Thursday, September 14, 2006
Toys
Being an only child for eleven years gave toys a special meaning. they were my playmates when I couldn't get out with friends. My earliest favorites were...
a plastic jointed purple elephent. I think it was the bendable feature and the smoothe plastic parts that I liked the most. This was in Parkersburg when I was a pre-schooler.
cap guns. One in particular was a small likeness of a German Luger. It fit my hand well and when I had spending money I could get a roll of caps and make some noise. I liked the noise but not the powder burns that mared the finish of the gun from then on. That gun I had when we visited Niagara Falls.
planes. Any kid that made a gun out of everything and a plane out of everything else loved a plane with guns. The problem with WWII model planes is that they either came with landing gear up or down. That's why I liked this metal plane that Mom let me take on her escape from Dad on the B & O railroad to Baltimore from Parkersburg. The wheels would fold up into the wings and the wingtips would fold up just like the carrier planes on the second World War. it was a crude toy as I later found out when purchasing on on eBay.
building sets. I had Lincoln Logs as did every other kid but didn't find them to creative. I had an erector set but found that rather time consuming to work with. My favorite set was all plastic with junction octagons and various lengths of square tubes that press fit into the plastic pieces. I made guns and planes out of them, mostly. I would erect stuctures as well. If they were big enough, I would pretend any structure was a fort. Now I know why I didn't mind being drafted into the Army!
models. Dad would pick up a random plastic model kit for me all the time, from the time I was three or four. He didn't bother helping me put it together. My first models were pretty bad. I found that too much glue woulsd dissolve parts! Eventually I learned to paint the parts, trim the edges, weigh down the ships and the front of planes so they would stand correctly when on their landing gear and took a long time detailing the cockpits to make them as realistic as possible. I vicariously flew in those planes so I wanted a realistic experience. During some of Dad's sermons with which I didn't identify, I often imagined my model plane pilots coming to life and taking off, flying through the house and out into the neighborhood, and returning before I got back. I could picture myself as that pilot flying above everything.
chemistry set. Yes, I got a chemistry set and a microscope as a Christmas gift when in Atlanta which would make me 8 to 12. I read about Louis Pasteur and Madam Curie and wanted to be a chemist. I lived in the past century and wanted to make new discoveries. I had a table for my equipment and played there pretending to be a scientist quite often.
legos. No I didn't have those, but I would have loved them. I know this because I got to play with them when my son was growing up. I finally got to build a real castle that had a working cannon and I could make a catapult. How fun!
a plastic jointed purple elephent. I think it was the bendable feature and the smoothe plastic parts that I liked the most. This was in Parkersburg when I was a pre-schooler.
cap guns. One in particular was a small likeness of a German Luger. It fit my hand well and when I had spending money I could get a roll of caps and make some noise. I liked the noise but not the powder burns that mared the finish of the gun from then on. That gun I had when we visited Niagara Falls.
planes. Any kid that made a gun out of everything and a plane out of everything else loved a plane with guns. The problem with WWII model planes is that they either came with landing gear up or down. That's why I liked this metal plane that Mom let me take on her escape from Dad on the B & O railroad to Baltimore from Parkersburg. The wheels would fold up into the wings and the wingtips would fold up just like the carrier planes on the second World War. it was a crude toy as I later found out when purchasing on on eBay.
building sets. I had Lincoln Logs as did every other kid but didn't find them to creative. I had an erector set but found that rather time consuming to work with. My favorite set was all plastic with junction octagons and various lengths of square tubes that press fit into the plastic pieces. I made guns and planes out of them, mostly. I would erect stuctures as well. If they were big enough, I would pretend any structure was a fort. Now I know why I didn't mind being drafted into the Army!
models. Dad would pick up a random plastic model kit for me all the time, from the time I was three or four. He didn't bother helping me put it together. My first models were pretty bad. I found that too much glue woulsd dissolve parts! Eventually I learned to paint the parts, trim the edges, weigh down the ships and the front of planes so they would stand correctly when on their landing gear and took a long time detailing the cockpits to make them as realistic as possible. I vicariously flew in those planes so I wanted a realistic experience. During some of Dad's sermons with which I didn't identify, I often imagined my model plane pilots coming to life and taking off, flying through the house and out into the neighborhood, and returning before I got back. I could picture myself as that pilot flying above everything.
