Irene

A Passing Shower On Long Island

The impending storm barely blipped on my radar earlier this week. I received an email from Examiner asking for articles relating to “Extreme Weather” in connection to Hurricane Irene. In recent years we have had so many tropical storms come our way that I don’t give them much notice. “Every family should always be prepared for an emergency,” I wrote in my column, “If you have all the staples in your house you won’t have to run out and buy batteries, bread, and water.”

On Thursday night, I had a list building up, and finally decided to take a trip to Wal-Mart. The bunny and dog needed to eat, and I recently noticed the family’s underwear was getting a little threadbare. My twelve-year-old tagged along, wanting to buy some new material for a project she wanted to sew.

Rolling around the store with a cart filled with socks and underwear, I felt amused looking at the things other people were buying. Stacks of water bottles. I made a mental note to start filling empty jugs with tap water.

“Sorry, ma’am, we’re all out of batteries. Flashlights too,” an employee explained to a customer. I wondered, why did people need all these batteries and why did they not have an emergency supply at home? How many people did not already have a flashlight at home?

I felt proud of myself as I checked out. I had none of the mundane supplies other people were buying. We had materials for a weekend project, our pets would be fed, and if we had an emergency we would not be caught with holes in our socks or underwear.

Friday I saw the Red Cross signs outside of our local high school and I started to get nervous. I went back to Wal-mart to buy tape for my windows. I noticed they had restocked their batteries.

On line with my three rolls of Duck brand strapping tape, I stayed quiet as a large, rough-looking man in front of me waved his arms and declared, “All this … for Irene…. BAH!” and he threw a small piece of rolled up paper into a side display. “After I check out I have to take care of the a—hole in the auto department. He told me he was all out of batteries and I said, ‘Show me where they used to be,’ and he pointed, and there they still were, and I said, ‘What do those look like, a—hole?’… I know a shyster when I see one and I knew he was a liar...A real con artist…You’re pretty quiet aren’t you?” [I nodded.] “You don’t let much bother you do you?” [I shook my head.] “Yeah I can tell about people.”

I looked away, hoping he would stop talking to me, and fortunately he was swiftly taken care of. I noticed a big supply of batteries behind the counter. He had told someone else he only had AAA and AA so I asked him for the largest package of AA. Not that I didn’t have them at home; it is the size we most frequently need. I scanned the display for flashlights. I didn’t see any and didn’t ask. I knew of at least one working flashlight in the kitchen drawer.

As I walked out, I passed the man at the courtesy counter, complaining about the a—hole in automotive.

When I got home, there was a message from the Town of Brookhaven. “This storm will be a historic one of epic proportions,” it said, and listed all the important things to do. [Note the current advise is NOT to tape the windows, but my dad was a builder and he still says tape them, so I do.]

The kids asked me why I was taping up the windows. I remembered asking my parents the same thing before Hurricane Gloria in 1985. I remembered their answer. “It keeps the glass from shattering if it breaks,” I answered.

“It’s not even going to be a big storm,” my eldest said.

“You have never seen a real hurricane honey, you are in for an experience,“ I said.

“Didn’t you write in your column you were supposed to tell your kids not to be scared?” she challenged.

“That is true. But I also want you not to be blasé about it and help me to prepare,” I answered.

We walked around the yard, picking up toys, furniture, flower pots, garbage pails, and other loose items. We secured them all in the shed and garage. After swimming, we secured all the pool stuff in the pool storage unit.

I went food shopping, not because of the storm, but because we were out of food. I planned on having the electricity go out on Sunday. So I bought enough perishables to last through Saturday night and got lots of bread, nuts, fruit, vegetables, and cereal. I remembered my need for coffee and picked up some instant coffee. Three gallons of milk and six cans of evaporated milk.

A man behind me had a shopping cart filled with beer and iced tea. A Hurricane Party?, I wondered. The lady in front of me had a cart filled with junk food. People don’t even buy healthy food when they’re not in a hurry, I thought.

Saturday brought a little rain and kept my husband home. “I’m going for a swim,” he said. We pulled out a couple of pairs of goggles and all did our laps. I showered, my last shower for the week, I thought. I made dinner, my last fully home-cooked meal for the week, I thought. I filled the washer machine with water for flushing toilets and washing hands in case the water stopped pumping.

Then we waited. The kids wanted to stay up for the storm. We told them they would miss it if they slept too late. We stayed up and watched the coverage.

I didn’t sleep well. There is a very tall pine tree behind my bedroom, and I was worried it would crash through the roof and land on me while I was sleeping. I kept waking up, and turning on the television to make sure we still had electricity and satellite service. At 3:00 a.m. there were young men walking around in the streets of the evacuated town of Long Beach with a blown-up dolphin. At 4:00 a.m. there were people swimming at Long Beach. At 5:00 a.m. the eye was coming into the tri-state area. At 8:00 a.m. it passed over New York City. It was downgraded to a tropical storm.

