You Are Never Too Old To Kiss Your Mother

Getting kisses off teenage sons is tough. I have to bribe my boys to get a measly peck on the cheek. And if truth be told the rare cheek kiss is get is just not enough kisses.

Albert thinks that now he is in college he is too old to kiss his mother. Luckily I have the car keys and the money. Every once in a while I refuse to give him one or the other or both if he refuses to give me a kiss. He hates it.

Sock Of the Month Club

I joined a Sock-of-the-Month club, the kind where once a month they send you a pattern and enough yarn to make a pair of socks. I've received 3 kits so far and finished about 1/3 of one sock. And I'm not following the pattern. I almost never -- well maybe never--follow a pattern. I have more fun making up my own as I go along.

Of course there are problems with never following a pattern. The gloves I made for sweetie are the prime example. They are beautiful but they are two different sizes. And I remade the second one twice. I have learned to keep count of the stitches. So I think the socks will both be the same size.

Back to the sock of the month club. I am in a sock making frame of mind. I plan to make lots of socks this year. Socks will be given as gifts. But I need to pick up the pace. I've been in the SOM club for 2 months and am 1/6th of the way through one set. At this rate Al is the only one who will experience the Joy of Socks.

People

The more I work for the public the less I like people. I stop seeing that the vast majority of people are pleasant and thoughtful and see the minority who just don't care for any one but themselves. The thoughless few wear me out. Recent examples include the mom who told me I wasn't looking hard enough for the book her daughter needed for a report due the following morning, even though I was on my knees looking book by book, or the parents who allow their toddlers to pull books off the shelves and gleefully tell other parents how nice it is to be out and not have to clean up after their kids, or the people who leave trash, tissues, used diapers for one of us to clean up.

I don't forget about the many adults and children who thank me for my help, who cleanup after themselves or tell me how much they love the store.

I'm tired of allowing myself to be brought down by the negative few. I think I'll start paying attention to the nice folks. I'll make a mental note of the people who are thoughtful or kind. I'm going to work on noticing the good and ignoring the bad. I love this job. I want to continue to enjoy it.

I'll be a single parent for a few days

Al will drive down to to pick up our number one son and bring him home for spring break. I think he is looking forward to a few days away from the routine. I'm wishing it was me that could go, and if it were me I would go down a week early.

Oh well, I need to save my vacation days for the summer. When it is nice and warm and I can spend the days at the beach.

Work is Called Work for a Reason

I spent all day changing over displays from one set of books to another. I like interacting with people, not moving books around. It seems that more and more of my job is moving books around. It makes me wonder what I my ideal job. What do I most want to do?

I don't want to subsitute at the local elementary school.
I don't want to go to my pre-retirement job.
I don't want another job in retail.
And I don't want to sit at home all the time.
So what are my options?

It's Been a Year

Dad died a year ago today. It's been a rough day.

I miss him.