February Is Marching Out

I thought about this today as I was cleaning the back sliding glass door leading to our back porch. The dogs can't just simply look through the glass without their wet nose pressed against it.

Every single time.

Whether on the inside or the outside, doesn't matter.

Maybe they are like me and are far sighted.

I still find Charlie's white hair when cleaning the leather love seat he claimed for his own personal throne.

We all still miss Sir Charles...even Ziggy and Ham still look for him.

Ole "Chally-TooPhat" was a pretty cool ole dog. We didn't really want him all that much when he first got dumped off at our house eleven years ago for a two week stay and was hard the love the ole grump. Then eleven years later we had an even harder time finally letting him go.

He had a good run with us, was always taken care of and loved. What more can you do for a dog?




Then this happened...

I worked an opening lunch shift yesterday. I was kinda excited. The opening server goes in at ten thirty and is usually walking out the door before two. I knew I probably wouldn't make a lot of money but already had my 'ToDo' list written down for the rest of the afternoon.

Then the hostess called out. No worries, it's usually slow on Monday day shifts. We run with three servers, one bartender and a host.

So what we were down one man?

But, here's the thing about working in the restaurant world. One law always applies to any given shift, any given day.

...And it did.

My first table was a party of seven which turned into a party of nine and stayed for three hours. Three bottles of wine, ran me to death but ran up a tab of $450. Very nice people though, having a business meeting. The place filled up quickly. On the day shift we don't have support staff (bussers or food runners) so was pretty much left to us three servers to run our own food, clear and reset our tables and now seat the guests as well.

Controlled chaos at its best.

I clocked out at four but did so with a car payment in my pocket.

I ran all my errands anyway and finally got home around six. I walked in the house and saw a manila envelope on the kitchen table with my name on it. I didn't know anyone from New Hampshire but opened it, curious to know what some Yankee had sent me.

How sweet was this?

I knew immediately who it was from.  The package had a tracking number on it and had been delivered early after noon.



During the debacle of my lunch shift, I  received a text from a co worker. It read "How's your day?"

I simply didn't even have the time to reply.

Then when I opened the envelope, it all made sense.

I was on the fence about this woman when she stomped her way into Chroma a few weeks after I started. She charges into the room, seems to take over and no one argues when she does. She walks like she is on a mission to kick some one's ass and take their name later.

She kinda scared me.

I am a lot older than her, not nearly as pretty and was still nervous about getting everything right at my new job. This old dog finds it extremely hard to learn new tricks.

After a few months went by we became work friends. She has the same work ethic I have and when working together make a pretty great team.

At Thanksgiving time last year, she spearheaded a fundraiser behind my back with all the other employees and they presented me with a $100 Publix gift card, thanking me for all the food I bring in and share, not to mention always having candy and snacks for everyone.

So very true.

Sometimes I make other people happy and in return, (lucky for me) they do the same.

It's The Golden Rule personified.

It can be something as simple as a phone call, text, email, note dropped in snail mail or hug when someone needs it.

I have so many faults there isn't enough paper in the world to jot them all down on. But faults should inspire, not define you.

I'm not the best at anything (other than sarcasm) but know what love is and how much it means.

It may sound trivial but isn't. When this world learns to love more than hate, that will be the change.

My life has been quite the journey. Watched both my parents die in front of my own two eyes, which opened them even more. Married a wonderful man, had three kids and two decades of success, then a decade of financial failure.

Then this happened...

We are all still here, five surviving and thriving. Be a good person and good things will happen to you.

Don't worry about politics so much, worry about loving each other more.

I say this with firm conviction. Tim and I are a divided couple. He was a Repub yet married a Demo.

The problems of this world will only be solved when we all meet in the middle, quit accusingly point fingers at each other like children but instead work from the middle to achieve the outward common goal .

Grow up America.

I did, so can you.

