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I was in a Saturday morning rush and had to go to the ATM machine. Of course, there were two cars ahead of me, so I daydreamed a little, while trying to be patient. Grabbing my card from my wallet, I mumbled what I had to get done, and tried the Vulcan mind meld to hurry up the other cars.
Finally! My turn was here and I had to be quick. Now, I go to the ATM
a lot, so I know the button routines by heart, or at least I thought I did.
Pulling close to the machine, I inserted my card and held my finger
over the touchpad to be at the ready. The first screen asks if you
want instructions in English or Spanish. Well, my finger was over
the wrong button, and I hit Spanish by accident.
Holy Shit. Do I have to start over, and waste time?…or was it time
to learn Spanish? My fingers have muscle memory and usually
know what comes next. But, I was so thrown off by the mysterious
text on the buttons that I drew a blank. I had to decipher what
my options were. I know the word Si, so that was a start.
I had to trace my steps to figure out what screen I was on
until I could make out the withdrawal button, upper left
side. Bingo! I hit the right one. A screen with numbers
popped up. I was doing good, I know how to read numbers.
I plugged in $30 and hit enter (or whatever the word is in
Spanish), and my mission was complete.
For a minute, I was half expecting Pesos to come out of the machine.
Luckily that wasn’t the case. I drove away feeling really stupid, but
glad I got my money and didn’t start a new transaction after my
error. I would have lost 2 minutes of valuable time that I didn’t
have. Or, suck it up, like I did, and pretend to be Spanish speaking.
I deleted someone’s video card by accident the other day. I felt horrible; actually drenched with guilt. How could I have done that?… I questioned. Someone’s work just gone without explanation. How will I explain this to them? I was trying to be efficient, I downloaded the clips I needed and just wiped the card clean. I was concerned. Did I do this on purpose? Was it just unexplained human error?
Maybe I was wiped. Tired. Overworked. Wiped out like the video card. Can a person’s brain be too full? Am I doing too much? Are we so bogged down, that we can only see what is right in front of us? I felt like at the moment, my work was more important; at least subconsciously. I had a mission, a checklist of things I had to get done. And, I got it done. Good for me. But, there are others to think about. And I didn’t think…at least not for more than a moment.
Job, kids, spouses, etc. keep us on our toes. Juggle or fail. Avoid getting wiped out, or the rest of the dominos fall. Well, I caused someone else’s dominos to fall. And, for that I am sorry. I don’t know to what extent I effected them, but their work was gone and I was the reason.
I was forgiven, when I confessed my error. But, I know it was just because I’ve been wiped out. I couldn’t honestly explain that to her without being achingly vulnerable. I matter-of-factly stated what happened and waited for a response. I hated myself for being so detached, when inside I felt horrible. She accepted the situation and moved forward.
I’m trying to make it rain in my personal life, my professional life and everything in between. There’s no room for error, especially when the error effects others. I have to avoid being wiped. Being tired or complacent reeks of failure, a situation I have to avoid. Keeping others in mind is as important as the breath that I take, and I have to remember that.
Jamie and I decided to reduce our cabin fever by taking
a ride to Wegman’s yesterday.
Colin’s grilled octopusa ride to Wegmans in Northboroyesterday. It was a foodie Disneyland!
It had everything the heart desires,
where dishes come true. We loved
the amazing selection of seafood
and meats. And, don’t get me
started on cheese, which my son
once said, is,”like heroin for
women”. I may need to go to rehab.
I had eaten a couple of Eggo waffles before take-off and was
somewhat satisfied. I’ve learned the hard way,
For the “He Man”
not to go shopping on an
empty stomach. But, this
wasn’t shopping, it was
a food fantasy. If I
hadn’t eaten, it would
have been pure gluttony.
This crossed my mind at
the checkout, as I
realized if I was hungry,
the bill could have the
potential to challenge
the national debt.
Jamie ponders pate
Our first ride was at the sushi
counter. The color of the
sashimi was so bright, it was
like twinkling lights, without
the twinkle. The only time I’ve
seen sushi that fresh was when
a store most likely bathed it
in sulfa. This was the real
deal. There was a silent
stand-off between getting the
tuna or salmon, which ended
We were ready to tear ourselves away from the sushi station when
a little girl, maybe 9 yrs old, said to her mother, “look Mommy, a
squid.” I turned and gave Jamie a gourmet-smirk, and
cued eye rolling. There in the case sat a fresh octopus, clearly
marked in black magic marker lettering (on a piece of wood
for authentic presentation) OCTOPUS. Don’t get me wrong,
I love children. I especially love children that can read. But my
youngest son wasn’t much older than her when I brought an
octopus home for dinner. He was like a little Shackleton, braving the
tentacles and figuring out how to not only cook it, but survive the
experience. He cooked it, ate it and loved it. I chickened out.
The dog ate the head.
Someone should dust off the merchandise
The alluring light emitted from the
hundreds of cases was almost too
much to handle. It was like the
opposite of a magnetic force field.
We spent some time examining the
different kinds of pate. Jamie is
going to make a Beef Wellington,
and a pate lined crust is critical.
Each pate looked like the other,
but I felt the need to look like I
was discriminating. They didn’t have
what he was looking for, and we
both found ourselves looking at the section below pate, to the
caviar. He asked me if I wanted caviar, and again, I felt an air
of snobbiness come over me. “Not really” I said. I thought
that if you were going to buy caviar, shouldn’t it come from
Moscow, Paris or New York? The packages looked fancy enough,
but I pictured myself in a cashmere cape, strolling into a little
shop in Paris taking samples, and politely ordering a generous
quantity for a dinner party with a few of my classy French friends.
We slowly backed away from the pate, and let the crowd lull us
to our next target.
Salmon on the go
There is so much to write about the experience, but I encourage anyone
who is feeling frozen and hold-up in their house to go and check it out.
You don’t have to be on a pate mission, or looking for anything you
can’t pronounce. Just have fun, pick up dinner, and most importantly
DO NOT GO ON AN EMPTY STOMACH.
I went home to a place I’ve never been. Mountains confronted the sea, with only small cottages dividing the two. Roads were narrow with sheep crossing, slowing the pace of a racing mind. Passing a sign that said, “Amazing Grace Country”
didn’t do the landscape justice. The dewey air and the dramatic clouds loomed over you, up and over a mountain gap, winding and forbidden. The village below a world away, covered in drizzle and filtered light. Quiet and content.
From afar, white dotted meadows speak another language. The bleeting is absorbed into your subconscious like music you can’t get out of your head. Tractors bounce through the country roads looking like they have no place to go. The terrain is rocky and rough, smelling like an earthen musk with hints of heartache. She lost so many to America.
All of my grandparents wanted to leave the lovely fields. Poverty was a shadow
that walked next to them every waking hour. A better life seemed possible, seemed
real. I walked the damp fields, feeling happy that I was able to marry stories
of childhood with this place. A true connection was born, not imagined. My
mind and body finally followed my ancestors, who had been waiting for me to