United (Get Out of My) Way...Phyllis

October is the month for our annual United Way campaign where I work. We reached 78% participation. How? By giving us two months of casual dress. That means that for the rest of the year, I can go to work looking just a little better than I do when I first get up in the morning! I save five or six minutes I usually spend getting all gussied up! It means nothing has to match! I’m in heaven.

I have had a relationship with United Way for many years, payroll deduction-wise. I have a collection of United Way pens in my desk drawer at work along with some United Way beer cozies, and a United Way squeeze ball.

My first introduction to the United Way campaign was in the Army. They knew how to do it right and they got 100% participation. First they marched us into a room and told us to SIT DOWN and SHUT UP! Already it was a nice break from our regular routine. Then the United Way representative stepped up and talked to us so nice and friendly. No one had talked to us like that in weeks. When he finished, we were jerked back to reality.

“EVERYBODY STAND UP!”

You had a choice. Get in this line and fill out the payroll deduction form, take the rest of the day off and have a nice weekend. Or, get in that line and get a white rag to tie to the end of your bed so they can wake you up at 4am for some knuckle-dragging kitchen duty that would last well into the evening and leave you feeling like you’ve been par boiled until you’re begging to die. You call that a choice? People pushed each other out of the way to get into the first line while rag man stood alone with his unwanted rags. That’s how to get what you want!

Whatever works is fair, I say. There’s nothing like a day off in the sunshine in your favorite crappy clothes.

A Special Day - Sue

I came home from work this morning, watered the birds and fed the dogs. Padded hither and yon. It was a morning like most any other morning. The wind was blowing some weather in. The mountains were getting snow. The Broncos got their asses whooped yesterday by the Raiders. 59 to 14. They haven't had that many points scored against them since 1963, or something like that. And then it happened.

There was a vase of bright orange and purple flowers on the table! With a card! That's right! It's my birthday! Phyllis surprised me, though I should know by now, after having had what, nine birthdays I think, since I've known her? Since I got her on eBay? I should know by now that she would have something special there for me when I got home from work. So it isn't an ordinary day after all!

I've had quite a few birthdays. I've had enough to count on my fingers and toes almost three times over. But the thrill is always the same, when I am singled out as being someone who is cared about, and when MY birthday seems like it MUST be sacred to someone else. Because someone else wants me to know that I am thought of, in a quiet and tingley way.

It makes me feel like a little kid again. It makes me feel like I am wanted and valued. And isn't that nearly the most treasured feeling you can have? To feel valued? To feel like your place in this world is worth something to someone, and that you mean something. To feel like there is a reason for you being here. That's what a simple vase of flowers on my birthday means to me.

And there is this chat board I frequent, full of old friends whom I also got on eBay, back when we were daring and silly. We have a lot in common, like a paper cut-out of dolls holding hands, connected through the past and making connections stronger in the now. I've never met them, but they are dearer to me than people I see every day, people I work with. No one at work knew it was my birthday, because no one cared. But the people who are tied to me gave me the wonderful surprise of wishing me Happy Birthday. Such a simple gesture, but meaning so much, like a glance from someone who knows you so well that you never have to explain, and the gesture says it all.

It's a morning like most any other. I took Pete for a bike ride. We took the long way, just because we were both so alive with the fresh breeze making the air clean to take deep, long breaths, looking cold with silver clouds and leaves the color of raw egg yolks, yet warm anyway, just warm enough even though it's October 25, 2010, and I'm 58, going on 17, but only for today, my special day.

A Dog's Life...Phyllis

When I first met Peevey, she walked wide circles around me. She was like that with everyone except Sue. I pretended not to notice and tried not to let Peevey catch me looking at her. I’ve never seen a dog so attached to a person as Peevey was to Sue.

We used to walk Peevey up to the park and she didn’t even need a leash. She would listen and watch for Sue’s commands and she would obey. Sometimes she would run up ahead of us to the end of the block and then lay down and wait for Sue to tell her it was okay to cross the street.

Peevey would let me throw balls to her. That was acceptable to her, but nothing more. Peevey didn’t fully accept me until one day we drove up to the mountains with her. Sue stopped to go into a store and I stayed back by the car with Peevey. Peevey was in the back seat and she let me pet her. Then I told her in her ear that I thought she was a pretty nice dog. After that, she was okay with me.

