How Hard Is It To Understand?

Simply put and completely true.

I'm terrified of going back to work.
 I've worked in restaurants, non stop since the late seventies. It's been my chosen profession and  know all too well about cross contamination and how quickly it can spread.

I do not feel comfortable about being a server at this exact moment in  time, especially considering I live in the number one travel destination of the entire world.
Mask or no mask.
At my age it simply isn't worth the risk to me.

But here's a clue...

Wear a freaking mask when you are out in public, and distance yourself from others whenever it is possible.

Throw in washing your hands a lot and keeping your surroundings clean and sanitary...it's really not that hard to do.
That should about do it, and would one hundred percent absolutely make a more than tremendous difference in the fight  against COVID.

One problem is that our own president won't even wear a mask or tell others they should.

 And I thought "I" was a slow learner?

If I hear one more person screaming about "don't try and control my rights to freedom"... 'I' could puke.

 You can't fix stupid, but you can block and delete it.

I spend less and less time on Facebook, the twenty four hour cyber water cooler of illiterate haters.
 I haven't seen or read as many hateful things, mostly all untrue, since Barrack Obama ran for president and was elected.
Twice.

I'll take class over crass any day of the week and twice on Sundays.

Sometimes I am so appalled and taken aback from things posted by people I have known my entire life. Dang, were they racist when I was a kid and I was just too much of a knuckle head to notice?
That's totally one possibility, and I freely admit to it.

I am so far from being perfect I can't even see the halfway mark, but at least I consistently try and get it right more often than not.
So there's that.



I've never seen this country more divided over simply wanting (asking) for equal rights
...for every single person, every single day of their life.

Here's a challenge.

Read this book and get back to me about Black Lives Matter.


Hell, just look what we did to Native Americans when we first arrived...on their land.

Come on, America.
We have a lot to make up for.


Not to mention, these examples are just the tip of the proverbial iceberg of inequality and injustice, and a huge elephant in the american living room. Don't expect change to happen in one weekend, and don't expect it to be pretty.




It hasn't been  pretty for them, so why should it be pretty for you?
Think about that for a minute.

Think about George Floyd, with that (not all) cops knee on his neck for 8 minutes and forty six seconds, even though he was handcuffed, non combative...and innocent?

I could go on, and on, and on...and on.
Literally.

If reading this makes you feel uneasy, angry or uncomfortable, maybe you should ask yourself why?

I think Dr. Seuss put it best, years and years ago.

Love is all you (we, or they) need.


Til next time,

COTTON

Apparently I've Changed Careers

I got a new job!!!

After almost three months of being unemployed, I am working again.

It's a great company. I have my own office which includes a killer view.

It doesn't pay all that much but the benefits are out of this world.

No cubicle for me!

There's plenty of free parking available, but is also close enough to walk.

So we have had to tighten our financial belts... but who hasn't, given these tumultuous times?

Lucky for me, I'm reasonably easy to please. Give me a house with a yard which needs my attention, and I'm the (wo)man for the job!

 Yes it would probably look better with  professional landscaping but I kinda prefer my Slap Dab method...and it feels wonderful to look at how much work I accomplish every single day.

And then there's the beach, less than an hour away.
I've always loved being by the ocean.



It was a huge adjustment for me, moving to another state after over half a century in the same one.
I'm a true Georgia Peach, southern born and bred - suddenly transplanted amongst the oranges.

I suffered a huge bout of depression after first moving here.
I had absolutely, but more than willingly, drained my entire savings account to help with the massive undertaking of moving and combining three separate places, containing the entirety of our lives.
I arrived in the Sunshine State, only to find out the extremely lucrative job I had transferred with from Georgia didn't actually exist.
That was a crucial blow- financially as well as emotionally.

Remaining at your own pity party, in a bed - temporarily consisting of a lot of blankets and quilts piled high on a wooden platform bed base- in a darkened room doesn't sound like an awfully long time... but it really was.

Trust  me, I'm one of the  lucky ones. I was able to kick my way out of  that bag of depression,
which relentlessly seems so all consuming to millions of others every single day; Spiraling them into an abyss so deep they feel it's useless to even try and get out. Instead they limp by best they can, and hope they avoid the worst.

So my latest (only) job in Florida (for over three years)  hasn't called me back to work like they said they would do (per email) once plans were made to  reopen . I waited for the call, like they said to do.
I never got that call.
I waited for a text. I never got one.
I waited for a link or email.
All I have heard is crickets.

It bothered me at first. No, actually it almost drove me insane at first.
 I'm not that great of a person, and never claimed to be; but what  I AM,  is a hands down 100% excellent, dedicated, loyal and more than extremely efficient and hard working employee who is more than capable of doing my own  job and work circles around others, some over half my own age.

If they don't want me, I'm not seriously really sure I want to work for them.
Does that hurt?
Yes.
Can I get over it now?
 Absolutely.

And I will.

It took us over thirty years to get to this point in our lives. This serving job of mine here in OTown, as great as it was, isn't going to make me feel bad about myself as a server. I know what kind of  waitress, server and employee I  am, have been, and can be.

In my opinion, it's their loss not mine.
I am redirecting my focus to writing. It's a lot easier for me physically...and helps me more emotionally.
You gotta be happy in life... or you're not going to be happy.


Till next time

Cyber hugs, COTTON

Help!! I've Been Abducted By Spare Time

I haven't worked since March 16th.

That is highly unusual for me.

Therefore I am beginning to feel highly unusual.

