Long-Term Plan

Long-term thinking mixed with short-term anxiety has gotten me stuck right here. My rut, but not my Jeep.  Lauren drives me home from the car fix-it shop in her husband's old green Jeep. I can barely climb up and into the Jeep, but falling out is easy.

Lauren is very clear on her line in the sand. She would rather live under a bridge than ever teach preschool again. I mention the spiders and bugs under the bridge, Lauren insists preschoolers bite more than bugs. I haven't been bit, but life under the bridge seems likely in my long-term future.

Lauren much prefers being the auto fix-it shop counter gal and sometimes mechanic. She makes me laugh.  Her story reminds me I  need some thinking outside the box to avoid a future under the bridge.


Michael Wollf's excellent heart-rending op-ed about long-term care was syndicated in the Dallas Morning News on June third, but is accessible at this link. Our nation needs, desperately needs, some rethinking on this issue.

© 2012 Nancy L. Ruder

Removing plaque at the post office

You can't go back again.  Rats.  I spent some discretionary and recreational time fooling with new Blogger options.  This must be like waking up in Margaritaville with a scary tattoo.  I am not in love with my new blog look or sure how I got it, but it seems I'm stuck with it.

At least I'm not married to my postal carrier.  Literacy is important in a lifelong mate, and you would think it would be a requirement for a mail deliverer.  But, NOOOOOO!

Headed to Oregon with a recent history of mailbox malfunctions, I used Our Postal Service's online vacation hold service.  Please don't leave mail for me 12/16-12/21.  When I get back I will pick up the accumulated mail at the post office.  It seemed so simple and heart-warming, like leaving milk and sugar cookies for Santa.

My postal worker ceased delivery a day early.  The automated system sent me an email saying my hold was canceled another day early.  Having specified I would pick up my mail at the post office I just kinda, silly me, thought my mail would be waiting.  But, NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! My illiterate Pony Express dude put it in his truck.  His (yes, a guy) supervisor didn't think it sad that the carrier had messed up on all three of the hold specifications.  In baseball he would have been OUT.

This would be the same postal service that delivered an order of replacement electric toothbrush heads to the Woolly Mammoth in D.C. this week.  The package was postmarked last January twenty-fifth!  A lot of plaque and tartar can build up while you wait for the US Postal Service to bring your toothbrush.

At the opposite extreme of customer service, my homegrown mechanic shop is trying hard to solve the Buick's automotive problems without charging me for failed attempts.  The Skylark may need a brain transplant, but Mario doesn't want to replace the brain if my car just needs a wisdom tooth removed.


© 2011 Nancy L. Ruder

The work that must be done

Labor Day weekend is leading into a presidential speech about job creation.  Like many families, our holiday dinner of barbecue pork, potato salad, corn-on-the-cob, and iced tea included job discussions.  I spent the weekend with wonderfully bright, educated, articulate and frustrated young adults.  They are part of the generation that is unlikely to achieve the standard of living of their ancestors, and who will struggle to pay off the student loans that should have guaranteed a middle class income.

We all agreed that the best job in the world is creating the special birthday Google homepages.  Thank heaven Freddy Mercury would have been sixty-five on the Tuesday after the long weekend.  That was the boost that got me going back into the work world.

Perhaps the very most "shovel-ready" job is maintaining a healthy family. It is time to cut the workday to seven hours, or the workweek to thirty-six hours so parents can have more quality hours with their offspring.

When parents can be parents, it cuts costs for education, health care, and child care.  When family members care for their elderly similar savings result.

Don't create jobs.  Recognize the work that is already being done.  Help families live with one or 1.5 full time  income.  Improve opportunities for part-time workers who also raise children or care for elderly.


© 2011 Nancy L. Ruder

Career planning

The four year-old boys were chatting at lunch. 

M.  "When I grow up I'm going to drive a garbage truck."

N.  "When I grow up I'm going to be a dult."

Thank heaven I wasn't drinking root beer, as it would have shot out my nose. Growing up, my dad used to tell us to "be alert! The country needs more lerts."

Unfortunately, Dad is not being a lert, although our country needs lerts and dults more than ever. Dad is a mess at the moment, and I'm not sure he knows who I am.  So, I've got "Pagliacci" in the cd player.

© 2011 Nancy L. Ruder

The Muse Knows Best

My muse offers two new projects to get my creative battery jumped. I'm in a deep funk. New projects seem like the last thing I need. My brain runs the hamster wheel, cycling and recycling suggestions, admonitions, resolutions, shoulds, and regrets until I get off the treadmill with no energy at all.

My blog muse knows me well, and she knows when I need an inspirational jolt. If I'm not creating, I don't feel much like tackling life's problems. Her timely suggestions are way cheaper than therapy. It's time for a 365 Project, and maybe a Daily Shoot.

Getting started on 365 Project was easy. I like the calendar photo, and hope it will be printable. I started with the Yahtzee photo from a current Valentine project, but want a theme for my 365 effort. The concept is to post an original photo each day for a year, learning to be a better photographer and a bit about myself in the process. I'm leaning toward a collection of photos taken within one block of my front door. It's time to pay more attention to my own spot.

When I walked down to the garbage dumpster this morning I was stunned to see the huge tree had been removed. Maybe the garbage truck had one close encounter too many with that tree, but the spot looks very strange.


Headed back to my condo, I saw a big hawk in a tree by the creek. It was sitting there yesterday, too. Got my jacket, camera, and binocs and headed down the drive. The hawk humored me for awhile as I practiced with the binoculars. A squirrel and a cardinal cooperated, too. I walked several times around the condominium complex and the little park that borders it on the creek side, without ever getting more than a block from my door.

This impressive unidentified fungus is the size of a paper plate. On this gray day it was tricky getting a photo of it on the tree at least ten feet above the ground. If I don't get poison ivy, I'll be pretty pleased with this photo.

As the muse knew, I'm feeling better already.

© 2010 Nancy L. Ruder

Occupations A to Z

The call for a superhero is projected against the night sky above the metroplex of Big D. A lone caped figure stands on a rooftop. It will be a long night riding dragons through downtown and rescuing cats stuck in trees.



But suddenly the Domino Dude is not alone. A preschool student has been assembling a puzzle about alphabetical careers. ..A is for astronaut; B is for baker... Deeper she goes into the alphabet, the more intriguing her job descriptions:

Jellinator



Vumpire



© 2009 Nancy L. Ruder

Found my lucky shirt

Back behind the stack of Rubbermaid storage containers full of teaching materials and fabric remnants in the darkest corner of my closet under the pair of too tight jeans and the stained sweatshirt for Goodwill I found it! I'd given up hope. Resigned myself that I'd somehow forgotten it out at White Rock Lake the day of the marathon aid station.

The Brooks running shirt from the 2005 Half marathon is just incredibly comfortable. I got the shirt for volunteering at the finish line, not for running, of course. It's perfect for weekends, home maintenance projects, and napping.

Now that I have it back, the energy of the cosmos has shifted. The surgeon says Dad can put weight on his leg and start using the walker instead of the wheelchair. I've accepted a job teaching with people I love, expanding my favorite part of my old job. The position will give me some flexibility to help Dad, write, make art, and maybe even visit my sons. Plus, springtime has come to North Texas!



© 2007 Nancy L. Ruder

We need a what?!

My county is still advertising for a Bioterrorism Planner. It's been at least a month since I first noticed this job opportunity, and I'm amazed that the county hasn't changed the job title to something like "Bioterrorism Response Planner". Maybe it's a trick to entrap particularly dimwitted terrorist plotters who wouldn't mind the $44K salary and good benefits for devising nefarious contagious schemes.