At 10:00 a.m. the phone rang. My little brother had called to check up on me. “We’re fine,” I answered groggily, “We were sleeping.” I went back to bed, and when I woke up at 11 the storm was over.

The kids woke up and looked out the windows.

“We told you it would just be a little rain,” my daughter said.

“You did say that,” I responded.

“And you said it would be a big storm,” she prodded.

“None of us is the expert. You made a lucky guess,” I said.

I was thankful we were okay and that everyone we knew was okay, but I couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed. I had kind of wanted my kids to experience a real storm – but safely. One of these days there really will be a direct hurricane hit here, and nobody will believe it.

Upon further inspection, I discovered my gutters had come a little lose in three spots. That will require some tacking down. Maybe we did have enough of a storm after all.

My daughter and I made a pillow together – so the weekend wasn’t a total loss. I drove to the library to return a movie. The traffic lights were out. I passed three uprooted trees.

On the radio, a meteorologist stated that this year several hurricanes will follow the same path. The next one is due in 15 days. “Consider this last one a dress rehearsal for the direct hit of a real hurricane,” said another of my favorite meteorologists.

I have a full stock of batteries and water, a roll of strapping tape, and five loaves of bread. Maybe I should leave the flowers in the garage.

Where’s the water? It’s in the fax machine.

Gondolas in Venice

“We’re going to vote,” I told my three-year-old as we walked out the door.

We drove the mile to the nearest school and parked.

“Where’s the water?” she asked me.

“I don’t have any water,” I said.

“But where’s the water? There’s no boat.”

“No, not boat. VOTE. You’ll see.”

We went in and voted.

Next stop was Staples, a long overdue trip.

Last summer, while dusting some shelves, I knocked a small water globe onto our fax machine. This is one of the necessary pieces of office equipment for my husband’s process serving business.

While the perfumy smell of the water fill the room, I tried to rescue the machine from the ravages of the water and broken glass.

It was still able to send, but not receive or copy.

Due to a combination of my dislike of shopping and not wanting to spend the money on a new machine, we have gone for months receiving PDF files from clients via email in lieu of faxes. The problem with this is that my husband does not know how to use the computer. So every time he needs to retrieve a file, I need to be home, download the file, and print it out. Sometimes clients use a program that is incompatible with my computer, causing more frustration.

We also have a weird combination of programs that work on one computer and not another, and printer problems, which result in my having to email files from one computer to another in order to print out a simple document.

The other problem with faxing, which was present before the actual machine broke, was that I had to be home in order to manually switch the line to receive a fax.

All my problems related to faxing were solved today!

I found a display unit on clearance, as well as a machine that automatically switches to receive a fax, without requiring a second line.

Ah, freedom! Freedom from having to retrieve documents online, freedom from having to pick up business calls during the day, freedom from picking up the phone to hear the annoying BEEP BEEP BEEP of a fax machine.

It is so amazing what a simple piece of technology can do to change your life.

Bathing Suit Shopping!

Showing more than nice girls oughter, 1930

Bathing suit shopping gave me enough incentive to get up early and do some really heavy duty yardwork. I don’t know why I still look in the store mirror and picture myself in the same suit ten years ago. Actually, I prefer myself with my more womanly figure than how I looked when I was much thinner. I am strong and healthy. I don’t want to look like a kid.

It took several tries, but I finally found one that I felt flattered me. My daughters gave the okay, which clinched the deal. Later, my husband would also approve, so I think my choice was a good one.

Shopping with two pre-teens is a real scream. They each took a dozen different style suits (all pre-approved by me) in a few sizes each. I first directed them to the Speedo rack, where all suits were one-piece racers. Then I allowed them to try a select few styles that were two-piece but with one-piece coverage.

One of the store employees saw my girls loading up their arms with suits and asked them if they were going to try them on. I said “yes” for them, and she said, “You’re only allowed to try on five items at a time.” I said, “We are very courteous about putting things away.” She restated herself, “Okay, just remember only five items.”

The fitting rooms were not supervised, so I allowed them to take all their suits in. To make up for our disobedience, I cleaned up the mess that others had left behind. I really cannot believe the inconsideration of women who throw their clothes on the floor, sometimes inside-out. I restored dozens of items to their proper hangers and placed them on the rack outside the door. When the doors closed at 9:00, I hope the employees were happy to find at least one fitting room that was in decent order.

Memorial Day was a beautiful one. After a bike ride and all the yard work, my husband and I took off and cleaned off the pool cover and got the pool pump running. In the meantime, the kids were all happy as ducks in their kiddie pool. Once all the work was done, I put on my new suit and soaked in the sun.

