Fishin Tales, Heads and Cats
Jerking the lawn chair out, I swat at the webs with the broom. Next, my tackle box. I take it out and pet it's handle. Oh my, should I open it now? Pandora's box, I look out at the bright blue skies and hesitate with my fingers on it's clasp. What will this do to my precisely planned day?
I clicked open the clasp, too late now. Neatly binned neon glowing worms, translucent crickets, minnows and spinners, line, lead sinkers, corks, bottle caps and faded fishing licenses, all reminders of creek/river and oceans' of days past. I close the lid quickly when I feel the urge climb in me. "Soon" I promise the clam shelled box.
Not many people are brave enough to endure fishing trips with me, Don included. He is fine as long as we have a lot of space. I have snagged on darn near everything you can imagine - trees, sunken logs, turtles, eels, myself and midgets. Yes-you heard right. I don't make this stuff up, it just happens.
I knew at an early age that my fishing life was going to be interesting. My first trip was with a friend and her grandmother when I was 9. I was on what I think was the Gippy Plantation in Moncks Corner. It was a reedy inlet off of the Cooper River across from Mepkin Abbey. Anyway..I no sooner got a worm in the water than my pole doubled. When I pulled it up. My prize? A fish head, minus the body. The remainder of the fish that stared blankly up at me was caught by a larger fish. I was scarred, but curious. The tug on the line that day, that thing beneath the deep that little ole me with some type of worm finesse almost landed, had me hooked for life.
I am excitable. Never tamed. No fisherman wants me in their boat, unless it's big. I don't have to tell fish stories. They are always big. They are as much about what happens out of the water as they are what happened on the water. Here are a couple of excursions.
The Catfish Story. One Saturday morning years ago, Don and I packed the car, kids, cooler, rods and reels and tackle boxes. We headed for the soupy yellow waters of the Yadkin River. The Yadkin is known for it's big Catfish and I had just the thing for them, a shiny brand new rod and reel. I cast in, sat for a bit and then remembered I left something in the car. While climbing the steep banks of the river a fish hit my line. I turned and tried to run back down the hill, too late. The fish had taken off into the deep, dragging my new rod and reel with it. I was speechless, Don wasn't. "You know you have to brace that rod with something." Now I am grumpy. I sat on the bank and watched the kids gathering tadpoles. One felt sorry for me and let me use their Spiderman Zebco 202 for a bit. A little later Don went to the store and left me his rod to fish with. He didn't pull out good before I got a big bite. After I set the hook the rod bowed. I pulled and pulled and couldn't believe what came up! Don's fish, which snagged on my new rod and reel and still had my fish on the end of it's line! Woo Hoo!
Exhausted when we pulled into our drive, sweaty children covered in red clay and tired parents clamored from the car, leaving fishing rods hanging out the cracked windows of the car. After showers and naps we decided to go get something to eat. I froze in my tracks when I walked out onto the steps to leave, unable to process what I was seeing. Blood curdling Tween screams brought me back, there was a cat spinning in the air two feet off the ground with a hook in his mouth! I guess he got a whiff of the remnants of bait left on the hook and jumped up for a bite. We took the stray cat, rod and all to the emergency vet. They removed the hook, gave us the rod and reel back and charged us $200. Now we have a new cat. Ugly as sin itself, we named him Gremlin. Hence, I caught my third ~Cat~ of the day.
The Midget Story. Gliding along a calm NC lake for the christening of our pontoon boat. I was in heaven! My favorite thing on the boat at the moment was the fish finder. Don explained it to me, "It beeps if fish are beneath us and shows their location, quantity and size."
After a little cruising, Don pulled the pontoon up to the dock. He jumped onto the dock and headed across the parking lot to his truck to get something. I am now the "Skipper" of the boat! Well, the fish finder went off, beeping like crazy. I sauntered over to look. OMG, it was displaying a huge frigging fish at the back of the boat. I scurry to the back of the boat, the line we had been trolling from the back of the boat is bowing.
Heart racing, I pick up the rod. I can't even budge whatever is on the other end. Then... all hell broke loose under the edge of the boat. Banging, thrashing foamy waters.... and just as quick as it started, it stopped. Like that quiet moment in a scary movie, where you think calm is restored I took a What the hell just happened? breath. Then.... the climatic moment, like a righted buoy a bald little head shot out of the water gasping for air. A midget surfaced in a small kayak! Jesus help me, I have caught a midget! Wild eyes looked up at me. I didn't see a line hooked to him, it was then I realized that he wasn't on my line, Thank God, just the kayak. The midget caught his breath as he helped my unwind and untangle the line around the front of his kayak. He told me that he was a novice kayak-er and wanted to practice rolling his kayak in shallow water, he didn't realize he had slipped under the pontoon. He floated off as Don returned to the boat. And weirdly quick, the world was normal again.