Til next time...COTTON

Don't Cry Over Spilled Milk...Or Money

Traffic was horrible when I left Orlando Saturday morning to drive to Atlanta for my cousin's funeral. I have to drive past downtown to get to the turnpike (only way I know) and it was bumper to bumper all the way to the turnpike. By the time traffic thinned out I was running an hour late.

I never drive over eighty but my my sister was waiting for me to get to her house so we could ride together. Eighty five didn't seem too extreme under the circumstances so I fell in behind a little black Mazda near the Georgia state line. He was booking it so I followed...from a distance. He had to be doing at least ninety.

We got to the town of PoDunk (not really) and I started to lose him. I pulled into the passing lane to pass a grandpa in a 1970's caddy and about thirty seconds later, after moving back over into the middle lane, blue lights came on behind me.

DAMMIT!

I had my license and insurance card already out when I rolled my window down. He asked if I knew how fast I had been going to which I replied "Not quite as fast as the black Mazda that was in front of me."

I immediately apologized and said I knew I had been speeding but was running late for my cousin's funeral in Atlanta.

He was nice enough but that chaw covering his teeth? Yuck. He also asked if I would like to see my recorded speed on his radar to see if it was calibrated correctly?

Gee, if I only had a degree in radar calibration, maybe could have fought it.

But I don't so I didn't.

Instead I said it was okay, I was late for a relatives funeral, knew I was guilty but just needed to get back on the road.

He moseyed back to his car and took enough time for the black Mazda to be safely into the next county.

This is the thing which irritated me most. I ain't real smart but I know you don't get out of your car when pulled over by a cop, which was fine with me. There wasn't much room to pull over and cars were whizzing by with Buford T preoccupied with giving me a ticket.

Then he comes back to my window with the ticket to sign. He asked me to get out of my vehicle and follow him to the rear of my car.

Really??

But I did.

My door was hard to open with cars screaming past ...maybe three feet away. I've watched enough Youtube and World's Dumbest videos to know what can happen in the emergency lane on the highway, and we weren't in an emergency lane, we were parked on gravel on the side of a busy stretch of I-75 in south Georgia, on a weekend.

He pointed to the back of my car and asked where I got my bumper sticker?

I told him my daughter had given it to me.

He asked if I knew where she had gotten it? I told him I did not.

He said, "I sure do like it...you can get back in your car now."


I'm still not sure if he was trying to add bribery to my offense, or was just wanting a pretty cool bumper sticker, but either way sure felt like pulling that magnetic paw off my car and handing it to him, and saying "Let's just call it even."

These are the kind of things which give good cops a bad name.

I drove back home to Orlando after the funeral with my cruise control set to seventy five mph whn passing back through that same PoDunk county. I felt like I was driving a snail shell instead of a vehicle.

And yes, my husband wasn't happy about my ticket after I got home and told him.

I was even more unhappy when I went online today and found out my ticket was going to cost me $422.00.

Yeah I was speeding, and shouldn't have been.

My bad.

It was extenuating circumstances though...and you can't tell me my drivers record didn't show that this was my first offense in over twenty years, when he plugged my license number into the system.

I am so  glad I didn't offer to give him my "Shed Happens" bumper sticker. I probably would have been arrested for bribery.

He doesn't deserve it...and obviously doesn't know how to use Google search for anything.


Dang, I wasn't transporting drugs or illegals or under the influence.

Lesson learned...but mixed signals received.

Yeah, my husband was ticked after I got home and told him but after hearing the entire story, did just what I did.

Shook his head.

As Jed Clampett so often used to say "Pitiful...just pitiful."

You can't fix stupid.

Yes I was speeding but always used my blinkers when passing or changing lanes.

People don't even do that when on surface streets anymore.

Trust me, it will be my last  speeding ticket.

You can't cry over spilled milk or money...both are refillable.

Till next time...

A broke for a while COTTON


P.S.  Decided to be the better person today (now a day later) so went online and ordered him his 'Shed Happens' car magnet. His name is on my ticket as is the address of the Sheriff's Dept. Maybe when he gets the manilla envelope, will think "Maybe I should have let her off with a stern warning or dropped the speed a bit for her so she doesn't have to pay so much. After all, she was on the way to her cousin's funeral."

Either way, it makes me feel better and that is what matters in the long run.

Bad Things Happen In Threes, They Say

After my debacle of a shift at work on Friday, I discovered Saturday that our dear next door neighbor from Georgia had lost his fight with cancer. I went to work today and my cell phone rang soon after walking in the door. It was my sister calling to tell me our cousin had been discovered already gone from this life by her daughter this morning when she went for a visit.

They say bad things come in threes, so certainly hope I'm done for a while.

I knew our former neighbor had been battling cancer for some time. He was diagnosed shortly after we moved to Florida.

Mr Lee, who I always afffectionately called slowLee and his wife lived next door to us for at least ten years. When they moved in, both were already well into their sixties. They only had a push mower and after watching Lee cut their cut grass the first time on a hot humid JawJa day, immediately took over his yard work with my trusty Johnny Dear. He would stand out front the entire time, leaning on the bed of his gigantic dually pickup, watching me. The man never wore a shirt in summer when at home. He was as brown as a berry and always wore his Jesus sandals and white gym shorts which looked to be from the early seventies. No shirt until at least October unless he had to leave the house for something. Then he would pull on his tied dyed tank top.  He went to bed around seven every night and was up before dawn every morning.

He was a retired Navy man who traveled cross country with his wife, living in a RV for years and years before settling down next door to us Clampetts.

I remember the first time they came to eat at Mama Lucia's, where I once worked in Newnan. It is an upscale restaurant featuring Italian and French cuisine. Mr. slowLee came in with his wife, Ms. Claudette to eat. He had on his white gym shorts, Jesus sandals and tie dyed tank top.

Let me interject here that Ms. Claudette is blind. Lee could have left the house naked and she wouldn't know it unless she put her hand on his lap while driving.

After my handy next door husband on one side, Ron moved to Tennessee I quickly learned to go to Mr. slowLee on the other side of our house for help with various problems. Granted he was in his late seventies but had plenty of time to spare. Bless his heart though, he was slower than slow and often times felt like taking my weed eater or whatever else I had taken to him for repair and simply trying to fix it myself with duct tape, gorilla glue or some random nut and bolt.

But Mr. slowLee always, always had time to help me and never seemed to mind. I cut and weed eated their yards for years and years and he was always grateful for my help.

I remember the morning we loaded up the moving truck for Orlando. He moved two camping chairs out to their driveway for both of them (mostly him) to watch our departure. We traded cell phone numbers and promised to stay in touch. Ms. Claudette had her address book in her lap and asked me to enter our new address into it for her.

My nephew and his wife moved into our old house and took over care of Lee's yards after we left.

The first time we went back to visit, Mr. slowLee looked pale and weak. When we went back a year later, he looked pitiful and couldn't even speak. It was heartbreaking.

My sister called me a few days ago. When visiting our old house where her own son lives now, stopped next door to check on Lee. The report wasn't good, from Lee's step daughter, and was down to days if not hours left.


It wasn't the swiftest exit but at least wasn't years and years. He died in his sleep. Claudette was there as well as hospice.

Now Claudette's daughter is having her moved to a nursing facility a couple of exits up the highway.


This also breaks my heart. Claudette is in her eighties, totally blind and now a widow. She will live in a strange place, not being able to see, or know her surroundings, including the people taking care of her. I have given strict instructions to all three of my kids.

Kill me with a pillow. Don't let me die alone and scared, or confused, or being a burden to you.

I don't deserve a lot but I deserve leaving this planet as happy as I was when I came into it.

I've made my marks on life and endured the scars of wrong decisions. I have always tried to pay it  ahead and mostly successfully done so.

