Friday, December 30, 2011

And It's the Weekend Again!

Do I have the greatest job or what? Work two days, get a looooong weekend, rinse, repeat. I had one whole customer yesterday, one paying customer, that is. I did have one of those guys who comes in, asks a blue-million questions about all sorts of dive-y and snorkel-ish things and then doesn't buy any of it after taking up at least 45 minutes of my time. I actually enjoy educating people about things, equipment, and assorted science-y stuff, but it really sours the experience when they thank me and walk out empty handed. *sigh* I feel so used. On Wednesday a customer came in (well, not really a customer since I don't think he's ever bought anything) who has been coming in since before I started working there in 1993. His name is Ray and he's famous with the old time staff as the guy who signed up for dive class and on the first night in the pool when the instructor said, "jump in and swim 8 lengths" he jumped in, went straight to the bottom of the deep end and just stood there. Someone dove in and hauled him up. When they asked him if he could swim, he said no, and when they asked why he'd jumped in, he said "well, you told me to." He has spent the intervening years trying (unsuccessfully) to learn to swim, and pulling his own teeth so he could fit into dentures. Guess he had some lying around the farm and didn't want them to go to waste. Eesh. This year he had on a Harley jacket and boots, pleather pants, and a blue-plaid earflap hat with the flaps tied up. He was a vision. The customer in the store at the time (a guy) was struck dumb at the sight of him. I'll have to remember to tell ETO and JJ that Ray came in for his annual visit. I love my job.

I'm planning to make Black-Eyed Peas Gumbo (which I realize has no okra in it; I'll put it in because it isn't gumbo without okra) with some bacon and cabbage in it for us to eat on New Year's Eve. I've been reading about traditional ways to usher in the new year. We don't need any more bad news in 2012 so I'm going to cobble together a few random traditions to see if I can't fend off any bad juju that has its sights on the Malcolm clan for next year. So it's going to be black-eyed peas and cabbage for money, the laundry's getting done today, I'll sweep both porches tomorrow to keep old dirt from tracking in, and I'll take down the decorations and put them away to start the year fresh. There's no way I have time to clean the house from top to bottom or finish all my projects by midnight the 31st, but I'll clean the bathroom and tidy up, that should help. And if I'm awake at midnight I'll open the front door and back door to let the old/bad year out the back and the new/good year in the front, which is a Scots tradition I read. Thanks to Crazy Aunt Purl and her readers for all of the info about traditional and not-so-traditional ways to usher in the new year.

December 29--Maurice Brazil Prendergast, The Huntington Avenue Streetcar. The pink was so pale that it nearly looked white. Nita smoothed her skirt and looked at the other passengers. She had the feeling of eyes on her, of the heat of a glance, but when she looked up on one's eyes met hers. She wasn't about to turn and crane her neck to see if the looker was behind her. That was too forward. She knew her manners. She sat with her knees together, feet planted flat on the floor. Her hands were in her lap holding her bag, they were relaxed, and her eyes looked out at the passing street. She wasn't a flirt, no she was not, but she wasn't naive either. She knew that the pale pink, the almost white of her dress made her skin glow. Her dark brown eyes sparkled in the afternoon light and there was one unruly tendril of hair that escaped her careful pins and danced like an imp in the breeze from the open window. It was nearly her stop. Maybe, just maybe a pair of friendly eyes would meet hers when she stood to make her way to the door.

Probably not, sweetie pie, I'm imagining a stalker, one dressed in a business suit with a sedate tie, who will dog her footsteps until she is his and no one elses. Ah, innocence. Gotta go flop the laundry around.

No comments: