The Brush Off

I pride myself on being organized.  I used to be an event maven, and I know the value of planning, timelines and thinking ahead.  That is why I 'flipped' my closet from summer to winter almost two months ago.  Colorado is fickle and the weather is capable of catching one off guard.  But not this chicky.

I've lived at altitude long enough to know that capris and a tank top can be worn on warm January days and winter coats may be necessary in September.  Or on Mother's Day.  It's happened!  I always leave a pair of flip flops handy to don after an afternoon pedicure and a bathing suit is a year-round necessity for me.  Our sunshine is notoriously brilliant and even on days that never break past 25 degrees a sweater, scarf and hat may be all I need to stay comfy for running errands or a short jaunt to the mailbox.

We had an early, icy snow about two weeks ago.  My car spends evenings under a carport and I frequently don't need to de-ice or sweep snow.  It all depends on the wind and the type of precipitation.  I'm happy that scraping is not an every snow occurrence.  My hands don't like it - RA makes repetitive motions difficult and often painful.

In addition to switching my closet, I do a few other winterizing chores.  I make sure my tires are well-treaded, all fluids are full, my tank is topped off.  I don't enjoy pumping gas in the frigid wind, and it is always windy when I get gas!  I take the oil-filled electric heater out of the storage unit on my back deck.  I buy some cans of soup for days I don't want to make stock from scratch.  The tea stash is well supplied - decaf coffee is in the house!  I pride myself in being as ready as one can be in an unpredictable, high desert climate.

So how is it that I came to find myself sans snow brush a few days ago?  My trusty red handled snow brush on one end - ice scraper on the other was missing in action.  Last year my youngest daughter declared this ice scraper was a POS* and I needed a better tool.  That is because I had to park without benefit of overhead protection.  It was a good enough for me in most weather kind of implement.  I'll admit I am frugal.  Why buy something new if my old one still works well enough most times?  I'm not of the Amazon generation.  Think of something I need - turn to google or an app - press buy and wait a ridiculously short amount of time for said item to magically appear.

That is how I found myself using a gym towel to clear my windshield yesterday.  This came about because I went to the YMCA early and the storm was light when I left my house.  I wasn't thinking ahead.  I guess I am losing my touch as a self-proclaimed boy scout.  You know - be prepared.  I'm in the locker room recovering from a vigorous workout and a delightful steam and the  chatter is about the storm and how heavy it is snowing.  It dawns on me.  Shite!  I have no idea where my ice scraper is.

I've been in the storage closet and didn't even think to look.  I doubted it was in my car, because I am in my car all the time.  I forage in my trunk enough to doubt it is there either.  So where in the Sam Hill is it?  I'm considering the millennial solution - pick one on-line and get a replacement delivered.  I live in a large enough metro area that it might even qualify for a same day grey van appearance.  But the compassionate me thinks that I don't want to drive (anymore) today.  How could I expect someone else to indulge my lack of being ready for winter?

I trudge out my back door.  Wow - there is a hefty snowfall back there.  Lucky for me there is a dust pan on the porch.  It serves as a mini-shovel.  I clear enough snow to open the storage doors and take more than a cursory look.  I do not see the dang thing.  I'm perplexed.  Is this a sign that I am supposed to buy a newer, better mousetrap?  (I mean scraper)  Does it mean my days of bragging about preparedness and superior time management skills are definitively over?

Whenever I feel frustration building.  I practice the three P's.  Pause.  Ponder.  Progress.  A few deep breaths and a cup of hot tea are all I need to know that this is not a big deal.  I've already thrown the ice encrusted gym towel in the washer and it will surreptitiously makes its way back to the Y tomorrow.  No need to announce my faux-pas to the front desk staff and explain why I am bringing their property in through the front door.  I do the mature thing.  It is shoved in my gym bag, I will lay on it in the steam room and return it to the dirty towel bin.  No one the wiser.

This morning the scraper was still on my mind.  In single digit, snowy weather I find myself head deep in my trunk.  I have a red milk box that holds boots, a scarf, gloves and other winter gear.  It also holds a couple of bungee cords and a dog leash, which actually came in very hand when I rescued a pup running on Garden of the Gods Rd. a few years back, so don't laugh!  There are some respiratory masks in case of fire; I have personal experience with how handy these can be as well.  It did not take much rummaging to find my elusive snow brush.  Reunited in time to clear my front windshield of some ice.  Brush residual snow off the side windows.  I am giddy while I do this - I don't feel the frigidity of the morning through the too thin gloves I donned.