chemistry set. Yes, I got a chemistry set and a microscope as a Christmas gift when in Atlanta which would make me 8 to 12. I read about Louis Pasteur and Madam Curie and wanted to be a chemist. I lived in the past century and wanted to make new discoveries. I had a table for my equipment and played there pretending to be a scientist quite often.
legos. No I didn't have those, but I would have loved them. I know this because I got to play with them when my son was growing up. I finally got to build a real castle that had a working cannon and I could make a catapult. How fun!
Tuesday, November 15, 2005
Up on a Ladder
He was twenty feet above the driveway with the only thing in his vision being old pine clapboards that desparately needed to be repainted. The plan they both agreed on was to do one side of the house each summer, but that time of year was no longer available since he spent it at school having moved from teaching music to year-round administrative work. This side of the house had gone much longer than four years between coats as a result. It took time to grind off the remains of seven different colors of lead-based paint and to repair the cracks in the boards that barely hung on the studs of the Bonnell Street home. Over one hundred and fifty years ago these unbeveled pine boards were created from timber at a local sawmill. The parrallel saw kerfs on the back of the wood revealed to the trained eye of a consultant brounght in years before that these were cut from the tree trunk using reciprocating, steam-driven saws not a circular saw which was invented in 1850 but used only in the large cities.
He had the time to do the work on the house now since he only worked part-time and was receiving a pension for all the years of teaching children music as well as handling the thankless job of being a principal of a public school. Spreading the drop cloths and raising the ladders, he worked long without breaks so he could cross this job off his long list of repairs, getting the house ready for the winter.
This residence was home base for different jobs across the state in different schools as a teacher, supervisor, vice-principal, then primcipal before retiring at age 59. He moved into the house twenty nine years before, with his wife pregnant with their first child while completing his master's degree. Both decided that this town was where they wanted to raise their family. After looking at many houses within the Borough limits, they fell in love with this little half colonial with its pumpkin pine floors, two working fireplaces pine shutters and pine siding. They could see the potential for a beautiful home and bought it in a private sale advertised in the Hunterdon Democrat, a weekly paper for the county.
While up on the ladder he had turned sixty; no time for much celebration since the days that the temperature climbed above fifty degrees were very few now. Twenty eight years in the same house while his wife's family members and friends had moved many times. He had repaired and remodeled the house as if it were his prized sailing schooner, constantly working one project after another to improve the house. He thought about being sixty and still painting his house, not hiring some Hispanics to do it, but he always liked doing the work; work that tired but relaxed him, knowing that he accomplished something tangible and beneficial, unlike the amorphus accomplishments of academia.
But it was a constant challenge to overcome the fear of falling off the ladder and dying or worse yet, becoming crippled for the remainder of his life that kept him alert. A prayer went up before each daily assent and a thankful prayer completed each day of work, hoping that his future prayers would be answered regarding his safety; not for him, but for his children and his little grand child. Dying is a very selfish thing to do when you have family counting on you. You look down and consider how long your life would be in miliseconds if you fell. Dropping a tool and noting the time was a morbid reminder of just how brief that span of remaining life would be.
Once up in position facing the cracked pine boards it was the sounds he heard that fascinated him. As if blind, only seeing the wood before him, he tried to identify the soulds and where they originated; the jets above going to Newark or Kennedy from the west, the local Fire siren summoning the volunteers, and the buzz of the leaf blowers around the area, blowing leaves into their neighbor's yards for starters. There also were the sounds of children kept by Jill the professional baby sitter two houses down using her cackly singing voice to senerade them as they played on the swings in her backyard. There were her huge dogs that sat like lions digesting their kill that jumped up and challenged occasional passersby, especially those with dogs on a leash. the older kids would venture away from her house by riding bikes and they would come into the driveway where he had his ladders, creating the potential for something falling on them. He cautioned them not to come too closely and they heeded him. There were also school busses stopping at the sitter's house for children to be picked up and dropped off. There were junior high and senior high students walking to and from school and chatting to each other or to someone on the other end of a cell phone. Sometimes joggers or little old ladies that would pass by, all not knowing that he was up there spying on them except the children who knew.
His body would give him signals that he was doing something unnatural, or at least a new activity it wasn't used to. Pain in the arms, weakness and numbness set in so frequently that he had to switch hands on almost every dip of the brush to keep going. He was thankful he was ambidexterious. Constantly climbing the ladder took a toll on his legs, but hoped this exercise would stregthen them. After a few days of this routine his arms gained strength and endurance. The hands that could hardly hold the brush at the end of the first day could keep going supposedly forever. His legs did carry him up and down with a lighter step. Fatigue and hunger were not there, only thirst, giving him the strong conviction that we, the human race, were designed to toil all our days as Moses penned from the oral tradition he captured thousands of years ago in the book of Genesis.
Of course thoughts stomped through his head in an endless march. Sometimes he had to force his mind to change thoughts because he kept recycling embarrassing moments or failures. And why was a sixty year old out of work, retired early and working part time for a low wage? Why couldn't he continue as a principal? Was it all politics or was it his desire to quit the job that was causing him to have high blood pressure and gain weight? He certainly made a lot less money.
But money was never his highest goal. He loved conserving resources, drawing food and fuel from the land, creating music, writing, as well as getting a lot of exercise. If calories could be burned gardening, building a rock wall, or repairing something on the house, then two things were accomplished. If not, then he preferred bicyling, in-line skating, running, walking, or kayaking. He dreamed of having solar panels on his house giving back some kilowatts to the power company and watching the meter go backwards, but that would be a lot of up-front money to start. No, it was other things he liked more than money itself. Of course, he liked the things money could acquire, but making do, creating, solving problems simply was how he managed. He needed a workbench, so he made one out of scrap lumber, wood pegs, and glue. It still sits in the old basement, unable to be removed since it was built there and is too large to be taken out of the stairway or window.
So painting the house, one side a year, was an obvious choice. How long would be be able to continue doing this? Would the day come when he would fall off the ladder like the tool that dropped and bounced off the driveway 1.5 seconds later? This is one reason he is on the ladder now; so he can get the house ready to sell to move into a more efficient, new house with siding or plaster that doesn't need a side painted a year, or ever. But in gaining that conveninece would he miss the old wood, the cracks, the paint, the smell of linseed oil and turpentine as he seals the wood in preparation for the priming, caulking, and painting? Would he miss the smell of the wood fire or the creak of the tung oiled pine floorbooards when you move through the house?
Yes. And the sounds of laughter of little children. Soon his grand daughter will fill his mind with pictures of a toddler moving through the house buy stopping at each landing, which was made to conform the house to the contour of the land, sitting down, turning around, backing down to the lower level, then standing up and continuing on to the next one. She would repeat this process all day if she could because it is fun; just like climbing up and sliding down the stairs, especially the narrow winding back stairs leading to the master bedroom from the kitchen. The house is alive with memories and will be filled with many more before it can no longer be painted or repaired.
He had the time to do the work on the house now since he only worked part-time and was receiving a pension for all the years of teaching children music as well as handling the thankless job of being a principal of a public school. Spreading the drop cloths and raising the ladders, he worked long without breaks so he could cross this job off his long list of repairs, getting the house ready for the winter.
This residence was home base for different jobs across the state in different schools as a teacher, supervisor, vice-principal, then primcipal before retiring at age 59. He moved into the house twenty nine years before, with his wife pregnant with their first child while completing his master's degree. Both decided that this town was where they wanted to raise their family. After looking at many houses within the Borough limits, they fell in love with this little half colonial with its pumpkin pine floors, two working fireplaces pine shutters and pine siding. They could see the potential for a beautiful home and bought it in a private sale advertised in the Hunterdon Democrat, a weekly paper for the county.
While up on the ladder he had turned sixty; no time for much celebration since the days that the temperature climbed above fifty degrees were very few now. Twenty eight years in the same house while his wife's family members and friends had moved many times. He had repaired and remodeled the house as if it were his prized sailing schooner, constantly working one project after another to improve the house. He thought about being sixty and still painting his house, not hiring some Hispanics to do it, but he always liked doing the work; work that tired but relaxed him, knowing that he accomplished something tangible and beneficial, unlike the amorphus accomplishments of academia.
