It’s the little things

 

A much younger Jacob 

The timer on my toaster oven started going off about seven minutes before the time was up—and it went off almost continually for those seven minutes. Sophie does not like the toaster oven, and when it goes off, she barks—incessantly. I tried the chat function with Breville, where after a long wait someone said they were referring me to the proper department—and apparently hung up, because the chat went dead. I knew I should call, but for over a week I’ve been avoiding it. I think I only used the oven two or three times, and nights when we had a skillet supper, like last night, it was easy to put it out of my mind. But it was on my calendar, and the computer kept reminding me it was days overdue.

So I bit the bullet and called. Got a woman with an indeterminate accent—not good for my old ears. Apparently not good for her comprehension either. I relayed what was happening, and I guess tried too hard to be cute, because I added, “My dog barks at it constantly, and it’s really annoying.” She replied, “I don’t understand. You have a dog ….?” I finally had to say, “Forget the dog!” Wonder of wonders, she made two suggestions: stop using the bake function when I should be using roast and unplug the oven for two hours so the timer can reset itself. That’s one of those simplistic solutions that leaves you wondering why you didn’t just do that in the first place. I unplugged, and it apparently fixed the problem. I feel like a combination of a ninny and a success.

Rain is not a little thing—except when it comes in a drizzle as it did today. The morning was dark and damp and drizzly, and I worried about Jacob who was playing in a high school golf tournament (52 area schools). Apparently, the rain didn’t stop it, and he did a good job, Meanwhile at home the rain was creating small miracles. The lantana is blooming, and the hyacinth vine on the fence by my desk window is sending out a few tentative blooms. Those plants have been dormant all summer, doing their best to survive. Now, they won’t bloom for long, but I’ll take what I can get.

I went to the podiatrist today. The doctor’s wife/receptionist asked about my VW bug and when I told her it is twenty years old, she said, “Oh, and I remember when you got it!” We decided we are both aging, but I thought it was nice that I’ve had that established relationship with them for that long and that she remembers personal details when I am one of many, many patients. I like them both a lot but dislike their building: the handicap ramp has a really coarse pebbled surface. I got about halfway down, clutching the railing, and suddenly sat in my walker, told Christian I was giving up. He, kind soul, pushed me to the car.

No cooking tonight. We had take-out sandwiches from our favorite sub place. It was sort of nice to realize in the late afternoon that I didn’t have to cook. Mostly I enjoy it but a night off every once in a while is welcome. Now I find I won’t cook for the next two nights either, except for myself, so I may be ready to cook a fine meal come Monday. Tomorrow is a football game, and Sunday the Burtons will go to his sister’s for her birthday

Tonight I’m checking on the whereabouts of my other children. I thought Colin was in Montreal for work, but my “Find Friends” tells me he’s home in Tomball. Megan and Brandon are in Telluride for a music festival, both in awe of a singer (country/western, I presume) that I never heard of. At least I’ve heard of Pearl Jam, though when I saw pictures of the audience bathed in red lights, I was really glad not to be there. Jamie is apparently back in Frisco after a quick, one-day trip to Miami. I always feel a tiny bit better when they are all tucked in where they belong. Shh! Don’t tell them I track them.

And that’s my day of little things. Life is really sweet.