My latest senior moment

For some reason, I have a great sensitivity to seeing old men by themselves. I have no idea where it comes from, since the majority of my life is spent making sarcastic fun of people in general. It happens nearly every time I encounter an older man who isn’t doing something retiree-esque such as golfing or having coffee with his friends. If I am, say, shopping and I see an older man stocking shelves or worse yet being a greeter in a store, I have the tendency to get a bit teary. To me, they just deserve better. He probably misses his wife and her wonderful beef stew and maybe his kids grew up and live far, far away and don’t call or write and that’s why this poor guy is working his part time hours to pass the time until Wheel of Fortune comes on at 6. My sister calls it my *sickness*. She will burst into gales of laughter in telling the story of my emotional encounters with the older man that used to work in the local K-Mart. Every time I went into the store there he would be stocking the Martha Stewart towels or slowly trying to figure out the cash register in the midst of a bunch of over made-up GenX teens. Once, to my horror, my sister phoned me to say she saw him sitting all by himself, ringing a bell and dressed as Santa Claus in the front of the store. I avoided the place for the entire holiday season. I must have died a lonely old man in a previous life.

Last Friday I was doing my usual grocery shopping. I was moving along, minding my own business in the chip and dip aisle when suddenly I had one of my *senior moments*. Coming towards me in one of those motorized cart-things was an older gentleman. He had on a little pageboy cap and very thick glasses. He motored right for me for a brief moment and suddenly took a sharp left turn right into the potato chips. As he buried the entire front of his cart in the Ruffles I could hear the air-tight bags popping and the chips breaking. Instinctively I wanted to turn around and just go away. Heroically, I might add, I grabbed the *handlebars* of his cart and planted myself so he could bury himself no further into chip and dip hell. Mumbling something about how to stop, he slowly moved his finger from the *gas pedal* and brought the thing to a stop, nearly running over my foot in the process.

As much as I wanted to shake that old man and scream at him for making me all teary and emotional because here he is all alone on his little cart crashing into things with no one to help him because his wife died and his kids never call and how did he even get to the store did he actually drive himself????, I instead smiled all brightly and said, “Whoops, better take it easy there!”

I really do need some help. Really.

Hello? Is it you???

Tonight at the gym I was on the eliptical trainer...located just behind the treadmills. As I huffed and puffed, I happened to look at this woman who was working just as hard as I on her treadmill. She looked vaguely familiar. You know, how you KNOW somone...but you just can figure out WHO she is. The entire time I was eliptically training, I stared at Treadmill Woman. Who the hell IS SHE?, I thought?? As finished my eliptical workout, Treadmill Woman happened to be finished with her workout and headed out the door to her car. She glanced my way once with no sign of recognition.

All of the sudden, it came to me! This person, Treadmill Woman, looked exactly like BlogPerson Lynne! I don't even know Lynne, I am but a lurker on her site...but I have seen so many pics from HotBabe, Stacy, and Christine, that I recognized her right there on the treadmill in my very own club!

Lynne, next time you are pep-stepping away on your treadmill in NW Indiana and the person behind you on the eliptical trainer is staring at you, rest assured it is just me, WTC.

Practice makes perfect...if you have the time.

I just got a call from my mother. Now that they are both retired, she and my dad enjoy attending these educational seminars offered by our community. The seminars are directed to seniors and cover all sorts of topics from medical issues to political issues, to music, to pets. They actually sound quite interesting even to a non-senior like me. They are, apparently, so interesting that the venue where they are held is getting too small for the senior crowd. According to Mom, some of the attendees have complained about parking, not being able to hear the speaker, and even not enough seats for everyone. My heart goes out to the poor soul who has to field those phone calls.

Anyway,

Mom told me she and Dad just received the newest seminar schedule.

"Your father and I just got the new Social Senior Schedule. They finally decided to move it to a larger building. It was so crowded your father couldn’t hear."

"That’s great Mom, they seem to get quite a crowd."

"Well, your father is pretty sure he knows the parking around the new place."

"It will be handy to know where to go, especially in bad weather."

"The programs don’t start until next week but your father and I are going to drive to the new place tomorrow."

"How come?"

"Well, your father and I need to practice going to the new place."