But it was a constant challenge to overcome the fear of falling off the ladder and dying or worse yet, becoming crippled for the remainder of his life that kept him alert. A prayer went up before each daily assent and a thankful prayer completed each day of work, hoping that his future prayers would be answered regarding his safety; not for him, but for his children and his little grand child. Dying is a very selfish thing to do when you have family counting on you. You look down and consider how long your life would be in miliseconds if you fell. Dropping a tool and noting the time was a morbid reminder of just how brief that span of remaining life would be.
Once up in position facing the cracked pine boards it was the sounds he heard that fascinated him. As if blind, only seeing the wood before him, he tried to identify the soulds and where they originated; the jets above going to Newark or Kennedy from the west, the local Fire siren summoning the volunteers, and the buzz of the leaf blowers around the area, blowing leaves into their neighbor's yards for starters. There also were the sounds of children kept by Jill the professional baby sitter two houses down using her cackly singing voice to senerade them as they played on the swings in her backyard. There were her huge dogs that sat like lions digesting their kill that jumped up and challenged occasional passersby, especially those with dogs on a leash. the older kids would venture away from her house by riding bikes and they would come into the driveway where he had his ladders, creating the potential for something falling on them. He cautioned them not to come too closely and they heeded him. There were also school busses stopping at the sitter's house for children to be picked up and dropped off. There were junior high and senior high students walking to and from school and chatting to each other or to someone on the other end of a cell phone. Sometimes joggers or little old ladies that would pass by, all not knowing that he was up there spying on them except the children who knew.
His body would give him signals that he was doing something unnatural, or at least a new activity it wasn't used to. Pain in the arms, weakness and numbness set in so frequently that he had to switch hands on almost every dip of the brush to keep going. He was thankful he was ambidexterious. Constantly climbing the ladder took a toll on his legs, but hoped this exercise would stregthen them. After a few days of this routine his arms gained strength and endurance. The hands that could hardly hold the brush at the end of the first day could keep going supposedly forever. His legs did carry him up and down with a lighter step. Fatigue and hunger were not there, only thirst, giving him the strong conviction that we, the human race, were designed to toil all our days as Moses penned from the oral tradition he captured thousands of years ago in the book of Genesis.
Of course thoughts stomped through his head in an endless march. Sometimes he had to force his mind to change thoughts because he kept recycling embarrassing moments or failures. And why was a sixty year old out of work, retired early and working part time for a low wage? Why couldn't he continue as a principal? Was it all politics or was it his desire to quit the job that was causing him to have high blood pressure and gain weight? He certainly made a lot less money.
But money was never his highest goal. He loved conserving resources, drawing food and fuel from the land, creating music, writing, as well as getting a lot of exercise. If calories could be burned gardening, building a rock wall, or repairing something on the house, then two things were accomplished. If not, then he preferred bicyling, in-line skating, running, walking, or kayaking. He dreamed of having solar panels on his house giving back some kilowatts to the power company and watching the meter go backwards, but that would be a lot of up-front money to start. No, it was other things he liked more than money itself. Of course, he liked the things money could acquire, but making do, creating, solving problems simply was how he managed. He needed a workbench, so he made one out of scrap lumber, wood pegs, and glue. It still sits in the old basement, unable to be removed since it was built there and is too large to be taken out of the stairway or window.
So painting the house, one side a year, was an obvious choice. How long would be be able to continue doing this? Would the day come when he would fall off the ladder like the tool that dropped and bounced off the driveway 1.5 seconds later? This is one reason he is on the ladder now; so he can get the house ready to sell to move into a more efficient, new house with siding or plaster that doesn't need a side painted a year, or ever. But in gaining that conveninece would he miss the old wood, the cracks, the paint, the smell of linseed oil and turpentine as he seals the wood in preparation for the priming, caulking, and painting? Would he miss the smell of the wood fire or the creak of the tung oiled pine floorbooards when you move through the house?
