Author: Kathleen Fisher

Kathleen Fisher is a Chicago girl at heart though she moved from there many years ago when a handsome scientist swept her off her feet. What started as a light-hearted blog about life, marriage, and kids turned more serious in September of 2018 when her husband of 35 years ended his life. A new journey began that day and she now writes about unexpected loss, grief, and finding a path towards healing.

Kleptos

Being a retail girl for awhile now, I’ve seen plenty of shoplifting or evidence thereof.  One time when I was working, two women came in to shop for Christmas gifts.  I talked to them for a few minutes and thought I understood that they needed to stay within a reasonable budget.  I pointed out some popular items that were a good price and one of the women immediately went to a table of very expensive sweaters.  Those will run you a bit more, I said, about $300.00.  She looked at me and said, “Do you think I can’t afford these?”  I was so taken aback, so flustered and embarrassed that I had misunderstood her that I apologized and told my coworker I’d be in the back room for a minute.  As I was coming back those two were running out the door with $2000.00 worth of leather coats.

I was set up.  Masterfully.

My niece works for a large chain of women’s clothing that I bet you’ve been to many times.  They are ripped off constantly, including the shoplifters who try to return what they’ve stolen for cash.  Mom would be so proud, ladies.  She told story after story of blatant shoplifting that even after years of working retail stunned me.

Like the store I worked for when the leather coats were stolen, you cannot accuse, confront or chase after a shoplifter.  You don’t know if they have a gun is what the managers will tell you and nobody’s life is worth it.  And if you know they have all your leather coats you watch them run out the door. 

While I agree with that, the rest of us are paying to keep women who you wouldn’t guess in a million years of being shoplifters in some mighty fine threads.  As we’re handing over payment at the register for our stuff, they’re in the dressing room cutting off security tags and shoving the stuff they like into a tote bag.

I worked for a small clothing boutique for a couple of years until they closed.  Two teenagers came in and tried on some dresses and then left them in a heap on the dressing room floor.  When one of the salespeople went to clean it out, a $300.00 dress was missing and she grabbed her cell phone and went looking for them in the shopping center.  She spotted them in the drugstore and kept an eye on them while she called the police. 

When the cops showed up she had them take a look at their backpacks, and there was the shoplifted dress along with some makeup from the drugstore.  As the cops hauled them away she yelled after them to never come in her store again.

It wasn’t really HER store, but we all felt ownership for this place we loved to work, and were willing to put up a fight to keep people from walking out the door with whatever they want.

Syncronized

When Mallie Bee was just a wee one, her and her friend spent five summers doing synchronized swimming at the local pool.  For $90.00 you could get somebody to Wear. Your. Kid. Out. Every. Morning.  I knew where to spend my bucks.

That’s when I discovered how grueling a sport it is.  Practice every morning and it doesn’t matter the temperature.  Pointing the toes.  Treading water.  Holding your breath and then holding it some more.  Sucking in water and spitting it out.  And don’t forget to smile when you pop out of the water so people think it’s fun.

The grand finale of the season was The Big Show on a Sunday summer’s eve with lights, music, an announcer and a snack bar.  It’s a big deal here in Mayberry.

When it was her last year, we decided to indulge in some pre-show gin and tonics with our neighbors.  The Big Daddy had three, and by the time the show started it was all I could do to keep him from falling off his lawn chair.

After the final routine and thunderous applause from the crowd, there was usually some thank you speeches, but that year there was a commotion on the pool deck.  Oh dear, I think somebody got sick.  The Big Daddy tried to get up to see, but whoa Nellie, he was feeling those gin and tonics.  The Boy Child said, “I think it was Mal.  Yeah, Mom, I’m pretty sure she was the barfer.”    

No, no, it’s not her.  It can’t be her.  Of all these girls here, it cannot possibly be her.

He would not stop laughing and The Big Daddy sat in his lawn chair yammering about The Milky Way and I was steeeeressed.

When it was all over our little mermaid came and got us.  We congratulated her on a great show and she said, “Did you guys see me puke when I got out of the pool?”

Synchronized swimming may look pretty, but when The Hillbillies decide to come out and give it a try you’ve got yourself a shit show.

Big Money

You may have noticed there are some ads on my sidebar.  This is something I’ve gone back and forth on forever because I don’t really like how they look, but I would like to make some money doing this.  I was reading some tips from a very successful blogger and she said nobody read her blog until she had a posting that went viral.  Since she had AdSense she was able to make some decent money from all those hits, so I have heeded her advice.

When I posted my piece about Chick-Fil-A, what should come up on my ads but that damn chicken place.  Meh.  I spent all morning trying to figure out how to get it off and hence, there will not be any fast food ads pop up because they have been successfully blocked.  Sorry, Taco Bell, I still heart thee.

