No Access

Dear Editor,

I would very much love to read what others in the community think about the myriad of issues facing us, but alas your site is locked down - only subscribers can access. This group includes those that subscribe to the old school print edition that lands on the doorstop or in the mailbox daily, or rather that is the agreement when paying for it. However, I was a paying subscriber for 22 years - I kept paying even when the prices were raised annually  - but sporadically received the newspaper the last two years of my membership. There were repeated telephone calls and emails exchanged that basically asked to receive the actual product, but the service worsened especially when the actual printing of it left its hometown and moved 2 hours north to Indianapolis. I paid for a product rarely received as both national and local news outlets bemoaned the demise of the newspaper. The subscription was cancelled after the final round with customer support where delivery was guaranteed and nothing arrived the next two weeks. I miss the days, especially weekends, of leafing through the thin pages reading the various stories and examining box scores, but I have now settled into a non-newspaper experience as I gather news from various other sources. 

Formerly devoted reader.

Is it me?

I lean back in my chair as the voices echo from my computer's speaker. I turn and stare out the open door, forgetting I am blessed to be able to work from home (sometimes) as I think about the grass needing mowing and other chores. My train of thought is interrupted when the problem child on my team starts talking down to everyone, I quickly cut him off and get us going in right direction and my mind wanders ...

• Nothing worse than a know-it-all who uses their knowledge to push around junior team members. 
• Actually, it is a know-it-all that really does not know it all. It seems the older I get, I realize the more I don't know.
• Bully pops in my head, they are bullying others with less knowledge or less time with the organization.
• I am so tired of dealing with people, I mumble 'why are there so many idiots here' and quickly glance down to make sure my microphone is muted - it is.
• Are all of these people this much of a problem or am I just in a bad mood?
• I really need to get rid of the bully, easier said than done. They technically do their job, but everybody dislikes and avoids them. How do they not notice?
• Wow, one junior person actually corrects the bully and they are right. I feel bad that it makes me smile.
• I hear the neighbor's lawn mower, crap they beat me.
• What is there to eat leftover chicken?
• I really need to clean the junk off of my desk.

My attention snaps back to the meeting as I hear my name, I answer and provide some direction before ending the meeting.

Do Over

 Sweat beads on my head, the sun is unforgiving - there is nowhere to hide. I shield my eyes with my hand and lean back as she arrives.  My stomach churns as the engine is silenced and the door opens and slams shut. I stare at the ground as her footsteps smash the gravel. I want to run.

"Are you not even going to look at me?"

"Hey, sorry, the sun is blasting, like I am being cooked." I finally look at her, into those hazel green eyes, the eyes that seem to peer into my soul.

"Well, move over there in the shade, geez." She motions to the other side, under the trees and walks in that direction. I quickly follow, I am her shadow.

"So?"

"What?" If this were a movie, the director screams 'cut!' and gives direction on being subtle.

"Seriously? All those messages and now you play games?" She pushes her hands through that amazing hair, I want to reach out to her.

"It's not that, it's just ..... well, I dunno." 

"You sure seemed to know what you wanted, or did you just get what you wanted and that is that?" She stands with arms crossed, eyes tracking me.

"You know that is not true."

"Do I?"

"You should."

"Well, I don't, so you tell me ..." Her voice cracks, she looks up, stares into the sky, willing the tears away. 

"Of course, I want you, I want this." I step forward, embracing her, pushing the hair back - still not sure.

Why?

Does anybody else think of themselves as crazy for signing up for an online writing course? This is the third week of this journey, but the doubt persists. With that said, here is the list of reasons - mostly questions - that bombard me as I push forward with this course. I include my response, well responses I use on days I don't just give up.

1. Nobody cares what you may (and probably never will) write. -  I think this sums up all of the self-doubt, but there is a lot of writing out there which does not interest me, so let's add to it.
2. What am I supposed to do with feedback? - I have never been in a situation where anything I write is scrutinized. Wait, that isn't true as I wrote magazine articles both in old-fashioned print and online years ago. The comments from online users were always interesting, it is best to look away.
3. How can I provide feedback when I have no clue what I am doing? - Who am I to judge another person's writing? I cannot provide any writing instruction, but I can comment on how it makes me feel and whether I find it interesting.
4. What do you do when the class is over? - This is a great question, I guess I keep writing, or never write again, we'll see.
5. Just quit, you are not a writer. - This is a hard one to argue against as it is true, but does it matter? I may never be one, but that does not mean I cannot write.
6. What is the point? - This ventures into an existential crisis, but the class pushes me to regularly write as well as get actual feedback. At least for today, that is enough.

