House of Prayer

When I was little and my mom would come and check on my sister and I before she’d go off to bed herself, I would often poke my little, curly head up and say, “I can’t sleep, Mom.”

Say your prayers, Kath, she’d say.

It was my mom’s answer to E.V.E.R.Y.T.H.I.N.G.

At dinner we’d say regular grace and then another prayer which was my dad’s favorite.  Sheesh, people, can we just eat already?

My whole life it was the standard answer to everything that was wrong.

Say your prayers.

My mom has been sick lately.  No appetite, lethargic, coughing a lot.  After two rounds of antibiotics she wasn’t any better and so the doctor ordered an abdominal and lung scan because she believed it was cancer.

Her six kids and their spouses were knocked to their knees.  Yes, my mom is older but she doesn’t act old.  She walks twice a day.  She’s funny.  She’s energetic.  She needs to stay with us.

That was on a Friday and yesterday we found out she is okay………….maybe a nasty virus that needs to run its course, but no cancer and no pneumonia.

Today is my birthday.

Mom isn’t going anywhere for the time being.

Hail Mary full of grace.

SALE!!!!!!

The store is closing in less than three weeks and I have been cruising the job market.

I went on a very promising interview last week, but no call back as of yet even though I totally rocked it.

It’s a real job and I was really nervous as the interview was cancelled twice.  This gave me time to think freak out.   The Big Daddy said, “Just be yourself.  They’ll love you.”  That’s not really true.  I can think of a few people who don’t even like me.  Because it’s mutual.  Besides……………when I’m myself I talk WAY too much which isn’t exactly a good thing to have going on in an interview.  I thought about faking going to the interview (who would know?), but instead hiked up my Mom Pants and crossed being scared shitless off my bucket list.  Again.

So now I wait.

Since the store is closing there is a big sale going on.  As employees we get a generous discount and now even more so with this clearing out of goods.  The tired winter merchandise that we couldn’t stand two weeks ago is looking much more inviting and there is continuous trolling through the racks.  My fellow shopgirls never stop selling.  They’re good.  Scary good.

That looks so good on you.  You should totally get that.  Did you see the price????   It’s crazy how much it’s marked down.  You. Need. That. 

It explains the poncho I dated on my shift today and am considering even though I’ve never been a poncho girl in my entire life. 

It could be quite the fashion statement when I’m sitting in a coffee shop dodging interviews.

Putting Out The Fire

After church on Saturday, Mark and I went to our favorite pizza place.  It was a little hard to get to as many streets were blocked off with fire trucks.  It was a show of force of emergency responders and when we got out of the car I smelled gas, which seems to be a little too common in Kansas City these days.

We went into the restaurant and ordered our pizza.  I was near a t.v. and could hear the report of a gas leak in the very neighborhood we were sitting in.  Before long somebody from the gas company came in with a meter to read the gas levels in the kitchen.

This was a little unsettling.

One of the waitresses that works there went to school with Will, and so I stopped her to find out what she knew.  The leak was at a nearby apartment complex and they were being extra cautious in light of what recently happened here.

With that, four fireman filed past our table to inspect the kitchen themselves to make sure everything was safe.

The waitress and the patron stopped conversing.  A minute later all was well and they walked by us again and out the door.

“Just once,” she said, “I’d like to be carried out of a building by a fireman.”

You and me both, honey.

Losing Vicki

Mary called me up.  Mary the PTA president.  Mary the Organizer.  Mary…….the friend you want when the shit hits the fan.

“Vicki called.  She’s been going to the doctor a lot and was wondering if you’d be able to take her to some of her appointments at St. Luke’s.”

Oh yes.  Yes, I would love to do that for Vicki.  Just tell me when and I’m there.

“Tuesdays.  You’re the Tuesday Girl.  I’ll call her and get the info and let you know.”

Tuesday arrived and I picked up my much thinner, very sick friend and helped her into my van.  We chatted all the way there catching up on everything as she’d been housebound for awhile with treatments for ovarian cancer.  When we got to the professional offices of St. Luke’s, I dropped her off in front.

“I’ll wait here for you while you park the car.  They don’t want me going up alone.”

Okay.  I’ll make it quick.

That is when I lost my friend.  I dropped her off on the ground level, parked on the 2nd level, took a walkway over the dropoff area (huh, I don’t remember seeing that) and got completely lost.  Where I was I had no idea and since I have no sense of direction and lay no m & m’s along the way to remember my path, I was screwed.  And a cell phone?  Well, Vicki and I had already talked about how neither of us had one of those new things and weren’t in any hurry to get one.

