Guess I Can Let The Cat Out Of The Bag

 

I suppose it's okay to talk about it now.

  

I'm not even sure what year it was anyway; so I'm going to guess around eight years ago.

Tim had lost his job, we had been struggling for a couple of years when I suddenly lost my job as well...and poop hit the proverbial fan, with the fan on high.

I went to work for a family owned local Italian/French restaurant. I'd known them for years, had worked with their son and knew both parents pretty well. They let me work as much as I wanted, forty hour work weeks were considered part time to them.

I got burned out quick, I'd already been working six sometimes seven days a week for a couple of years  at my previous restaurant.

I had been writing my blog for a couple of years and a former classmate from high school had started following it through the Face Place.

We had known  other since we'd been little kids and were on the cheer leading squad together back in high school.

Our mothers had been pretty good friends as well. 

I was getting close to total burn out, mentally, physically and emotionally, when my friend from high school reached out to me with an idea to give me a little break and some much needed rest from the physically demanding job of waiting tables six days a week. (when the job's done right)

She worked for a big furniture company for years in HR and payroll. When some split off on their own for a smaller  version, they recruited her and she went with them.

They had recently opened a small discount furniture store in the town where I lived.

 You know the kind...Discount Prices!!! Everything must go...Financing available!

It was a no frills operation. The sofa you looked at, sat on and liked, was the exact same sofa we'd load into your truck or onto your trailer. The showroom floor was the inventory.

We were housed in a defunct Circuit City store, bad carpet and color scheme still obvious, and didn't even heat or air condition the place.

I got it though, I grew up in south Atlanta. Furniture Mart, Unclaimed Freight, Sofa Depot, Wolfman and Donna...the list was as long as the one of wrestlers who also frequented the area.

I waited on Andre the Giant one time.

(true story)

 It was okay to shop in or drop in for a few minutes, but try sitting there ten hours on a freezing cold morning or the hottest afternoon on record.

The catch (for me) was that in order to make any commission, people had to pay for (or finance) and take the furniture with them when they left.

It was harder to do than it sounds...but she was right, I got some much needed rest.

 My first (almost) casualty that  I remember was a sweet little Asian woman, about my size but probably twenty years younger. She drove a Toyota Corolla, and was shopping for a full size mattress. We happened to have one on sale that simply "Has To Go!!"

Massey came into the store to visit while the woman was there, after getting out of high school, and was already lounging on one of the nicer sofas with her legs crossed, looking all cool, reading her phone. She was totally my prop...and a good one.

 Believe it or not I sold the freaking mattress to her, and she actually paid for it, on the spot (almost never happened) but only had her little Corolla and no one to help her.

I (overly) assured her I could tie the mattress down to the roof of her car and she'd be fine...

"Let me go get my twine, I'll be right back!"

I went straight to the couch where Massey was perched, and told her to go get my twine and  razor cutter (or whatever they call it) and meet me at the pick up door, where I rolled the mattress to, off the showroom floor.

It was a very hot day.

It was a tiny four door car. Massey and I wrestled it off the cart and onto the roof of her car. We wound so much twine through those windows and over the roof and mattress that I was pretty sure it wasn't going anywhere, and told the woman that same thing. She thanked me, shook my hand. She was so sweet...and had totally made my day.

My first biggish sale!

She walked around to the drivers side to open her door but it wouldn't open.

She tried again.

Her front windows had been down so  Massey and I had run the twine through the top of the doors and over the top of the car.

We failed to notice door frames at the top of each door.

I guess we forgot she'd have to get into the drivers seat to drive away.

I totally blew it off as an oversight on my part and asked her to give us five more minutes to make the adjustment.

 She was a little more than nervous when she got into her car.

The store was located directly by an interstate ramp and she had to drive down to the next exit.

I assured her it would be fine, after she could finally get into the drivers' seat of her car. 

I went the extra mile.

I told her to pull off really quickly from the loading area and gun it out of the parking lot.