And that's no picnic for Tim or Massey, who unfortunately live with me.

Or am I living with them at this point?

After eight long weeks of (not so) patiently waiting, my unemployment finally began to trickle in.

By the time COVID 19 closed my restaurant down on March 16, I was down to a solid twenty or twenty five hour work week, which netted me $500 a week and more often than not, more.

After being a waitress full time for forty years, that was fine and good with me.

My feet hurt.




My husband has now held a wonderful job for the past five years. He is very much appreciated by his company, as well as compensated, and continues to climb the ranks.

Who'd a thunk Ole Jed would hit that Texas Tea when they sent him to Lubbock, way back when?

#thetimeIstayedinNewnan

Five hundred bucks a week isn't a lot, but when it is taken away sure seems so.


When I was at my wits end, after emailing the governor and both state representatives about waiting over forty five days for any type of assistance to no avail... a manager (and his lovely wife) from my old  job back in Atlanta mailed us a more than extremely generous Club Pub gift card.

It was like Christmas Day for me, which is ironic considering they are both Muslims.

As Leslie Jordan would say...
 "You can't make this shit up."

And I'm not.


Fast forward a day or two... my money suddenly began to come in from unemployment in a sporadic and spastic fashion, but at least it came in.



I have worked and paid taxes since I was fourteen years old.

circa  1974

The money they are depositing into my account is a heck of a lot less than what has been taken out of each and every one of my own paychecks since 1974.



I'm also glad I have always claimed all of my tips; since they based my payout on what I claimed.

Cha Ching!



I am also weeks away from being sixty years old.

 To my credit, the above is au natural, although makeup would have been a huge help.
But as Popeye said in the fifties and sixties, "I yam what I yam."



So my job started to contact some employees to come back to work, planning on opening soon with limited hours - Wednesday through Saturday, from 3-10...with rigid procedures  and safety regulations in place.

Once again, as Leslie Jordan would say,

I worked from ten or eleven in the morning until three or four in the afternoon. It took me almost three years to work my way up to exclusively working the day shift.

I've heard nothing but crickets from my former job.
 On the up side...

I also have had nothing but spare time...and quickly learned to love it.
Thank God we bought and  moved into our forever home before this happened.

All I've ever wanted is a yard to play in and look at; able to admire from windows inside of my house, to admiring it while walking outside, on my way back down a long driveway from the mailbox, smelling the jasmine both ways.

This...is my idea of paradise.



I wake up every morning, happy to look out my bedroom windows as I stretch and wake up, not even  having to get out of bed to do so. It is certainly a daily inspirational scenario.

 We lived in a rented tiny cement box for over two years.

I now realize we do live in paradise.

I am a very blessed person, and don't think for one single minute that I take any of it for granted.

Life can...and often does, throw curve balls.

Been there done that.
A couple of times now.



 I am almost sixty now,
and have been a server for forty years.

I'm not real smart, but I  am smart enough to  know COVID19 is real...
and could easily kill someone my age.

I wait on people in a upscale restaurant/bar five minutes from the airport of the number one travel destination in the world.

Talk about some germs.!

I'll sit home and wait until they call me back to work, if they do.

If they don't...that's okay too.



When things ( hopefully) finally clear up and we all get back to what is surely destined to become the new type of normal, maybe they will give me a call and I can be their Day Shift Diva once again.
I can say with full confidence that I'm a hard ass worker and have more loyalty than most Cher fans.
(which says a lot)

If not,
it just simply wasn't meant to be...but a phone call or text would have been nice.

Just sayin'

Till next time

Continuing to be a COTTON

It Will Never Be Normal Again

 Everyone talks about "When things get back to normal."

Guess what?

It's never going to be what we considered normal, in December of 2019.

Ever...again.

Talk about a Brave New World?!

What bothers me most, is that we seem more divided than ever... during a  time we need to stand strong together, albeit six feet apart.

And yes, a mask needs to be a part of our lives, if we want to continue and fight this.

As we should.

Are you telling me that wearing a freaking face mask while out in crowded spaces (not forever, but for now) makes you feel like your rights are being violated? You are listening to the wrong clowns.

(sorry I don't sugar coat)

This isn't a political issue, it is a health and survival issue.

I love and worship the Heavenly Father I choose to follow, but this thing has killed almost 100,000 fellow Americans since March.

And it's not ever the end of May.

You're stupid if you  pay more attention to politicians than scientists and medical professionals at this exact moment in time.
And if you do

 "Good luck with that."

I will pray for you.

Till next time,

COTTON

Always Find The Silver Lining

It's certainly not like I've had a bad life...I haven't.

But I have had life sling some serious dooky my way, more than once... or even twice.

In hindsight they were all (each and every one) lessons I needed to learn and not only go through, but grow through.

I want to think I'm a good person, but when I stop and take a look around me, especially these past few months, I can't possibly be doing enough to even consider myself a good person.

What I am doing instead, is simply surviving.

And that's not nearly enough.

I was raised better than that.

Finis Coronat Opus

"The end crowns the work: the goal gives value to the labor that produced it."

Shout out to every single person I know, or don't know.

If your path crosses mine, what kind of person would I be to not extend a hand?

If I fall short of your expectations as a friend, and as humans we often do...

know the two people pictured above, are shaking their heads at me from  upstairs, while enjoying their much deserved  BIG DANCE and constantly reminding me I can be a better person.

And I will be.

It takes practice.

If problems outnumber your blessings, you need to count them again.

but if they seem to... after counting again, I'm down to help.

Till next time...Cotton