August is an expensive month, this year especially so, but now I can make a contribution to the cause.  Last month I made $9.57 which sure beats the $7.63 I made on profit sharing from my last job.   

Hello spirals.  And not the fancy ones, kids.

Olympic Women

I have watched the Olympics in marathon sessions.  I watch the big events at night and the not so big ones during the day.  Fencing?  I have no idea what it means to win or lose, but I spent an hour trying to figure it out while I folded laundry.  The Big Daddy and I talk every night about how RIPPED these athletes are and oh, if only we could have a little of that.  Back in the day I might have been a contender.  Or not……………

Swimming/Water Polo
The Queen Mum is terrified of the water and she was determined that her girls would not follow in her footsteps.  My sister and I were in beginning swim  For. Six. Years.  All you had to do to move up was to swim across the pool, but neither one of us could do it.  I finally passed when I was thirteen.  The week before, my top came off and all the six year olds that I was swimming with stared at my budding breasts.  That may have been motivating.

Synchro
In high school swimming class we had to tread water for five minutes.  My gym buddy and I made our way to the side and every time the teacher wasn’t looking we’d hang onto the edge.  We got busted and had to do five more minutes.  I used the extra time to plan my funeral and take my mind off my impending death by treading.

Basketball
My friend said that I looked like a little chicken when I ran up and down the court.  The gym teacher overheard and that was the day I was named “Peeps.”  Three days of gym class.  Four years.  Peeps.

Volleyball
I didn’t like being in front of the net where a spiked ball might hit a short girl like me in the head.  I preferred to serve, but then I would get a flaming red mark on my forearm.  I excused myself from that sport with a note I wrote from my mom for severe menstrual cramps.

Track & Field
The same friend that I cheated with in treading water said that when the gym teacher was working with the long jump girls you could walk around the hurdles instead of actually jumping over them.  This preserved your energy for later in the day when you had study hall and could get a pass to the parking lot to go smoke a ciggy.

Heptathlon
I don’t even know what this one is, but once I unloaded the dishwasher while I was breastfeeding.

Softball
I played on a team in my 20s that was supposed to be just for fun.  There is no such thing among softball players.  I ended up being the catcher because I could only throw the ball as far as the pitcher’s mound.  On a bounce.  I didn’t get asked back the following year because “they were going in a different direction.”

Running
I only ran when my brothers were trying to kill me and if I had to do it now I would need a Depends. 

Equestrian
My sister and I went horseback riding once when we were Girl Scouts.  She screamed the whole time, “HELP!  HELP!  HELP ME!!!!  PLEEEEEEZ!!!  THIS  HORSE WON’T STOP!!!!!!!!  I found that if you stood while the horse was galloping it wasn’t so bad, and if you happened to have sharted in your Official Girl Scout underpants it was a win-win strategy.

Gymnastics
I am not, nor have never been capable of, making the top half of my body do something different than the bottom half.  If you ever saw me in the way, way, way back of a Jazzercise class you would know this.  Or you would be calling 9-1-1 to report a seizure.

Boxing
One time, I borrowed my brother’s car (without his permission) and ended up backing into a gas pump.  When I came home and told my sister she said, “Holy shit.  You’re in big trouble.”  I chased her out of our bedroom with a pair of scissors and ripped the hood off her coat, but I didn’t punch her in the face because I am opposed to violence.


All these days and nights of watching these fit women has inspired me to crank up my exercise regime.  Besides taking my elderly dog on a slow, slow walk in the morning, I’ve added Jillian Michael’s 30-Day Shred.  I have done four days of it and believe you me………………It. Is. Hard.

And that’s without the weights.

Brave

I was at a party last month and deep in conversation with a friend.  As we were leaving she remarked that she admired Mark and I and thought we were brave.

Brave???  I’m terrified of the dentist, heights, merging traffic, runny eggs, any envelope from the state, crickets, yeast, the Visa bill, pain that lasts longer than ten minutes………..

I had to turn around and ask her what she meant.

“You guys put yourself out there and go for it.”

Oh, so that’s how it looks to somebody else.  Be it writing or biking or whatever else we pursue, we may have lost some of our fear, but I’d hardly call that brave.   If we were to fall flat on our face in any of these endeavors it would not be but for the thousandth time, and lookie here, we’re both still standing.

This week I took Mallie Bee to the pediatrician..  The doctor’s kids and mine went to school together and she is one of my favorite people.  I had heard she was working a retail job on the side and asked her about it.  “Oh yes,” she said, “I love it.  It’s always been something I’ve wanted to do.”  A doctor selling handbags?

“Next,” she said, “I’m going to try waitressing.  I’ve already talked to somebody who’s willing to show me the ropes.”  A doctor waiting tables?

Mallie Bee got some advice on her beat-up feet and I got a booster shot of the failure immunization.  It was a good day to be amongst the doctor and the dancer…………….

