Building Confidence or The Two Year Old who Thinks She's Going to Drive Us Home

Leela was a sleepy baby, who because she was born just a little earlier than expected, decided she'd sleep as long as she could.  But then, she made great strides.  And finally, she decided, at age 2 &1/2 to ask, before we took the girls back, "Can I drive?" To which her older, wiser sister (by another 2 &1/2 years), Naia, told her, no, she could not drive "until you're a grown up".  Here is the "art" of my imagination at work, picturing what that drive home would have been like.  I call it, "Leela at the Wheel".

You'd think it might end here, but when Grandpa was driving the girls home a following time, she said, "Grandpa, you're going too fast. (as he was driving at the speed limit) Turn here, Grandpa.  You can go now, Grandpa...."  (as the light turned red).

At a later time, when I was getting Naia ready inside, Grandpa was taking Leela outside.  Leela sneeked into the driver's side as he was opening the front door and said, "Key."  So, he had to literally pick her up and place her in her backseat carseat. This, she did not like, as it interfered with her plans.

Time, Finally, to Learn Financial Tricks

What I'm proud of is, this early afternoon, I looked at my reader, and discovered that you could get 30% off, just today, at our drug store, as well as the discount on your card. I knew Bill was going there and insisted on printing out the coupon. He said he never got into such things, but I put the coupon on the kitchen table, anyway. He must have saved almost 40 bucks, and the clerk was amazed, because only one other person had noticed the coupon offer and used it. What was his secret? He finally admitted it was his wife.

I checked out the chain grocery story coupons on my computer, and they kept multiplying. So, I said, this is nuts; I can't stay on the computer for hours! Then, an idea: take my reader, and see if the store has WiFi. I had a clerk in training, so she was proceeding a little more slowly than most, so took the time to ask her trainer if they had WiFi, and he showed me how to connect for bargains. Now, there are so many things I'm learning at this stage of the game, I start thinking, why am I having to learn this stuff so late?!! Never have been crazy about reincarnation as a possibility (oh, no, not another round!), but in light of all the stuff you have to learn late, it seems only reasonable to come back and continue attending "school".

More grocery store adventures: There was many a time I found the store brand pizza roll crust popped open in the refrigerator and figured maybe I'd left it in there so long, the package was being abused. But this time, I brought the pizza roll crust back, and it was "popped" on arrival. Since I had Yoga in the vicinity the next day anyway, I put it in a ziploc in a small cooler and took it back to customer service. They were compliant and let me get another. But right afterwards, while was perusing "Woman's World", simply holding the sack, I heard, "POP", looked in the bag, and there it was, pizza dough oozing out yet again. This time, I took it back and asked for my money. The next time I get one, it will be Pillsbury or something like that.

Grocery Store Adventure #3 (I think): It all started with continuing to learn label making this morning. I'd bought these little drawers for toys, 2 sets for $2 total, at a yard sale, and I was making labels and trying to learn symbols, (which hasn't yet been mastered) but I did learn numbers. I love gadgets! I talked to the guy on the phone about my forgotten password and got that straightened out. I had to explain to him, however, what a "reader" was. So, I thought, if I forget important information, I'll just use my label maker and put it on something other than my reader, for the time being, until I can rely on my memory (heh heh).I got to the store and tapped coupons as I bought. Both before and after, I had to check my labels for info. Admittedly, it took a little longer to shop, but I saved the Labor Day general merchandise % + coupons = $22.90. I think I should become a $ guru like Dave Ramsey, to whom I never listen.

Seniors Handle Change though Not Very Well

When I taught in the senior program, our supervisor cautioned us that seniors don't handle change well.  Now that I am one, I have found this to be true.
A monkey wrench got thrown into our regular routine in the form of a hot water heater suddenly becoming defunct.  Although the heater guy tried to simply install a part, it did not work.
This was little awkward, since our gran-daughter's fifth birthday party was scheduled for the next day, and although we are generally late go-to-bedders and late-morning sleepers, Sunday is generally a day I make an exception, especially when choir is up and running.  So, sure, I'd be willing to be up for the hot water heater guy, even if it was forty minutes ahead of schedule for a Sunday.  The idea of actually making it to the Sunday Service was out of the question.  It's a small church, so if you're not there, people notice. But I told Bill that Jesus said you have to pull the cow out of a ditch even on the "Sabbath", and he said, he thought it was an ox.  I agreed, he was probably right; it was an ox. I even tried to prove it later, by checking a Biblical Concordance, under calf (cow), ox, ditch... and I could NOT find it.  So, I said I didn't really know if  Jesus actually said it.  Bill said he did. (Something about the Sabbath was made for Man (ahem, and women, too) not Man (um...women?) for the Sabbath.)
After dealing with the hot water heater guy, without much sleep, agreeing that he SHOULD clean out the drain, too, but asking Bill if it was okay to join the preferred customer club after Bill had insisted up and down, he would NOT join.  Suddenly, it was okay to join the club.  Bill was anticipating this question, so he answered, groggily, through his morning insomnia, that yes, we should join the club.  It was then time for a catch-up nap.
Finally, it was almost time to go, after taking a hot shower....yay!  I found my muenster cheese in the kitchen drawer, so had to throw it out. As we were on the road to the park, I realized I forgot the most important thing, Naia's birthday gift!
So, I drove back to get the gift.  I had already been thinking as we left the first time, I should have my camera.  This would have been an opportune time to retrieve it, but no....I forgot to take the camera, again!
(How they looked, anyway)