Over the next couple of years, I grew to love Peevey, too. Peevey was part of Sue and Sue was part of Peevey. It was like a whole package. I loved playing ball with her. She was so good at it. She ignored the other dogs and cats. She didn’t have any use for them. When we went to bed, Peevey would jump up and plop down with us.

When Peevey left, she left a giant hole in Sue’s heart, I know. She left a big hole in mine, too. But I think if she were here and if she could talk, she would say that Sue gave her the best life a dog could ever want.

Don't Miss Anything - Sue

I just have to say this.

I was rooting around for my collection of toenail clippings when I came across an old daytimer. It's one of 793 that I've bought in my life and never used. I've had all the good intentions that pave the way to hell, but I misplace the daytimer and the next time I see it, a couple of years have passed. Like now.

I flipped through it anyway just in case I'd jotted anything down of note. All blank. Wait. Flipped again. Some scribbles here. Monday, September 15, 2008. "Bought this today. Walked to Daughter's new house. Son-in-Law tearing down walls. P and I bbsat Grandson. Played volleyball in living room.

Talked to Dr. Hillis about Peevey. She said remember when she was 2 yrs old what made her happy. Can she still do that?"

September 16, 2008: "Peevey is wobbly on her legs. I went to Alameda East and got the pain med after piano lesson. She got stuck under the bed. When I pulled her out she still didn't care to get up. She doesn't care about frisbee or ball.

Peevey died today."

September 17, 2008: "I put primer on Grandson's room on Birch St. First went to HD and got primer and wood. Have the night off work.

It's the first day without Peevey. I only fed two dogs. It felt like she was still hanging around. I told her it was okay to go, but I didn't really mean it. I want to go wherever she is and be with her. I can still feel how soft her fur is and smell her forehead. I kissed her just before she died."

September 20, 2008: "Took only two dogs for a walk. Practiced my song - Peevey's song. Hung up her collar on her painting. Got sympathy card from Laurie the mail lady."

That's what I just had to say, because that is what I came across yesterday. There is a big glass vase with a hole at the bottom where pieces of what are part of my life keep flowing out, sort of like sand, but more like a clear, liquid gel. As it flows out, it gets filled at the top with new pieces of what are part of my life. So the glass vase is always full.

There are parts that never leave though, that are locked away and I hope forever, as long as I don't lose my memory. I can always remember the soft fur like down and the smell of her forehead pressed against my face, feel her paw resting lightly on my knee. The trick to being okay with all of that seems to be recognizing when the glass vase is filling up with new stuff. It would be a shame to miss something. If I hadn't been watching when Peevey came along, I'd have missed her. And if I wasn't keeping a good eye out, I'd miss you, too.

Gloves - Sue

For the first time this autumn, I wore my gloves when taking Pete for his morning bike ride.

Technically, they're ski gloves. They're thick, and the fingers have a little curve, which I assume are for curving around those sticks that skiers use. Instead, I'm using them to curve around bicycle handles. From now on, I'm going to call them my "bicycle gloves."

I didn't wear any ear covering, or neck scarf, so my ears numbed a little with a tinge of cold. If I was just standing around in the sharp, autumn chill, my ears wouldn't feel the cold. But riding the bicycle, getting a good breeze going, makes a difference. Pete likes to run all out, a greyhound after an imaginary fake rabbit. It's all I can do to peddle fast enough to keep up.

The leaves are crisp and yellow in bunches on the elm trees, golden all over on the maples. Near parked cars on the streets, leaves the color of paper bags are gathering. Halloween will soon be here and we all know what that means. Raking. Snow. Breath like smoke escaping the lungs and scraping ice off the windshield. But we won't think about those things now. Now, we will just enjoy today, when my ears haven't yet broken off from freezing.

It's a long winter ahead of us. No one has ever said, "It's a short winter ahead of us." Even in Florida, when winter is a welcomed season, no one says that. Winters are always cold and feel like dark, strangling, biting, relentless, unforgiving punishment not fit for man or beast and what did we do? We watched the sun retreat to the south like she just gave up on us. Too demanding, that's what we are. We want perfect weather every day, all day.

So, that's what we're in for, with nothing to do but take it. I'll have to find my ear warmers and neck scarf. What doesn't kill you makes you stronger they say but if that were true, I'd be Atlas right now, and I'd shrug, too.