The ones who stuck their toe outside the box and changed the way they thought about everything.

Chick-Fil-A

When Chick-Fil-A came to our area, I had no idea what it was and even pronounced it wrong.  Chick-Filla.  There was a lot of buzz about the place, so I went there and then I really didn’t get it.  I pitched half of it in the dog’s bowl and never went back.

The owner has recently declared that the wrath of God will descend upon us Americans for our evolving stance on gay marriage, and while you’re free to voice your opinion about anything, it’s not exactly the best business strategy.  In his case, he didn’t have to do damage control because when you’re speaking for the Lord what can you possibly damage?

Wednesday was the day that like-minded people lined up for hours to support his business and his stance on this issue.  As an anonymous gay employee of a Chick-Fil-A in Atlanta said, “It’s Hate Appreciation Day.”  In the you’re-wrong-I’m-right-you’re-liberal-I’m-conservative world we live in, it got covered by the news complete with helicopter shots of the throngs of people waiting in line.

What a cross in life it must be to bear to be threatened by people who are in your family, your church, your neighborhood, your school, your hospital, your grocery store and your military.  What a cross in life it must be to bear to give up half your day, fight traffic, stand in the heat and spend money to support somebody you’ve never met but is as God-fearing as you.

Wow.

That’s a big commitment for something so utterly craptastic.

A Good Foundation

In this summer of extreme heat and drought, there was a news story about protecting your foundation.  For some time and a little bit of money now, you can make sure that you don’t have major foundation repairs at a later date.

We’re usually later date people.

I mentioned this to The Big Daddy and he said he was on it.  He always answers really fast when he’s not going to do something.  Tonight, he said, while you’re gone I’ll do it.

The next day I asked him how it went and damn if it didn’t slip his mind.  Tonight, he said, I will do it.  I also told him that they suggested you put more dirt around the foundation.  Not top soil, but a good clay dirt that holds moisture.  On it, he said.

The next day I asked him how it went and geez, oh man, tonight’s the night.  For sure, but first he had a better plan.

If holding in moisture around the foundation is the idea, he said, instead of getting dirt I’m going to put kitty litter there. BA. DA. BING. BA. DA. BOOM.  Helloooooooo, people, moisture holding.  Am I a genius or what?
 
What.

I thought about going down Argument Road with him, but since we both know that there will be no watering of the foundation, no moisture holding dirt, no proactive steps taken to protect that upon which our house sits, I nodded dumbly.

Just like the Tidy Cat idea.

Living The Dream

The Boy Child has not exactly had the summer he planned.  Last year he went to London and that put him on a high for months to follow.

This year he was hoping to get an internship but those were mighty hard to come by, and so for the fifth summer in a row he was back at the bagel shop.  It is one thing to go back after you’ve had an awesome overseas adventure, it’s another when it’s your only option.  Most days he’s there before the sun comes up  to wait on customers, put bagels in the oven, wash dishes and mop the floors for an eight hour shift.

The other day, a guy came in and said, “HEY YOU GUYS!!!  HOW’S IT GOIN?  WORKING HARD?  LIVING THE DREAM???

When you are wearing a ball cap and tshirt that says, “Ask me about the poppers”, and standing all day smelling like bagels, you are not living the dream.   That is impossible at $7.50 an hour.  They got his bagels and and when he couldn’t decide on a drink he said, “HEY YOU GUYS???  WHAT GETS YOU GOING IN THE MORNING???”  Vodka and cigarettes.

For the 2nd time in a few short minutes they looked at him like the gigantic ass that he was, and as much as this summer has sucked, at least The A.M. Bagel Crew doesn’t have to go through life in that guy’s skin.

Getting Orientated

Mallie Bee and I went to orientation bright and early Friday morning.  It was an all day affair with sessions for parents, sessions for students, sessions for both.  It was information overload, but most of our questions were answered and she is ready for her new adventure.

The third time’s a charm without any of the anxiety of a first-timer as I told a teary-eyed mom who looked just like me seven years ago.  You’re going to be o.k.  She’s going to be o.k.  I promise.  This is what we have to do.  Let them go.  Watch them fly.

Sitting at a table near us after lunch was a girl majoring in Slut 101.  The only thing the top of her sundress covered were her nipples leaving nothing to the imagination and she had “easy” written all over her.

Prior to leaving the room, her mother suggested she clean up her lunch remains.  The new coed let out a heavy, dramatic sigh with the obligatory eye roll, ignored her mom and walked away.  Isn’t cleaning up after themselves the sort of thing you instill in your kid when they’re three and not an adult? 

Thankfully, the majority of these kids will fly into a bright future with interests that make their heart skip a beat, but you can already predict that the wings of others will be burdened by their own garbage.