as·sump·tion [uh-suhmp-shuhn] noun 1. something taken for granted; a supposition: a correct assumption. Synonyms: presupposition; hypothesis, conjecture, guess, postulate, theory. 2. the act of taking for granted or supposing. Synonyms: presumption; presupposition. 3. the act of taking to or upon oneself. Synonyms: acceptance, shouldering. 4. the act of taking possession of something: the assumption of power. Synonyms: seizure, appropriation, usurpation, arrogation. 5. arrogance; presumption. Synonyms: presumptuousness; effrontery, forwardness, gall.
It seems to me we, as a people, assume an awful lot. I observed this at a local grocery last week. A man walked into the store just before me. We actually walked in side-by-side at one point when we exchanged a friendly nod and smile, but his long legs gave him an advantage and it wasn't that we were actually together, so I comfortable dropped back and allowed him the lead. I doubt he even realized I was near. From behind I could see he was nearly barefoot, his flip-flops looking rather thin and ... well ... floppy. He appeared to be grasping one of his shoes with his toes to keep it on his foot. His pants were too short for his long legs and his hair was all over the place. As we walked in, I was ignored, and all eyes were on him. As he went aisle by aisle he was being watched - first by one employee, then another. I doubted he noticed. I did. He hadn't taken a cart as I had, opting for a handheld basket. I was intrigued by the onset of employees tracking his every move. Was he homeless? A known shoplifter? Why all the attention? As he gathered items in his basket, I added items to my cart. His items were calculated as though he had a plan. Me, too. I lost him in the dairy aisle but met up again near the checkout - a store employee and a manager keeping him within sight. I had about the same amount of groceries as the man but he motioned that I go ahead of him. I declined, but he insisted. I wasn't sure why, but I moved ahead. His actions were of great interest to the store employees and two more joined the manager. I was so intrigued by the fuss I stayed after I had paid for my groceries. I heard the man say good morning to the cashier. She didn't respond, but rather rushed his items along, bagged them and said, "$26.11." Period. No please, no thank you. The man took out a debit card - which the cashier found odd - and ran it, then stepped aside after receiving his receipt and found a bench near the exit. He was still being watched. One of his purchases was a new pair of flip-flops, which he promptly retrieved from the bag. Removing a small knife from his pocket netted a great deal of attention from the staff - one of the employees had his cell phone in hand ... ready. The man cut the string separating the flip-flops and put them on his feet. He put his knife away. I was still standing by the door and still wondering just what the fuss was all about. I watched the man gather the rest of his items, throwing his old flip-flops in the trash receptacle and leave the store. He was smiling. Now I was totally confused. I followed the man and as we had entered the store, we left the store. Management and staff relaxed and assumed their responsibilities. There was no conversation. As I walked to my car, I called to the man, "Excuse me, sir?" He turned around, still smiling. "What's the deal? Why did you receive such a fuss in there?" We continued walking side-by-side and he said, "I'm a college student and writing a paper about how people look change how they're treated by the public." "Oh, really? How many stores have you played?" "This was my 26th and it's always the same. But, I'll have to say, only three people in the last three months bothered to 'deal' with me at all. You're one of them." He smiled and continued, "You can be proud; people are afraid of people who are not in their league, or look as though they 'might be trouble' - you didn't do that. You smiled as we entered the store and nodded, acknowledging my presence. Most people have avoided me." I shook my head and asked him if he always entered as a down-trodden or had he tried other scenarios. He said he tried many situations but his favorite was a bum. He was very well received when he came in wearing a suit - even catered to. He shook his head. "It's always fun to wear a suit into a shop for young people, especially because I am a young person," he said ... "same reaction as this store. The bottom line is people do not warm up to people who are not like them. It's pretty sad." We parted and I had to agree ... what's wrong with us anyway?
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Jeal·ous·y [jel-uh-see] noun, plural -ous·ies for 4. 1. jealous resentment against a rival, a person enjoying success or advantage, etc., or against another's success or advantage itself.
