Once Again, Karma To The Rescue

I've always tried to be a 'pay it forward' person. Sometimes I don't try hard enough but at least I always try.

Big Lots is one of my favorite places to shop. The stores in Georgia were always a jumbled up mess and usually located in a not so nice strip mall but could always find some really good bargains there.

No different here.

Massey and I googled "Closest Big Lots" shortly after moving here. It only takes about ten minutes to get there, is located in a horribly run down strip mall with the worst parking lot I've ever seen. It has more ruts and holes than parking spaces, and there are a lot of parking spaces. Also located in the strip mall is a "Cuban Hair Salon."

I don't know what that even means unless it means they give you a cut and a cigar.

(updated)

Actually went back today and took some pictures...my memory failed me (Doesn't happen often, my brother calls me RainWoman).

Guess they don't give out cigars but instead cater to a lot of American baseball players.

Still...what is a Dominican style hair do?

On Monday I worked an opening lunch shift. I got off around two and headed to the bank. I made a $400 deposit then headed to Big Lots and picked up a couple of plant stands for all the booming plants I now have and some plant food spikes. My plants which were almost dead by the time they made it out of the moving van have thrived like crazy in the Florida sunshine and have more than I've ever had. Once flower blooms fall off, dry them and replant the seeds from the center of the dried flower in yet another pot. In less than a week, I have sprouts. The plant I had in my bathroom back home in Georgia had been barely hanging on, for going on fifteen years. It's now on my back porch and growing like a weed on steroids. I've been very stringent on watering them all since winters are dry here and turning the pots once a week to let both sides enjoy the eastern sunrise from our back porch.

From dried flower seeds to sprouts in less than a week!

I checked out at Big Lots and took my three items home. I hung a fern in a new basket, re potted another "plant gone wild" in a bigger pot and started yet another with seeds in the smaller one.

Did some laundry, sweep up all the tile floors and heated leftovers for dinner. I was off the next day so went absolutely nowhere...my favorite way to spend a day off.

Massey is dog sitting for my brother who is out of town for a week and came over for dinner last night.

The forecast mentioned low temps in the forties so brought all my smaller potted plants inside. Waste of time, it only got down to forty seven.

Tonight was expected to fall into the thirties so didn't take any chances and brought all ten plants in from outside before leaving for work around four thirty...just in case.

I got to work and discovered didn't have my trusty server book.

It's not only my server book but serves as my wallet as well. I don't go anywhere without it. I keep my drivers license, credit cards and bank card in it. I called Tim as soon as I got to work, he was on his way home from work and asked him if he would bring it to me? Good ole Lumpy Rutherford aka Jed Clampett aka Tim aka my husband said "Sure".

It also holds my favorite pen, favorite writing pad, notes I've made about menu items and and a thirty dollar bank I use for making change.

I'm an anal server, don't know if I could make it through a shift without my essential server book.

He called me thirty minutes later and said he couldn't find it anywhere. The tiny temp rental house we're in  doesn't have too many places to hide things.

I went back to my car to see if I'd overlooked it.

Nope.

I started to get worried.

Then I started to get really worried.

Then I started thinking about that four hundred dollars I'd deposited into my bank account and that Kohls card with the balance fully paid and a six hundred dollar limit free to use.

I called Tim again and we went back over where I was the last time I remembered having it.

Holy Shitake Mushroom...

Could I have really left it at the 'all too sketchy' Big Lots in the seemingly ghetto strip mall??

"Yikes" was a complete and total understatement.

Just like Tim and I both tend to do when at a loss, he called Massey.

She googled and called the sketchy Big Lots here in Orlando.

Can you believe it?

They had my server book!

By this point had already checked my bank account to make sure my money wasn't gone and checked my Kohl's account to make sure someone hadn't walked out with six hundred dollars worth of stuff.

Tim went by there, picked it up and brought it to me at work.

Tim said he was a little worried because they didn't even ask him for ID when picking it up and to check and make sure everything was there.

It was.

Even my thirty dollar cash bank.

I'm writing a letter tomorrow to Big Lots corporate office on behalf of all the wonderful employees who work at my sketchy Big Lots to say what wonderful employees they have working and tolling away in the Union Park, Orlando location.

It actually made me think of what distracted me from the get go. The (older than me) man in front of me in line was buying something and pulled out his cell to call his wife before purchasing it, to make sure it was the right thing. He looked at the girl ringing him up and said "You gotta make sure the wife's okay with it...you know what I mean?"

She didn't miss a beat.