Bill had claimed he'd only gotten 1/2 hour sleep, due to all the noise. Oh really?  I never would have noticed that he had morphed into a bear! But reality has no mercy. Toddler, Leela, had him running all over, and he was trying to protect her from herself, including the high slides.  She thought it was a game of  get Grandpa to run after her and just try to catch her.

My Day On the Road

 I had to get to the Yarn Spinners (storytellers) meeting, and I thought we (meaning Bill coaching me about following the map) had it all figured out. I turned too soon on MacMillan, and after quite awhile, remembering the landmarks, figured out I'd taken a wrong turn.  So, back I went to Whitehall Road.  Then, I got past Michigan Adventure and turned onto the proper road, Michillinda, where the Merry Maids sign was, then to Nestrom.  I turned left more than once onto South Shore Drive, and finally, asked a senior guy, in a wet swimsuit, at a bar and grill, where to go.  It seems Nestrom actually also "turns into" a different South Shore Drive. 
The storytellers said I looked good, since I apparently had good coloring, and I said it was high blood pressure.  Two other storytellers came in later, causing me to feel better about myself.
 Looking at the map again, I don't see, even now, how I could have figured it out. 
 Bill and I were both concerned, after all that traveling, that I might run out of gas, but upon returning and stopping at a gas station on Whitehall Road, I called Bill. We figured I could make it. 
 I followed him to the gas station to get a lesson in gas pumping, because I'd gotten away from it for too long.  I didn't want the rocks in one of our heads to simply fill the holes of the other (i.e. dysfunctional couple). When we finally arrived in the gas station store, the folks at the clerk's counter said they had been wondering about the "mysterious" pump #10. Nobody had come in yet to pay, and yet, the car was still parked there.  So now, I am willing to also learn oil changes and tire gauging.
 I'm going to train him on the computer, which he tries to avoid.  He thinks I'm "working", especially with head sets, because that was what he used to do at work. He's been away from the computer too long, on purpose.  Ha! 

I'd Have Your Back If You'd Had Mine

   "Fire!!..." yelled Beuregard, the dog, when he was asked, "If that guy carries the hose, what do you do?"
  He replied that he yelled, "Fire!" when there was one.
  When I was a 10-11 year old girl, reading Pogo books for $1, I had no idea that Walt Kelly, the cartoonist, was writing satire.  I laughed, anyway.
  Although Walt tended toward the left in politics during the 60's, picturing an hyena, resembling Spiro Agnew, this particular set of frames in the 50's, satirized unions.  It was a little absurd, as the firefighters took off weekends and worked only eight hours during the day.  They wouldn't allow themselves to be taken advantage of by working weekends and nights, so they were basically running around, the dog and the rabbit carrying the hose, acting "as if" they had something to do, looking for more conveniently-scheduled fires.
   I'm still in a bit of a quandary regarding unions. Neither I nor my husband had union protection, and our lives were consequently, precarious, indeed.
   Broadcasters were few, and bosses often paid low or threatened not to pay at all.  Among themselves, it was something like the Big Brother House on T.V., where there was a continual, "watch your back" game of frequent elimination.  Doing well and getting your name in the paper meant being targeted, as well.
   Teaching, based on numbers in attendance, was quite stressful, and we had to go out as a sales team recruiting students.  Heaven forbid displeasing students, once you had them, in any way!  You might lose your class, at least, for the next term.  Some nights for adult education and weekends for children's drama were a must.  If you hired a substitute for a night, you found out you weren't getting paid, though you set it all up.
   Once you'd spent all the time you could in that capacity, after a unionized teacher bumped you out of a job for which you'd just been hired, you returned to subbing.  There, you had to listen to unionized teachers in the lounge talking about job auctions you hadn't the faintest idea how to be included in, sort of a Catch-22 setup, (there appeared to be a proverbial moat with alligators surrounding personnel, since experienced teachers cost more) or how some dumb sub had messed up yesterday's class, because they weren't even certified.
   If you were behind a magazine and, after putting down your reading, protested that certain subs were, in fact, certified, the teachers became wide eyed, nervous, and apologetic, explaining they meant most subs. If the sub was certified, like you of course, it showed.
   On that note, one morning, a little plaque on a regular teacher's desk greeted me.  It said, "There's no substitute for a good teacher". If the teacher hadn't considered her backup sub-human, perhaps, she would have had the consideration to keep it at home.
   Working for most charter school situations, on one hand, was hell, after which you'd find you were not adding to your retirement credits.  There were times you had to pay out of pocket for credits for actual teaching and subbing in other states, as well as parochial and adjunct situations, but charters were not covered, so there's a total of a year not counted, as well as arts formats and commercial remedial ones.
   Summer drama, paid by parents, was purgatory.  "We don't want to read this," protested the 5th graders, "After all, we paid for this!"  Another storyteller, who was teaching a writing class, had a couple of students who didn't want to write.
  But if you got into a charter with a purpose, such as the arts, it was close to behavior expected in the 60's. On the other hand, I love the arts and worked at that charter form for awhile after retirement. My gran-daughter, who danced before she could walk, will also be attending there.
   Kudos also to the development of  the Alliance of Charter Teachers and Staff.
   So, since the unions gave me some benefits, while working full time and a half, and I'm benefiting somewhat now, I can't fault them too much.
   But, I've concluded, I never was a public school teacher by nature, anyway, a teaching artist (i.e. as in drama), yes, an artist, definitely. If you offered your drama expertise for an extra-curricular activity, they thanked you, but found it more economical to give it to the social worker.
   Thus, I detach myself from the issue, glad for all the good the unions have done, but knowing I would have had to be a more normal person, rather than an artistic one, (though some artists have been given that rare public teaching opportunity) to have benefited more and been blocked less.
   When I saw a sign in an auto repair shop that said, "If at first you don't succeed, to hell with it.  No use making an ass of yourself", it gave me pause.
   Guess that's why I "fired" myself....(i.e., retired when I did)...and before the subs (I guess the unions didn't want to bother to support their support staff) got privatized.

