Summer Vacation (and) "How Come the Beach Pavilion Don't Take Bridge Cards?"

Currently, my husband, my parents, and my siblings are all on Summer Vacation. For the last couple of weeks, they have been singing the praises of leisure free time (except for AJ, who prefers packed schedules), forgetting that I don't have summer vacation at all. This is the first summer of my post-kindergarten life in which I haven't undergone a significant schedule change at the beginning of June. I was reminded today that I was not alone in this.

Today was Beach Day.

Today was Beautiful.


"I've never been to the beach before!!"

(Then she had a panic attack.)

(Then she recovered!)

"Do you want something to eat?"
"Yeah, I will. But I haven't seen this lake for 40 years, and I'm really enjoying it."

And here I was, feeling that I was shackled by my job.

Today, I realized that I am not shackled, but liberated.

Y'all's Good People

Jarrone and I have always been fond of each other, in a sort of "quit doing that or I'll kill you" sort of way. It's the classic relationship between the half-intentional rule breaker and the hyper-attentive hand of order (can that be classic?) He mutters, he cheats and cuts in line. I don't stand for foolishness like that. We're friends.

Jarrone came in my office yesterday morning at eight o'clock, and sits down. He didn't sign up, I didn't call him, but he got lucky this time. My list was empty.

"Y'all got me my ID. You know, that's the nicest thing anyone's ever done for me. I aint kidding. Hold on."

He dials a number on his cell phone, and slaps it on my desk. He jams in one of the buttons, and I hear ringing coming out of the speaker.

"Hello?"

"Christina. Wake up. Dj'you ever thank these people? These Degage people?"

"What? Jerrone, it's so early. I need coffee first."

"No you aint. You say thank you. Right now. Anna, say something."

"Ahh... I didn't tell him to call you."

"Oh, yeah, hi Anna. Sorry. Thank you. Y'all real nice."

"Okay that's enough. Go get you coffee."

He hangs up the phone.

"Y'all's good people. Hold on."

I 'held on' for 45 minutes... and continued working. Sometime mid-morning, Jerrone walks into my office, without signing up to see me, again. He slams two A&W Root Beers on my desk and says, "Y'all have a good day." And that's it.

The Caveman

The Caveman loves the cold.
The Caveman chases down the mailman.
The Caveman prepares the elevator when he sees me coming up the street.
The Caveman hates showering.
The Caveman hoards old broken things and open jars of peanut butter.
The Caveman has a grey beard.
The Caveman rides his bike into oncoming traffic.
The Caveman eats three cheeseburgers.
The Caveman is always on time for a job he's not even hired to do.
The Caveman is from the Upper Peninsula.
The Caveman signals instead of talks.
The Caveman wore camouflage all winter.
The Caveman tells the best jokes.
The Caveman guards my bike.
The Caveman is in charge.
The Caveman may or may not have carved his name onto the Cherry St. sidewalk.

I call him by his real name, but he would argue that's not his real name at all. He's Degage's very own voluntary handyman, elevator man, garbage man, mail man, security man, door man man. I don't know what we'd do without him.