Trick or Treaters and Popcorn-Eating Cat

Yesterday we actually did some errand running and visited HRH. I offered the bag of items I cleaned out of my desk to little hrh.  By the way, hrh is going to be 10 this year, so she may need her own nickname. 

HRH sifted through the bag and determined she didn't want any of it. A reasonable reaction as the canvas bag included things like markers, post-it notes, old Covey planner binder, and pom poms.  I was assured by hrh she would give the bag to her grandma but the other items (especially the markers)  were very fun.

If you wonder why I had such items in my desk, I was a quality manager with certifications in instructions and process analysis. You may remember my career ran over 32-years. This means I as use to doing flip charts as Power Point. In fact, I am still just as comfortable doing thing on papers as putting it on-line. So, if I did have a computer, a data show projector and a network, why do I still have these archaic items?  It is just that over three decades, well, things will pile up. In any case, even if I cluttered HRH's house, it counts as decluttering mine.

When we got home, CaDiva started with laundry and I began to sanitize and package the treats for potential beggars. At the appointed hour, I took position on the porch with a graciously prepared thermos of Chai Latte (thank you CaDiva) to await our little beggars. Within the first half hour, I got to visit with my neighbors include one who had three little ones. I called out that the goodies were packaged and sanitized. She was impressed by my three-foot long grabber used to drop the Zip Lock baggies.

Unfortunately, they were my only beggars. Well, 2020 bites another beloved tradition. However, the Mom and I agreed to pool our fermented resources on Tuesday. She has wine for maintenance and celebration and I have bourbon and scotch in the event things go south. My next-door neighbor perked up at hearing Scotch. I told him the mother from across the street was now my favorite since her husband is a chocolatier. It is true he and his brother share from the garden, but it is autumn so a person needs to draw a line. Gardens go dormant, chocolate is forever.

Today I put on Ocean's Eight and kicked back with popcorn. Well, I had the popcorn and CaDiva finished the cinnamon rolls because popcorn is not kind to her mouth. The two cats were taking turns irritating me no matter how often I explained to them I am a Dog Person. The Maine Coon mix was sitting on the arm of my chair and CaDiva was starting to chortle. This brought my attention to the intense stare from the cat as her head followed my hand from the bowl to my mouth and back again. 

I will admit I was moving my hand up and down at different speeds, watching the cat's head following  the rhythm of my teasing until I noticed she was stalking her quarry across the expanse of my torso. Ok, it wasn't much of a stalk given that she is the size of decent sized frozen turkey. But it was the intent more than the implementation. 

Then she leapt with a thud to the middle of the floor, Now, CaDiva was laughing full-out. She pointed out the cat was chowing down on a popped kernel of corn. I swear on the head of my dear late Lab/Shepherd mix that silly cat was eating Orville Redenbacher's Theater Buttered microwave popcorn. I mean, ok, she has eaten poached salmon , triple-cream brie, angel hair pasta and seaweed salad. But seriously, popcorn????

It's Thursday?

 I would like to proudly brag about my achievements today. So far the most constructive thing I have done is realize it wasn't Wednesday.

We promised to visit with HRH tomorrow to start planning for Thanksgiving. 

Tomorrow is also Beggar's Night. This falls before Halloween in the Midwest. We aren't expecting a lot of little beggars. We also won't be asking for tricks in exchange for the treats. Still and all, you know it is tradition.

I'm going to have to explain a few things. First off, in a lot of communities the kids go trick or treating the night before Halloween, so-called Beggar's Night. I think they started the practice to avoid the kids encountering adults who celebrate even Halloween with a bit too much exuberance. This probably about the same time the powers that be banned ice cream trucks but maybe two decades before they started censoring the Saturday morning cartoons.

We also require the kiddies to perform some tricks which usually involves barely understandable riddles, frequently repeated jokes, cartwheels and gymnastics. No kid was ever denied goodies, but it was the implied contract between the beggar and the beggee.

I'm going to miss the Floppy jokes. For those of you are not from the WHO-TV viewing area and don't know of Duane and Floppy, they were the font from which all Halloween jokes and riddles flowed. 

• Why did the man put the car in the oven
• Why did the man throw the butter out the window
• What is the biggest pencil in the world
• Why was the skeleton afraid of everything

My all time favorite was "Why did Hayden Fry's mother serve his cereal on a plate?  Because, if it was in a bowl, he would lose it." 

waiting for the gales of laughter

 Oh, well, I guess you need to be a Hawkeye to get it.