After dinner, we did some more shopping. My daughter made out like a bandit for her birthday and decided to spend it all on new softball gear. I was pleased at this decision. (“For where your treasure is, there is your heart also,” it says in Matthew.) Twelve’s little ten-year-old sister tagged along to help with the decision-making.

Once we got home, everything was taken out and labeled with a Sharpie. We’re a little late getting to bed on a school night. After several days off, it almost feels like they should be home for the summer now.

Happy Memorial Day!

The BOGO Dilemma

I went to Payless Shoe Source today to get my toddler a pair of black dress shoes for the winter. She was really excited when I walked her into the toddler section and she realized the shoes were for her. Actually, every time I go shoe shopping she is usually one of the recipients, as the shoes have invariably been worn out by the first two girls. Either that, or I have saved them so long that I no longer can locate them.

Whenever there is a “buy one get one free” offer I intend to take advantage of, I always search for two of the same exact price so I can get the full value of the deal. (With meats, I am willing to risk frostbite so I can find a package with the same exact poundage.)

After finding exactly what I was looking for, a size 8 black leather “Mary Jane” type of shoe for $12.99, I started looking for another shoe of the exact same price. For some reason, the same style shoe in the next size up was marked $14.99, so I looked in the women’s department. There was nothing I could use in that price range. So I went back and agonized over the choice.

There was another size 9 shoe for $12.99, but it was not real leather and not as nice a style as the first shoe. Finally, I decided I liked the first pair enough that I would like to have them in the next size, even if there was a $2.00 difference between the two. I brought up my twin pairs in sizes 8 and 9.

Oh, no. The customer in front of me was returning a pair of shoes and started an argument with the store manager. Apparently she had used the BOGO deal on her purchase and did not understand why she was not getting the full value of the shoe back. This went on for a full ten minutes. Now I started looking at my watch nervously, because I had to get to a cross country meet.

My toddler had been good long enough, and wanted to “go go” and “walk”. I struggled with her as she tried to get down. Seeing no one else ready to get in line, I took her to sit on a chair. She flopped off it and sat on the floor.

Now a pregnant-looking woman was headed toward the line. I scooped up my little one and high-tailed it over there. “Excuse me, I’m sorry, but I’ve been waiting for a while and had to chase her over there. She’s at the end of her rope.” She gave me an understanding look and waved me ahead.

The manager ended the argument by giving in. “Look, I just want you to understand that it’s not right, because you’ve gotten three pairs of shoes at half price and that’s not the way it’s supposed to work, but I don’t want to lose customers so I’m going to give it to you this time.”

By this time, the baby was shrieking, “Down! Down!”

Whenever I see a customer being difficult with a cashier, I try to go out of my way to be extra nice to the employee. There is much to be said about civility, and a kind word or sympathetic look can go a long way to make up for the irritations that may be building up throughout their shift.

I arrived at the counter, apologizing, “I am so sorry, she has lost her patience,” knowing full well that the manager was on the edge of losing hers as well. She probably identified with my toddler, wishing she could throw a tantrum.

“That’s okay, I have kids too,” she said.

I saw the lesser pair of shoes ring up at $7.50 and quietly asked, “Excuse me, but was that shoe not $12.99?”

“Actually, they were mismarked. The price has gone up to $14.99,” she replied.

“Oh,” I said, hardly caring anymore.

Then she did a quick recalculation and rang up a new number. “I’m going to ring in both shoes at $12.99,” she said, and I got the second pair for $6.50.

So I got my full value of the deal plus a few dollars off, just by being nice. The other lady got what she wanted as well, but only by leaving bad feelings all over the place.

*By the way, be careful of breast cancer awareness bracelets, which are sold at Payless at well as many other distributors. Carefully research the company before contributing; many times much of the funding goes towards “women’s reproductive health”, which includes abortion.

My Next New Pair of Jeans…

...Will not be made by Levi’s.

I am not a fashionista. My favorite garb is a pair of jeans and a sweater or t-shirt, depending on the season. I was never loyal to brands either, until I met my husband.

Kevin is a no-nonsense, low maintenance, jeans-and-t-shirt kind of guy. In his profession he is able to wear his favorite jeans and sneakers all day long. This is one of the things he enjoys about being self-employed.

For some reason, he has always worn Levi’s jeans. It took a while for me to understand this. But after buying him a few different brands, I realized that Levi’s wore better than the other brands, and I never had to question whether or not a specific line would fit right. I started wearing them, and now that is all I have in my jeans drawer. Six pairs of jeans, in black and various shades of blue, all Levi’s.