She very politely said, with a smile "No sir, I don't. I'm not married and even if I was, am not a lesbian."

BEST LINE EVER!!!

Good people are everywhere, you just have to look for them...even in a sketchy part of town.

I'll never shop at a Big Lots other than this one.

(update) :

I went to the store today and bought a huge bouquet of flowers. I drove back to Big Lots and took them inside. I strolled back to the 'reduced items' in the kitchen section and picked up a really cute, tall glass carafe for two bucks. I stuffed the bouquet in it and headed back to the register to purchase the vase. I passed a young female employee who was also there the day I left my server book.

I asked if she remembered me being in there the other day (we'd spoken while I was shopping) she kinda cocked her head like she wasn't sure but when I pulled my server book out and said I'd left it that day, she brightly smiled and said "Oh yeah! Our manager, Dennis saved it for you."

I asked if Dennis happened to be there?

He was.

I told the girl I'd brought the flowers as a Thank You.

For Pete's sake, you would have thought Ed McMahon walked in with a life sized check for a million dollars.

The girl called another female employee over and said "Go get Dennis, He ain't gonna believe this!" She added "He's married, just wait til he goes home with those flowers; his wife will think he's cheating on her!"

I told her the flowers were for everyone and should just keep them on the service desk to enjoy.

I was at the check out paying for the vase when I heard someone saying over the P.A. system  "We need Dennis to the front register, now!"

Wherever Dennis was in the store... most probably was shaking his head, thinking "What's wrong now?"

I've never seen a group of employees more excited by a fifteen dollar bunch of flowers.

Dennis showed up just as I finished paying and told him I was the person (idiot) who had left her wallet and just wanted to thank them all for being so honest. Also told him I was going to write to Big Lots corporate and let them know what an outstanding crew they had in Union Park.

The guy was super nice. As I went to leave, he extended his hand as a gesture of thanks.

What the Hey?

He's thanking me for being an idiot? (I appreciated even more his not pointing out the fact)

I shook his hand and said "Especially in these days and time, is few and far between to meet honest and respectable people. You have a solid crew of folks working for you and wanted to let you all know I truly appreciate it.

Here's the thing...

They saved me but instead...acted as if "I" was the hero?


Best life lesson I've learned in a while.

Pretty much guarantee this Big Lots has my business as long as we live in our temp rental house and may even make the ride to visit when we move to our forever home.

I'm pretty sure, am more educated and make more money than most of the employees working there...but they are wonderful people.

Being a wonderful person is what life is all about.

I may not be a wonderful person but certainly aspire to be one day.

People helping people.

People being honest.

People appreciating being appreciated.

Once again, am one lucky person and blessed beyond belief.

Think of the entire  picture and scheme of your life...and make yourself an important part of it.

I needed a friend the other day after losing my wallet and those friends at Big Lots "Called on me."

The value of  life and goodness isn't monetarily measured but measured by how good a person you actually are.

Dashing off my letter to Big Lots corporate tomorrow and hoping somehow in someway,  makes a difference for the people who made a positive difference for me.


Til next time and with restored faith in humanity, COTTON

Fight For What's Right

What a bummer. My last table tonight left me a six buck tip on an almost three hundred dollar tab.

Are you absolutely kidding me?

Nice enough people, thought everything went okay. When they were leaving noticed one of them had forgotten the food I boxed to go and was still sitting on the table so I tapped on the window as they were all walking back to the parking garage. Another server ran the box of food out to them and they thanked him. I stayed inside and still clearing the table when I noticed the tip.

Here's my thing about such a crappy tip. I have to tip out on my sales. Three hundred bucks... have to tip two percent to the food runner, two percent to the busser and one percent to the bar.

On that table alone had to tip out fifteen bucks; they left me six so was nine in the hole. It cost me nine dollars of my own money to wait on them. They should be ashamed about doing that.

I walked outside, thinking about saying something as they all walked away but didn't.

Then the last member of their party came out of the restroom and headed out the front door after them. Younger dude, probably mid twenties. He smiled and waved good night.

I smiled back...and decided to take up for myself.

I asked if everything had been okay for them? He said it had been great!

I continued...

"Was everything okay with the food and my service? Did I do anything wrong or did something happen during your experience here to upset any of you?"

He said absolutely not and why... was I picking up bad vibes?

I was honest. I was nice. I showed concern for them.

I said in fact I kinda was. I was worried I'd done something wrong or something had happened to lessen the experience for them because of the tip they had left.

He asked, and I told him the amount.

He said would ask them about it as soon as he got back to the car and I immediately asked him not to.