I so need to retire...

I couldn't stop lisenen to her

I have a most unfortunate duty, I think, in that I have to be “The Voice” of the phone system at my workplace. You know how when you call a business and “The Voice” gives you a number of options that hopefully get you to whom you wish to speak? That Voice. Once my mom called and when I answered my phone she said, “That was YOU!...That voice…It was YOU!” as if she had suddenly recognized me on the street and realized I was the leading lady in an academy award winning film. It was very exciting for her.

When I record the greeting, I try to be very careful about my pronunciation and diction because I am so very anal retentive. During the *recording sessions*, I need several attempts before I am satisfied enough to “go public” with the finished product. Hey, it isn't easy rattling off departments and extensions...and timing when to take a breath so I don't sound as if I am gasping for air. Oh, the stress! It is so not my favorite job! Consequently, when I call various businesses, I try to listen closely to their Voice just in case I might pick up any tips for my own performance. It can be very educational I have discovered.

The other day I had to phone one of our customers. The Voice was so very endearing because I will bet the woman spent a lot of time getting it as perfect as she possibly could.

Thank ya fer callin . Please lissen carefully to the followin options…

Fer Purchasin, press one
Fer Perduction, press two
Fer Shippin, press three...

The Voice was actually quite pleasant in a sing-songy country Tammy Wynette kind of way. In listening to the entire list of options there was not a "g" to be heard. It had me so intrigued, I forgot why I had called in the first place!

I am not sure why I wanted to post about this...It is just one of those cute things I find amusing in my odd little world.

Thank ya fer readin it.

When they scratch at the door what does it mean?

I bought some reins on ebay a couple of weeks ago. Now that I have a horse to ride I feel it necessary to further grow my tack collection beyond merely a used saddle. One never knows when one will need to look coordinated and classy on one’s horse. Who knows, I could be invited to a show, parade, or Olympic Games at any moment and I want to be prepared.

When I received the reins in the mail, they included a color pamphlet describing the seller’s spiritual counseling business. The woman is a channel, animal communicator, horse trainer, author, nutritional consultant, energy-meridian therapist, a 4th degree black belt, and founder of Zen Horsemanship. I am thinking I purchased my reins from God herself. Boy, do I ever feel inadequate after reading that resume. The pamphlet included a number to call for past life readings, channeled readings, spirit communications, animal totems, energy balancing, ghost evictions, and animal communications. At this time, I don’t have much need for past life readings or ghost evictions; however, I am kind of intrigued by animal communications.

“Animal Communications are about healing. This takes place in the subtle body of the animal, spreading to their human companions. Increased awareness to the animals’ needs and their purpose is a benefit gained.”

I read all of this and took a good look at my dog Missy as she gnawed on her Nylabone.

“Sucker…I’ll lie here and look like I am all into this and just as soon as that chick leaves to ride her precious horse I am so on the couch.”

I looked over at the other dog as he lounged on his dog bed…

“Ya, AS IF I am supposed to be comfy on this piece of crap. I call the chaise!”

Feeling very increased in my awareness, I bought 2 new dogbeds today.

My main squeeze

MAG
Originally uploaded by WalkTrotCanter.

He walks, he trots, he canters!!!Finally...A pic of the newest man in my life! Meet Mr. Magoo! His eyes look a bit funky from the flash but he seemed to enjoy our little photo shoot.

I just want to clear the air about Friday

On Friday afternoons, I usually do my grocery shopping immediately after my riding lesson. The store is conveniently located near the barn so popping in, picking up my items for the week before heading on home seems to work out just fine. One disadvantage of my speedy method of grocery shopping is that I am usually still dressed in my riding clothes while shopping. I don't smell or anything...it isn't like I stomp in horse shit and wander around the fresh veggies, but I do tend to look a bit dusty just from being in the barn.

This past Friday, I was doing my usual *shopping in ridingwear*. I was nearly finished and heading down the dairy aisle when, just ahead of me, I heard "Ohhhhhhhh Daddy!!!" I looked up and there was a man about my age with three little kids. Another kid said, "Awwww Dad...let's get outta here!" I couldn't figure out what had happened until I moved forward and tried to breathe..."Dad" had let off one of those putrid beer or chili farts that was lingering right next to the margarine. As luck would have it, a woman happened to be heading down the aisle right towards me, just as I entered the toxic zone. Me in my dusty riding clothes.