Yes. And the sounds of laughter of little children. Soon his grand daughter will fill his mind with pictures of a toddler moving through the house buy stopping at each landing, which was made to conform the house to the contour of the land, sitting down, turning around, backing down to the lower level, then standing up and continuing on to the next one. She would repeat this process all day if she could because it is fun; just like climbing up and sliding down the stairs, especially the narrow winding back stairs leading to the master bedroom from the kitchen. The house is alive with memories and will be filled with many more before it can no longer be painted or repaired.
Thursday, November 03, 2005
my Mother-in-Law
Yes, the inevitibale happenned; Trudi and her second husband John moved into our little house while she was between houses. She sold her house for a hansom provit and bought a house next to my cousin Randy for less. When Donna told me she was staying there was no argument, no discussion; she was staying. We cleaned the house, we moved things out of the middle bedroom for her. I went a day in advance half way to pick up their belongings and stuff them into my new car. Some things looked like they were fifty years old.
I put the things in the basement up to protect them from any possible water damage, but when they moved in they insisted on my carrying up most of the items to their bedroom or worse, to the main floor to be accessed whenever they needed them. The house began to look lived in; overly.
"Mom" I found out is a picky person. She needs not one, but two wedges of lemon, not lime, in her iced water for every meal. "I don't drink coffee after breakfast, but I do want Earl Grey decaffinated, not before the meal but during."
Mercifully, they both retreat to their room and read while I prepare the evening meal and catch up on some serious alcohol intake. Then they come down to be served. John always likes what we make and helps with the carrying the dishes to the kitchen; Mom, on the other hand could not be bothered. She is here to be served.
After supper it is "Jeapardy" and "Everybody Loves Raymond" and nothing else is permitted. I leave the room. I have begun to practice the piano, read, write e-mail, etc. during this time. It is a long time before bed, so I usually cave in about nine PM. That way I can get up at 5 AM and read, write, or do whatever I what. Their closing on the new house is this Monday and they leave on Sunday, so I only have to hold out for three more days.
It's not that they are here. It's not that our grocery bill has gone up 100%, it's the fact that nothing is good enough and that she demands ever increasing details to make her happy. I wonder where Donna got the idea that other people are here on earth to make her happy and that they do a lousy job of it???
I put the things in the basement up to protect them from any possible water damage, but when they moved in they insisted on my carrying up most of the items to their bedroom or worse, to the main floor to be accessed whenever they needed them. The house began to look lived in; overly.
"Mom" I found out is a picky person. She needs not one, but two wedges of lemon, not lime, in her iced water for every meal. "I don't drink coffee after breakfast, but I do want Earl Grey decaffinated, not before the meal but during."
Mercifully, they both retreat to their room and read while I prepare the evening meal and catch up on some serious alcohol intake. Then they come down to be served. John always likes what we make and helps with the carrying the dishes to the kitchen; Mom, on the other hand could not be bothered. She is here to be served.
After supper it is "Jeapardy" and "Everybody Loves Raymond" and nothing else is permitted. I leave the room. I have begun to practice the piano, read, write e-mail, etc. during this time. It is a long time before bed, so I usually cave in about nine PM. That way I can get up at 5 AM and read, write, or do whatever I what. Their closing on the new house is this Monday and they leave on Sunday, so I only have to hold out for three more days.
It's not that they are here. It's not that our grocery bill has gone up 100%, it's the fact that nothing is good enough and that she demands ever increasing details to make her happy. I wonder where Donna got the idea that other people are here on earth to make her happy and that they do a lousy job of it???
Monday, August 22, 2005
The End of Summer reassessmente
It's been a while since I left educational administration in March. What has happenned during that time and now? Well, for one, I thought I would become a real estate agent. That did not pan out because I needed to take courses in Pennsylvania at a moderate expense, then take an exam. That was not the geatest hurdle. The one offering me a job once I was licensed was my brother-in-law, the same one I worked for before as a real estate agent. Then he talked me out of nearly all of my commission; a fact that dried up my prostpects of becoming an agent that could make some money.
In the meantime, to earn some cash, I took a job at Home Depot. They welcomed me and were embarrassed they could only pay ten an hour. I worked part time and enjoyed it. The hours of being on my feet and running around without a break took at least an inch off my waist. I felt younger and I was bringing in money.
Donna was still on my case, but we were able to afford things not budgeted for, so I was left alone. As the summer progressed and I took my time off to work on the house and nothing much else but drive Donna around because she was bored staying home, things began to settle down.
I have accepted myself long ago; my shortcomings and my strengths. Donna still doesn't know who I am, but she has stopped yelling. She gives me a dig whenever she can to "motivate" me to do things I do not want to do. If I really wanted to be a principal or a superintendent, I would have completed my doctorate and done nothing else. Instead, I loved the outdoors, woodworking, gardening, playing music, making things, being with people, and reading. I have always been that way.
In the meantime, to earn some cash, I took a job at Home Depot. They welcomed me and were embarrassed they could only pay ten an hour. I worked part time and enjoyed it. The hours of being on my feet and running around without a break took at least an inch off my waist. I felt younger and I was bringing in money.
Donna was still on my case, but we were able to afford things not budgeted for, so I was left alone. As the summer progressed and I took my time off to work on the house and nothing much else but drive Donna around because she was bored staying home, things began to settle down.
I have accepted myself long ago; my shortcomings and my strengths. Donna still doesn't know who I am, but she has stopped yelling. She gives me a dig whenever she can to "motivate" me to do things I do not want to do. If I really wanted to be a principal or a superintendent, I would have completed my doctorate and done nothing else. Instead, I loved the outdoors, woodworking, gardening, playing music, making things, being with people, and reading. I have always been that way.
Tuesday, June 28, 2005
Being a student again
I am studying for my PA real estate license. I'm studying "Schools That Learn", I'm studying Spanish, and I am putting out resumes. This is not a pleasent time.
Tuesday, June 14, 2005
The Third Lap
When competing in track, running the mile during high school, it was the third lap that was the worst. You had adreneline for the first two laps and guts for the last one, but there was nothing to help you during the third lap.
My life is on the third lap right now. I have been very industrious and hard working up to now and I'm looking at the finish line a little too early. There's one more lap left; I have to work for a longer period. The great thing about it is that I can receive a pension and work full time as well. Maybe because I am making more money through my pension that many people don't get working full time, keeps me looking at the finish line.
I am studying for my new profession; real estate. I've done this before but did not have the desire to do it then. Now I have a reson to be an agent. I get to work odd hours and have my days to myself. That solitude has been a welcome advantage of my present state. During that time I have found I am disciplined enough to keep the TV off, not to have a drink until the end of the day, and to keep studying, besides keeping the house in order.
I know that I have no support to be doing what I am right now. There is no respect, but then I have to remember that my wife is a perfectionist and I will never be perfect, so anything less than perfection is a failure. In her eyes, she is being merciful to a pathetic loser.
No, I'm far from perfect, but I have learned what God put us on this earth for; not to create wealth, but to share our love and compassion with others. So what will motivate me in real estate will be the same thing that motivates me to work for a pittance at Home Depot; to help people.
I don't expect any improvement in Donna's attitude once I begin a new career, but I will continue toward it, just the same. I have also learned that you cannot let someone else affect you attitude. I am so thankful to be alive and to be healthy. I enjoy what God has given me. I also am motivated to think I need to stay healthy to give my grandchildren a grandfather. That is the best form of giving, which would give me the greatest joy.
My life is on the third lap right now. I have been very industrious and hard working up to now and I'm looking at the finish line a little too early. There's one more lap left; I have to work for a longer period. The great thing about it is that I can receive a pension and work full time as well. Maybe because I am making more money through my pension that many people don't get working full time, keeps me looking at the finish line.
I am studying for my new profession; real estate. I've done this before but did not have the desire to do it then. Now I have a reson to be an agent. I get to work odd hours and have my days to myself. That solitude has been a welcome advantage of my present state. During that time I have found I am disciplined enough to keep the TV off, not to have a drink until the end of the day, and to keep studying, besides keeping the house in order.
I know that I have no support to be doing what I am right now. There is no respect, but then I have to remember that my wife is a perfectionist and I will never be perfect, so anything less than perfection is a failure. In her eyes, she is being merciful to a pathetic loser.
