Running about, or running amok?
Today was errand running day, take one.
I went out this morning to interrupt an important meeting and also drop off the deposit for the space I am renting for the fall Belindance classes.
I am really excited by how many of my former students will be back now that I am in a more central location again.
I then went tool shopping for Connor for trade school. I was attempting a complicated mental math problem to determine if the assorted screwdriver set was a better deal than buying the screwdrivers separately and trying to decide if the extra things in the set that he didn't need would be of any use to him at all, or would it make me guilty of needless consumerism. Suddenly an older gentleman began talking to me.
"You buying presents for Christmas already?"
"Nope," says I "I'm getting some things my son needs for trade school."
"Where's he going?"
"Shelburne."
Now bear in mind that when gentlemen of his age were young Shelburne meant the Youth Correctional Facility.
"That's where I'm from! I grew up with fifty orphan kids there!" he cried.
Then he proceeded to recite his lineage back to the first landing of the loyalists. A lineage that included several secret siblings he found out about in his fifties and a mother who never used her correct surname because she was the love-child of a country music super star.
Now how's that for a chat with a stranger in the mall?
When I left the store, laden with my purchases and a little boggled by the process of outfitting someone else for something I don't know how to do, he was sitting on a bench by the doors, and he gave me a big hearty wave and a "Take care, now." It made me smile and lifted my spirit.
What a nice experience. And my Mama told me not to talk to strangers...
pfffffffffft!
Belinda
I went out this morning to interrupt an important meeting and also drop off the deposit for the space I am renting for the fall Belindance classes.
I am really excited by how many of my former students will be back now that I am in a more central location again.
I then went tool shopping for Connor for trade school. I was attempting a complicated mental math problem to determine if the assorted screwdriver set was a better deal than buying the screwdrivers separately and trying to decide if the extra things in the set that he didn't need would be of any use to him at all, or would it make me guilty of needless consumerism. Suddenly an older gentleman began talking to me.
"You buying presents for Christmas already?"
"Nope," says I "I'm getting some things my son needs for trade school."
"Where's he going?"
"Shelburne."
Now bear in mind that when gentlemen of his age were young Shelburne meant the Youth Correctional Facility.
"That's where I'm from! I grew up with fifty orphan kids there!" he cried.
Then he proceeded to recite his lineage back to the first landing of the loyalists. A lineage that included several secret siblings he found out about in his fifties and a mother who never used her correct surname because she was the love-child of a country music super star.
Now how's that for a chat with a stranger in the mall?
When I left the store, laden with my purchases and a little boggled by the process of outfitting someone else for something I don't know how to do, he was sitting on a bench by the doors, and he gave me a big hearty wave and a "Take care, now." It made me smile and lifted my spirit.
What a nice experience. And my Mama told me not to talk to strangers...
pfffffffffft!
Belinda