Then the third bad thing happened.

                                              One of our oldest cousins died in her sleep.

                                     She had been one of the attendants at my parent's wedding.


Mim's father was killed in the war, shortly after D-Day before she was even born. She never got to meet her own father.

Talk about baggage for life...

Her mother, Lurline remarried and had two more children, with Chuck Clark, giving Mim two sibs and a wonderful step dad.

Mim was a young beauty.

When us three Leach kids were little, our mama never let us ride with our arms stuck out of the car or with coke bottles or any bottles in the car.  

I still remember why.

Shortly after this picture of Mim was taken, she was in a car accident with her mother.  They had a load of empty coke bottles in the car with them to take back to the store for a refund. Her mother lost her little finger because she had her arm propped up in the open window The broken glass also left Mim with scars as well.

Now she had scars on the inside and scars on the outside.

With the same 'three bad thing' theory, Mim lost her own son when he was barely past his teen age years.

My proverbial hat goes off to Mim...not sure I could have even gone on with my life, but she did. Actually she has lost two children, a daughter (six months old) as well who I don't remember. I was only about four or five then.



Her other daughter is so much like her it isn't even funny. She is the spitting image of Mim, with the same dry wit.

I will always miss Mim but glad she has finally gotten to meet her father for the first time. I'm sure he was waiting for her by the Pearly Gates.

Life doesn't come with guarantees and every second of it needs to be cherished because you never know how many minutes or seconds you have left.


The best reason ever, to love large and cherish the time you do have. I recently reconnected with Mim via Nation FB, once her daughter Holly (I am sure) dragged her into the cyber mix. We had several cyber chats and was good to hear from her again. Her posts were always as dry as her humor and always made me smile.

I am beyond blessed to be from a family who give and accept love, unconditionally and always inclusively. We sometimes  go years without seeing each other but that moment, that instant we are all together again, those years apart simply don't matter.

We are family and family is our Forte'.

Mim lost many loved ones in her lifetime but somehow survived. She shrunk into her shell, but who wouldn't?

She has my Kudos for surviving as long as she did, and was most certainly stronger than I would have ever been after all her trials and tragedies.

I dare any one to walk in her shoes and come out smiling and carefree.

I would have been a puddle of tears in the corner of the floor of life...but Mim never was. She was stoic, almost to the point of being dismissive or seemingly uncaring.

That was Mim's shield.

She held that shield up and hid behind it, and can't blame her one damn bit.

I feel honored to have a relative who was braver than brave, in the face of life's sporadically thrown roadblocks to ultimate happiness.

Life threw her curve ball after curve ball...and then some.

She may not have been the best but  did her best.

I salute her.

As should we all.


"And you run and you run to catch up with the sun but it's sinking. Racing around to come up behind you again. The sun is the same in a relative way but you're older. Shorter of breath and one day closer to death."

Life is ticking away for us all.


Till next time, COTTON

Lessons Learned...Always A Good Thing

I just got home from one of the busiest lunches I've worked since starting my career over in Florida. It was a hot sunny winter day and was sweating before I even clocked in.

By two, the place was rocking and people continued streaming in the door. Of course that's a good thing but sometimes isn't the easiest thing, for a server. I saw my manager at one of my tables speaking with two guests and the instant I saw her standing there, remembered they had asked me for some ketchup. I got the ketchup and went to their table with it, apologizing the moment I sat it down.

Ironically enough, the customer who had asked me for it didn't seem too upset but the other did

Regardless, it was my fault and accepted the blame...as a server should.  My manager told me to offer free dessert after the meal...and I did.


Yes, it was totally my bad and tried to execute recovery. I was also engaged with about six or seven other tables by then, with people still streaming in the front door.

They both ordered dessert and the unhappy one ordered another drink. I specifically remembered the accompanying instructions...still trying to make a recovery.

Seems I was wrong about that as well.

