Sunthing Special

So there I was today, dumping my paper and cardboard in the recycle bin at the library when what do I see fall to the bottom of the bin? A pair of my favorite reading glasses! “How could I rescue them,” I asked myself in dismay. I thought, “What would McGyver do?” Then it hit me, “An umbrella!” And I actually even had one in my car! It took a while — and it actually wasn’t even the umbrella’s hook that work, but the pointed end which I used to drag the glasses up the side of the bin – but yay! I got them back — and in one piece!! (And in case you were wondering, no, this isn’t the first time I dropped something by mistake in a recycle bin. Last year I dropped my keys in the plastic bag recycle bin at Giant Eagle. A worker had to take the lid off and tip the entire bin over to help me get them out.)

Today I saw two women I knew, each with new babies. For both, it had been a couple years since they had taken care of a baby. One told me she had forgotten everything, the other said everything came right back to her. I relate more to the former. I’ve pretty much blocked out everything about taking care of little babies and if I had to take care of one, I would be totally clueless (bottles? burping? making sure the boy doesn’t pee on you when you change his diaper? crying? why is the baby crying? how can I get him to stop crying? is this normal?). Though I feel pretty clueless much of the time now anyhow even though my kids are older. It’s like being at a job that you’re not qualified for and having to fake competence. My kids are still young enough to think I have all the answers (you’ll often hear me say,”Wait 15 minutes and it should feel better” and “Drink some water and you’ll feel better”), which only makes it worse.

anticlimatic, at least for me. Like so many other holidays, I feel pressure. It’s the LAST WEEKEND OF SUMMER you hear over and over. If you don’t pack 72 hours of sun and fun into it you’re a big loser. It’ll probably snow the next day and boy will you be sorry you wasted those last three days of summer. Before the kids, my husband and I would sometimes go somewhere for the long weekend, but not now (unless the grocery store counts). Anyhow, I was hoping to at least go somewhere like Presque Isle on Labor Day. Our family hasn’t yet made our annual day trip there to have a pizza picnic, bike and then play on the beach for a while before heading the 2-1/2 hours home. Well this year, with the stupid tailbone I bruised two weeks ago still smarting, I knew I couldn’t ride five hours in a car or ride a bike, making a Presque Isle day trip out of the question. I can’t stand feeling limited by what I can do and where I can go. Oh no, I think I’m entering the “end of summer” funk …

I try to live and let live, but when it comes to certain bugs in our house, that doesn’t apply. Spiders, the kids or I will take outside. But ants and silverfish creep me out. If I see an ant crawling around on the furniture, those big black ones, I will constantly feel like one’s crawling on me for the rest of the day. And silverfish – I call them the prehistoric bugs because they remind me of fossils. I never saw any when I grew up in Cleveland, but they are here in Akron. Especially boxes which have been stored away for a while. Nothing like emptying an old box and seeing a bunch of those crawl out. Blech! Those things are fast, too. I take comfort in knowing that at least we don’t have those giant bugs like they have in warmer temperatures. Double, triple, no, quadruple yuk!!

May 1985: A former college roommate (left) and I

Okay, one more comment on something I read in the paper. There was an editorial about how back in the day, college roommates were assigned at random. And then you were pretty much stuck with that person, for better or worse, unless worse was like, life-threatening. But now, kids are using online roommate matching services through companies like Facebook and end up choosing someone just like themselves. Which takes away one of the life lessons of college: living in close quarters with someone totally different from you. And what you might learn about them, or yourself, in the process. For example, I was placed with five other girls in an apartment-turned-dorm. We were different as different could be. For example, one was an Army brat from Germany who shaved her legs with a dry razor on the living room couch. Another came from a teeny tiny farm community in southern Ohio where everyone knew everyone’s business. Another was an extremely religious senior who once indiscretely showered with her boyfriend in our tiny bathroom while my dad was visiting. Another girl, a perky blonde opposite to me in many ways, became like a sister to me. The bond didn’t last, however, and we drifted apart a couple years later and never spoke again. I could go on and on about all the girls in my room and on my floor and their eccentricities, but I think you get the point. It’s not easy to work things out with people so different, but isn’t that what life is about? Not everyone everywhere you go is going to be exactly like you, so isn’t the sooner you learn that lesson the better??

Again, from the newspaper a couple weeks ago. I read that the Taliban in Afganistan stoned to death a couple for committing adultery — a 20-year-old woman engaged to someone else and the 28-year-old man who left his wife for her. First, what a horrible horrible way to die, stoned to death in front of a crowd of about 150 men. Second, if all, or even a small portion of, the people in the U.S. who had committed adultery were stoned to death — could you imagine? Especially with statistics that well more than half of people have.