I really don’t like to think I’m naïve. And I’ve found it rather hard to believe, the mistakes I’ve made, these last few days. More than one, in several different ways.
I misspelled a few words, wrote them down. They were printed and read, by some in our town.
Made a run to the grocery, on a shopping spree
Bought the wrong things, oh woe is me.
Ordered country club food, delicious to eat
Yours truly, enjoyed a grand treat.
But paid a bunch, I have to tell y’all
No hearing aids in, ordered for seven in all.
Highlight of the week, our church would be on line
To sit and watch this, would be so fine.
In front of Bessie Maude, I hit the wrong key
A boys’ basketball game was in front of me.
The weekend looming, I was hard at work on a piece for the Sun. Trying to get an article in for the coming week, I’d stayed up most the night and in the wee hours of the morning, began sipping coffee. (half decaff--but still it wired me).
Come sunup, and a little before seven, it was time to walk the Roo Roo, then feed her and Mr. Petey Poo. Back home, dog trek and feedings done, a little more time with pen and pencil in lap, I once again sipped on java bean juice. Then, a short time later, over and done punched in a composition about March 17th, St. Patrick’s Day, to the Northside Sun.
A few days passed, then the paper was out, and your humble correspondent was so very pleased to see they’d run my piece.
Well, re-reading it in bold print, I discovered I’d had found more than one way to spell St. Paddy’s. (Or, is it St. Patty’s? And should all the lines in a song be in italics except one?)
Oh well, I reminded myself, it’s not the end of the world. I’ve made spelling and punctuation errors and misnamed a few folks in the past. And I must say, this newspaper has been so very gracious and supportive of me, in so many ways. It’s hard to believe, but the Sun has printed yours truly’s, sometimes imperfect articles, for almost 40 years.
In the beginning of this, these troubled times, with what was going on in the world, I had made a quick, intense run to the grocery store before my kids could follow through on their threat, “Behave. Stay Home, or we’ll pack you up and send you off to the country.”
“No, no, no. I’ll be good,” they were strongly assured.
On that grocery run, I bought lots of frozen meals (low cal-mostly.)
Congratulating myself for minding, and not overeating, I pulled a 390 calorie meatloaf, macaroni and cheese from the freezer for an evening meal, then punched on the telly for entertainment. A very intense video, telling you things not to do, came on with tips to follow. (Some of which I later learned are not correct.)
“The worst thing you could have in the house is prepackaged frozen food. The virus stays on it longer than anything else.”
What else can go wrong? I wondered. (Don’t ever ask yourself that question. You could be opening up a box of virus-encrusted worms.)
The next day, when I checked my emails, I felt so blessed. Food could be ordered from the country club. How convenient! I live out here. So, I got on the phone and after the frozen food debacle, placed an order with the country club.
Late that afternoon, when I went to pick it up, I was astounded at what I was taking home. Packed in four aluminum boxes, about 12 x 16 was my order: Caesar salad, baked chicken, rolls, bread chips, salad dressing, half a lemon icebox pie, and three cartons of whipping cream.
“Oh my,” I breathed. “How blessed I am.” They are being extra-special nice to me, I thought.
Then, I saw my ticket.
Not having my hearing aids in when I talked on the phone, I had ordered, not for one person, but for a family of seven.
But, this was Saturday, surely this week of wrong-doing was almost over.
The highlight for me, one I had looked forward to for several days, would be our Sunday morning church service on the computer. Dressed in my Sunday-go-to-meeting clothes, I watched the time carefully, settled in with coffee, and a piece of lemon ice box pie, then clicked on my computer, Bessie Maude II.
Jumpin’ Jephoshaphat! I wasn’t blessed with a Northminster Church service. The rerun of a high-school boys’ basketball game had opened up. From Waco, Texas. All I could think of to do was eat more chicken and rolls, and another piece of lemon icebox pie.
So much in the world, is now an unknown.
With the corona-virus pandemic, now going on.
It all came up fast, happened so quick
And many now, are dangerously sick.
God’s in his heaven, to him we’ll pray
To give us strength, for each and every day.
You share a smile, a spirit you may lift
To a person who may be, in need of that gift.
For some of us, if you’re lonesome and blue
There are times when a damp, dog lick will do.
Now, I’m not done in, over most of this,
But I must own up-Despondent does fit.