Yes, fishing is always an adventure for me. I do everything wrong. I talk, sing, drink, eat, laugh and still somehow catch fish and "other things." But the truth is..it's never really about the fish is it?
Another day soon I promise the tackle box as I put it back into the closet. I can hardly wait.
I only used the term midget for lack of clarity in sentence. The favored termed for midget is little people, which would have had to been little person, which I would have had to explain...like I am doing now.
Friday, May 3, 2013
Rules of Engagement
I am an observer of earth and its inhabitants. While watching people I picking up on subtle nuances and body language, an astute survival skill. I know when body language suggest you move along... ex.. disingenuous smiles, lack of eye contact, key jingling, repetitive phrases "text me", "call me"
I need to see you to ~read~ you.
Text example
Me: "What do you want for dinner?"
Don: "Whatever"
Me: "Whatever like...you are going to do what you want anyway or Whatever you like sweetheart or Whatever I don't really care. I mean really...is it Whatever :) or Whatever?" Because one of these will determine the mood I am in for dinner now :)
Anyway, for fear of the jingling keys and repetitive phrases of rejection, I found that I wasn't engaging as well. Oh, I could put it all out there in writing and social media, but the majority of my daily conversations collectively sounded like a Macaw. "Hello, goodbye, have a good day, have a good night, call me..text me."
While on my coffee high one morning I vowed to engage myself in conversation with whomever came in my path that day. It was a rather flippant decision, resembling others I make (and break) before 9 a.m. ex...no carbs today, drink water, exercise, pray more, drink less wine tonight.
Well, true to form. I got behind from the beginning, maybe I should nix the vow. Walking to the car, I blew out a flip flop. I drove to Waves store to buy a cheap pair. While in the parking lot my phone rang , I found myself preparing a few one liners to get off of the phone. Realizing my faux pas, I opened the car door, leaned back in the seat and had a 40 minute conversation in the parking lot. I have a trucker tan on my left arm to prove it.
The owner of Waves looked up quizzically as I step-dragged instead of flip flopped past him. He quickly resumed hustling stock to the floor like he was expecting a rush. I dropped my new flip flops on the counter as he came up from his boxes. I remembered the vow. Noticing his fervor in putting up stock and crushing boxes I hesitated at first but continued "That sure is a lot of stock to put up, you need to schedule help on the days that truck comes in."
He hesitates too. Maybe a flippant answer..take her money and get the heck back to the stock. But no, while crushing a box he decides to engage back. "If I let someone come in and do the work for me then I wouldn't be able to keep the girls happy with this physique" he answered in syrupy European laced English. I laughed. "So, how's that going for you? I asked.
"Well, not so good, I was in Miami...the girls ...they think I don't have how you say....the whole package. New York, the same thing and then before I knew it they must have all moved here too. It's too easy these days, it's all about appearances."
I shook my head. "I know people who have been hurt deeply and are alone now." I can't believe I just said that to a complete stranger."
"Tell them don't give up, but being alone is better than being in a shallow relationship." He says while putting my change in my hand.
He heads back to his piles of boxes. I turn around and go back to ask his name. "Daniel, and what is yours?" I tell him my name and goodbye again. Walking out Daniel called out to me and I turned. He tossed me a box of salt water taffy.
I was still grinning when I slid into the car but within seconds I felt behind again. I rushed into the grocery store and tried my best not to make eye contact with the newspaper solicitor. "Free paper" he rings out. "No" I answered and tried to move on. A Pepsi vendor had me temporarily stuck in place. I am considering a grocery store cart trick jump over the pallet jack of carbonation that would make Tony Hawk proud. The crier cried on "Well, why don't you sign up for the free groceries while you are waiting" My eyes plead with him to leave me alone. "Just sign up, worth a shot" I don't want to, but realized that once again, it was an opportunity to show that I had some patience left with mankind and maybe it with me. We ended up talking for 30 minutes. Everything from how he met his wife to where he moved here from to how he lost his business and ended up here. As I left him, I think he felt lighter.
I am now at that point where, whatever needed to be done so urgently today, was just not going happen. As I was leaning over the fresh meat counter, the lady next to me lifts her sunglasses to exclaim. "Oh my gosh...look at the price on this stuff!" At this point, I just laughed. I realized that I was not manipulating this day, it was shaping me. Ok, let's see what happens. I spent another half hour in the grocery store while I engaged with one of the most interesting characters that I have had the pleasure to meet in a long time. I was literally bent over slapping my legs in laughter at this lady. Our meat counter engagement ended with us swapping biz cards and hopefully meeting again.
I mulled over the morning on the way home. Unfruitful in the measurement of a checked off list, but a treasure in participation. And you just can't tweet a day like that.
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