"Dad" and the kids sped off and guess who got the"I can't be-LIEVE you stunk up the refrigerator section you filthy barn rat!" look of sheer disgust?

A very belated holiday review...

Well, the inflatable Santa, life-sized snowglobe, chaser lights, pine-scented pillows, and NOEL fingertip towels have all been stored neatly in their cheery red and green plastic bins…the holiday season is officially over. YEA!!! (Actually, I never had any of the above…I just like the blogworld to think I get into the holidays like every other red-blooded American and buy the latest and greatest in tacky seasonal items.) I have been the non-blogger for too too long! Not that I have had nothing to write about, it is pure end-of-the-year laziness. That and I have been riding my horse every day for several hours a day. I think I was beginning to get a bit bowlegged so thankfully I am back to work. I am trying not to sit on my deskchair as if it is a saddle…that might get some odd looks from my coworkers.

I have been reading about some of your holidays…you all have these warm, inviting photos to share, silly stories of presents and toys and wonderful trips. Honestly, it is impossible for me to even attempt to top any of that so I will simply review the past couple of weeks in bland list form. You may have the idea I am not very fond of the holidays and you are correct. I don’t detest the merry time of year, I simply get tired of the idea that everything is supposed to be happy, cheery, and tied with festive red ribbons. I do the happy, cheery, red ribbon thing for about a week and then I am broke, crabby, and ready for all of it to end. I do try my best to vew the entire season with humor; however, most of the time I seem to revert back to my usual sarcasm...imagine that. Anyway, back to the list:

H & I celebrated Christmas Eve by munching on Chinese food and watching It’s a Wonderful Life. I fell asleep before my favorite line, “To my big brother George, the richest man in town!” H was happy I was asleep because despite having seen the movie a zillion times, I cry every single time.

On Christmas day, we had my parents and NASCAR brother over for drinks. NASCAR brother brought a jar of North Carolina moonshine he had received as a gift. After tasting it, we all agreed it could probably best be put to use running an automobile. Yikes. On an interesting note, my folks gave H & I a humongous package of homemade sausage as a gift. The thing must weigh about 10 lbs. Knowing I am not a fan of sausage whatsoever, my mother said, “I know you two don’t really eat this, but it will be great to serve when you have people over.” With that amount of sausage, I am thinking we could invite a third world country for a get-together and still send people home with doggie bags.

For the second year in a row, I received no horse-related items as gifts. I give up. Thankfully, I have my own little horse now (YAHOO!) and I am ebaying myself together as far as necessary equipment. As much as I would have LIKED new breeches, a saddle pad, brushes, tall riding boots, a crop, a quilted vest, a titanium helmet, chaps, reins, a snaffle bit, boot socks, and/or a saddle cover, I was a good girl and smiled with thanks for the chocolate fondue set and Dilbert calendar.

H tends to get a bit bummed out on Christmas morning because he would love to have a houseful of kids to wake us with their present-opening anticipation. He has this idea that every other family shares a Norman Rockwell-esque warm fire, well-behaved youngsters, a golden retriever, and a Mrs. Cleaver wife during the holidays. I can’t understand why an icy cocktail, two neurotic poodles, and a wife in riding clothes won’t cut it for him. Anyway, he was feeling his usual we-need-some-kids mood until my brother and his family arrived. By the time our nephew was lounging all over the new sofa eating greasy chicken wings and our niece was projectile vomiting on the new area rug, his tune was rapidly changing to “when can we have our cozy quiet house back”. It was really kind of funny to watch. Poor H and his romantic ideals.

Last of all, it seems our cookies-for-the-neighbors sales tactic worked. We received friendly little cookie-reciprocations from several of the power-washing folks around us. One was even a late Christmas Eve delivery complete with a hearty, “Welcome to the neighborhood!!”. Perhaps they only wanted to get a closer look at Those who don’t decorate the wellhead and Those who don’t extract the unsightly soil from the driveway but the cookies were pretty darn tasty.

By the way, a belated Happy New Year to everyone!