Details don't matter but would swear on my own mother's grave I did as I was asked.

I apologized at least two more times and asked for forgiveness.

One of the customers forgave me and told me to have a good day. The other one had obviously been disappointed beyond recovery and  is not what you want as an employee, representing your establishment and your reputation as a server.

I felt like a loser.

I pride myself on being a pretty excellent server and felt I had dropped the ball. Yes it was busy but shouldn't be a factor when giving good service. It's not the customers' fault I was busy.

It frazzled me, which got me totally discombobulated and messed with my 'Mojo'. My eyes welled up with tears and my snot locker got quickly full.

I turned into a hamster on that little wheel spinning and couldn't catch up for the life of me.

They both left the table and I picked up their checks. Both had left me a tip, one receipt with a frowny face drawn on it and just didn't feel right with me.

As they walked out the front door I followed them out. One had left a tip on a credit card, the other in cash. I handed one the cash back and told the other I had closed out the credit card without including the tip.

It was almost getting old by then but like a hair in a biscuit, I hung in there wanting them to leave happy.

Here's the thing which made me loose my cookies, totally.

The one who wasn't happy, rolled her eyes and accepted the cash back but the other reached out to hug me...it tore me slap up.(total southern speak)

I went back in to the chaos of a still busy lunch shift.


About ten minutes later,  one of the sous chefs came out and asked me if I had time to step into the kitchen, saying he knew I'd had a rough time but needed to speak with me.

Rut Roh...


That's when my heart fell into my shoes.

I was getting fired...they must have complained again to management.

I walked into the kitchen and there, on the expo line, was a plate of Miyazaki ribeye ($60 per pound) and our hands down best hand cut fries ever.

Chef said they knew I was having a pretty tough shift and wanted to buy me lunch.

Miyazaki prefecture is the only region in Japan that raises cattle by their breeds and biological types. For the past 10 years, Miyazaki has produced the highest qualitybeef in Japan, even higher than Kobe. 


I satrted to cry again.


How lucky am I to work for a place who not only strive to make the guest happy every single time but also take care of their employees as well? They seem to love me and the feeling is totally mutual. To love your job is one thing, to be appreciated for doing it makes you love it even more.

It was a belly full on the run. Every time I circled through the expo line after dumping dishes in the dish room or heading back out to chaos in the dining room with my arms loaded with more plates, I snagged a piece of Miyazaki and a couple of fries.

Even with giving back the two tips, I made more money than I ever have on a day shift. I didn't get home until almost dark and Tim was already there. I told him about my day. He told me the sooner I forgot about it, the better. He also said the one woman was most probably appalled and embarrassed by her lunch companion's behavior.


You know, I've been a server close to forty years now and this was only the second time a customer has brought me to tears.

 I'd say for dealing with the public on a daily basis, those are pretty good odds. It still bothered me a bit but a couple of glasses of wine later barely bothered me at all.

I had taken the high road. I knew the customer was blowing it all out of proportion and basically making their self look like the bad guy to everyone else but apologized again and again and again and in a sincere and generous way.

Take that to the karma bank and make a deposit...cha ching!!

So I guess I'm good for another forty years before another customer makes me cry. By then I'll be so old I won't remember it anyway.

I just take my job very seriously, as crazy as that sounds. I also have never once complained about a server to a manager when eating out somewhere...anywhere. You never know what's going on with that server or what may happen to their job if you complain about their service. I'd hate for someone to lose a job over me not having ketchup for my french fries in a timely manner. That even sounds ridiculous, and most certainly is.

Till next time,

                           Plate Slinger Extraordinaire,  COTTON

February Already?

You gotta be kidding me...at the rate time is passing, the below will my profile picture by March.

We have now been living in the Sunshine State for almost a year and a half. Our youngest has graduated from college. We are moving in the matter of a few short months into our permanent home and unpacking for the final time.