So we will get out the Clorox wipes and pack small bundles of candy in snack size zip locks to have them ready for 6:00 PM and pull out the grabber to hand these bags out to whoever shows up. It won't be normal, but it is still 2020. The kids will have this as one of their milestones to remember in future years. 

You all remember that one Halloween when we couldn't eat the candy until Mom wiped it down?

And so the declutter begins

I know I said I was starting with my closet when it comes to the declutter and reorganization process. That made the most sense after all. I mean I have all those work clothes. I'm telling you most of the dresses and dress suits haven't fit me for a few years. They are in good shape too. Not sell at the consignment shop but really good for donation to a women's shelter. 

The thing is I spend a few minutes a day on Facebook. Don't give me that look, I have seen Rent. 525,600 minutes is a valid way to measure a year. So don't judge me. 

This is my little commercial to remind you pick up a couple or twelve women's PJs to drop off at your local shelter for women and children. These women will grab clothes and toys for the kids but never think about their basic needs. A nice clean, new pair of pajamas is so nice. Betcha there are going to be some pretty good sales on ladies PJs in the next few weeks.

So, there is this page on book of faces that hooks local people up with other people who have a need. I saw a post from a young mother who wanted to start her decorating early. Yeah, it is pre-Halloween but I don't question parents of a toddler. 

The point is we downsized to a smaller tree and no one in the family was in need of our old tree. This is a good fit. Well, pulling the tree out led to going through the tubs in the basement. 

• We found a crystal snowman that has been missing for a few years.
• There were three wreaths, one of which we were keeping on purpose.
• No way we going to use either of those big tree toppers on a four foot tree. 
• That velvet tree skirt was just a magnet for the cats. 

That didn't empty any of the boxes but that was a six foot tree in a huge red nylon bag, so now we can get to the back of the space under the stairs. No it isn't a cupboard and we never got any mail from an owl.

We did find a tub with old jeans obviously intended for donation. We just added those sweats too long for anyone not in the NBA to wear to the jeans. We found a half-filled Chewy box that obviously was set aside with donation things. So we tossed them in to fill up the tub. Now, all we need to do is load the donation tub into the Highlander and take it to the Goodwill.

I think I'll haul the Chewy box up next week to hold the work clothes from the closet. It will be an easy drop off to the shelter.

Oh, and the young mother will stop by tomorrow to pick up the tree and a few decorations we don't need.

So you see the productivity continues. And I didn't spend all day on June's Journey or Slotomania. 

Up at 7:00 am and Even Used the the Treadmill

Day three of retirement was odd. I know I'm in a transition but the only other two retirements I experienced is The Mom's and CaDiva's. 

With the Mom, I had been telling her she should retire since she was 62. With her health issues it would only make sense. She just plugged away until until one Friday when she was closer to 65 than 64. I wasn't there for the event, I had been traveling for work and drove up into the driveway to find her standing at the front porch door. Since it was a full hour before her normal business day would end I climbed out of my co-worker's truck and lifted out my luggage before I asked, "Have we retired?" She just answered, "I think so." Then she started banging her head against anything above 5'5" high.

Long story short, The Mom finished payroll after double checking about paying two of the employees  who didn't work before or after holiday. Of course the office manager changed her mind later. The Mom said she would do as told, but she would have her say and then she would leave. That's exactly what she did. She redid the whole payroll, refigured the taxes, redid the tax deposits and packed up her things and walked out the door. She was so miserable for days after that. I, being the most noble and best of daughters, not to dismiss my other siblings except there is documented proof I am the favorite regardless of what they say, assured her all was well.

I was unsuccessful until I pointed out to her that she had the premium exit that all wage slaves dream of and if she can't enjoy that then she might as well give up coffee, cigarettes and chocolate. (for an analogous situation, read the interaction between CaDiva and her former gentleman friend in the Omelet Express) I may be paraphrasing but this is how I remember it. 

Now CaDiva just sort of eased into retirement. She moved to Iowa and managed her first winter. I taught her to drive in snow  and that things stayed frozen after 10 AM and sunshine didn't mean warm. (Remind me to blog about her first winter. It was hilarious.) Then she worked temp jobs but the more I traveled the more I needed her to, you know, tend to my every waking desire. So up until 10 years ago she mostly traveled with me and tended to our finances. Yeah, she took that time out for the whole "I have cancer" thing. She worked her way slowly into retirement.