   Fast forward to the present: Sunday newspaper, March 6, 2016.  I used to think that Karma took too long to prevent major damage.  But I had to chuckle when I saw an advertisement that the private company is presenting, a job fair, calling for substitute teachers.  The employment standards seem to have come down, if they hadn't already, during my tenure.
   Could it be that people don't want to work in the school system, alongside teachers and for teachers without receiving at least partial credit for pension and benefits at the end?  Go figure.

I've Got to Get Organized, or Buried Treasures.

I was told by a writer friend that she'd attended one of those writer conferences, and they advised writing diet books that don't work. Then, to write another one a year later...that doesn't work. That seemed likely, as I've probably read every one of them. 
Well, I think I'd make a good living writing organization books that don't work.
 Like if I'd followed the author's advice, today, I would have set the timer for 15 minutes before tackling the kitchen closet. What was also suspicious was, the author said, make sure you've eaten enough ahead of time in preparation for organizing...for just 15 minutes?
  After 15 minutes, the timer goes off, and all sorts of "stuff" is on the kitchen floor, with a residue of thick dust under it. Also, if I was to go by the author, obeying the timer, I would have left all of it on the floor for the next day's 15 minutes.
 How do you think that would have flown with my husband? 
Took 40 minutes, and that was just a start.
  But, so far, I've found a few treasures, like a beach ball, with which my youngest grand girl has fallen in love, the boots Bill has wondered whereof they had gone for the last two winters, a sack of canned goods to be put out for the mail carrier just in time for yet another request, and....money. 
  Don't get too excited, it was a Movie Theater Popcorn Box, half-filled with nickels.

What are You Playing, Grandpa?

The inevitable happened. Four-year-old Naia finally got to go down to the basement with Grandpa (looking for something that might be wrong with the vent) and discovered what Grandma keeps in her basement: many years accumulation of creative dramatics puppets, props, stuffed animals, and costumes. I figured she'd be overwhelmed if she saw it, and she was. When I replaced my things she'd brought up, I thought of the many years and stories acted out. I guess it's time they get introduced to children's theater.
 (By the way, nothing was wrong with the vent. It was an old aerial t.v. set that got kicked on and was making noises. The thing about that was, it never ever turned itself on, and I could never switched it on ever again - strange.)

...And when Grandpa was sick at home, Naia talked to him on the cell phone and asked him, "What are you playing, Grandpa?" I guess when you play a lot of games with lots of gadgets in your house, and even do magic tricks, grandkids think that all you ever do is play. 
   He himself used to watch his own grand-dad take a deck of cards with him to work, but that was because they were having a strike there, and his grandfather was the foreman. When his grandfather came home, they played games together, so Bill thought that's all he ever did, too. 

Little Naia asked me what I was going to do with Grandpa tonight, and I replied, I don't know. So, she counseled me; I should go home; then, we could eat, then, "play with our toys", then, go to bed. We had a good laugh about it, but when you really think about it; I'm "playing" on the computer; he's "playing" pinball and pool (on a miniature pool table); we watch t.v., read books...She's got it right!

 — feeling entertained.

Once, when she was at a family gathering, she and Grandpa were coloring.  Then, she put one in his hand and left the basement.  She came upstairs, and I asked her where Grandpa was.  Her vocabulary was limited then, so she thought a minute, and said, "Markers".  I figured out where he was and what he was doing.  He'd been left holding a marker, so she thought he'd  entertain himself, coloring alone.