Some days, I won't be able to take Pete for a bike ride. The snow and ice will cover the streets, a big chilly, white feather blanket. We'll be holed up here in the compound, burning money to keep from having any heat sucked out of us, chewing whale blubber to keep the calories coming in, and refraining from shaving our legs. More hair, more heat.

Maybe I should get some skis. I could have Pete pull me on the skis. I could get little booties for Pete, and perhaps a designer jacket, made of fine Alpaca hair. I could crouch down, knees bent, leaning forward, cutting down wind resistance. We could get some good speed going on, just like when we go bike riding. I could use my bicycle gloves, and call them, "ski gloves." I think it's all going to work out, this long, cold winter thing.

Grocery Store...Phyllis

Do you ever go to the grocery store one day and a day later can’t find a good snack anywhere in the house? That’s what happens when I try to be a smart shopper and buy only things that have to be cooked. Nothing ready made. Nothing processed. Only nutritious things that take half a day to prepare. Sue and I don’t have a rigid grocery shopping schedule. Sometimes Sue goes. Sometimes I go. Sometimes we go together.

At the store Sue and I go to, the first thing you see when you walk in is a table full of cakes and cookies. This is not a problem for Sue because she doesn’t like cake and she seems indifferent to cookies. I like cake. And I like cookies. Sill, I manage to get past this first temptation.

The produce section is the first area you come to if you go to your right. And don’t most people circle the grocery store in more or less a counter clockwise direction? Why are the peaches so hard at the grocery store? They look beautiful, but who eats them? They’re hard as bocci balls. What I really like are the red, orange, yellow and green bell peppers…not to eat, just to look at. We have eaten a lot of fruit this summer. The grapes are still fabulous, but I’ve almost had my fill of them. They were huge this year. There’s something suspicious about that. Grapes aren’t supposed to be the size of plums. Near this area are the plants and flowers. There is an aloe vera plant I’ve had my eye on. I’d like to try to make it grow. I haven’t had any luck with them in the past. They require some special care in this altitude and climate. So I have passed it by so far.

If I’m shopping by myself, I usually skip the meat section altogether. I just don’t know how to cook meat unless it’s chicken or a roast I can put in the crock pot. Sue likes a good steak and she knows how to cook it, but I can never cook steak at home that tastes as good as a restaurant steak. Even on the grill, I just can’t get it right. My favorite thing on the grill are hot dogs or chicken kabobs that I make with chicken, pineapple, and peppers.

I easily pass by the candy and chips isle. I only occasionally buy something there. I was on a popcorn kick for awhile, but I’m off that now. Today though, I did buy some corn chips and cheese dip. But that’s unusual. Usually Sue buys that. Also on my list today that I don’t often buy was frozen burritos. I like to heat them in the oven and put sour cream on them. I used to buy them all the time, but lately not so much.

I always stop and look in the office supply section. For my journal, I fill up a notebook about every three months, so I always have a new one standing by. I look at the pens and mechanical pencils, but I rarely need new ones. I will use a mechanical pencil for a year or more. I like to have a couple standing by, but I tend to use only one. I really splurged at Sam’s Club awhile back though and bought a pack of nine mechanical pencils. I also got a giant set of Sharpie pens in every color and a big set of colored gel pens. And that will keep me in pens and pencils for a long time.

I like picking up things that I think Sue will especially like. Today I got her some parmesan chicken with pasta to take to work for dinner tonight. The store was crowded today. I was behind a guy in a black beanie and a t-shirt with a goth design. But all in all, it was a fairly pleasant trip to the store.

Waiting - Sue

I don't like to wait. It's like time stops. The Earth stops revolving, and the stars hang suspended so that even astrological time gets out of sync. Babies born during the time that I wait can never, their whole lives, trust that their signs are true. Right now, I'm waiting, and any baby around the world born at this time, a Libra, will always feel like they just can't get motivated. This Libra will always procrastinate. Since this is the year of the Tiger, any child born in this year will have none of the attributes of a tiger. Instead of being compatible with a person born in the year of the Pig, she will find pigs dirty and reprehensible.

Usually, time flies when you're having fun. Logically, that would mean that when time stops altogether, you're having the least amount of fun. That would describe me right now. I'm waiting, and time has stopped altogether.

Does this mean that I am not aging? Here is the conundrum. You age the fastest when time stops altogether. You age the least when time flies and you're having fun. If you're generally having fun for say, five years at a stretch, you only age six months. It is all dependent on speed and the space in which it travels. If someone traveled to a galaxy far, far away, and traveled very quickly, she would return to Earth to find that her friends would all be engaging in craft hour in the geriatric home, while she would still be listening to 80's rock.