No, I'm far from perfect, but I have learned what God put us on this earth for; not to create wealth, but to share our love and compassion with others. So what will motivate me in real estate will be the same thing that motivates me to work for a pittance at Home Depot; to help people.
I don't expect any improvement in Donna's attitude once I begin a new career, but I will continue toward it, just the same. I have also learned that you cannot let someone else affect you attitude. I am so thankful to be alive and to be healthy. I enjoy what God has given me. I also am motivated to think I need to stay healthy to give my grandchildren a grandfather. That is the best form of giving, which would give me the greatest joy.
Wednesday, May 18, 2005
My life as a hardware associate at HD
Looking for cash and taking a suggestion from AARP, I applied on-line to Home Depot hoping they would take me in an out-of-town location. When that did not happen, I expanded my application to include Flemington and soon I received a call. They interviewed me and had me report for training that Saturday at 7:00 AM.
There were seven other trainees from all backgrounds. I would not be receiving a lot of money per hour, but I could get some cash to pay for the mounting expenses of building a home while supporting Damon. The plan is for me to work part-time while studying for my PA real estate license exam, then once passed, work for Ernie at REMax in Bethlehem, PA showing low-priced homes to buyers.
I always wanted to know what it was like to work part-time and on the sales floor. I found I knew some to get me through, but I began learning so much about tools and equipment. I made a few keys, which was easy for house keys.
My fellow workers were good to work with except for an old guy named Charlie, who wanted me to slow down and disappeared quite often leaving me on the floor alone for some time. I came home exhausted because you get an unpaid hour for lunch and a 15-minute break every two hours. I like to be up and about, but that seemed like a long time. The only way I was able to get the time to pass more quickly was to wait on customers. That was the best. I liked finding out the problem they had and suggesting a tool or a process that would solve it.
Donna was icy about the whole affair and would not get off the couch the entire weekend because I was not home. I changed, washed or put away dishes, then made meals, then washed and put away the dished for those. I also did the laundry and watered the lawn. I know she is suffering from depression because I am not making enough money for her to get her dream house, but I'd rather be doing something and making some cash while studying rather than just sitting at home. I don't think that would make her any happier.
Lately, she has perked up a bit since her spring program is about done. I redid a CD for the program for her at night. She was supposed to get table cloths and forks for the cake, but she just couldn't get up the strength to go out. Instead, she talked on the phone to her fellow music teacher, Tony and piano coustomers.
Well, this blog was to be about retail and it ended up about relationships. Why do we work in the first place? Is it not for our lifestyle or our family or relationships? I think so.
There were seven other trainees from all backgrounds. I would not be receiving a lot of money per hour, but I could get some cash to pay for the mounting expenses of building a home while supporting Damon. The plan is for me to work part-time while studying for my PA real estate license exam, then once passed, work for Ernie at REMax in Bethlehem, PA showing low-priced homes to buyers.
I always wanted to know what it was like to work part-time and on the sales floor. I found I knew some to get me through, but I began learning so much about tools and equipment. I made a few keys, which was easy for house keys.
My fellow workers were good to work with except for an old guy named Charlie, who wanted me to slow down and disappeared quite often leaving me on the floor alone for some time. I came home exhausted because you get an unpaid hour for lunch and a 15-minute break every two hours. I like to be up and about, but that seemed like a long time. The only way I was able to get the time to pass more quickly was to wait on customers. That was the best. I liked finding out the problem they had and suggesting a tool or a process that would solve it.
Donna was icy about the whole affair and would not get off the couch the entire weekend because I was not home. I changed, washed or put away dishes, then made meals, then washed and put away the dished for those. I also did the laundry and watered the lawn. I know she is suffering from depression because I am not making enough money for her to get her dream house, but I'd rather be doing something and making some cash while studying rather than just sitting at home. I don't think that would make her any happier.
Lately, she has perked up a bit since her spring program is about done. I redid a CD for the program for her at night. She was supposed to get table cloths and forks for the cake, but she just couldn't get up the strength to go out. Instead, she talked on the phone to her fellow music teacher, Tony and piano coustomers.
Well, this blog was to be about retail and it ended up about relationships. Why do we work in the first place? Is it not for our lifestyle or our family or relationships? I think so.
