Pocket Change

I’ve been saving my pocket change for three years.  I’d just clean out my pockets and my purse every few days and pitch the money in a bucket — yep, a bucket.  I took all those wonderous coins to the bank.  I had to make three trips because they were to heavy to carry in one.  I had almost $400.00.  That’s not a bad chunk of change.

Going Postal

At the post office one should be able to POST things, right?


There is a postal sub-station about a half-mile from my house. I don’t do business there because the folks are surly, and if I have a question — or need them to weigh a package and determine proper postage — they snarl about it. So, I choose to drive further for better service.
I can drive two miles to a post office open only from 8 a.m. to 3 p.m., or I can drive 4 miles to one open from 11 a.m. to 7 p.m. During school I really didn’t have a choice. I had to go to the one four miles away because the other was closed by the time I got off work. That’s okay. The clerks at that station are fantastic. However, yesterday I had 11 eBay packages to ship and I wanted to get them out of my house and out of my way early, before I inadvertantly put them in with my storage stuff. Early meant the post office only two miles away.

Except — I arrive at the post office, struggle in with my 11 packages — stand in line where everyone can clearly see me — and finally get to the window. The clerk says, “How may I help you?”

I say, “I’d like to mail these.”

The clerk says, “We don’t accept mail here.”

I look pointedly at the red, white and blue US MAIL sign. The clerk blushes. “I query, “These is a post office, yes?”

The clerk nods. “Yes, ma’am, but only for outgoing mail. We are a general delivery post office.”

“Don’t you think you should have a sign or two to that effect?”

The clerk shrugged and shook his head. “Everybody just knows.”

“Apparently not everybody,” I say as I walk away.

The woman behind me stepped forward. “I’d like to buy a book of “Forever” stamps.”

The clerk responded, “I’m sorry, we don’t sell stamps here.”

A fellow further back in line said, “Can I get a change of address form?”

Nope. All you can do is pick up any mail you had put on hold or sent care of general delivery.  Period.  But you have to stand in line for 35 minutes to discover that little gem.


Most of you know I worked four jobs this past year.  I didn’t do it because I am a glutten for punishment.  I did it because I wanted something that wouldn’t fit into my normal budget.  Therefore, I had to find a way to finance it outside my budget, and I am not delusional enough to think buying things on credit makes that possible.

Here is what I ran myself ragged for — mine at last.  A Gateway Notebook PC with a 15.4″ ultra-bright screen, Intel-Pentium Dual Core Mobile Processor, 120 GB hard drive, 1024 MB RAM,  CD & DVD readable and rewritable; with the Vista Home Premium operating system.

I would hug it and kiss it, but I don’t want to touch that shiny aluminum case.  Ain’t it purdy?

Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine.


Racing engines.

Screaming tires.

Shrill sirens.

Lights flashing blue-white-blue.

Helicopter whomp-whomping over-head, it’s halogen eye turning night to day.

I’d like to tell you how many times this has happened in the 18 months I’ve lived here, but I’ve lost count. I’ve also lost sleep. The sun is up, it’s time to start the day, and I am so tired my body is trembling. I am nauseous. And already it is too hot for sleep.

I gave my 30 day notice on June 1st.


Liverworst, Isn’t Worst.

I am a teacher.  I believe in introducing my students to new concepts, ideas and things.  Today they each received a little slice of liverworst. 

A few approached the morsel boldly, popping it into their mouths.  The others waited and watched.  Izzy gagged, spit in his hand, then grabbed a Kleexex and started scrubbing his tongue.  That caused those waiting some concern.  Brad and Jimmy ate theirs and asked for more.

Cindy took a bite, chewed twice and froze.  We all started at her for several seconds.  “You can spit it out,” I said.  She ran for the sink and did so.  Rico popped his into his mouth, chewed it up, shrugged his shoulders and said, “Remind me not to try that again.”

Jake examined his liverworst.  Jake sniffed his liverworst.  Jake took a teeny tiny nibble of his liverworst.  “Oh!” He exclaimed brightly.  “It tastes just like catfood!”  Then he popped the remainder in his mouth and asked for more.