I'm waiting for Lojack to install their thing in my truck. They said someone would be here between 8 and noon. That's a four-hour window. I can do a lot in four hours, but how can I start something only to be interrupted by an installation person? What if I started baking a angel-food cake from scratch, and then had to call in the dogs, open the gate, and act out my characteristic hovering over someone who was trying to work? The cake would be ruined, and I'd still have to clean up the kitchen.

In my little bubble of time-stoppage, I've aged 2.5 weeks. I think I've got a stiff hip. That's what happens when you sit somewhere for 2.5 weeks. I've also got a very tired neck, and three more wrinkles in my brow. I'm not even going to mention the gray hairs.

Three weeks now, and my underwear is giving off fumes. Why can't I wait like a normal person? Why can't I be more patient? Where is the Lojack person? Why isn't she calling me to give me ETA? Three weeks I've waited, which is turning quickly into a month, and soon I'll need a walker. Soon, I'll be too old to drive, and I won't need Lojack anyway.

But then once the installer is done, I'll have so much fun and time will fly so fast again, and I'll stop aging to the point I will actually reverse time. So, there's really nothing to worry about, and no problem with waiting!

Winter...Phyllis

Summer is over and it’s time to close up the house. There are still a few warm days left, but soon there will be icy drives home at midnight, snow to scrape from the car before work, alternating snow and mud in the backyard and drying clothes in the dryer instead of on the line in the backyard. It usually means the cats are stuck in my workroom, unable to go in and out the open window as they please through the winter months.


We can’t do anything about the snow but today, Sue and I installed a pet door in my workroom window so the cats can still go in and out when the window is closed. This should make for a much easier winter for them and for me. Muffin took to it right away and has been using it all day. The others are still a bit timid. If they could talk, would they thank us for making their little lives a little more pleasant? Yes, I think they would.

Sue has made the living room look like new with the steam cleaner and some elbow grease. She washed the walls and ceiling, the blinds and everything else that she could put steam to. She even made a new Autumn flower arrangement that looks great with the new lamp she bought yesterday. I slept through all that.

There is one advantage to the winter months. They don’t sweep the street from November thru April, so we don’t risk getting parking tickets when we forget to park on the other side of the street on the 4th Wednesday of those months. I’m thinking hard for more advantages, but none are coming to mind. Living is so easy when it’s warm outside and a little more difficult when it’s cold.

I finally received my first issue of Now Playing, TCM’s monthly program guide with interesting articles, rare photos and a challenging crossword puzzle. It’s all it promised to be. So I will be going through it with my yellow highlighter soon so I don’t miss anything. Although, I’ll highlight things and then not really watch them. I rarely sit down in front of the TV and actually watch anything.

This isn’t very funny and not at all interesting.

Pete at the Dog Park - Sue

I took Pete to the dog park this morning.

Pete was supposed to be a replacement for Peevey. I had lied to myself said that wasn't so, because no dog could ever replace Peevey. But still, I wanted that void to be filled with another dog I could love just as much, maybe for different reasons, but I wanted to love like that again.

Pete was a severe disappointment. Not only did he not fill the void, he made a bigger one. Try as I might, I couldn't help the obvious comparisons. Peevey's goal in life seemed to be to want to please me. It seemed to make her happy. She studied me, looking for clues as to what I might desire. Lie still and be quiet? No problem. Go chase the ball and bring it back, no matter how far it's thrown? Sure thing. Wait for you to open the gate, and then walk out and climb up the ramp to the truck, no leash needed. You got it. All of that made me want to please her as well, and I am sure I would have taken a bullet for her.

Pete redefined the definition for "strong willed." He let me know from the start that he didn't need me, didn't care what I wanted and was 100% concerned with pleasing himself and no one else. He was the Emperor of his domain and wanted to make sure everyone gasped over his dashing, invisible new clothes. If the sound of the food processor disturbed him, one of many sounds that disturbed him, he didn't need me to comfort and console him. He just ran to the furthest back corner of the yard and stayed there, self-reliant, self-absorbed, self-indulgent, needing no one.

I hadn't taken him to the dog park in at least six months, maybe more. I had grown weary of his dog fights. It was true that he only fought if another dog came after him first, but the dog owners at the dog park cast their looks askance anyway. If Pete was the only dog their dogs fought with, it had to be Pete's fault.