I continued with I was just worried they had less than a great experience while dining with us.

"Oh no, it was probably just an honest mistake."

Well, the dude went to the parking garage and they all left together without coming back.

I don't really feel like they're gonna come back tomorrow and drop off forty five bucks for me, but at this point, after driving away...I don't want or need it.

That's their Karma to live with.

I did my part. Gave great service. I've said it before and will say it again:

I'm a professional gambler for my living.

Tomorrow will be better, and maybe the day after that will be greater than great! As long as it all averages out in my favor, I'm golden.

Trust me...when you cheat someone else, you'll get your due.

I was pretty ticked about it last night (it's now the next night) but just wrote it off as "You can't fix stupid" and moved on.

Bingo!

I opened this morning at work. Had to be there at ten thirty.

Didn't even feel like going in. I stayed up too late blogging after watching a replay of TWD and a couple of episodes of Shameless on Netflix. (priorities)

I dragged my carcass out of bed at the last minute with a clean uniform waiting on a hanger and made it to work, clocking in one minute late. That's early for most servers.

It was slow and I was thrilled, feeling whooped. I folded linen, polished and rolled silverware and had the place set up to go in no time.

My first table, two businessmen had a quick lunch and gave me a fifty percent tip. My next table was also two businessmen (from my stomping grounds of ATL) and left me an eighty percent tip. Waited on two more ladies who topped off my day with a twenty percent tip and was out the door before two o'clock with almost sixty bucks.

Karma...

It's a real thing.

When life constantly throws you curve balls, learn to be an excellent dodge ball player.

You can't keep a good woman down.

Til next time...COTTON

Really??

I went into work today tired.

That's not a good sign.

Tim got home from Miami around ten this morning. I had to be at work by two this afternoon to open the restaurant so at least got to stay in bed until noon, after staying up until three blogging and writing cards to mail out.

Number one: I like writing, especially in longhand.

Number two: think peeps really appreciate finding an envelope in their mailbox that isn't junk mail or a bill.

Noon came and went.

My uniform was clean and ready to go so decided to remain horizontal until twelve thirty.

Twelve thirty came and went.

I decided I'd have plenty of time if I got up at twelve forty five.

At twelve forty nine decided...it's now or never.

My sweet girl, who am sure rolls her eyes every time I call her name (and call it a lot) made me a pot of coffee. She had already brought me a bowl of oatmeal around ten thirty but just didn't fuel my fire.

Ole Jed was doing work on his lap top in the living room (less than ten feet away from me in our tiny temp rental cracker box) and had already come into the bedroom twice to rub my aching back and shoulder.


I'm gonna go out on a limb and venture to say (guarantee) Massey and Tim high five each other every time I finally walk out the door for work and they hear that garage door close.

I'll never forget when we were still living in Georgia, years ago before this (latest) crazy chapter of our lives ever started.

I was running late for work one day, barking orders to Tim like a drill sergeant as he read the sports page.

In my defense, if I didn't bark...Tim never paid attention.

I tend to do a lot of talking, and after decades of being together...his ears probably hurt.

So I opened the kitchen door leading to the garage and spewed out a couple more chores which needed to be done, while he continued to read the paper at the kitchen table. Our pup, Ham was curled up on the kitchen floor beside Tim.

Tim shut the kitchen door behind me and I heard him immediately say to Ham...

"That's the way you do it, Ham. Just shut the door and wait for her to finally walk away."

I immediately screeched, from the other side of the  door..."I heard that !!"

Yeah, I know I'm crazy...but Tim knew it too, long before asking me to the dance.


We're the oxymoron couple of a lifetime.

Not gonna lie, was worried about our marriage for a while and pretty sure he was too.

When you sign up for the dance of life, know what you're signing up for and be sure it is the ticket for you.

Life is a journey with no "do-overs". Choose your partner wisely and be sure they are the one you want to dance with.

Then storm through life, taking the good along with the bad and always, always give life your best.

If you try your best... you will get the best your life has to offer, and then some.

True fact.

The clock is running.

Til next time...COTTON

Bonus Day!

Tim left Monday morning for Miami and has been working there all week visiting his stores in the area. He usually travels every other week and back home on Friday, by early evening.

After almost thirty years together with the last almost decade being a debacle, is actually nice to have a little time apart every other week.

It was harder when he was sent for a two year stint in Lubbock and then straight to Orlando but was time needed apart for us to reflect about our marriage and mentally regroup.

The back biting and finger pointing finally all fell to the way side and think (know) our marriage is stronger for having gone through it all.

