Who spends $36 at McDonald's?

It has been a busy couple of weeks, I tell ya.  Where do I even start?  Yikes.

Bobaloo and I went gold-panning at the end of July. 

After panning, while getting dried off and back into the car my purse must have been left behind in the parking lot.  A minute into the drive I noticed and Bobaloo turned around but it was too late, the purse was gone.  By the time we had made the 40-minute trek home someone had stopped at a gas station to fill up and bought $36 worth of McDonald’s on my debit card.  $36 at McDonald’s?

I spent the rest of the afternoon and evening kicking myself for being so careless, cancelling cards, looking for my birth certificate so I could get new IDs, and being generally pissed off while Bobaloo changed the locks on the doors.  A watch that my grandma gave me was also in the purse and although she probably bought it for $10 at Walgreens, I was still pretty bummed about it.

The next day I was having a beer on the patio after work and Bobaloo was over at a friend’s house.  He and I both started to get strange phone calls and messages from a couple of our bar buddies.  My purse had been found by a fly fisherman! The fisherman’s sister was drying my stuff out and she found the business card that my bar buddy Andy had given me a couple of years ago.  Andy was hanging out with another friend who had Bobaloo’s number and that’s how I was tracked down.  Hooray!

PSA: Get to know people at your local watering hole.

So, Bobaloo and I drove and picked up the purse.  At least the person who had dumped it into the creek was courteous enough to zip it up before throwing it in because while the cards and checkbook were gone, everything else was in there, including my grandma’s watch.

So there we have it.  An emotional rollercoaster was had.

 



May 16

 

The 16th day of this Blog Every Day in May challenge has arrived.  Today's topic is Something difficult about your "lot in life" and how you're working to overcome it.  Here we go.

Hmmm…

Today’s topic is a toughy.

I am not sure I really understand the topic but what the heck, I’ll give it a whirl.

I guess I don’t really believe we have a “lot” in life.  We make our own opportunities and some things happen by chance.  When life stuff happens, we can choose what kind of perspective we have surrounding our circumstances.

There was a time after we got married when Bobaloo and I were really struggling.  The job market was miserable and good any jobs were hard to come by.  We were fortunate to always be able to put a roof over our heads and food on our table, but money was always too tight for comfort and we were stressed.  It didn’t make sense; we worked so hard and didn’t deserve this.

At the time the lean years were miserable and frustrating; looking back they seem like a gift.  Out of the tough times, I learned that Bobaloo and I would do whatever we had to in order to take care of one another.  Even when that meant taking awful, awful jobs and dealing with awful, awful people.

I remember sitting on the patio with Bobaloo one night and laughing our heads off at how things couldn’t possibly get any worse.  And then they would.  This cycle repeated itself multiple times.  It was at this time when I think Bobaloo first thought up the phrase love-rich as in, “We may not have much, but baby, we’re love-rich.”  And it was true.  I am not so naïve to think that all you need is love, but love and a sense of humor can sure get you through some crappy times.

Gradually we both caught some breaks and now things are a lot better and much easier.  Some of the breaks were because of hard work and persistence and some were just dumb luck.  The good stuff has been all the more sweet because of the tough stuff.

I have been both up and down and at times felt stuck or like I couldn’t get out of my “lot in life” no matter what I did.  The important thing is, no matter where I was or whatever my situation may have been I have always found kindheartedness in the people around me.  Life has gotten easier in the last year or so, but I try to remember that others are still stuck in their “lot” and the importance of returning the thoughtfulness I was shown.



May 7

  Wow, the challenge to Blog Every Day in May is really providing a lot of opportunities to share my neuroses with everyone. Today's topic is the thing(s) you're most afraid of, so here goes.

While I am thinking about my vast and varied list of crap I am irrationally afraid of, it’s hard to pick out what would be at the very top of the list, but I’ll give it a whirl.

 

Needles!

 

I can't even stand the thought of getting blood drawn or an immunization.  I am queasy and crawling out of my skin just writing that sentence.

Ick.  Ick.  Ick.

When I was three my mom picked me up early from daycare and brought this little lady along.


 Puffy the Puffalump (creative, I know)

I should have known that along with the new friend, Mom had some shenanigans up her sleeve.  She gave me Puffy and buckled me into the car where she explained we were going to the doctor’s office for some booster shots.*  By the time my mom got me into the doctor’s office I was so anxious about having to get shots that I worked myself into a fever and we had to schedule them for another day.

I am a fainter.  When I was a junior in high school we were watching a movie that involved immunizations.  After about three minutes of seeing people get shots I got that good old woozy feeling and passed out right then and there.

I had to get a TB test for a job and when I asked the nurse if it was going to hurt, she replied, “Well, it’s not a hug.”  I cried.

The last time I had to get blood work done, one nurse had to hold my arm down while the other took my blood out.  There I was all grown up, being held down, and sobbing in the chair.  It was pretty pathetic.

Tattoos?  Bring ‘em on!  Not a tear will be shed, but tell me I need to get blood work done and you get the full on freak-out!

*Why do we use the word shots? Can’t we think of something friendlier, like love pokes, pleasant pricks, or joy jabs? Never mind, everything else sounds dirty. 

I’ll never forget when she took me to the Benjamin Franklin store.  The imitation stained glass hummingbirds were shimmering in the sun.  It was hot out then.  I was staying with her for a week while my parents were in Germany.  We rode in her truck and sang along to Dolly Parton, me only pretending to know the words.

She bought me and my brother Count Chocula cereal.  Her husband had salted peanuts in a giant jar near his recliner.  She had a woodpecker toothpick grabber on her counter.  When you pushed his beak down, he would grab a toothpick.  When you’re six, that is really something.

Her basement was scary.  I never liked going down there but if you wanted to play with the Lincoln Logs you had to.  She had poker chips, old spools, antique keys, and an automatic card shuffler that she let me play with.  She never yelled at me for making too much noise and although I was a quiet girl, she called me her little chatterbox.

She lived on a lake where I made mud pies and every once in a while she would give me a minnow to play with.  I was careful with the minnow, rolling it the tin full of muddy water.

When I was older, she built a cabin.  I went on the roof with my dad and he let me hammer in a shingle.  There was plenty of space to wander around and an outhouse.  In the cabin she told stories, we listened to the Indian radio station, and played countless games of Scrabble.

We are both older now.  Life is not fair, but has been especially been harsh towards her.  Her body has been encumbered with the effects of Rheumatoid Arthritis for years.  Ever since I have known her, anyway.  She has carried on with more physical pain than anyone I have ever met.  She has also carried on with a stoic sense of humor and a brave front.  Her life has been full, in the face of physical limitations.

She has been fighting particularly hard these last few weeks after an ugly car accident, never wavering.  I don’t know what makes her stronger than the rest of us.  I don’t know if she has been fighting her whole life and it is her innate instinct.  I don’t know if it is her resolve.  I don’t know if it is her faith.  I don’t know if she understands something we don’t.  Maybe it’s a combination.

I know she is getting better.  I know before too long, she will get back to enjoying nature because that is her nature.

Ugly Sweater You're The One

I went thrift store shopping last week and found a find that I couldn't pass up. Originally this treasure was $2.89, but I was lucky enough to get it half off.

This little number will go great sitting on the patio while reading.