So I have been giving Pete his exercise by harnessing him to the bike and going for a ride nearly every morning. I give him commands like, "right, left, wait, and easy." He knows what they mean and is forced to follow my lead, since my sitting on the bike, ahem, far outweighs him.

But today is Sunday. And it was early, and there was a crisp fall chill that begged a good romp. I loaded him up and headed for the park, hoping there wouldn't be many dogs. There weren't, and after I took off his leash, Pete found a ball and was ready for work. He ran out, wide to the right, as if making a large outrun to gather a flock on a far hill. I chirped a quick, short whistle, and he cut to the left, full gallop. Another quick, short whistle, and he slammed on the brakes, facing me in a crouch. With the flinging thing, I hurled the ball so that it sailed through the air like a golf ball, and he was there, ready. It bounced and he scrambled after it, brought it back. He was in his element, shining like a champion. This is what he lived for.

Then the trio of dogs came chasing him, and I thought, "Here we go." Pete dropped the ball near me and backed off, ready for more work. The dogs circled him, and he couldn't see the ball. That's when the snarling, growling and frenzied fur flying began. It only last three seconds or so, just long enough for the dogs to get the message that he did not want to play their silly dog games. He was there to work and they'd better leave him alone. They all took off.

I threw the ball a couple of more times and then noticed a man walking up to me. He asked if everything was okay. I thought he was going to say my dog was a trouble maker. But he thought his dog had started a fight with my dog. I explained that my dog didn't want to play, and he was just letting the other dogs know. He said he was still sorry about that. And I said that it was all good, and threw the ball again. Pete had made another great outrun and was right under the ball. He caught it! The man said, "Nice catch!"

Pete was different than he used to be at the park. He didn't fight me for the ball. He was completely focused on me and the ball. When he dropped it, I told him to go back, and he went. He obeyed my whistles and worked his heart out. When it was time to go, I walked towards the gate, and he ran up behind me, so that when I opened it, he ran right into the little staging area and waited for me to attach his leash.

He is going to be two in November. Maybe he just had to mature a little bit. Maybe he has a little Peevey in him after all, or maybe he has just settled into his own, and has decided on his own that being a good working partner is more fun than being completely self-absorbed. Whatever the reason, I think maybe I love him.

Wheat or Rye?...Phyllis

Waitress: Do you want your eggs scrambled, over easy, well done, or over medium?.

Sue: Over medium.

Waitress: One egg or two?

Sue: Two.

Waitress: Do you want pancakes or toast?

Sue: Toast

Waitress: White, wheat, rye, or sourdough?

Sue is ripping her napkin to shreds. “Wheat.”

Waitress: Coffee, orange juice, milk or tea?

From under the table, Sue yells, “COFFEE!!!”

“She’s gone now. You can come out,” I say.

Sue could just say, “Two eggs over medium with wheat toast and coffee.” Simple. However, there is the, “Would you like to try our special? It includes two eggs, bacon, sausage, or ham with hash browns, fries, or fresh fruit with two pancakes for $6.99?” to get past first.

Sue and I went to breakfast this morning. This time, Sue had the Philly cheese steak with fries. Sue eats dinner in the morning. I had a spinach omelet There was a little old lady seated next to us. She was having two poached eggs and hash brown potatoes and pancakes. I like to see what people around me are eating. I want to know if they got something better than what I got. She had smiling eyes and she asked if we would please pass the pepper. Later I helped her get the top off the syrup bottle. We didn’t chat with her because she wasn’t actually at our table. Sue and I talked about where we would like to spend the holidays this year. I said I wanted to go to Europe. Sue wants to go back to the Islands again. We’ll probably just end up going on a cruise. That part isn’t true. What we really talked about was what we were going to buy at Pet Smart.

I had a bad dream at work the other night. I dreamed that it was dark in our office and everyone was sleeping in their chairs. I was walking around taking down names to put on my spreadsheet and someone took my clipboard away from me and told me to go sit down and go back to sleep. Someone else told me to stop being such a suck-up. Then I woke up and everyone really was asleep. And my clipboard was missing.

But that’s neither here nor there. What’s really on my mind right now are options. I read that too many options can cause stress. It can also cause you to make bad choices. You could end up with wheat toast when you really wanted rye.

Too Many Options - Sue

Now the next thing is replacement windows.