Now here I am, trying to figure this thing out. So, bad night sleep. Not unusual, my hip has been bugging me since that last fall. So I got up at 7:00 am. As the Tylenol kicked in, I started to drowse in the chair. Then CaDiva decided to go start some laundry. I followed her down and walked the treadmill. 

Ok, that sounds like I really exercised, which I totally did, but it's not like I used the incline. Or walked faster than a meander. But I could almost have made it 10 minutes, except it was more like six. But, you start from where you are, you know?

The important thing is I'm still retired. And I remember to blog.

First Monday in Retirement

The weather had the good graces to be cold and snowy. No alarm was set as per the edict from CaDiva.  But I still woke up at 5:00 AM. I got over it fairly quickly. 

We ate the left over from our curb-side-to-go IHOP from yesterday. This was our first time doing doing the pancake thing for dinner. Well, that's not true. Usually CaDiva mans the griddle and I open the syrup. This time the inter-global home of fried bread made our meal and CaDiva picked it up. I did the ordering. And I had to make decisions and all that such there. So I still get credit.

I was able to eat a couple of pancakes, some sausage, bacon, eggs, and hash browns. But my appetite has been suppressed lately. What? I'm a Midwesterner. What I just listed is from the light menu in the Midwest.

In fact, I have actually not put on the Covid 15. I'm down 21 lbs. So, if you add the 15 lbs. I didn't put on, I have lost most of a toddler. Anyway, that's not what I planned to discuss today. It was sort of an ew-look-a-chicken moment. It is a lot like squirrel but this t-shirt came out before the movie and I really think it is funnier. Except that was a really great movie and you have to love the dog. And don't get me started on the opening segment love story. Shoot, there I go again. Back on track.

What I started to tell you was we ate the left overs from yesterday's take out for lunch. In the process we found a package delivered at our door. For those of you who don't have access to See's chocolates, you don't truly understand why I didn't feel the need to eat dinner tonight. For those who do make the stop at the Denver Airport or a mad dash out of your conference in Anaheim, it was a pound mix dark and milk, nuts, chews, and soft centers. And that should explain everything. Thank you Cathy, great retirement gift.

As to productivity, I thinned out a lot of the clutter on my kitchen table from my desk at the office. I also joined a challenge on my June's Journey game on Facebook. What can I say, it is day two of being retired and I wasn't really motivated yet.

I did match a good pen to my new journal and I'm going to start my notes about my mother's book. So that counts as productivity too because it was on my list of my things-I'm-going-to-do-when-I-retire list.

Also I have already voted and confirmed it was received and acknowledged. And I posted the first of my openly political comments on the previously mentioned book of faces. So there is my first non-working day. I can guarantee you a week from today I will be discussing why someone owes me an hour, but that is for another day.

Retirement Plans - Why Rosary

As I said, I have a list of things I plan to do now that I'm retired. I included possibly studying my catechism and learning to say the rosary. This is notably odd to hear from someone who never took first communion or any of the other sacraments. So I thought I should give you some background on my life as a recovering Catholic.

First, my mother, a Catholic, married a heathen. I don't know what religion he was raised in but he told us he was a heathen and worshipped Sunday naps. Anyway, the Holy Roman Catholic Church only allowed my mother to marry said heathen in the Church if they both agreed the children of such marriage were raised Catholic. Everyone signed what they needed to and the wedding took place, not at the altar of course, but it was close enough to allow marital special hug time.

My memories of going to mass included:

• Sunday morning mad dash to find our chapel caps, which were usually lost for good and all so we used hankies most of the time.

• Arguing over who got to wear the muff and who got to wear the cape which my sister and I shared even though I was the oldest.

• As you slide across the pew in reverse age order so the little ones sat next to mom, pausing at the place your brother would kneel to scrape your boots off on the kneeler.

• Listening to the priest and figuring out that I would probably be able to understand him after I took my first communion

• This was pre-Vatican II and no one bothered to tell me he was speaking a different language

• Trying to figure out how everyone’s prayers took so long when I couldn’t think of anything after God Bless all the family names individually and remembering President Kennedy

I learned a few prayers, although occasionally when my mother asked my father to say grace he just shouted out GRACE. And we, as the kids believed this was the funniest blaspheme in the world. But, my path to being a good Catholic girl was well-established none the less. Although impediments lay ahead.

The first thing was my brother was enrolled in parochial school. You remember my father was a heathen? Well, he, my father not my brother, didn’t understand that Sister was allowed to hit my brother. My brother understood it. After all, this was the early sixties and everyone was allowed to hit us. 

