Bruce A. Borders: November 2012

Monday, November 26, 2012

Not Quite Expired

I tend to keep things well past their expiration date. I’m not talking food, but objects, inanimate objects. Long after most people would consider the item useless and toss it in the trash, I hold on to it. For instance, my boots have major holes in them, as do my work gloves, jeans, and even some of my shirts. My hat is dilapidated and badly deformed. But, all these things still work so I keep them. To some people, I’m a frugal cheapskate. I prefer to think of it as getting my money’s worth. Prices are high, things are expensive, and I can’t justify spending more money until the item in question is completely worn out. This extends to bigger items as well. My last pickup, I had for over 17 years. And tires? I run those until there is no tread. And by no tread, I mean the tires would qualify for racing slicks.

Besides all this, I’m a bit sentimental; I don’t like to part with anything that I’ve decided has any amount of sentimental value, especially when that something has to do with my children. So, it came as a shock, even to me, when I actually threw away a wooden sink/stove - with cabinets play set that my girls had. It had been through a lot, was falling apart, the boards warped and busted. I’d pieced it back together several times but finally, I decided it was too far gone to save.

I disassembled the broken toy and carried it out to the burning barrel. But then, looking out the window, something wouldn’t let me go through with destroying it. Retrieving the pieces and laying them in the garage, I made a quick trip to the lumberyard. After spending a few dollars, I returned home, armed with my new boards. A couple of days later, I’d rebuilt the sink/stove.

My wife thought I’d really lost it. “Just throw it away,” she said. But she didn’t see the look in both of my daughter’s eyes when I presented the refurbished play set!

That was over fifteen years ago and sadly, the play set again fell into disrepair – a casualty of many hours of play. But, this time, in keeping with my personal tradition of keeping things long past their expiration date, I didn’t throw it away. Instead, I stored all the boards in the shed out back. And it just may be time to make another trip to the lumberyard. My grandkids might like to play with it!

Bruce A. Borders, author and songwriter, has over 500 songs and more than a dozen books. Over My Dead Body, The Journey, and Miscarriage Of Justice, his latest books, are available on Apple I-Pad®, Amazon Kindle®, Barnes & Noble Nook® and Sony Reader®, Kobo, Diesel Books, and Smashwords. For more information, visit www.bruceaborders.com. See Bruce’s Amazon Author Page at www.amazon.com/author/bruceaborders or view his Smashwords Profile at www.smashwords.com/profile/view/BruceABorders

Monday, November 19, 2012

Dogs Versus Cats

I’m a dog person. Or, rather, I am a person who likes dogs, not some sort of cross breed of the two. Being that humans and canines are completely different species, that would be most unusual. My point is I am fond of dogs, not cats. And I think both of them can tell my preference because dogs seem to gravitate to me, while cats tend to slink away. I have a lot of reasons for my partiality to dogs, as I’m sure all you people who prefer cats do. If you are one of the strange sort who like cats, that’s okay. I won’t try to change your mind; I just have a story to tell.

Several years ago, my dad and I went exploring one day in the middle of Wyoming. We were miles away from civilization and hoping to find something of interest. And we did.

Walking on a high plateau, with a huge cliff in front of us, the scenery was breathtaking. Wanting to get a better view of the valley below, I moved forward and peered over the edge of the cliff. And there, not six feet down the wall, on a small rock outcropping, sat a cougar, or mountain lion if you prefer.

Not being a fan of cats in general, and particularly not ones big enough to kill me, I wasn’t impressed. Since the only gun I had with me was a .22 pistol, I did the most prudent thing I could think of and slowly backed away, half expecting the startled cougar to bound over the rock rim and come after me. To my relief it stayed put. Like I said earlier, cats tend to move away from me. Apparently, it didn’t like me any more than I liked it, which was not much. Not that I would have enjoyed the prospect of seeing a wild dog (wolf) in the same situation.

Fast-forward a few years. My job of driving truck consists of hauling garbage to the high dessert to a landfill – at night. As you can imagine, it’s not all that unusual to see cougars there scrounging for food, especially in the dry years. One night, just as I pulled the air brakes on, I saw one – a big one. It was standing about twenty feet in front of my truck seemingly unafraid of the sound of the engine, or the horn, I found.