If she looked in her rear view mirror and I was giving her a thumbs up sign, the mattress wasn't bucking up at all and she was good to go.

I never read or heard about her on the local news so I am assuming we did a pretty good job and she made it home safely.

I knew right then I was a fish out of water.

It just wasn't for me.

 And it got really cold in there around January. 

I'm good with hot, but just like my Momma, I hate for my tootsies or hands to be cold.

I have about three other stories, equally awful yet even more hilarious and entertaining. Believe it or not, I went from the furniture store to a mattress store right down the road for a bit.

I knew even less about that inventory.

Wait until I tell you about the customer who woke me up when I fell asleep during my lunch break while reading Game of Thrones on a king size thousand dollar memory foam mattress.

Then I waited on him the next week at the restaurant where I also worked. He remembered me...I didn't have a clue, at first.

Trust me, we're just getting started here.

I feel so grateful my friend was never called onto the carpet for hiring a boob like me.

But the stories I have?

You ain't heard nothing yet.

Six mattresses in the back of a pick up for delivery....what could possibly go wrong?

How much time do you have?

Until next time,

COTTON

 

I'm Growing Older But Not Up

This is one of my favorite Buffet songs, so thought I would share it with you to get this next post rolling.

It speaks to me, especially as of late. 

I'm probably the silliest sixty year old woman you'll ever meet.

 There's nothing I like better than laughing, and doesn't matter in the least if it happens to be at my own expense.

There's never a reason, to ever be an Ole Fart.

I love laughing at my own jokes, stories and memories. I can be brought to tears in the drop of a hat, and strive to do just that, on a daily basis...several times a day. (if I'm lucky)

Being a server for forty years and a mother for over thirty, has given me more ammunition than you could ever imagine...trust me.

I've had a pretty great run in life; with a few minor hiccups, a couple of major losses, but a whole lot of LOVE. 

Sometimes Love is all you need.

The even greater thing about Love, is the more you give, the more you receive.

"The redemptive power of Love."

We took our kids to Disney World every February for a few years when they were little, with our tax return. There's no better way to blow two grand, than to let your kids feel like they  have two ultra/ awesomely cool parents for thirty six hours...once a year, for as long as you can keep up the facade. Disney in February and a week at the beach every summer.

So we did just that...for our kids.

Then seemingly just as suddenly, we were broker than my weakest jokes. And it lasted longer than just a few years.

We went from life without a care

to living on a scare.

He went totally gray and I became permanently shrinkled (shrunken up, with wrinkles).

The highlights I force Massey to put in my hair every few months (we both hate doing it) cover all my gray hair, so at least there's that...and if I could put back on ten more pounds maybe a few wrinkles would be stretched apart and away, like a free face lift.

A girl can dream.

It took well over ten years but we are finally not only caught up but just a tad bit ahead of the game...

after thirty two years of trying.

Or at least vowing to.

When we first met, we were total opposites from jump. He grew up in a house with a twelve foot deep swimming pool, pool house, tennis courts, a shuffleboard court and an underground game room with pool tables, air hockey, pinball and video games; walls surrounded by granite from the roots of Stone Mountain, complete with a kitchen, bar and restrooms.

He was a rich Peter Brady.

 I was from a totally (above blue but just a bit  below) white collar family.

 It was awesome.

I grew up in a modest but absolutely respected household, rich with love and laughter...and a magnet for frequent visitors. People loved to be at our house, and so did we. I never wanted for one single thing...although like most brats I probably bitched a lot about nothing.

I was the baby, and like a hair in my siblings' biscuits. I know I had a lot of boogers...always pointed out to me, and was a total and complete pest.

It's a wonder I'm still alive.

Thank God for Love.

I could never imagine our family taking a photo like this.

We had ones like this:

Wait...What?!

Or this:

Ole Jed was strictly  Republican when I first met him.

I was so far to the left I was almost back around to the right. 

But things just clicked. 