I just learned of a sibling's jealousy ... a brother questioned something he learned about one of my grandchildren ... it was an ugly accounting but the bottom line is ... he's jealous. Therefore, I will look the other way. There is no way I can make this better ... I just consider the source and move on. Like us all, he's on a journey and perhaps, one day, our journeys will mesh and I can share the joy of grandchildren when it isn't such a source of pain for him. It seems like the simplest way. Recently when I put gas into my car, I noticed a scruffy man put a few dollars worth of gas in his dilapidated vehicle. He glanced at me and I noticed his most incredibly blue eyes. They were soft and gently and yet troubled. We nodded at each other and I said, "Excuse me ... you have beautiful blue eyes." He looked away. I finished putting gas in my car and as I closed the gas door, I felt a presence, then a tap on my shoulder. It was the man with the blue eyes. He said, "Why did you say that to me?"
"Because you have beautiful eyes," I told him. He said, "No one ever told me that." "That's too bad." It wasn't long after when I was at a local store that a man approached me. He was rather bubbly and filled with smiles. "Hi, again," he said. My expression gave away my confusion. "It's me!" he said through a huge smile. His blue eyes gave him away. It was the man from the gas station. "I got a job! It's not a great job, but I'm working!" he announced. He continued to tell me that after our encounter this morning he decided he look for a job. At the first place he went he spoke to a manager who told him to go home and get cleaned up and to come back and see him. He did and the manager hired on the spot. Mr. Blue Eyes said, "You did that. You helped me get a job." I explained I didn't do anything special ... I just told the truth. He told me I gave him the confidence he needed to go out and get a job. He thanked me. I thanked him. We just smiled. Be nice. It wasn't long ago I invited a friend to lunch. Her response, "Wonderful, if nothing better comes along that'd be great." Really? Am I to understand she may not meet me for lunch if perhaps her hairdresser can squeeze her in? My response, "Well, when our friendship is a priority, you let me know." I haven't heard from her since. I'm not surprised.
What's the matter with people today? Are we so commitment-phobic that we can't even 'do lunch'? I remember a simpler time when lunch was simply lunch. Friends committed to meet somewhere, some day, at some time to simply enjoy each others' company. AND EVERYONE SHOWED UP!! Nothing better came along. I know of a woman who put on a spectacular party for no minimal amount of money, I'm sure, and sent out invitations to fifty people. Thirty of the fifty RSVP'd with a YES ... and only one showed up. One guest who had responded with a 'yes' told me later she had gone shopping with a friend. The worse part of that faux pas was that she KNEW SHE WAS LETTING HER FRIEND DOWN ... and it didn't seem to matter to her at all. What in the hell is that about??? Internet hoaxes are alive and well on Facebook! Recently a picture of a baby with cancer on his face found its way to my Facebook page and my research showed the growth is actually a strawberry birthmark - granted it's very large - but it's not cancer and Facebook won't give money to this child every time the photo is 'shared'!! Why do people insist on sharing this information without checking it out? When I privately messaged one of my friends about a recent post I found to be a hoax, I was told "Oh, I just passed it on, if someone wants to check it out they can." When I asked her if she didn't think it was the sender's responsibility to check the validity of a claim before they forward the message, she simply said, "No." The madness must stop! Are we that gullible? I hope not.
There are three sites I use to validate what I suspect are hoaxes and I will continue to pass on the information. Sadly, even some of the anti-hoax sites aren't always correct, so it appears there is a sucker born every minute ... even though the man who received credit for that statement is not the originator. Check out a hoax before you spread the word. I started this website/blog because people have been telling me for years to write, write, write. I decided there was no time like the present. I'm going to focus on some of the tricks I've learned along the way. One thing I will share right now is that I truly enjoy my life and all it's simplicity - not to say I never have any chaos, trauma, or pain - but it is my intention to share the joy, to write daily and to pay it forward ... I didn't come this smart you know!!
Who knows where this will go!! I hope you'll follow me on this new journey in print! Last year, in an effort to trick myself into exercising, my husband and I purchased a Wii. WiiSports came with it and we quickly mastered tennis, bowling, baseball, golf, and even boxing. Nothing beats boxing when I've had a rough day at work. After making a Mii resembling my boss, I simply select two players, then put his remote on the couch and beat the crap out of him. Brings a smile to my face.
Fifteen days ago, our WiiFit arrived and we immediately were hooked. The fact that Wii has made an appearance in nursing homes prompts me to realize no matter what your age, you'll love the Wii! As a woman, I find myself struggling to understanding "man space." My beloved husband has lots of "man spaces." I doubt he would agree with that, but as the woman of the house ... trust me, he has plenty of "man space."