I wasn’t about to get out as long as the cat was there – once again, I didn’t have a gun to shoot it. Thinking I might be there a while, I prepared to sit back and wait, watching it as it stared back at me. Then, for some unknown reason, the big cat suddenly sprang off to the left, disappearing across the field. Something had spooked it, that was obvious. I didn’t know what though, until I opened the door and got out. And then I heard them – a pack of coyotes yapping. From the sound of it, they were very close and getting closer. Now I knew why the cat had been scared away – the coyotes, members of the dog family, had come to my rescue! See? As I said, dogs gravitate to me and cats slink away. Just the way it ought to be, I think. After all, I’m a dog person.

Monday, November 12, 2012

To Do List

I make lists. To do lists. Partly because I can’t ever seem to remember everything that needs done and partly just to experience the satisfaction of crossing things off when I complete them.

Every week, I have twenty or more pressing things to do, and I put them on the list as I think of them – usually at night when I’m driving and have nothing better to do than think. The next day, I get done what I can, cross those items off the list and then go to work. And add more things to the list, quite often more than I crossed off. It’s a continuous cycle that has been ongoing for the last twenty plus years. On weekends, at the expense of sleep, I try to get everything caught up; cross everything off the list. Try, but it never works. I haven’t had an empty list (if there is such a thing) since - well, ever. The more I do, the more there is to be done.

I’ve been told my problem is I have too many aspirations, that I really should just relax, not make a list, and not try to do anything. My question is, what exactly would that accomplish? Nothing. I have only so many days until I die. I sincerely hope I have my list done before that happens. But, if the last twenty years are any indication, I probably won’t. And that presents quite a problem – how will I ever be able to rest in peace, knowing my list isn’t done?

Until recently, it seemed the only way around the dilemma was just not to die. I’m pretty sure that’s not a viable option. Obviously, I’m not going to live forever - although so far, it’s working quite well. But, back to my conundrum, I think I have found a solution. It’s simple really. If I can manage for my body to outlive my brain, I’ll never be able to think of anything to add to my list. No list – voilà, problem solved. After reading this blog, some will no doubt insist that my brain is already going so I should have nothing to worry about. I would love to argue the point but I don’t have time. The weekend is here and I have a long list of things to do.

Sunday, November 4, 2012

How Much Am I Making?

Never agree to do a job without knowing how much you’ll be paid - a good principle to live by that I learned the hard way.

I’m not sure how old we were but when my brother and I were in grade school, the lady who lived a block away on the corner hired us to clean up her yard. No big deal – we thought. It was a small yard. “I’ll pay you,” she said.

So, on Saturday morning, eager to earn some money, we reported for duty. The lady had everything ready - rakes, shovels, trash bags, and a wheelbarrow. After she untied her dog and put it in the house, we set to work, figuring we’d be done in an hour or two.

Not quite.

What the lady had failed to tell us was just how bad the yard was. Aside from the normal yard debris of twigs and leaves, there was garbage – as in household garbage. Apparently, her yard doubled as her own private city dump! It smelled horrible. And, as you can imagine, keeping a dog tied in the yard didn’t help matters either. Neither did the multiple cats. Then to add a little more to the mix, a fruit tree (apple, I think) had dropped its fruit on the ground for who knows how long. It all added up to a gooey, slimy, and very smelly mess, anywhere from six inches to a foot deep.

By noon, we were barely half done. Taking a short break, we went home to eat lunch. But, I don’t think either one of us were that hungry. Afterward, we returned for more “fun.” Late that afternoon, we finally finished. All the slime and scum had been shoveled, raked, and carted away; the yard cleaned down to the bare ground. We cleaned up the tools and then knocked on the woman’s door.

She came outside to have a look and was very impressed. And appreciative; thanking us profusely and telling us what a nice job we’d done. And then, she remembered she’d promised to pay us. “Wait just a minute,” she told us, disappearing into the house.

Soon she returned with our pay, handing each of us a quarter. Yep, one quarter. Twenty-five cents for eight hours of work! And not the most pleasant of jobs.

And that’s how I learned to establish wages before agreeing to do the job. I learned something else that day too. Never clean up someone else’s mess!