WRITING TO SANTA TO GET WHAT KEEPERS NEED

Dear Santa:

Yes, I am still a keeper, despite the recent move to one room.  Even after giving up several rooms of things, my old favorite storage gifts are still my favorites.  In case some other keepers need presents, may I suggest these:

Transparent plastic boxes, the flat ones so I can reach the makeup remover pads or whatever's in the bottom.

Transparent but colored big envelopes.  Blue for my writing samples, clips, and writing I will read aloud when I get brave.  Purple for stuff on fashion.  Other colors for other keepers' needs.

The tiny, transparent chest of drawers for ditsy labels, binder clips, and whatever would get lost in regular drawers.

The big transparent box that slides under the bed. 

(Do you see a trend here in the kind of boxes?)  It killed me to dump the pretty red boxes but I had no idea what was in the them until I moved.  Like my favorites of the photos I took walking Hollywood and walking the beach.

CAUTION:  I bet you already know this, Santa, but I learned the hard way that plastic storage turns white sweaters yellow! 

Happy holidays to you and the four-hoofed folk!
(photo by kflemingdesign)

Writing and Getting the BIG stuff

Right now I'm in a rush situation--life is in upheaval.  One thing helping me is a book my daughter gave me years ago.  

 Write It Down, Make It Happen by Henriette Anne Klauser. 

Her stories made me see that I need to write more and oftener about my current situation, even when I worry about it.  Especially when I worry about it.  I want and need some big things now.   If you do, and if you can lay hands on this book, why not give it a chance?  I wish you good writing.

I'll probably review this more extensively later. 

WHEN WE GET WHAT WE NEED, WE MUST . . .

My little metallic blue space-age flashlight wouldn't light.  I opened it and found something I didn't recognize.  Went to the drugstore where I bought it and asked a smiling, very young cashier what people do with these gadgets. 

She opened it up, discovered that the mystery object was in fact a cartridge that holds three batteries.  I groaned that they're the only kind I didn't have.  She marched over to the battery display that had the AAAs, opened the flashlight, pried out the old batteries and snapped in the new.  Since I tend to put batteries in upside down, I was impressed with her savvy--right side up first time!
I thanked, her.   I paid.

Then I did the next very important thing.  I marched over to the person with the necktie. 

Are you the manager?
"Supervisor."
I told him I absolutely had to have praise for the young cashier put in her file.
He assured me that he always does that, since I'm not the first to see how great she is with customers and with problems.

Moral:  In troubled moments, I should look for somebody who smiles.  THEN look for somebody who can reward the helpful, smiling one.

Just Plain Asking to Get What We Need

The city is doing something to the sewers that involves many holes in the street, many giant yellow machines, and many no-parking signs. Parking was a little tricky before this all started.

I went out one morning and looked around and just grabbed a handful of my hair. The project was underway, vehicles everywhere. I was sure that when I got home from work, there would be no place left to park. The foreman came over and talked with me. He reminded me that I was stressing myself, and also stressing him. I told him about my spine injury and what an adventure it can be to find a parking place or walk home from one on these root-swelled sidewalks. And someone in the crew had gone off with my red cones that keep my sidewalk clear. He sent a man to bring them back.

I finally gave up and went inside.

When I came home from work,amazingly: the yellow machines were parked somewhere out of sight. The place I usually park was not only empty, but the foreman or some dear person had put one of my red cones smack in the middle of it to save it for me! I've never seen him again, and may never get to thank him. The whole thing taught me that if you find the right person (even if you don't know he's the right person)just saying what you need can be enough.

CLEANING THE CEILING FAN BLADES

I was going to save this for a blog on coping with spondylolisthesis, but even healthy people can do this, so here goes.

The thought of the nice, fluffy dust on those fan blades falling into my sleeping nostrils or my breakfast cereal is just disgusting. I have, from when I could paint anything, a medium-long paint roller handle for what they call a weenie roller. If you wrap the fluffy part in a sock, it can fit right over the fan blade and get most of the dust. If you only have the big fluffy paint roller, you may have to take a stitch or two in something. Or get a sock from a really big guy.

First I put my raincoat over the bed, since no cleaning method is foolproof. Then I drag in my step stool and put it right next to the bed, under part of the fan. If your balance is at issue, a long handled roller might still allow you to do this. The roller fits right over the fan blade and the sock grabs the dust. The fan wants to revolve, so I have to hold on to the next blade. I may put an artistic dot of a favorite color on one blade, so I won't lose my place. 

On to the dining area. Fresh sock, repeat raincoat and all the other steps. Give self a gold star. Or something even nicer.

THE CURSE OF THE TUBES

I am shamed daily and threatened with global annihilation or at least detention by every magazine, webzine, and the occasional neighbor.  Why?  Because I don't recycle everything including leftover soymilk and purified water.  

Yes, I have tossed the occasional mooshy banana or unchewable melon half.  But please!

The real shame is in my bathroom.  A really good conditioner and sunscreen are available only in tubes.  Have you ever tried cleaning out a tube for recycling?   (We won't even go into the dabs of sunscreen on my clothes from a tube that gets surly most mornings.) 

 By some contrary coincidence, these tubes sprouted up just when the urging to recycle was upon us.

And dare I go into the matter of the really good body lotion, conditioner, or whatever that comes only in a skinny bottle with a pump?   The tubes, surely not by evil design, wear out long before the bottle is empty.  (Note the lotion bottle that's been on it's side on my nightstand.  When I have time, I can shake the last of the lotion out of the now-pumpless bottom. 

I could smear myself with honey instead of buying lotion (if it's good for a facial, why not?  Or are they designing a tube for honey?)  

This could go on for some time, unless some container designer has a horrible nightmare that his granddaughter is surrounded at sea by a million discarded tubes.  Let's hope it doesn't come to that.

 Or we could boycott.  Or write more letters . . .

CRUEL SHOES: No help on web site

It's not easy being barefoot at work.
In desperation over a wounded foot and lack of shoes to wear to work (where I can’t hide my feet) I thought I’d try a web site that is supposedly for foot doctors. I found their name on an old inside heel lift cushion.

No luck. I found a lot of grade-school looking flats with big straps for some reason, and, as I mention in the e-mails, NO TOE ROOM.

I’ll let you know if I get any help from them.

Thursday, August 25, 2011 12:10 PM


To: sales@surefitlab.com

I have ruined a big toe nail from wearing shoes too round and with toe box too flat. I need a tiny adhesive device that used to be available in drug stores to protect that toe.

I see no shoes on your site with enough toe room.

Can you help?
MLF

To:
sales@surefitlab.com

Thursday, August 25, 2011 
Also, I have to see the top and bottom views on line to see if there IS enough toe room before I buy anything.

MLF