(I think it was his Casio...or maybe his mullet)

We fell in love with each other pretty much from about the second date for him, third date for me, and bonus points for my ridiculous self, he was absolutely head over heels for a hick like me, regardless of my political affiliations or financial status.

Next month we  celebrate our thirty year wedding anniversary, after having lived in sin together for two years first.

Neither of us vote a straight party ticket... never have.  How absurd would that be?

Bad guys are everywhere.

Over the years we've mellowed, leaning one way on some things but can swing towards the other side on others. The only place any of this matters though, is in a polling booth, which we both frequent for each and every election. We do not debate politics with each other. That is a strictly private matter once you insert that ballot...as it should be.

But now none of us can get along?

Really?

How sad a statement is that?

All good questions.

V.O.T.E.

And I don't mean just every four years. We can't get rid of the big crooks if we keep letting small time local crooks sneak in during an off year election...one by one, office by office...level by level.

Ole Jed and I do not agree on a lot of issues, and that's okay. Most are finance or foreign policy related.

But we both agree that Trump is not a morally good person, and in fact is a bully of the worst kind.

Unrelenting and inept at the task in front of him, even if he could move his massive ego out of the way with his tiny arms for just one hot minute.

Unfortunately he can't, hasn't and won't.

We'll have to live with the results of the election and so will you.

Think about it. Is it about you, or is it  about all of us?

Till next time,

COTTON

The Perfect Twenty Four Seven Job

 

For the first time in thirty two years of living with my husband, I find myself a housewife.

I'll be honest, it's not my strong suit.

Not to mean that our house is a nasty dump, it's far from it, but I would never suggest you could eat off the floor.

Nor should you.

Trust me...we've always had dogs.

(notice dogs is plural)

I do manage to keep things neat and tidy for the most part, with a place for everything and everything in its place.

Usually....well, at least more times than not.

I've always worried more about how the outside of my house and yards looked. The grass has to be cut at least once a week, sometimes twice in the summer months. Everything has to be weeded and trimmed, and once that is done, walkways, porches and driveways have to be swept or blown clear of all leaves, trimmings and debris.

Our first house.

Our second house.

Rental Sardine Can in Orlando, for almost two (excruciating) years.

Our new home.

Welcome home.

My thinking is this:

No one driving down the street or by our house can tell if our toilet or kitchen sink is clean from their car, but will certainly notice an unkempt or overgrown yard...at least I do. In our old neighborhood back in Georgia, I'd even cut other yards in the neighborhood after people moved out and the yards  grew up. You'd think the real estate company would keep the yards up, but they didn't.

Maybe it's because I did!

Two yards I cut for almost a year, before the properties were bought, or foreclosed. I cut the front of the subdivision for free for a couple of years, never once contacted by the HOA about compensation, or even a "Thank You" until I had been doing it for almost two years. It's a good thing I like yard work.

I will say that I have been a much better housekeeper since we moved to Florida. For the first two years, we lived in a cinder block sardine can rental where everything had to be in its place... or you couldn't fit through the front door.

Plus, the rent was astronomically high... for an 1,100 sq ft cement block. Of course moving into rental with three big dogs didn't help but I was bound and determined to get that huge deposit back, made bigger by the (three) pet additional deposit.

It took Ziggy and Charlie about fourteen seconds of being put out back for the first time...for them  to claw the back sliding screen door to shreds.

And I mean complete shreds.

Zach immediately took it off and we hid it in the garage under all the broken down moving boxes.

 I can't believe it, but they never noticed it being gone when we moved out...the back porch was screened in as well so it wasn't like you stepped out the sliding glass door right onto the grass, which there wasn't much of to begin with. The back yard was about the size of the inside of the house, not counting the attached one (Smart) car size garage.

It was a long two years.

After one year, we were down to two dogs.

I kept the corners swept and dusted, I planted flowers in the front flower bed, which I had to weed first, and made it look like home, albeit cracker box style.

The appliances were all from the seventies, including the washer, dryer and a garage door opener older than the Flintstones. It was living a Brady Bunch lifestyle after Mike got laid off and they had to fire Alice.

