Author: Cranky Crone

Eighty-three years and one month ago, I was born in Cañon City, Colorado.  My mother had all of her children at home, so I was born in the apartment in which we lived.  My father worked for the WPA (Works Progress Administration, a Franklin Roosevelt New Deal program).  That program put food on our table and a roof over our head.  We (not me, of course) lived in that apartment over the Christmas time of the previous year, and my three older sisters all came down with the measles at the same time.  To keep them occupied, my mother gathered up the Sears Christmas catalogs that had been left at the doors of apartments that were not occupied.  Ethel, Jackie, and Marie each had her own catalog to cut out paper dolls of the models dressed in the clothing that was for sale.  And, they had paste (probably made with flour and water); and they played paper dolls.

Ugly houses have begun to creep into our neighborhoods.  Monstrosities that look as though they are from some outer space collection of housing; or the movie, Farenheit 451.  White.  No color other than white.  They resemble structures made from the kids toys, Legos.  In fact, Lego houses would be more appealing than these ugly monsters.  As my mother used to say, their (architects’) taste must only be in their mouth.  I’m proud of Leo (who lives close by) who did not raze a small personalized house to built a behemoth; rather, he added to it in such a way that it continued to fit the neighborhood and, still, give his family more room.

April 15 came and went, and there was no 2020 tax return in the U.S. mail from me.  My accountant was kind enough to file an extension – something that I thought I would never have to do, again.  File an extension.  Time was, when I had a couple of small (very small) businesses, my accountant filed an extension almost every year.  I would start each year with the best of intensions.  This year, I would have all of my tax information to my accountant on time, I would pledge.  But, life happens, and the tax information stayed on the work table without being put in order.  And, so, the accountant would file an extension so I would not be in trouble.  Or, sometimes, I would get the information to him before the April 15, but it was provided so close to April 15 that I know he filed an extension, even then.

A telephone call from Keith (neighbor) reached me in Wisconsin when I was visiting my daughter and her family.  You may remember that I was there with Daughter #1 for the high school graduation of my eldest granddaughter and to help Daughter #3 during her knee replacement surgery.  I loved being able to cook for a small crowd and help where ever I could.  However, Keith said he had just observed a rat leaving my yard, crossing the street, to where his wife Rita’s truck was sitting.

This week I was going to write about the trials and tribulations of the second round of rats in the wood pile.  Then, the daily mail had a letter from Xcel Energy that was so ridiculous, I couldn’t resist making it the subject of this blog.

The letter begins:  “Here is your personalized analysis of your home’s energy use.”  Hmmm…  I wonder who asked for this “personalized analysis.”  Not I.  The letter continues:  “Due to COVID-19, we understand you might be at home more than usual … might be at home more, and the savings tips shown will help you save during this time.”  More about those savings tips, later.

I went to bed too early, last night, and as usually happens, woke from a sound sleep about 2 AM.  Of course, I couldn’t get back to sleep.  Even with the radio on as “white noise.”  I began to think about all of the roles I have, living with family and in my community.  It has turned out to be a long list.

First, and foremost, I am a child of God.  Have been for as long as I can remember, and hope to be, forever.

I was a wife, now a widow (dear Lord, how I HATE that word).  I am a mother and grandmama, a mother-in-law, a sister (we are only two of the six children born to our mother that are still living), a sister-in-law, an aunt and great aunt to family members I don’t even know.

This is a letter that I e-mailed to the CEO of Office Depot.  Remember that said we need to let corporate know when something comes along to disturb and/or anger us.  So, here is one from me.

________________________________

Gerry Smith
CEO
Office Depot

Dear Mr. Smith:

The purpose of this letter is to provide information regarding the new fax set up in your stores.  I am assuming that every currently operating Office Depot store has the same set up.

Time was when to send a fax, the customer walked into the store, filled out a “send” sheet, faxed the information to the proper telephone number, received a confirmation sheet, paid for the process at the check out stand, and left.  Simple process.  Understandable process.  Short process.  Right!

 When is the last time you tried to read the instructions that come with your new medication?  Or, the instructions for putting together a shelving unit?  Or, the instructions for putting together a live trap to catch the new infestation of rats in the wood pile?  We always used to complain about the “fine print” in legal contracts.  You know – “always read the fine print.”  Now, it seems the “fine print” has crept into our daily lives.  The afore mentioned instructions.  The ingredient lists on packaged foods.  Names of addressees on packages.

After spending four weeks of travel to and from Wisconsin (three of them at my #3 daughter’s home), I arrived home to a yellow lawn because it had been rained on only once during my absence.  When I’m gone from home I shut off the water at the main valve.  Strange things can happen in my absence, and I have no wish to come home to a flooded basement.  With the water turned off, I could not ask anyone to water the yard while I was in Wisconsin.  And, so, even though there was a little (very little) rain during that time, the effect on the lawn was pretty devastating.

For years and years, I drove a 1997 Suburban.  Three seats.  Plenty of room to carry art equipment and materials to New Mexico.  Enough room to carry my family in one car to a destination.  Then came the time to trade the Suburban for another vehicle.

I’ve said before that my friends are a treasure of gold to me.  When it was time to get another car, Keith (HM) started looking for a new car.  He really knows where to look.  I made a list of what I wanted in the new car.  It included three seats, plenty of cargo space, four-wheel drive, working air conditioning, radio, CD player, adjustable seats.  “You don’t need three seats, any more,” he said.  He was right.  So, I adjusted the list to two seats, etc.