Sunshine, Baby!

Have I been sounding gloomy?  I’ve been feeling the load.  I can tell because today is a major contrast!  The sun is out, and I am too.  I did three errands today, and they were all significant. 

The first errand arose from the finished turtle.  My sister (who hired me) panicked when I sent the photographs of His Perfectness, and told me to “stop knitting!” even though the little guys are crocheted.  She didn’t feel comfortable authorizing the project without holding the turtle in her hand, so I packed him up in shiny leftover Christmas paper and a sturdy box, and sent him off for review.  He is going to a much colder place and I’m not sure that’s good for turtles.  Perhaps when you say grace at your next meal you could include intentions for his safe passage.  It never hurts.

I took His Perfectness to the teeny little post office in my suburban town, a trip requiring all of 30 steps from my car to the counter.  They know me there ’cause I send all my Etsy orders from there (listen at me talkin’ like I’m just selling stuff left and right!), but they still ask if my packages contain anything flammable, poisonous, radioactive or messy.  Maybe I just have that kind of face.  My sister tried to get me to package my creature in an envelope (aaaagh! and smash his little bead feet?) and send him more cheaply, but I sprang for the $4.60 Priority Mail.  After all, I’m charging her for this little trip.  The upshot of this is that I had to stop crocheting the cute little guys and I’m still waiting for the final verdict.  Pooey.

Second errand was to VOTE!  Tennessee has it’s primary next week on Super Tuesday, but early voting is open until tomorrow.  I travelled to a community center in town where there was no waiting (yikes! is that good or bad?) and sailed in and presented my ID.  I remembered that my voter registration is in my maiden name, the same name I practiced in for years and the one that’s on my driver’s license.  It’s embarrassing when you tell them to look for you under the wrong name, and they continue to watch you suspiciously even after you correct a slip like that.  I’m afraid that one day I’ll go to vote and the election commission volunteer (always a stern older woman who scares the poop out of me) will say “honey if you don’t know your own name I can’t let you vote.”  I took my ballot to the second farthest table, as if the place was packed and someone would be looking over my shoulder.  I filled in the one oval and shuffled over to the counting machine in time to get stuck behind a woman with issues. 

THIS ALWAYS HAPPENS TO ME!  If there is one person in a line with issues (“my change is wrong”, “I forgot to get bread,” “the waiter was rude and I want to make a two-hour complaint”, or the ever-popular “I’m stupid and I’m on my cell phone”) I am always behind them.  Always.  I have perfected the bland, don’t-look-at-me-I-don’t-have-an-opinion face, and I put it on even when I’m thinking “if you say one more word I will slap you into next week”. 

The woman in front of me had voted and put her form in the machine, then claimed that the counter on the machine didn’t advance when her form went in.  She was irate.  She told us how important voting was to her.  She appealed to the volunteer in charge of guarding the box, who called over another volunteer from the check-in table.  Between them, they were one foreboding front of no-nonsense black woman.  They beckoned to me.  “Put your form in here.”  I hastened to obey.  The offended woman and both volunteers had their eyes on my previously secret vote as it slid into the machine.  We all looked at the counter.  It advanced by one digit.  “See, it’s working now,” said one volunteer.  “I am not touching this machine,” said the other.  They eyed the woman until she stopped complaining and left.  I smiled brightly as she stalked to her car.  I had done my duty for _______.  Hmmm.  Who do you think I voted for?

I evaluated my progress and decided that since I didn’t faint from fatigue on the second errand I could probably complete one more.  I had big motivation, since I thought Fresh Market had blueberries for 98 cents.  I hadn’t made a pie in more than a month, and my poor lupus-injured brain needs all the anthocyanins it can get.  Proof of that abounded when I arrived at Fresh Market and found that I had missed the 6 in front of the .98.  I shelled out the $6.98 for a pint of blueberries, and added a pack of frozen cherries and a couple of pre-formed pie crusts.  By the time I arrived home, I still had enough energy to put together a decent pie and get it in the oven.  Granted the ingredients were only fruit, brown sugar, cinnamon and corn starch, but I felt like Betty Crocker when I finished.

My evening will be knitting and a good read.  This has been a totally awesome, getting better, still functioning, lupus-can-kiss-my-big-ol’-ass day!

Peace.

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3 Responses

  1. oh please, we all know you are a Huckabee fan. 🙂

  2. Essie, the turtles are cute. You are so creative. I love the baby sweaters and Dayna’s blanket is just beautiful. On a different note, $6.98 for blueberries…! I buy blueberries for Bryce but they are only $3.99 in Texas.

  3. Tim whoever you are YOU BEAT ME TO IT! Of course, I don’t have regular internet access – However, I’m sure Essie is all for rolling back the country at least 100 years. & have you noticed our county commission chairnotwoman is supporting Huckabee! and our Sheriff-who-has-not-resigned stated his support for Edwards!

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