 I knew (hoped) it was temporary, so I tried to  keep the damage down to the screen door my dogs had shredded like cabbage the first five minutes after we entered the house for the very first time.

I did good.

We got our deposit back in full, although it took over two months. They took out less than a hundred dollars, for  dry cleaning the drapes (also from the seventies) and a window lock they say we broke. It was after a hurricane when we were out of power for three days and I felt like my body was going to spontaneously combust. We opened every single window, had to fight with one, but won the battle, even as a screw fell out of the frame.

We paid well over $1,400 a month rent for a cement box when we first moved here.

 The mortgage on our house back in Newnan, 4 BR  2.5 BA, 2 car garage on an acre lot with a front yard that like looked like a putting green, was costing us $1461 a month, and that was on  a fifteen year mortgage.

You rent, because you need to live somewhere but can't buy a house, because there's nothing left after paying astronomical rent, to save for a down payment on a house of your own , when already barely scraping by in a rental.

If that's not a Catch 22, what is?

Anyhoo...moving on.

Cotton...the fabric of life. That's us.

What you see is what you get with this crazy family of mine; mostly a good thing.

And when it's not, at least it's always entertaining.

Like I said, always entertaining and rarely ever a dull moment.

And quite a few precious and proud moments.

 

Yeah, she's a Boss too.

I learned how to do Life from the Best.

Whatever may happen, has happened...will happen or not happen in my life... will always be superficial, small, and a tiny blip on the radar of life compared to the golden ticket I drew at birth in the parental lottery on July 31, 1960.

Ask anyone who was lucky enough to know my parents. 

Not many people get the jump start in life that I was  fortunate enough to have.

And then there are our  dogs.

This is the picture of Ziggy (aka Lil Houdini) which was posted on Facebook, after we spent three hours looking for him after he jumped the back fence for seemingly the millionth time. The school nurses at the elementary school half a mile from our house had him in the office and posted his picture on FB.

Even our dogs are entertaining.

Our dogs have been total and constant companions to us over the years and an intricate part of our family. 

They simply are family.

Bonus points, not one of them has ever complained.

Not even once.

Even if they sometimes had to wait for food or water longer than they would have liked to,

they still loved us, and were always beyond thrilled to see us walk through the door.

They are total mood boosters and always encouraging.

It may sound petty (pun intended) but if you don't even like dogs, much less totally love them, we're probably gonna have a hard time getting along.

Just saying.

There's a reason DOG is GOD spelled backwards.

Both are unconditional love.

(and no I'm not kidding)

For all which may have, and sometimes has gone wrong in my life, so much more has gone right.

...and then some.

So what?!   I'm sixty years old and suddenly out of work...

it could be so much worse. (emphasis on the so)

I think I'm gonna take a pass on waiting tables for now and try not to worry about it too much.

Or at all.

It is the time to be grateful for simply being alive, and a time to practice frugality

I'm more focused right now on doing what I'm told to do by scientists and doctors, not preachers and politicians.

That seems the best way to survival, for everyone.

My only political comment, concern or question is this:

Why hasn't our President been wearing a mask from jump?

Somebody needs to tell him to turn around and look at science.

Over seven hundred ninety six thousand people have died from COVID 19 since early spring.

Maybe this will make it easier to grasp...

796,000 humans, gone from this earth because of this virus... in just a few months, with no end in sight.

That's getting too close to a million deaths for me, and extremely alarming.

Oh I know, the numbers may , and probably are off...but can they be that off?

I personally know well over ten people who had or have COVID-19.

Do you?

Because if you do, you should know how heart breaking and excruciating it is.

Some breeze through, luckily. Some have quite the time with it, left without  the sense of smell and days upon days of fever, chills and mental fatigue.

And a lot of people have, and will die from it.

That's not really the list I want to choose from.

If there was only one rule in life, it should be this:

"Be a good person."

Is it really that hard?

 Till next time...COTTON