I Get It From Her

I often find myself in strange situations that I'm unsure how to get myself out of. Oftentimes, these tend to be the rather amusing stories that I put up here for kicks and giggles. After a few phone calls to my mother, I'm starting to realize that this kind of thing might be hereditary. And so, I will begin telling you the tale that was told to me a few weeks ago about how my mother ended up with a Neighborhood Watch that consisted of turkeys. Yes, you read that correctly.

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She had noticed the turkeys had passed through her yard a couple of times. They were missing their mother. None of them were tagged; they were indeed true wild turkeys. Grown enough they were, but not quite grown up to fend for themselves completely. They might have passed through entirely had she not put out birdseed in a feeder that just happened to be perfect turkey height. So they stayed. She called me in amazement that they had stayed.

"You fed them!" I laughed back at her, "Of course they stayed!"

They became used to John and her. In fact, you could say they adopted my mother and stepfather. She didn't allow them in the house, but they did follow them wherever they went outside. Even if it was back and forth all throughout the yard as John mowed the grass, or checked the mailbox. One of them is always getting herself into trouble. My mother named her Molly.

Eventually, they began to explore. My mother's neighbors are another entry entirely. They are truly eccentric in that they copy whatever she does. My mother made a garden, did landscaping and before you know it, they all began doing it, too. So it stands to reason that the neighbors started feeding the turkeys, became friendly with them and so on. You could almost make a case that the turkeys knew who belonged in that neighborhood and who did not. So when an unaware jogger came bounding down the pavement, you can guess she was probably pretty shocked to find a flock of turkeys chasing her down. They were relentless, until she left, then they came about and strutted their way home.

Let's just say that I'll be a bit suspicious if my mother sends a frozen turkey for Christmas.

Learning To Accept People For Whom They Are

What happens when you put a recluse in a position where they MUST mingle with all types of society? Well, she either flops or succeeds, that's what. The outcome is a day-to-day trial of patience.

I work with all kinds. There are good hard workers, lazy slobs, back-talkers, degenerates, idiots, clowns and most are friends now. I don't know how I reconcile the fact that I adore them, but they make my job a living hell. There are a few angels in the midst, where if it weren't for them, I'd have cut my losses and moved on by now. The odd thing is that I LOVE my job. LOVE IT. It took me a year, but now I'm really starting to flourish. My work is getting done, despite the fact that I have to do about five other people's jobs, along with my own (because again, they're too lazy). But I'm learning not only how to adapt to different people, but to accept them. I don't accept their bad qualities, but I do accept the fact that no one is perfect. I have bad qualities of my own... which include throwing temper tantrums and venting when I realize I have to yet again fix someone else's mistakes.

And still, tomorrow I will probably want to recant all of this, because they piss me off daily, but right now I adore my coworkers. They're sort of like an extended family. I have to forgive their imperfections.

Am I babbling? What the hell?

I guess what it all boils down is that in my home, if I need something in order to get a job done, I get it. Whether the boys get it for me or I get it on my own (the boys will say that the latter never happens, but they're just jealous because I'm prettier) I get it and the job is done. Chris is very good at making my life comfortable. NOT SO AT WORK!!!!! If something needs to be done, I know I'm going to be the one that has to do it. I know I can not depend on anyone. It sucks, because I want to depend on them. I guess it was a shock to me. If I told Chris, "The yard needs mowing." I know it will get mowed promptly. If I tell Joe Schmoe at work, "This needs done." I get a blank stare.

Secretly, I am beginning to like those blank stares. The less they do, the more I do, the more I accomplish. Things are turning around because of me. No one else. I did this. Not them. I never say it, but they know it's true. I love that sense of accomplishment. I love it so much, that the other weekend, I came home and cleaned the house, so I could feel accomplishment at home. The boys were completely bewildered and a little grumpy that I asked them to pitch in. Granted, I haven't done a damn thing since, only out of sheer exhaustion, though.

I've written all this mainly because, while it is hard to accept others, it's even more surprising to not know I had all these attributes within me. I guess I had always accepted the fact that I was spoiled and didn't HAVE to do anything. And while I still don't have to, I do. I do because I want to. I never really knew I had it in me. Maybe I have to learn to accept that I have more to give, to learn, to grow, to achieve. This isn't all there is to me.