Friday, February 26, 2010

King of the Mountain

Unmelted mounds of snow bulldozed up against light posts in town parking lots are the only evidence of recent snowfall. The large heaps in the first lot I visited were all dirty with soot, but this afternoon in another lot, the pile of snow was mostly white. Bright sunshine made today crispy clear. Starting with a noon appointment for haircut, I’ve had a busy afternoon of appointments, but the warm sun between appointments made it pleasant.

After a feel-good shampoo and styling with shorter hair from my favorite talented cosmetologist, I picked up a couple of prescriptions and some bananas and ran by to see Katherine, who was busy on the computer, so I had time to visit Salvation Army. I wanted to see if they still had the glass serving plates that match my pattern that I should have bought last week. I saw them when I took my plastic sacks there to recycle them. But I don’t really have a good place to store any more dishes. I was in a hurry and decided it was foolish to buy something I didn’t have to have--even if they were cheap.

All week I had sometimes regretted that decision. Surely I could clear out a place for them. And I might need them at sometime in the future. Or I could loan them to others with that same pattern. Why didn’t I buy them before someone else did? (One method I have always used when deciding whether to buy something is whether I continue to think about it. If I forget all about it, obviously it wasn’t too desirable. But if I keep on thinking about an item or garment, I know I must really like it. Since I keep everything forever, that is important.)
So today I looked over the eye-catching loaded tables in the middle of the store and knew I had waited too long. Finally one last table. They were still there! The clerk helped me carry them to the car. He said I’d need help carrying them in at home. I said I’d just unload them a few at a time—that way my husband would not have to know about my perhaps silly decision until I had them washed and stored someplace. (Where?) I think sticking the glass plates into the dishwasher and using them for parties is cheaper than buying paper plates for a party. And I like eating off glass better—although I will admit paper plates are more colorful and can emphasize the holiday or theme better than the glass ones.

With my new dishes wrapped in newspapers in a sturdy box and safely in the trunk with a few other treasures because I “really” needed them, I headed to Johnston City. There I had a not-so-good news in a consultation with my dentist. He and I both had received the report from the specialist he sent me to last week in Mt. Vernon. Now I had several unpleasant alternatives to mull over and choose from as we devised a plan and decided which gamble to take in future appointments as he repairs my teeth. None of this was unexpected, so I wasn’t too disappointed.

Before the next early evening appointment with the optometrist, I entertained myself by looking for photo corners I need. General Dollar didn’t have them. But as I stepped out of my car in the next parking lot, I was treated to a sight that made my head turn twice. Yes, there really was a boy on top of the mound of snow. Obviously feeling the promise of spring in the midst of winter’s remains, his hands were in the air celebrating. I’d never have the nerve to make a spectacle of myself by climbing such a snow mound in public even if I physically could, but I was so glad he did. He was the King of the Mountain, and I was ready to be his willing subject. He was in his own world and wasn’t aware of me, but I was delighted with him.

Inside the store, I headed to the office supplies and the photo department thinking I might find photo corners. I didn’t, but there was a cute teenage girl behind the counter with an admiring young man hanging over the counter conversing. They too were in their own world, but I thought I’d ask to make sure there were no photo corners—just in case I had missed them. I never could decide if the young man was another employee or just her admirer because he was the one who responded when I inquired. I might as well as been asking for something from the 17th Century instead of the 20th from the look on the young man’s face. He had never heard of photo corners and had to ask me to explain what they were. I am sure his photos are all on his phone and computer. Although he was polite and smiled gently at me, his amusement at my quaintness was all too apparent. We parted with both of us mentally shaking our heads. It looks as if I will have to break down next week and go to my least favorite store on the far side of Marion. I don’t like Wal-Mart because I can’t find my car in their huge parking lot and I can’t locate anything inside their large store—or at least not quickly.

As I stepped outside I was hoping to see the boy on top of the snow heap again. He was gone. Next I heard the sound of a goose caller that hunters use sending its provocative call throughout the lot. Then I saw the back door standing open of a van parked near the heap. My boy was still there reigning and enjoying life.

I just had time to get to the optometrist at 5:30. Since he didn’t see me till after 6:00, I would have had time to look at Wal-Mart, but I didn’t know that. He thought some vision problem I was having was not caused by my eyes changing, but from a film that often comes after a cataract procedure has aged. He said I could have it corrected in a simple procedure that won’t take but a couple of minutes, and I left with promises that the receptionist would call me when she sets that appointment up with the opthamologist who originally did the cataract surgery.

It was almost 7:30 when I got back to the farm. Gerald and I ate a bite of supper together and talked a bit about our day. He is still sore from the workout he had yesterday as he helped Brian clean out the grain bin after the trucks hauled away the remainder of last year’s soybean crop. By the time I neatened the kitchen and made the coffee pot ready for tomorrow morning, he was asleep in the family room “watching” a ball game. Not wanting to wake him, I didn’t plant a kiss on his forehead as I sometimes do when I walk by. I shut the door to my office and began checking emails and Facebook messages before writing to you on Woodsong Notes. I enjoyed remembering that boy on top of the snow mountain. Long live the King!

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