Claire interviewed me - and it didn't hurt.

Neil at Citizen of the Month started a cool project several months ago. It's called The Great Interview Experiment.  If you haven't already checked it out, you should. Then you should put your name at the bottom of the list and hope you get someone as smart, neat, kind and interesting as the person's name who was above mine.

Middle Aged Woman of Unmitigated (someone I call Claire, because I must) had the task of interviewing me.  You can check it out here.  It's short and not wildly exciting, but we completed the task and that feels good.

While you're there, read her stuff too.  Especially the one about the self-watering rose.

Why are the Wal-Mart employees wearing latex gloves?

I occasionally shop at Wal-Mart, even though Mother says their prices are low only because they pay so poorly, and we shouldn't give them our business.  A few homophobic friends have banned Wal-Mart because they say the company extends benefits to same-sex partners.  I don't know if either of these facts are true.  I don't believe people should be under-payed.  I do believe same-sex partners should have all the benefits that are extended to me and my opposite sex partner.  Regardless, I was at Wal-Mart today.  Here's my story.

Disclaimer
I shouldn't feel the need to explain why I was at Wal-Mart, but the one near our home is pretty bad.  It's not that old, but it looks old, and it's dirty.  Filthy.  I'm a borderline germaphobe so I feel like I've faced a demon today.  I limit my visits to the Wal-Mart because it's usually crowded with stressed-out mothers, pushing carts with a minimum of four children, one being a crying infant, and at least one with obvious evidence of an active sickness or contagious disease.  Just being descriptive - not judgmental.

Check-Out
All 63 registers were 8 customers deep.  It's worse than Costco where I live.  Kids are sneezing and snotting and coughing.  I was trying to breathe through my mouth so I wouldn't smell anything, but then I remembered my nose is my filter feature for airborne germs.  It was stressful.  I waited, and did the best I could to protect myself.

My Turn
The cashier was wearing latex gloves.  Interesting.  As I piled more things on the wet conveyor belt, I looked at two other cashiers.  No gloves. Interesting.  Was something wrong with my cashier?  Was this for her protection, or for mine?  I continued to empty my cart and shamelessly craned to look at other cashiers.  Shit.  More of them were wearing gloves. 

What the hell?
If a cashier needs to wear gloves for her/his protection from the "clientele", give me a frickin pair when I walk in the door.  If a cashier needs to wear gloves for my protection, perhaps they shouldn't be a cashier.

One More Thing
This isn't just about Wal-Mart.  I park my car near the closest cart return wherever I shop.  That way I can load the car, get kids settled, walk a short distance to return the cart where I'm supposed to (rule follower here).  I used the same strategy today.  When I returned to my car after shopping, there were four carts lined up along the driver's side and three on the passenger side.  The cart return was directly behind my car.  Return your carts people.  Please. [For the record, even when it's raining, snowing, or blowing and I'm parked very far from the cart return, I always return the cart to it's proper place.  I've done this while pregnant and walked on ice - like a little postal worker delivering the mail.]

Now, I'm going to go drink wine, sterilize my entire body and all of today's Wal-Mart purchases.

Puttering

The Big Boys, as Toddler Child refers to his older brothers, have been in school for almost three weeks.  Routines are in place and loosely strictly followed.

Toddler Child misses the older boys during the day but roams the house freely with Mary [our dog] and enjoys pillaging their rooms, sitting in their chairs at their desks or the kitchen table, in general trying to assume their identities.  I scurry at the end of the day to erase evidence of Toddler Child's presence in the Big Boys' rooms and return any loot to its proper place.

My days are fragmented.  I feel like much of what I do is - Dig a ditch. Fill it up.  Dig a ditch.  Fill it up.  I putter around the house, straightening, folding, putting away, wiping, feeding or thinking about feeding people and pets.  I putter around the yard, pulling weeds, snipping things, making note of what Chris can do to help me when he's home.

Even though it's mid-September in Utah, the weather has been warm so things are still growing in our yard.  I have roses that are blooming like crazy and shrubs that need trimming.  There's one tree though, that every leaf has turned red and many leaves have fallen.  I think it's less about the change of seasons and more a signal that we'll be replacing the tree next year.  Chris?  Something for you...

I know this work that I do, this puttering, is important.  I made a conscious decision to leave a career so I could wife, mother, and homemake.  I'm thankful I have the choice.  It won't be long before I'll have more time to myself and can return to more intellectually stimulating things.  I'm amazed by the women and men who manage a career as well as raising kids, pets and maintaining a home.  I'm honestly not that capable. 

I sometimes tire of the puttering - my little blog helps with that [pat, pat, pat on the head] - and yearn for my old office, a project, a meeting that's not school related.  [I know, those of you who are working, are thinking, shut-up.]

I guess curly-haired girls will always want it straight, straight-haired girls will always want it curly, and the bald guys just want some hair.