Wednesday, September 24, 2008

Oh, Rubbish!

No matter what the weather—hot, rainy, cold—I would not want to be a garbage collector. I’m talking trash, not the type of garbage people spew from their mouths, though neither sounds appetizing.

The noise and pollution from the truck, the assortment of smells, inclement weather, and steep hills make me wonder why anyone would want the job. Yet we have five different garbage-hauling companies throwing stuff into their trucks on a weekly basis.

Why do so many companies vie to collect our refuse? Because it’s profitable! My junk is sort of their treasure.

As a Neighborhood Watch block captain for 11 years, I sometimes serve law-related services. But other times I serve as a complaint department.

“Auntie,” they say, “what are you gonna do about all these loud, disturbing, stinky, polluting garbage trucks on our street? Why can’t we have just one?”

Good questions.

So I went to work. I talked with my waste collector’s sales rep, and she came up with rates for my 41-household street. Once presented to my group, however, I learned that people didn’t want to change—even if it meant saving money.

Resistance to change was due to loyalty. Loyalty! Being loyal is so important to this old auntie, so I wasn’t sore for spending all that time on our trashy project.

Neighbors had made their choice to employ a particular company and over time found them reliable and considerate. One service knocks on their customers’ doors if their garbage hasn’t been set out. Another will search in the backyard to find the garbage cans!

Even I have left cookies and cheesecake in containers with utensils hanging in plastic bags from my tree for my hard-working guys, because I appreciate what they do.

It would be great, however, if our City would direct specific waste collection companies to pick up in specific areas. It’s the eartha thing to do!
(Puzzle piece number 20 of 38.)

copyright © 2008 by Auntie Eartha. All rights reserved.

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Wednesday, September 17, 2008

All Men Are Dumb

My best girlfriend at UW-Eau Claire shared a house with four other girls. I had the privilege of being included in a lot of their fun, thank goodness, or I’d have had a pretty boring college life.

When time would permit, or the need was severe, we’d go to the bars on Water Street to have a beer or two—except my girlfriend, who remains one of the most innocent, best Christians on earth. Why she ever chose me as a friend is a mystery, but I thank God she did.

When she and her roomies would see a cute guy, they would say, “Ooo, that guy over there has nice shoes!” And if, after talking with a guy, he was not only good-looking but intelligent too, they’d say, “Wow! He has great shoelaces!”

I wonder what they’d have said if the guy were barefoot. Might have to go up the leg a bit.

In their house, the girls hung a sign that read: All men are dumb. As I’ve grown older, I have my own ideas about that statement. But I wanted to know what those college girls meant, so I jotted my sweet friend a note. Here is an excerpt from her reply:

“When we said, ‘All men are dumb,’ it…referred to dating-type situations. The guys always seemed to have a knack for doing the opposite of what you needed at the time. They couldn't see the obvious!”

Then she shared how one young man seemed interested in her roommate, until one day the guy asked for her best friend’s phone number. A social zero. A nincompoop.

“In other words,” my friend continued, “all men are dumb. They just don't get it. They should be able to understand better how to relate to women. They should be more intuitive and should learn from experience. Somehow, they don't. And they keep disappointing women, most of the time without even being aware of it!

“This happened on a regular basis in our apartment. We would just shake our heads and point to the sign.”


If this happened with college-age guys, why does it pertain to today’s forty-, fifty-, sixty-, and seventy-year-old men? Men still use the same lines too.

“You’re different than other girls.” [Aren’t we all?]
“I’m different than other guys.” [Yes, you think you are.]
“I’ve never felt this way before.” [There’s sure to be a cure someday.]
“I really love you.” [Well, of course!]
“You’re the most intelligent woman I’ve ever met.” [’Been out much?]
“You have a hot tub?” [Tonight it’s a one-seater.]

Ah, let’s give men a chance. Maybe gals need to move past men’s words and glide directly into their meanings. But maybe guys need new lines, such as:

“Would you like to come over and smell my herbs?”
“May I please mow your lawn?”
“How about if we go out to dinner tonight. You look fabulous!”
“I love communicating with you.”
“I won’t try to fix anything unless you ask me to. Just let me listen.”

Then watch the amazed gal fall sweetly into the dumb guy’s arms. What a catch!

I look forward to any clever retorts! Soon, my best guy friend’s perspective.

copyright © 2008 by Auntie Eartha. All rights reserved.

If you like it, link it!
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When Writers Don’t Write


What is this writer doing when she isn’t writing and publishing her work?

• Writing or designing for clients.
• Cleaning up after animals and her child.
• Editing others’ work.
• Contemplating the universe, and envisaging ways to help it.
• Paying bills, setting or attending meetings and appointments, grocery shopping.
• Hiking.
• Wondering what her old friends are doing these days.
• Helping others in a variety of ways.
• Making a list of things to do and checking them off—after she’s done them.
• Thinking about all the things she needs to do.
• Keeping the neighboring area informed about Neighborhood Watch and crime issues.
• Repairing the continually crumbling house and its contents.
• Visualizing playing guitar and piano and singing.
• Working in the yard and garden.
• Mentally writing essays for publication.
• Wishing she were on vacation, on which she hasn’t been since 2006.

What are you doing when you’re not doing what you think you should be doing?

I think I think too much. Better start doing!

copyright © 2008 by Auntie Eartha. All rights reserved.

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http://auntieeartha.blogspot.com/2008/09/when-writers-dont-write.html

Friday, September 5, 2008

The F Word

How do you feel when the f word is directed toward you?

As for me, I get excited, scared, maybe even uncomfortable, but not angry. Contrarily, I might feel warm and secure, depending on who says it to me.

But in the back of my mind, I wonder if the person using the word is serious. Maybe he’s just joking. I question his intention and wonder if he really means it. I ask myself, does the f word mean the same to him as it does to me?

Even if it’s in writing, I still can’t make him keep his word. It’s not a contract. Just a set of words. Anyway, it could be fleeting—maybe he meant it on the day he wrote it, but changed his mind the next. You know how fickle some people can be. I mean, when you use the f word, do you really think about it first?

Now what if the f word is delivered in tandem with the l word? How do you feel then?

I received a birthday card from my former beau, in which he used both the f and l words. Dumb me. I believed what he wrote, and by my next birthday, he was gone.

So now do I believe a person when he says the f word? Probably not. Especially when the l word comes before it.

You know what they say: Never say never, or always, or "I’ll love you forever." Because forever may end tomorrow.
(Puzzle piece number 19 of 38.)

copyright © 2008 by Auntie Eartha. All rights reserved.

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