I wandered around.  Oncology, I’d ask.  Well, is she having chemo or radiation?  What kind of cancer?  Outpatient?  Is she having blood drawn?  Oh, try that building across the street.   

Vicki?  Tall, dark hair, talks to everybody?  You’d like her as soon as you met her.  Everybody does.

At one point I got so confused in a maze of hallways I ended up on the hospital side and thought I was going to cry. 

Mary is going to kick my ass.

I left the building, walked next to a construction site where they had to halt the crane while I wandered through sans hardhat and eventually ended up right where I dropped her off.

There she was.

Oh geez, Vicki, I am so sorry.  Have you been waiting long?  I got lost.  Do you know how many oncology departments there are in this place?  Who does this kind of thing to their friend?  I’m really sorry.  You can yell at me.  You could even fire me. 

Vicki did none of those things.  Instead she introduced me to one of her nurses and they both decided to wait there while I got the car and brought it around which that time I managed not to screw up.

Vicki kept me on as her chauffeur.  We didn’t tell Mary or anybody else how I lost her on my first day of duty, our secret joke every Tuesday until she moved on. 

The Blizzard of Oz

Last week’s snowfall of 12″ just wasn’t enough and so round two came through overnight.  Work was cancelled for both of us, schools were closed and everybody stayed home which would have been all cozy and lovely had the power not gone out at four a.m.  By nightfall, KCPL (those beautiful lineman literally trudging in snow up to their butts) brought the lights and heat back.

It was a winter wonderland right outside the door……………..

And The Big Daddy working the shovel with our neighbor like he was Michael Bloomberg..

And my snow garden…………

We warmed up for a few hours at Maggie and Nate’s and when we came home I finished reading this book by way of a battery-operated tea light. 

Snow days……….I’d love one more but all good things must end. 

February

I’m not a fan of the whole month of February.  At least in January you get the Christmas stuff put away, organize the house, make a fresh start.  This is useful stuff.

Then comes February.  Gray and shorter than any other month, like even it doesn’t see the point in hanging around longer than necessary.

A couple of weeks ago, I was supposed to go out to dinner with my fellow shopgirls to see a friend of all of ours who was in town.  I didn’t go and I couldn’t even make up a decent excuse.  Instead, Mark and I went to an evening church service which we never AND I MEAN NEVER have done before.  I thought that if I was going to bail on this planned dinner nobody could lay a guilt trip on me for going to church.

An hour of being still helped in matters of mental and spiritual health.

When I went back to work I offered my apologies.  I am off-kilter, I said.  I cannot explain it.  I cannot understand it.  I am just off-kilter.

My very wise friend and boss said, “Yes, it’s like that these days.  First Fat Tuesday, then Ash Wednesday, then Valentine’s Day.  It is as if the air is charged this week.”

I love her.

The air in Kansas City has stay charged with a gas explosion, a 12″ snowstorm on Thursday to be followed in the next 24 hours with another storm of up to 15″.

It is more than time to start daydreaming about all things garden…………the only remedy for a month that seems as if it will never end.

Serving

When I go to work I often come in contact with waiters and waitresses that are also going to their jobs and park in the same employee lot as me as there are many restaurants that are our neighbors.

Often we don’t speak, but I try to wish them a good day.  Though we are in the same type of service industry, my hourly pay doesn’t depend on how many people walk in the door and what kind of mood they are in.  I have never waitressed, but based on my own experience with customer service I know their job is much harder than mine.

The other day I took a phone order from a woman who seemed to delight in being condescending to salespeople.

Ma’m, do you spell your first name E-V-E-L-Y-N?

No, Kathy, it’s E-V-E-L-Y-N.  Didn’t you hear me?

Evelyn, just bear with me a moment.  I have to get the sales tax off your order and the computer is running a little slow this morning.

Kathy, what did you do wrong now?  Oh and Kathy, when you fold that skirt make sure there’s no creases in it so that when I take it out of the box and put it on it’s perfect.

That is just a small portion of the penance I did.  It went on and on………always with the “Kathy”.  Constantly referring to someone by their first name doesn’t make you less of a bitch.  Evelyn. 

On Wednesday, at just past six and half a mile from where I work was a gas explosion right outside a popular restaurant in the Plaza area of Kansas City.

There have been many serious injuries and several people are still in the hospital.  Everybody made it out of there with the exception of one waitress.

Her body was found the next day and one of her coworkers said, “Everybody loves her.  Nobody can say anything bad about her.” 