I was in for a shock, therefore, when I read this month’s issue of Life News. It announced, “Life Decisions International (540-631-0390) has released its latest edition of “The Boycott List” (dated December 2007). Since publishing its prior list, Sears has been dropped from this list of companies funding Planned Parenthood Federation. A new edition to “The Boycott List” is Midas (mufflers). You can express your displeasure to Midas CEO Alan Feldman, 1300 Arlington Heights Rd., Itasca IL 60143. Whole Foods Market, Nike, Levi Strauss, and Clif Bar are among the corporations still on the list as contributors to Planned Parenthood.”

I have also been enamored of the Nike brand, since I started shopping at a local Nike outlet when I outfitted my children for their first season of track-and-field. No more Nike for us.

If you see us wearing these brands, it is because I simply cannot afford to replace all of our jeans and sneakers. However, I will not be buying these brands until these companies stop contributing to Planned Parenthood.

Half-Pint Valentine

I was up and out early this morning to catch up on my errands. It had been so cold and wet earlier this week that I had put off all my shopping until the sun was more promising.

As I opened up my jewelry box, my toddler said, “shee-shee”, and I knew was her attempt at saying, “Jesus”. My everyday-wear necklace is a crucifix on a strong gold chain, one that can withstand a little one’s loving tugs. Whenever she pulls on my cross, I say, “That’s Jesus”.

Her saying Jesus was a beautiful way to start the day!

We went to an electronics store for an item my husband and I had discussed earlier.

“Scary things,” he said, as the salesman almost tripped over the stroller.

“They call them kids, right?” he joked.

I told the young man that my purchase was to be a Valentine’s Day gift from me and my husband to each other.

Totally serious now, he confided that he and his wife had been married two years, and eventually they would get around to having a baby.

He was having some trouble finding the item. In the meantime, the baby was surprisingly patient. He kept making eyes at her. “She’s really cute,” he must have said a few times.

Did this twenty-minute transaction inspire this young man to discuss entering the world of parenthood with his wife on this St. Valentine’s Day?

I hope so.

This is the kind of everyday interaction that can touch individuals one-by-one and help to recultivate a Culture of Life in America.

Happy St. Valentine’s Day!

I got this nice e-mail in my inbox. It goes with the picture above...

'For God so loVed the world,
That He gAve
His onLy
BegottEn
SoN
That whosoever
Believeth In Him
Should Not perish,
But have Everlasting life.'
John 3:16

Portraits of a Turkey

Much of New York is shopping today, on “Black Friday”, the commercial kick-off to the Christmas season. The malls were open at 4 A.M. this morning for those who wanted to get an early start. I suspect many of my readers, like me, avoided the sale craze in favor of a warm, cozy day indoors with the children, baking, crafting, or playing games.

The children made me these beautiful turkey pictures for Thanksgiving yesterday. The eldest made the most flamboyant, resembling a peacock as much as it does a turkey. My son also made a colorful one, with a serious look much like his own. My eight-year-old dreamer was aiming for a realistic-looking turkey.

I woke up to her shrieking while they were in the middle of making their surprise cards Thanksgiving morning. She ran to her room and would not tell me what had upset her. I peeked in the garbage and saw a crumpled-up paper with the cutest little turkey head, and a body that had obviously disappointed her. She would not cheer up until she had gotten it right. I think she did a mighty fine job.

I find it amazing how much of one’s self can be found in a portrait of an animal. Posture, pose, and the look of the eye and mouth are likely to be reflected in any picture created by a child. When the children are in school next week, I can look at these turkeys and feel the presence of each of my little ones.

“God looked at everything He had made, and He found it very good.”
Genesis 1:31a

Back to School Shopping

Yesterday morning the newspaper had an article about all the last minute shoppers. Good thing I had thought ahead, I thought smugly! I had all my supplies early – really I did. Yet I am drafting this blog in my trustee memo pad with a felt pen, whilst standing on a line after 9 PM the night before school starts.

Just this weekend I had told the cashier at the food store that I was thankful my kids wore uniforms and I was spared a big clothes shopping trip. “Just new shoes I guess?” she assumed. Uh oh. I hadn’t thought of that. I pushed it to the back of my mind.

After a day at the beach, I asked the kids to try on their uniforms. My eldest found her shoes under the bed and started coloring in the scuff marks with a black permanent marker. I had a flashback to a scene from the movie “Bridge to Terabithia”. She needed new shoes, and it was too late to take them all out. I waited until my husband got home, saw that they were tucked in bed at 8 PM, and took off for the store.

So here I am, just like everyone else. While in the store I realized that my son required a belt for first grade. I see young children in the store, rubbing their eyes. Shouldn’t they be home in bed? But I shouldn’t judge. Who knows why, like me, they were called out at the last minute, and had no one to leave the kids with. The loudspeaker is announcing the time is 9:15 and the store closes in 45 minutes. Hopefully I’ll be checked out by then (sigh).