Wednesday, September 21, 2016

Middle-Age Discovery ...

I am rarely ill. Pollen seems to be messing with my sinuses this season but – knock wood – I haven't had the flu in years and I rarely catch a cold. I use hand sanitizer regularly and yes, I use those pop-up wipes on the handles of grocery carts.

Every so often, though, I end up with a cold. Which happened sometime in the past year or so, and so my mom popped by with some orange juice, which sounded like a very good idea.

And ever since, I've been buying orange juice, to have a small glass each morning, along with my water and coffee.

It just makes sense, then, that when it's on sale, that I buy a back-up carton. The date is usually well into the future. I've never noticed how long it takes me to go through a carton but orange juice doesn't linger for long in my fridge.

The other day, at the store, I bought two cartons, as I was almost through the current carton and this way, when I opened one of the two, I'd still have a backup waiting. Also, I had a coupon, so I made my own little sale.

Yesterday, I polished off the current carton. And I nearly polished off my coffee goo. (I have very few vices. Coffee goo is one.) So this morning, I knew I needed to grab a new carton of orange juice and I knew I'd need to open my fresh coffee goo.

And it was as I was reaching for the goo that I spied ... the backup carton of orange juice that I'd bought a couple of weeks ago, stashed in the back of the fridge on the middle shelf.

Which means, if you're counting, I had three full cartons of orange juice in my fridge: two purchased the other day and the forgotten carton.

I had thought, when I was at the store, that the carton I knew was almost empty was the backup carton.

But no.

All of which is to say that I discovered this morning that I might share my father's genetic inability to look all the way to the back of a fridge.

I don't seem to suffer from that affliction when I'm at their house. But Mom, very smartly, buys freezer-on-the-bottom refrigerators. My freezer is on the top. Which means that the shelf in question in this post is well below eye level. And the older I get, the less inclined I am to stoop. Voluntarily, anyway. Here's hoping osteoporosis doesn't have other ideas.

Anyhoo, Mom, if you're reading this, I promise to do everything I can to fight this scourge. At the very least, the next time I go shopping, I'll do a little inventory. And bother to make a list.

Wednesday, September 07, 2016

The Revelation Of Morning Light ...

I was awake before 5 a.m.

There's a lot swirling in my brain these days – none of it good – and so sleep is an ongoing negotiation.

But I'm grateful for the permission of darkness. I take the time to read and to listen to podcasts and notice the world come alive as the light appears and changes.

This morning, walking through my living room, a room in which I do not do much living, I spied cobwebs between two chairs.

I literally stopped and stared at them. I should have thought to snap a photograph but instead, I fetched my vacuum. And as I sucked them up, I thought, "Well, there's a metaphor for my life. You are way too static, kid. Too stationary. Nothing moves in you life. There's just sameness, day after day."

I also thought, "I bet Angelo never finds cobwebs." He's always moving things around. We are perfect opposites in that way.

So here's to movement. Here's to change. Here's to noticing. Here's to doing. Here's to shifting into Drive.