I'll start with his chair. A cumbersome, over-sized, unattractive, slouch machine! Mr. LazyBoy knew of what he spoke. My husband's chair literally sucks the life right out of him on a daily basis. Now don't get me wrong, my husband isn't lazy, by any means, but once he has succeeded in whatever project he had planned, the infamous chair beckons. Surrounded by two small tables in a corner all his own, there are five, yes five, remotes. I have one -- a lovely programmable gadget that runs all our components and even lights up when you enter the room, drawing you to veg in front of the boob tube for a bit. Even if you had no intention of stopping to gaze at the tube, you feel obliged to pick it up and ... well, see what's on the tube. Some days I'm strong and just pass it by ... other days, well ... no. So, besides the numerous remotes, he has his basket which holds those items he may need. First, a cup ... it holds two nail clippers - one straight and one curvy, three pens - one doesn't work but it might later, a pencil, two permanent markers - one fat, one thin, a nursery marking pen for marking plastic or wood and is sun proof and water proof, of course. There is a ... well, I'd call it a toothbrush, but it isn't. So, I'm not sure I can tell you exactly what it is ... or isn't, but it's in the cup so I'm obligated to list it here. There's an emery board and a nail file, three stray AAA batteries and a small screwdriver. Next to the cup, there is an old votive holder filled with toothpicks and of course, paper for notes about things that are important for him to remember. He received some cashew heavy Poppycock for Christmas. It's on his table, too. On my table I have my remote and my laptop. OK, it's true ... I use his basket, too ... a toothpick, perhaps. An emery board. But, that's it. Really. More man space is in the garage. I have my laundry corner, but the rest is well, his. Now, I'm sure he'll tell you it's my fault our two and a half car garage is full to the top because anytime I don't want something in the house, I put it in the garage. And, he's right. That does happen. So I am willing to take some responsibility for the clutter in his garage man space. Oh, I have a refrigerator in there, too. I use it for those items I don't need in the kitchen refrigerator, like extra soymilk, organic juices and extra food when we have guests. But, his diet Sam's cola is in there, too! I couldn't possibly list the items in the garage, but we do manage to get both of our cars in there. His Dodge SRT-4 and my Prius. Thank goodness we don't have a full-size Lincoln! It wouldn't fit. Then there's his office space. We each have our own computer and computer desk space. Mine has a workable space, but I have more drawers. His space is ... well ... cluttered, filled with bits of paper with notes (I use my computer for notes), magazines (I give mine away when I'm finished), and piles and piles of important stuff. I'm not even sure what there is on his desk - I don't have to work there and he's happy with it. I leave it alone. Though once in a when I catch him straightening it, I grab a dust rag and slip in there. More man space is in the backyard. My lovely husband has created a tropical paradise in our backyard right here in southern Alabama. Tonight we expect a hard freeze so his project for today is to finish his greenhouse to protect those plants he can carry to it. I can hear the wind howl as I sit here - good thing he's almost finished. The backyard is his - overgrown, but organized. The front yard is mine - an unassuming hedge across the front of the house, a puddle of ivy around the post of our mailbox and the ever present azaleas. That's it. OK, so now that I've note all his man space, I realize I probably have more woman space, IF you count the rest of the house as mine. He has some items in the house, too, items I have incorporated into my theme, my plan. But, if the truth be known, his "man space" isn't all the much ... it's just so busy and cluttered it seems like more. He really needs more man space ... guess it's time to get a storage building for him to do what he likes ... fill it up.
Pets. Annoying, hairy, needy. Pets. Loving, forgiving, loyal.
I sit here with a dog at my feet and a cat at my side. They ask for nothing but to be near me. They don't even care if I don't want them there. They just are. Columbus, a Jack Russell/dachsund mix and Chalupa, an oversized Morris-type cat, breathing in unison, tolerating the presence of each other while letting me know they are loyal to me and my cold feet! They ask for nothing. Of course, when I take a moment to grace them with my touch, they not only want more, they demand it and interestingly enough when I stop providing this moment of loving, they get up and leave. I'm alone again. ----- Rescued from the pound they arePets who tolerate Comfortable with me now. |
Who Am I?
I am what I am ... nothing more, nothing less. It's not that I know more than anyone else ... it's just that I've lived longer than a good many and have experienced life. I am a people watcher, a listener. I don't judge ... we all have a journey ... thank you for allowing me to share my journey with you. Archives
June 2023
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