She was described as politically active, funny, had a law degree and loved working in the restaurant.

One of the hundreds of service workers that travel to that area every single day and try to eek out a living……

I hope she never encountered an Evelyn on her shift. 

I hope somebody wished her well on what would be her last day on this earth.

Source: panoramio.com via Ann on Pinterest

Alleluia & Amore

Will sent me this video because he said it reminded him of how I sing, and I laughed until I couldn’t breathe when I watched it.  On a dreary Thursday night when the store was open late and Marian and I were trying to amuse ourselves, I told her about it.  When I got home I sent the link to her.

We’ve become rather obsessed with Jon Daker and his performance for the First United Methodist Church.  She sent the video to her friend who found this one with subtitles. 

It has been my go-to entertainment for longer than is reasonable, but I admire a guy who looks like a deer in headlights and still performs.

Kinda.

Taxing

A few years ago we turned this filing of our taxes hot mess over to an accountant.  We lacked the skill set and marriage counseling needed to do this and he charges us ridiculously little to make our life easier.

However, we still need to organize everything to give to him and this year that has become a raging cluster.

I knew I’d been kind of sloppy about things, but with one daughter getting married and another going to college I had bigger things on my mind.  Nice………….blame it on the kids.

Everything that could be essential to get big $$$ back from big government is thrown in a file and then sorted, organized, and put on an Excel spreadsheet for Mr. Tax Man.

There is no file this year.

Did I not even make a file?  Did I make one and lose it?  Oh dear God.

Think.  Think .  Think.

I do panic better than thinking. 

Plan B.  Go through bank account and find deductions.  Go through charge card and find deductions.

Currently, the bank’s website is going through some remodel.  SORRY ‘BOUT YA!!!

And the charge card statements online?

After a couple of tries at logging in I successfully got to the 2nd page and the security question.

Who is your favorite character in a novel?

YOU.  HAVE.  GOT.  TO.  BE.  KIDDING.  ME.

First dog.  Street I grew up on.  Mother’s maiden name.  Month I was born (spelled out please).  Check, check, check, check, but favorite character in a novel????

I have read thousands of books in my lifetime.  Did I go old school for this one?  Laura Ingalls.  Denied.  Nancy Drew?  Denied.  Madeline?  (That might have been desperate.)  Denied and kicked out.  Need to change your security question?  Ya think?  Sorry, customer service is closed today.

Answers to security questions isn’t the only thing I’m going old school on.

Mr. Patrick

Mallie Bee started dancing in the 4th grade when her friend Rachel’s mom called and asked me if I’d be interested in these girls taking a class together and us sharing the driving.

Yes and yes, and so the fledgling tiny dancers were launched into a new after-school sport.

Rachel’s parents were divorced and her dad saw her on Tuesday nights – the very same Tuesdays that they danced.  Before long, he told me he’d drive both ways and kill time between their lesson, thus saving me from driving.

Drive both ways???  Seriously?  Where did you come from??!!!

After awhile, Mal came in the door and told me that Rachel’s dad said that she could call him by his first name, Patrick.

Uh, no you can’t.

“Why not?”

Because he is an adult not your friend and you cannot call an adult by their first name when you’re nine years old.

“But he said I could call him Patrick.”

You may call him Mr. Patrick.

And that is how Rachel’s dad has been referred to even to this day.

Mr. Patrick would take the hungry, sweaty dancers to McDonald’s after their lesson for something to eat on the way home.  He drove them four hours to see their dance teachers marry and then drove them home the next day.  He sat with the moms in many cold, dark auditoriums watching the team in competition.  He took the girls to the So You Think You Can Dance tour and many times to see the Royals play.  He took them to the Ozarks for water skiing.  He was the bartender for the adults at the year-end party.  He has been a fixture in this dance life of ours, and now that the girls are in college pursuing different goals we don’t get to see him.  I always ask about him, though, for he was the only dance dad that showed up for everything.

This past weekend, Mal was in the senior recital at school.  The seniors each do a solo and then choreograph and teach a dance to the underclass students to perform.  Mallie Bee was in three dances.

Sigh……………..she’s such a lovely dancer.

For as many of these recitals that I’ve been to with both of our girls, it never occurs to me to buy flowers until I’m there and see all the other parents with their heaping bouquets.  Major. Parental. Fail.

Will came home from school to see his sister along with Maggie and Nate.  It was a great show with amazing talent and when it was over we all went out to get something to eat.

Burgers with fries…………….just like back in the day when Mr. Patrick was behind the wheel, and it could have only been more perfect if he and Rachel had joined us.