But the next thing I know I was being enrolled in public school that September.

At that same time, my brother was spending a lot of Saturday at something called catechism. At the end of which he would get a new suit and a lot of presents. Also, I think he was supposed to understand the priest. I shouldn’t worry, because I was supposed to go next year.

I should mention here that I didn’t have a whole lot of faith in this promise because when my brother had his tonsils and adenoids taken out he got to sit on Grandma Smith’s couch in his pjs using a table leaf as a tray. He also got a lot of ice cream and Model T toy car with a real crank. But when I went to the hospital, all I got was Jell-O even though I threw-up in the hall on the way to my room.

Well, I was right to doubt them. The summer before I was to take my catechism with the promise of parties, new clothes, and gifts, my parents split. This was ok at the time because they weren’t divorced. And I could still take catechism but instead we moved to Texas.

And there’s the rub. You see the Dallas Public School System didn’t do Catholicism. I haven’t really researched that, so I shouldn’t be so broad. Let’s just say, Stonewall Jackson Elementary School did not recognize good little Catholic girls. First I found out that crossing myself at lunch disturbed the other children. Then I learned that I didn't say the Lord's Prayer right. (yes this was after the church banned school supported prayer) Within three months I was the newest member of the Ridgecrest Southern Baptist Church's Girl's Auxiliary.

I learned dinner on Wednesday cost 35 cents. It was followed by singing Little Brown Church in the Vale and Onward Christian Soldier. I never got the hang of the “For thine is the power and the glory forever” bit, but they did give me a bible. Turned out it was different from the big red one my mother had with the flowers pressed in the middle and the picture of the flag raising on Iwo Jima.

We moved back north in the early 70s but the culture shock between pre-Vatican II Roman Catholic and Southern Baptist in the actual south put me off for a bit. I tried a few other services, including my Holy Roller uncle’s church, a non-denominational metaphysical church and even babysat for the Presbyterians. 

Along this time, I was growing up and my mother was being more open to me about her experiences in the Church. She hadn’t remarried so they still considered her married to my father, but that is them, no biggie to us. She told me about telling the Father she would die if she tried to carry and deliver a baby. She asked for special dispensation to use birth control. The priest carefully explained there was no greater honor for a woman to die in childbirth.

I don’t know if this was the same priest who told her if she was just more patient with my father he wouldn’t beat her as often. But as these stories came out I became less and less enchanted with the Catholic faith.

OK, life goes on and I learn and discern more things so that I end up actually not being a Christian at all. I still have faith but I just stopped believing in the whole Christian dogma. 

So again I ask, why study catechism and the rosary? I don’t really know. I know I’m not going to rejoin the Church. I certainly don’t plan on taking any of the sacraments. I am just curious I think. Kind of anti-climatic? Yeah, well maybe, but at least I remembered to blog today.

2020 Also Included My Retirement

OK, so I have discovered people look at my posts in arrears when I start writing again. And we all know, I am a bad, bad, blogger. So, people will go back and look at this when I pick it up again sometime after a spate of frequent posts.  

I think I should remind those who are looking back, 2020 is that year we don't talk about any more. Oh, some of you will think 

• The last year we bought toilet paper 
• The election year 
• The telework/virtual school year 
• The year we skipped the fair (or the fair skipped us) 
• The year we joined Grubhub, Uber Eats, Door Dash or which ever 
• The year we learned to use sun screen around our masks 

Yeah, it was that year. Anyway, about 10 days before the 2020 election, I retired. I have had some sort of paid employment since I was 10. The world was different in the 60s. Leaving your kids with the neighbor child was not only legal but fought over when someone got to me before they did during the Texas State Fair or New Year's Eve. 

Anyway, I babysat until we moved back to Iowa, then I babysat until I got to work at school, and then I worked in offices until I tried working fast food. Turned out the Colonel and I didn't mesh. So, then I started working at insurance companies, because I lived in Des Moines and was a girl, so that was a law. I did lose a few weeks between me quitting one insurance company and going to work at a hospital in the billing department. Oh, not the pull cash out of the blood-sucking evil insurance empire (I was on the other side now). No, now I was the one who explained to patient that insurance didn't pay everything and check would do nicely.  

After almost a decade, I had another little hiccup when I tried a couple of jobs before I went to work for the United States Treasury Department. I won't say which division only know that it made perfect sense for someone who was a bill collector for almost 10 years.  In any event, 32 years later and I am retired. 