I still enjoy a four day break every other week and pretty sure he does too. It's not easy being married to me and am well aware of the fact.

Tim's quiet to begin with.

I'm most certainly not.

He's passive and tends to be lackadaisical.

I'm aggressive and tend to be in your face , twenty four /seven.

For some bizarre reason we decided to marry each other. The first twenty years were a breeze, the next few tougher than railroad spikes but have finally gotten back on track the past couple of years.

After Massey got all her homework for school done today, agreed to highlight my hair for me.

I don't usually worry when the color grows out but the other day got out of the shower and when I took the towel off my head...saw nothing but gray roots and totally grossed me out.

I do all I can do as far as "Gettin' Old Maintenance" goes.

The wrinkles on my face are a fact I can't fix and feel like have earned each and every one of them, raising three kids.

At least I'm still in pretty decent shape, don't own one pair of  elasticized jeans, granny panties or a Mu Mu.

That's something...isn't it?

With all said and done and water under the bridge, think I survived pretty okay. Maybe a little too skinny but am slowly working my way back up to my fighting weight of 105. I'm so close to triple digits I could reach out and grab 'em.

So after Massey did muh hurr and I started to get ready for work, told her to be sure and tell Tim to eat all the leftovers she and I have left in the fridge from our Chickpalooza week alone when he got back in town after I left for work.

She said Tim wasn't coming home until Saturday this week.

I was so excited to learn I had one more night of blogging after work in our bedroom, with the music cranked up and a light turned on.

At the same exact time, Tim was probably in Miami thinking he  had one more night without a crazy wife keeping him awake with her pecking away on the keyboard while he had to wear the blinders I bought him, just to sleep.

It's a crazy life we live, but at least we're doing well enough to live it in comfort now.

We walked away from our home of way over fifty years, Georgia. It was a hard pill to swallow, still is.

But have planted new roots...which will be our last roots.

It wasn't easy, nothing worth having is.

I've thought about my life long and hard, time and time again, for quite a while now.

The most perfect explanation of  my life is a song I learned in Sunday School around the age of three or four.

Deep and wide

Deep and wide

There's a fountain flowing deep and wide

Deep and wide

Deep and wide

There's a fountain flowing deep and wide.

I used to love that song just because of the hand gestures at the age of four.

Now at the age of almost fifty seven, know.

Life is deep and wide...but the fountain is always flowing if you are a believer.

I am a believer because so many people have believed in me and know God has my back.

Going to bed one of the most grateful and humbled human beings ever.

And will leave you with this thought.

Find your answer...it's most probably blowing in the wind, waiting on you to find it for yourself.

Til next time..COTTON

Bad Moon On The Rise

It was a weird day from the jump. I worked a closing lunch shift and while getting ready for work this morning, Massey told me to look at Ziggy's eye. It was so red you couldn't even see the boy's pupil. As a matter of fact, he could barely open it at all. I left Zig in the capable hands of his day nurse and headed to work.

It was a bizarre day.

One dude came in, toting his small dog under his arm. He told the hostess it was his service dog.

Yeah, right!

The tiny dog had more gray hair on it's face than I do on my head (which is a lot) and his little feet looked like scrawny chicken wings. When I went to greet the table, the dog was on the booth next to him. (no vest)

The dog sat up and started yelping like he'd just been hit by a car.

Don't get me wrong, I'm a huge dog lover but certainly wouldn't take mine out to eat with me, especially at a place like the one where I work.

Luckily this was well into the afternoon and all the other tables were outside and out of ear shot.

I also had a group seated outside who were very nice, although one woman just couldn't pick up what I was putting down while explaining the menu and concept.

Me:

"It's designed to be small plates, sharable items. Choose two or three things per person, try a little bit of everything that hits the table and basically consider it a communal dining experience and I will keep you supplied with clean plates and silver."

Her:

"I just don't get it...how small are the plates?"

Me:

"Tapas style."

Her:

"I don't know what that word means."

Me:

"Small sharable plates of food."

Her:

(picking up the six inch round plate up in front of her) "I mean, are they this size?"

Me:

"Some are, depending on what you order."

Her:

"I still don't understand."

Bitch, please.

Finally someone else at the table said "Just order something. If you want more...order more."

Me: (mentally) Thank YOU!

I know I'm weird but it was even beyond my weirdness.

Even the music was weird at work. It's a very eclectic and varied collection they stream but at one point, even asked the bartender..."Is it just me or has this same song been playing for the last thirty minutes?"