All of the seasons have a what for. Spring is for new life. Summer is for long evenings nursing sweating glasses of iced tea while watering the lawn. Autumn is for brisk walks in the shimmering foliage and raking leaves. Winter is for hunkering down in a cozy house with hot cocoa, a good book and a fluffy comforter. If you've got a snuggle bunny to share all of that with, it's twice as nice.

One season has what it is NOT for. Winter is not for bracing yourself against the gale that howls through the living room because the windows don't shut tight. Yesterday morning, Dan, the Window Man, came to fix all of that.

My brain does something weird when confronted with too many options. I start looking in too many directions and wires start to frazzle and ignite. Little explosions go off and I initiate shutdown mode. It's a safeguard against complete self-destruction.

It's all because of the time I couldn't choose which balloon I wanted. All of the other seven-year-olds at my party began to fidget. I got to choose first because it was my birthday, but there was yellow, so bright and lively, green, so smooth and luscious, many different blues that depicted all the different shades the sky could be, fiery red, boisterous orange, dashing purple, and on and on. It was the first time I began to wonder who I really was, how I fit in, what my place was in this wacky world. If I was a balloon, what color would I be? I was all of them, yet I had to choose one. The party-goers began to laugh, and then sneer. "Come on!" Marsha Peterson finally demanded, her pigtails bouncing as she flipped her head and crossed her arms. "We want to choose, too.!" I couldn't. Choosing one would mean not choosing all of the rest. It would mean I was narrow-minded and intolerant.

"She can't make a decision!" Claudia Reingold screamed, and then they all threw sense to the wind and dove in, clamoring over each other for their balloons. In the end, I got nothing. In the end, I knew where my place in the world was, and that was no where. I spent years and thousands of therapy dollars trying to undo all of that. I learned how, in most cases, to break many decisions down into fewer decisions. What's for dinner? Let's start with meat. We have three basic choices. Chicken, beef or pork.

And now, Dan the Window Man wanted me to choose which brand, among thousands, of windows to purchase, all with differing advantages and prices. The wires were sizzling. I could hear pops and pings as I started to shut down, my only way to survive.

I gave him my email address and told him five times to get back to me with a price. He finally left and I took a few deep breaths. Winter is coming. The wind will cut like a cleaver through bone, and it will be cold like a silent, stealthy ghost. "You couldn't decide," it will whisper, its pigtails bouncing. "You couldn't decide."

The Prevaricator...Phyllis

You can call my dad a prevaricator. He would start a story and it would go here, then go off track, weaving and winding around, making things up as he went along and never got to the point. We were sitting at the dinner table once in September. I know it was September because I had just brought home a brand new spelling book from school. I accidentally tore the front cover and I was very worried about it. It was fresh and new and I was disappointed that I ripped it. I taped it back together and it was almost like new again. I never was a very good speller. I got Cs in spelling and an occasional D. Even now, when I hit spell check, it sounds like a chainsaw tearing through my work. He would go on and on and the rest of us would look at each other and my mom would smoke a whole pack of cigarettes while he went round and round like a merry-go-round.

You know, the merry-go-rounds at school were big, heavy metal contraptions. Not like the playground equipment now that’s made of colorful nerf. And they were surrounded with asphalt. If you got forty kids on it and got it spinning, the centrifugal force would throw about seven of them off and we wouldn’t see them again for weeks. The teeter totter was fun, too. They were also made of metal and on a hot day, they would burn the skin right off your legs. It was great fun to jump off when your friend was up and you were down, sending her crashing full force to the ground and biting through her tongue. Well, fun for me, anyway. That’s probably why, to this day, I size people up when I first meet them. If they appear to weigh less than me, then yeah, I’ll teeter totter with them.

And so he would go on and on. We would look at our watches, and we weren’t wearing watches. I’ve never owned a nice watch. I’ve gotten Timex watches for gifts and I was very happy with them. I don’t wear a watch nowadays, but I always seem to know about what time it is. I get to work on time. That’s about the only time I really have to be concerned about it. According to Einstein, time is relative. Try using that excuse when you’re late for work. They don’t buy that theory there. They also don’t respond well to the ‘does-anyone-really-know-what-time-it-is’ excuse. “You’re lucky I came in at all” doesn’t go over very well, either.

But if my dad were alive today and if he were telling a story, I would pretend to look at my watch. And I would think, “This is a trait I’m glad I didn’t inherit.”