Why did I explain all that? Simply put, I have no idea if I can seriously be unemployed … sorry, retired because I haven't had to design my own day since I started shaving my legs.  Today, the last day of my career, I'm saying 2020 can't be all bad if I finally retired.  

We know, in retrospect, that I am wrong because 2020 was the ingrown hair in your lady parts of a year and you can't say anything good about either.  Still, I did retire. 

So, what are my plans?  

Just so you know, telling you about my plans is called foreshadowing in the infrequent blogger world and that is why I segued with that question.  

My lovely bride, CAdiva has already planned several projects and I have agreed to doing one per week. They include organizing one space at a time, starting with my closet. No need for those blazers and dress slacks any more. Oh, I'll keep a few, for weddings and funerals and such. This will take a bit since it also involves disposing of a huge number of dress shoes and scarves and a lot of blouses that look really cute with jeans so I think I should keep. We will discuss that during the sorting and bagging and things like that there. 

I am also starting to blog again.  

There is also this book I promised my mother I would write about her, "Don't Call Me Mother in Front of People." One of my friends already gave me a journal so I can start making notes. I'm thinking of starting a list of her threats (keel hauling was not actually a thing, at least not in Texas.) Or possibly her beauty tips, i.e. keeping her good body wrapped in blue tissue in a box under her bed. So many memories, so few of them believable.  

I may not be able to learn to ride my bicycle. They were wrong, by the way. You can forget how to do that. In particular, turning left and stopping. 

I also promised CAdiva I would join her as she did laundry by walking the treadmill rather than sorting, folding or fluffing. And HRH reminded me just yesterday I also promised to start going back to the gym now that I no longer have to make time for a paying job.  

At some point I considered joining Ancestry.com because HRH also got me the spit thing and I know now that I am less from Ireland and Germany than I thought and my father was far more … generous with his genetic donations that my mother told me. Oh, well, that explains why we kept seeing clones of my older brother during the 70s. 

Maybe I should also join Classmates.com. It strikes me I could call both of them research and use that as an excuse to miss reorganizing or gym time. Which I wouldn't do, of course. That would be wrong especially since CAdiva and HRH both read this blog. 

For some unknow reason, I have become slightly fascinated about my former Catholicism and the fact I fell away before my catechism. Probably just a rerun of the Shoes of the Fisherman with Anthony Quinn.  (Do they still use rerun now that the whole world, except CAdiva and I, stream?) In any case, I found out you can study the catechism online. And the whole, saying the rosary is a good way to meditate, sort of fascinates me. Well, for whatever reasons, it just ended up on my you-won't-have-anything-else to-do list.  

The major plan, which is put off due to the fecal matter derecho that is 2020, is travel. I have been watching all kinds of YouTube videos about taking the Amtrak trains to the coast (CAdiva's coast … no way am I talking her into sleeping on a train for three nights if I am not taking her back to her ocean.) I want to start with the California Zephyr on the way out. We will most likely rent a car to travel the coast to see friends, family, her ocean and her bridge, before we go north to Seattle and take the Empire Builder back. I have decided not to try to catch it in Osceola. I want to see the Chicago Union Station. I have seen St. Louis and Washington DC. This could be another collection thing. What if we took the Super Bus from here to Chicago? We wouldn't even have to worry about leaving the Highlander unattended.  In case you don’t remember, CAdiva loves her Highlander more than most of her wives. Anyway, that's the first trip we want to take.  

What do you think? I am probably overshooting. Hey, at least I got my second blog in. 

New Pathways

 I don't even know if you will see this. I know no one is looking any more because I haven't touched this blog for FOUR years. But, I want to start again. I considered just creating a new blog, but this has so many memories, as proven by the fact that CAdiva is reading out old posts to me even as we speak.  She did laugh at the one about her trip to the dentist and her proto-psychedelic experience.

The thing is, I retired today. I want to capture great tales of our travels and experiences. I also want to start capturing CAdiva's stories of the bands she seen and the famous people she has met. I saw Greg Evigan once at the height of BJ and The Bear fame, but I don't think that counts as much as having Arnold Palmer remember you a year later and ask about your golf lessons. 

Now, years from now when you are finding this in the archives, you may be calling The Rona something different. But we are not traveling anytime soon. I have plans. I do. I can even link the YouTube videos I have studied to make my plans. It is just that the danger of crawling out of our safe little cocoon is just too great.

So today, I'm starting to tell our tale of being retired after working 53 years, 32 of them with the US Treasury. 

Will you give me another chance?