Looking out my window...

Prissy: Lawzy, we got to have a doctor. I don't know nothin' 'bout birthin' babies.

  Baby Robin on Fence

After losing my managerial position at the hospital, I finally found a place to work downtown. The Office Manager interviewed me. I liked her immediately. A kinship was formed. A few months after being hired I told her that I thought we had to be sisters separated at birth. She agreed. We laughed.

I'm caucasian and she is african-american. So what. We were both women of a certain age and working.  We had a wonderful time working with each other, her being my "boss" wasn't a problem for us. We laughed at the same things, remembered the same things. We could finish each other's sentences. It was one of my most delightful working experiences. No, it was one of my most delightful experiences, period. Someone could say something in front of us and we'd just look at each other and "knew." We were, however, professionals, so most of the time we wouldn't laugh, out loud.

Then I got laid off. This was the second time within a few years. And I know why (I was older. made more money than others and the zinger was I had been diagnosed with cancer a few months earlier.) I could have sued. I didn't. My family isn't of that nature.

It took me six months before I found another job. Which, by the way, turned into my favorite two years of working my whole life. While in training by my predecessor, who was perhaps 20 years old, I became so confused I could hardly stand it. She was talking a mile a minute, and my "old but wise" brain was having difficulty following her. I could take all the blame, but sadly her communication skills were nil, so it was like trying to translate what she was saying into something I could understand.

Any how, forgetting where I was, all of a sudden I said quite animatedly "Lawdy, Lawdy Miss Scarlet! I don't know nothing about birthing no babies!" Please note the title of this blog is the actual and correct quote, but oh well, close enough.

She stopped and looked at me as if I had lost my mind. Oh, dear, I thought. The pause was pregnant. The pause was pregnant for what seemed like 9 months. So, I said: Oh, I was quoting from a movie. Have you heard it before? She said: no. I said: You know, "Gone With The Wind?" She said: no.

Where or where was my sister separated at birth when I needed her most?

A day later we were having lunch with two other gals when I asked her: So, what was it that made him decide to hire me? She said: Well, he asked me who did I think should he hire, and I said I think the older woman was interesting. And he said: Oh, the one who wrote about the forest and trees!

So, that's how I got the job. From one description of my abilities that said; I am able to see the forest and the trees.

I asked her, do you know what the phrase "Can't see the forest for the trees" means? I'll let you guess what her answer was.

Any way, what brought the Gone With The Wind quote to mind is the excerpt of article below, which I found on Roger Ebert's twitter.

Beep-beep-m beep-beep, yeah
By Jim Emerson on June 2, 2010 9:27 PM

Over Memorial Day weekend I attended a high school graduation in Albuquerque. One of the graduating senior boys gave a speech using car parts as a metaphor for the components of a personality or identity. It was a clever speech he'd co-written with a friend, delivered with wry humor. Afterwards, the head of the school -- a man I'd estimate was in his 60s -- took the stage and thanked the student, quipping: "Baby, you can drive my car anytime."

Thud. Thunderous silence mixed with scattered, bewildered titters.

The next night at a graduation party, the kid who'd given the speech was standing around with a few friends and the uncomfortable subject came up.

"What was that?" he said. "'Baby, you can drive my car?!?'"

"It was creepy," said one of the girls.

I piped in: "It was creepy -- because it was totally inappropriate and made no sense. Unless he was trying to seduce you. He was just making a Beatles reference."

"Oh!" exclaimed a couple of students.

"I didn't even think of that," said the boy. "But still, it was creepy."

It was probably even creepier for those of us who did recognize what the old guy was lamely attempting to invoke. These kids were 16 and 17, so naturally I felt a little... old having to mention what I'd thought was obvious, if still undeniably awkward. Then again, one of them had earlier quoted Taylor Swift (sarcastically) and I didn't get that, either.

Doors, Open and Closed

Lately I’ve had some problems with our dog, Copper.  I know, I know…I just blogged about how near and dear he is to us.  He still is.

One of his recently (within the past year) acquired quirks is that he likes to “make” our bed.  He has always liked to sleep on the bed during the day, which is okay. But  his “making” our bed is not.

Now we are not the best bed makers by any standards.  But, his standards are definitely “dog standards.”  This means three things in particular:

1.  Make a “nest” out of the comforter, quilt and top sheet.
2.  Pull the “nest” off the end of the bed onto the floor as much as possible.
3.  Find a spot on the bottom sheet to lick obsessively until caught.

To help remedy this habit, I’ve taken to shutting doors.  There are three doors that are usually shut anyway: the front door, the laundry room door and the inside garage door. Oh, and our bedroom closet door.  Until lately Copper had  free roaming range of our bedroom.  But, now that door is closed so he can’t “make” our bed.

Of course, one of the consequences of closing doors is that my world gets smaller and smaller. If he develops another behavior quirk I may have to close the office door. The office is where you will generally find me, since that is where my computer is.  And, if he is on the inside of the office when its door is closed, then he will be with me. Which is okay by me and, I think, him.  But, if he then develops another quirk, my only recourse is for me to go into the office closet and close the door.

Probably not a good idea as I’ve heard when you’re in the closet with the door shut, it’s very difficult to come out. Or, is it the other way ’round: once out, you can’t go back in.

I never thought being a dog owner would be this difficult.

A Dog And His Toys

 Copper on Patio November 2009
  
Copper's "Toy Box" 2010 

Have I mentioned our dog Copper? Well, here he is again. A sweet cock-a-poo who will be seven this year.

We were collectors of all things old and/or primitive. The red coal bucket you see was immediately put into service as Copper's Toy "Box" when he first arrived. The toys have multiplied since, much like rabbits.

Now Copper is not a brave dog. And he has his quirks. But we love him and he is loyal to a fault.

His lack of courage was noticed in many ways as he grew up and older. If something he wanted rolled behind a door or under a chair, he was not, no how, no way, going to put his nose into what must have been a very scary dark place. We would eventually have to get it for him.

Similarly, if he thought there was danger outside he'd bark until we'd go check it out, and he would follow us. He is never on "point" in that situation.

He was also afraid to get his toys out of the bucket. We would take out a toy for him for play time. That has been the case until this past year.

Don't have a clue what happened, but one day he actually, very slowly, poked his nose into the bucket and retrieved a toy! The Chief and I were amazed. I don't think we'll ever know what changed his mind.

But, the really neat thing is, now that he has found his courage, he realizes he has a choice. A choice of toys. He will poke his nose in, move some of the toys around until he finds the one that he wants.

Most of the his toys have a name:  ball, baby, shoe, lufa and so on.  Sometimes we'll say to him "Copper, where's lufa?" And he goes to the bucket, moves stuff around and comes out with lufa. "What a good boy."

Now all we have to do is teach him to put them all away!