Adventures

Another week is complete and the weekend is upon us, which means one thing in my house - the grandson arrives. The 8 year old conductor sleeps silently in the spare bedroom, and I know I must hurry to sleep as the adventures begin tomorrow. There is no apparent script to what awaits, but here is a good overview of past  Saturdays. The morning begins with all Disney characters gathering at the dining room table for breakfast where a race around upstairs takes place just after the meal completes. The little one assumes Donald Duck's persona as I am assigned Mickey and Goofy responsibilities - I have become adept at the voices. The race collides with Lightning McQueen and friends from the Cars movies as well as quite a few Minions. The first place trophy, an old sports trophy from our sun, is presented to Donald as he continues to win while Daisy adoringly watches. As the characters recoup from the race, we are transported to the Krusty Krab restaurant which is located downstairs. I work with Patrick to cook the Krabby Patties and prepare burgers for the steady stream of customers which is a large contingent from the earlier races - Mickey and Minnie share a Krabby Burger while Donald and Daisy share fries. My voice goes low to morph into Mr. Crabs as he questions Squibblers handling of cash register duties along with questions for the back kitchen staff. With restaurant duties complete, we travel to Sodor island and take a ride with Thomas and Friends and the day ends with a bike ride to local part where we hunt dinosaurs in the forest. 

Dinner for two

"What can I get you?" He stands, leans back on his heels while wiping hands on the white apron.

"Hm, let's see," I stand before the case, looking through the glass at the wide variety of fish.

"Everything is fresh, not frozen."

"Nice." It seems like frozen is framed as bad in this situation, but does it really matter. Besides we are many miles from any water.

"It is flown in daily via FedEx."

"Really?" He had read my mind, I guess that is one of advantage of the nearby hub.

"Yeah, arrives every morning."

"She said Salmon, but I have never cooked Salmon, or really any fish." I stare at the pink fish, why is 'wild caught' more expensive?

"It is easy, a little olive oil, lemon and salt and throw it on the grill. Grill it skin side down and remove it once done. You can wrap it in foil to avoid avoid burning it. Cook it, 12-15 minutes and you are set."

"Nice, that doesn't sound too bad, how hot should the grill be?"

"Just set the flame, the knobs, halfway and you'll be good. You can check it at 10 minutes to be safe."

"Okay, I guess give me two pieces." I survey the rest of the store as he weights and wraps dinner.

"You can use that seasoning there as well, but give it a try without it the first time around." He motions towards a rack of rubs.

"Cool."

I exchange my money for the bag and stand there, not moving, wanting to say something but not sure what.

"I put a crab cake in there as well, give it a try - cook in pan, a little olive oil and a few minutes each side, she'll love it.

"Thank you."

Popcorn!

I arrive early, park in designated employee area - dad let me use the car today. The uniform scratches my skin as I am sweating. Thankfully, the sun is heading down. I see Shelly and wave, we walk in together, so near the field and up the 'employees only' elevator. I like Shelly, she is funny, but not like like just as a friend. She is always worried about the money count at the end of the night, she was short a dollar after last night's game. I tell her to not worry, reassure her some shortage is fine and probably even expected. Besides, there are cameras every where, so they can certainly watch, check it out, if they suspected anything.

The doors open and we walk into the meeting room where we sign out our cash drawers - counting money in front of the manager. We part ways as I head to my booth where all of the supplies are waiting - oil, containers (small and large), napkins, salt and the main ingredient - popcorn kernels. I check the time - 1 hour until the game starts. I push the button to heat the pan, wait until it beeps and pour in a cup full of kernels and then flip the switch to start it spinning. The popping soon follows, the smell is wonderful. I tilt the pan to dump the remaining popcorn into the bin and spread the salt over it. 

The gates are opened and people wander around the concourse. I double check the containers and position the money in the drawer as the first customer approaches. I smile and serve one large popcorn and collect 25 cent tip - smile, the customer is king!. There is a long night ahead as the playoffs are in reach.