My Saturday mornings are all the same. That’s not to say it’s
a bad or good thing. It’s just a fact of life here in the land of never-ending
widowhood and living with a dog who likes to sleep in. Thank goodness for the
latter because it makes my life easier. Most days Levi doesn’t get up and start
making demands until after ten. That comes from him being a puppy when my
husband was living in a wheelchair and Don’s morning needs always came first. In
the summer months I get up around seven---not by choice. It seems like there’s
always a service person who wants to come at nine and I have to be dressed and my body gets used to popping out of bed with the sun. Except on Saturdays when no one is coming to do or fix or treat anything and I
can drink coffee and play on the computer in my jammies. My new posts are always
scheduled to appear at 12:30 AM on Wednesday and Saturdays and I shamelessly
admit that on Saturday mornings I hang around my keyboard working on a future post and hoping
someone will leave a comment on my latest one. Yes, I’m starved for human
interaction even if it comes by way of Wifi.
In fact sometimes I think I prefer communicating through a
keyboard more than in person. Sometimes the words that come out of my mouth
when I’m face-to-face with someone scare me. Like the other day
when I went to a car show and picnic that was held in the older section of the CCC
where I’ll be moving, once the new section is built. I was
sitting at a table for ‘future residents’ and we were all getting to know each
other when the subject of dogs came up. Someone asked how old Levi is and I
replied, “Sixteen.” He’s not sixteen, he’s eleven but by the time I realized
what I said it was too late to correct myself without creating an awkward tick in the conversation because someone else had already remarked, “At that age, he could be
gone by the time our units are built” and several others agreed. I catch myself making mistakes
like that in face-to-face conversations but when I write my brain and
fingertips are more in sync plus I can proof read to my heart’s content. It rattles
me when something comes out of mouth from the land of oh-crap-that’s-not-right!
Okay, here’s a run-down on some of my future neighbors. The
couple who will be right next door are a few years younger than me. Really nice and they have raised several puppies
for Paws for a Cause. They love dogs but don’t currently have one. A widow who
will live upstairs on the third floor used to be a psychologist and was complaining
about how tight doctors have become about dispensing pain pills. Say what? I
would think that would be a good given the addiction problems we have in this
country. She needed something or another but couldn't find a doctor to give it to her. Another
widow who I liked right out of the gate worked as a secretary in our local mental hospital. She,
too, had been a long-term caregiver to her husband before he died.
And here’s the real shocker! What are the odds that in a
small group of twenty people three of us would have had extensive experience working
in the floral industry? When I heard that I said, “We probably shouldn’t spread
that around or they’ll have us making arrangements for all the holiday tables.”
One of the guys who owned a floral shop in a different neighborhood from the
one where I worked for ten years replied, “I would welcome that. Admit it, Jean,
wouldn’t it be fun for the three of us to work together?” And it would. When I filled
out my application to buy into this place, I didn’t check the box that I’d be
interested in volunteering because I didn’t want it documented but I am keeping
an open mind about it. They have an event coming up this fall where they’ll
talk about all the volunteer opportunities that will be available. Since this
place is non-profit I suspect there will be many. It's probably part of their keep-your-body-and-mind healthy program, commune style. The only job I've heard mention is gardening. They are planning a large, raise kitchen garden for the chef to use.
Back to the present instead of daydreaming about my future, here I sit. Its still Saturday only it's almost eleven now and I just finished making my protein breakfast smoothie. The blender is Levi’s
alarm clock. He always comes out to the kitchen to get whatever fruit I’m
putting in my smoothie. Today it was watermelon. He loves watermelon and it’s
easier than say blueberries. He has so few teeth left that he can’t chew anything round. I feel like a mama bird in the mornings when I have to chew his fruit a bit before I give it to him. Berries of any kind---it
all goes in my mouth before his. It’s a good thing he’s not a germaphobic like
I tend to be. ©
NOTE: The photo at the top is of three antique cars that was at the show. They didn't have many cars like at the car shows of my past but they had a firetruck with six hunky guys standing around eating hot dogs. The fire department isn't even two blocks away from the CCC and I'm guessing they're invited over whenever they have outdoor cookouts. Why are fight-fighters all so cute? Eye candy in yellow pants and red suspenders.