True to Florida fashion,  was also stinking hot outside and had several tables on the patio. You could have fried a basket of chicken with the grease on my forehead and sweat was trickling down the front of my flat  little chest.

I made great money and my last few tables were actually normal people but was still flustered by the oddness of the entire day.

On my way home in the car around six, looked up and saw the moon almost full, rising in the sky.

BINGO!!

Some months the full moon comes and goes, barely noticed.

Sometimes it makes you feel as if you're living in a parallel universe.

Obviously it's gonna be a parallel universe kind of full moon.

NOT the best time to serve the public for a living.

I usually make great money during the full moon...or totally crap out.

Yep...am a professional gambler.

I may be wrong, have been... many times, but I got a feeling.

There's a bad moon on the rise.

God help me...

Til next time,

COTTON

A Dog Gone Hard Day Off

When the temperature hit the mid eighties today, knew it was time...and perfect timing. It's my last day off until Monday and could barely stand the smell of our three dogs.

The above photo shows them in our backyard when we lived in Georgia, where winter is wet and summer is dry.

Have quickly learned it's dry as dust in Orlando during the winter months, even though still in the eighties most days.

It rains almost every day in the summer months and sometimes two or three. Every thing is lush, green and vibrant.

I guess could use my sprinkler every day and run our water bill up to keep the grass green like the one neighbor down the street, but ain't gonna happen in a temp rental house.

Back in Georgia at least when they scrubbed on their backs, had a little bit of grass and hard Georgia red clay. Down here, they scrub on no grass and black sand/dirt.

So I'm a slow learner...duh!



I kept thinking it was some Florida thing. My house, especially my bedroom always smells like someone just cooked and burned breakfast sausage.

I hate breakfast food.

I'm a night owl.

It took me a while to get used to smelling the water while taking a shower or brushing my teeth.

I had to buy a Brita filter and pitcher just to have water to drink at the house.

I figured the  burnt sausage smell was something else you had to get used to when moving to Florida.


Seems it was my three stinking dogs.

We have an oldest, blind dog who doesn't get along with our youngest more playful one.

 It freaks (blind) Ham out when Ziggy, with his freakazoid self runs up or tries to play, which quickly turned into dog fights.

And then we have Charlie...also known as Switzerland.

He's okay with being with either dog.

He's neutral to the max.

 Actually, he's too lazy to be bothered by either of them...or any thing.

So Massey and I took them out to the front yard today, one by one to bathe and de-burnt sausage that awful smell.

Ham went first.

 He's blind and if out of the house he's come to finally know wall by wall and room by room, especially in the front yard where they never are, is a nervous wreck.

He started shaking before we ever put the hose on him. He smelled the most like burnt sausage so got the first appointment. We both soaped and scrubbed him, then did it again.

I took him for a walk to dry off while Massey brought Charlie out, burnt sausage number two of three.

The minute Massey put the hose on him, his coat turned from white to black from scrubbing in the backyard black sand of Orlando.

While she bathed Charlie, I walked Ham on a leash up one side of the sidewalk to dry off,  then crossed the street and led him back, crossing once again. For a blind dog, the old man did great.

Ham is the best dog ever.

We tried to get his eyes fixed but just couldn't when broke as jokes.



Then I dragged Charlie on the same walk after his bath. I didn't need a leash, I needed a cattle prod. He schlumped up one side of the sidewalk, huffed and puffed across the street and stopped to pee twice...never hiking his leg but instead squatted like a girl.

Bitch please.

Then I went back to hand off Chas to Massey and get Ziggy who was just getting finished being de-burnt sausaged.

The boy wore me out.

Strong as an ox, weighs almost as much as  me and insistent at plowing ahead. (we need to work on the leash thing) We got three houses down and I got a cramp in my foot from trying to hold him back...from nothing!!

We made it to the next house, with me pulling him back like a frothing idiot.

 A woman pulled into her driveway and sat in her car like I was walking Cujo past her.

We crossed the street  and I (he) led us back up the street to our  temp house.

Suddenly the smell of burnt breakfast sausage is gone.

My house now smells like an issue of  Better Home and Garden...the "Scent" issue.

Number one, will never eat breakfast sausage again.

Number two, am buying a lot more dog shampoo and every day when  over eighty degrees am bathing my hounds. It's not like they can do it for their self or even know when to ask me to do it... for them.

But I do.

Yes I'm crazy...have been for quite some time, but have always been loved.

Sometimes crazy is good.
Being loved is amazing.

Sure beats being Apathetic.

Til next time...COTTON