One more thing.  Where is my newspaper?  It too has been MIA for three mornings...

Time to Write,

Jane

*POS - Piece of Shit

There is no hope...

"There is no hope for the satisfied man"

Post founder, Frederick G. Bonfils 1861-1933

This quote appears daily in The Denver Post on the mast of their editorial page.  It's a good quote; something my own dad might have uttered to describe his entrepreneurial endeavors.  Nowadays newspaper people are more likely to proclaim that print is not dead. Millennials reply that only stalwarts read the paper.  The internet is the future and the like.

Personally I like the feel of the morning paper.  When I first came to Denver the Post still printed twice daily and the Rocky Mountain News was thriving.  I have always preferred the broadsheet format over the tabloid.  Still, there was a time I received both papers, to my doorstep or driveway in Cherry Creek.  When the Rocky got folded into the Denver Post brand, I was glad the broadsheet prevailed.  I like to snap the paper just so to hide the crossword answers and give a bit of backing for my pen.  Having sections is good too.  Sports can go straight into recycling.  The food section and Sunday Life & Culture can hang out for a few days.

For years I lived in The Springs and had their local rag delivered instead of the Post.  It was a conservatively leaning paper, so I ignored that and enjoyed the parts that spoke to me.  Local news, reading the comics with my kids, seeing if I knew anyone who had drafted a letter to the editor.  When I returned to the Denver metro area, I was lured in with a ridiculously cheap intro offer for the Post.  It worked.  First I only received the Sunday paper, then I added Wednesdays.  Now I am a daily subscriber because, dang it!  I love the crossword puzzle.  

There is an old-fashioned comfort in morning coffee and the paper.  Opening the door in winter and seeing the orange sleeve against bright new snow gives me a small thrill.  Some days I wonder when did they stop banding the newspaper and start using these sleeves which are pretty much good for nothing in the afterlife but pooper scooping.  Other times I step out onto the porch in the moonlit dawn and realize I am up way too early.  I've beaten the carrier to the punch.

Lately, I open my door to nothing.  No paper at five, or six or even nine am.  Usually I let a one-off delivery problem slide.  I can't get worked up about one or two days without my puzzle or Dear Amy.

Nowadays I have the subscriber line for the post on speed dial.  I get it.  They are having delivery problems.  Carrier issues.  But I pay for a service - up front.  In my mind, I have fulfilled my end of this agreement.  The Denver Post is struggling to honor their part.

The call center people are very nice.  I have talked to them so frequently I have their script memorized.  I know all about the escalation department.  I am assured they will inform the supervisor.  They are working on it.  Some days they ask me if I want a redelivery.  That is a non-reliable solution because often it doesn't happen.  Other days they inform me they are happily extending my subscription.  But is that a good solution if I am not getting what I am subscribing to in the now?

Perhaps there is no hope for the Denver Post.  Print may not be dead, but delivery is in a coma.  My dad used to say he'd be damned if he would let one employee ruin his business.  I'm pretty sure that Mr. Bonfils would have felt the same way.  Would the founder of the longest printed paper in the Centennial state let delivery issues dissatisfy his subscribers?  I think not.

As I typed this, I heard the thud of my redelivery hit the porch.  In some ways I feel badly.  Certainly this is not an earth shattering problem.  I'm done with my allotment of caffeine, and the gym is next on my agenda.  Today's paper won't be enjoyed in the crepuscular hours.  It will be read later in the afternoon.  Perhaps on the porch with a cuppa decaf tea in the waning sunshine of a mid-October day.

There may be no hope for the satisfied man, but this gal would be happy just to get her daily paper.

Time to Write,

Jane

  

  

River

River

by Jane Hillson Aiello

January 2019

I have not stood in a river | alone

Waders snugging | hips

Sunshine | rippling eddies

Blue sky | endless vista

I have never felt the current

The rush | water 

Caressing calves | though I know

In my bones | cool | stillness 

I sat ashore | rock | sandbar

Notebook in hand | observing

Writing | not experiencing

Swirl | meditation of nature | flow

Now | curious | my time

To leave the shore | safety | fears

Submerse | water | brackish

Stream of life | awakening

I have not stood in a river | alone

The lure | appealing

Letting go of rocks | hardness

Allow | movement | drift