My attitude has taken a 180 degree turn since first moving here and am forging ahead once again. Living in our 'tiny' rental house has been okay but sure ready to spread out a little and work in the yards again. Luckily the spot on the circle where we live is nicely kept up by most occupants. I've learned to always leave and come from one direction in my car so I don't have to pass all the ridiculousness of people who drive me nuts. (I know, short drive)

The car lot two doors down (all these cars belong to one household of three people)

 has finally been downsized and cleaned up a bit after more than a few calls to code enforcement from neighbors.

Yeah...I'm that neighbor, but the old man across the street from us called as well. It was totally ridiculous.

They are down to four (different) cars now, but still blocking the sidewalk. Guess I'll call again.

I'm not the neatest person in the world but have always taken pride in my yard and the outside appearance; even in our rental house.

At least we don't live across the street from these people around the curve.

If you can afford all this and a twenty five foot boat on the other side of the RV you can certainly afford to put your toys in a storage space.

Does all this clutter not bother anyone but me and my old man friend across the street? Surely not.

I'll be gone in a few short months and pretty sure with a good riddance wave goodbye from my hoarder neighbors.

On to my next soapbox.  

Massey got home from work the other night about ten minutes after I did. She told me she had contacted her advisor at the university to see when her diploma was going to be mailed.

Get a load of  this!

She was told a professor she had taken an online class from, her last semester, had been terminated by the university and deleted all records of the students who she had taught, including all projects, assignments given, test scores and final grades posted. She was told in order to receive her diploma, would have to take (and pay for) one more class to meet the credits requirements for her diploma since there was no record of her having taken the course.

She wrote back saying she wasn't in a financial position to take another class. Then like the good guys they are (not) said they would waive her tuition for the additional class.

I told her "Absolutely not."

I told her we had all driven back to Georgia, witnessed her walk across that stage in a cap and gown, have her hand shaken by a university official and handed a temporary fake paper diploma.

Massey was devastated to say the least. She then told me she wanted to just take the two hour class and be done with it.

I once again said "Absolutely not."

For validation in my decision, called my sister and then my  brother. My brother was the sole person responsible for her being able to secure every loan she had taken out,when necessary, for her college education.

He agreed with me, whole hearted and then some! He suggested contacting her advisor again saying  the university had three days to figure it all out on their end. My sister totally agreed. After three days, we would be contacting CNN and the local news, not to mention our attorney.

It took me some convincing...Massey knows how us Leach kids are. We hang onto a grudge or a fight. She's a lot nicer than us when threatened.

After a two day battle with her, I convinced her to contact the university once again, throwing in contacting the Board of Regents as well. She didn't want to do it but told her if she didn't, I would.

This not only affected Massey but the other thirty two students who had taken the same class.

She finally agreed, begrudgingly.

The very next day, she was contacted by the Dean who immediately said there would be no need to contact our attorney and her diploma would be put in the mail shortly.

She called Tim and me who were at home, from her work, talking so excitedly and relaying the good news to us.

I sure hope all the other thirty plus students had the good sense or a support system, encouraging them to do the same.

It's not like she attended Hooterville University or Bug Tussle College. This was a major university.

I let a lot of things and comments slide and can sometimes look the other way, usually so they can't see me rolling my eyes. When you mess with my kid though, and my kid is right... you done kicked the hornet nest.

Mommas' don't play.

As Granny Clampett once said "I may be little but I can whoop you, any day."

We make it hard enough in this country for kids to even get a college education, when in my opinion all people should be given the option if they desire and want to work for one.

                                           Trump University excluded...(small pun, huge truth)

                                                            Guess who got her degree?!

Fight for what you believe in. Fight for what you know is right. Fight for the honest, against the crooked, who try and vilify their selfish reasoning...whether on one side of the proverbial aisle or the other.

There should be no aisle to be on either side of... we're all in it together; this walk called life.

There is the right path or the wrong path.

Choose yours and choose wisely.

Till next time...COTTON