I Was Robbed, But Not of My Ability to be GratefulIt was the best of times. It was the worst of times. It was the day my purse was stolen. THE CRIME
I had put my purse in the kiddie seat of my grocery cart at Trader Joe’s and was innocently collecting the items from my grocery list when I noticed it was missing. After a thorough search, retracing my steps throughout the store, I finally had to admit it was nowhere to be found. Panic set in as I went through a mental check of what was in it. It was a small purse but it held all of the basics; there was my driver’s license, yup, phone, yup, keys, yup, check book, yup, and of course several credit cards. A quick analysis confirmed I was stranded at Trader Joe’s with no ID, no money, no way to get into my locked car, and no way to call for help. This was one of those moments when all of the things I take for granted suddenly disappeared. I felt helpless and went looking for some salvation in the service area at the front of the store. I was hoping to use the phone and call someone but I realized that, due to my smart phone and the fact it automatically dials numbers for me, I no longer remembered any phone numbers and phone books have gone the way of the dinosaur. A very nice man at the service desk suggested I call AAA to come and unlock my car, but the high tech auto-unlock keyless entry device was in my missing purse. Even if I could get into the car, I couldn’t drive it. All the modern convinces that are intended to make life easier were crumbling before my eyes. ONE STEP AT A TIME I tried using the store phone to cancel my credit cards. After being put on hold several times I decided it would be faster to walk over to the bank which was just around the corner. I soon found that you can’t cancel a credit card at the actual bank. You have to do it online or on the phone. The kindly teller guided me to a phone I could use and I was able to cancel one of my cards. I tried canceling another card on the phone but the pesky help lines were jammed with other callers who were probably in the same predicament as me. I headed out on foot to another bank hoping that someone would take pity on me and help me secure my checking account from the people who stole my purse. By this point I knew that my purse wasn’t just lost, it had been stolen and the culprits were already charging on my cards. At this bank I was ushered into a cubical with an actual person who bypassed the clogged phone lines with her special bank employee codes. I had to cancel my old account and set up a new one to ensure no one would have access to it. They even went on line to look up some of my friend’s phone numbers. Unfortunately I couldn’t reach anyone. I figured it would take me a little less than an hour to walk home and get my backup key fob so that I could unlock my car. It was a beautiful day. The sun was shining and there was a cool breeze coming off the ocean. I took the shortest route home, walking the levee along the river. In my head I was feeling somewhat peaceful but I must have been putting out little old lady in duress vibes because a nice young woman asked me if I was OK. I told her the story of my missing purse and she was very sympathetic and wished me well. GRADITUDES I guess I did feel a bit worn out by the trauma of being robbed, but I also felt grateful. I was grateful for the kindly people at Trader Joe’s, who not only gave me access to a phone, they paid for my groceries and stored them in a cooler to pick up later. I was grateful for the people at the banks, and on the help lines who patently did what they could to assist me. I was grateful that the one number I had memorized was my Social Security number. This saved me multiple times in the process of accessing my accounts. I was grateful for the encounter with the young lady I met on my way home who was concerned about a total stranger. I was grateful for the cool breeze and the sun sparkling on the river that made my walk home easier than I thought it would be. I was grateful that my legs and feet are in relatively good shape and that I still have the ability to actually walk home on a route I would normally drive. I was super grateful that an elderly man found my ID cards that had been discarded by the thieves and for a friend who retrieved them. I didn’t have to replace my driver’s license and insurance cards. I was even grateful for the people who took my purse in the first place for tossing my ID cards where they could be found. I was grateful I have a land line at home although I rarely use it. It was a lifesaver while I was cell phone challenged. I was especially grateful that I just put one foot in front of the other through the whole ordeal and didn’t collapse into a sobbing wreck despite the fact that there were moments I felt like it. I got a call from a young police officer the next day. He had found my credit cards near the last store where they had been used, tossed in a ditch. He was going to look at security footage from the store and was anxious to catch the thieves. It was good to know the law was on my side. Despite all the trauma and drama it actually turned out to be a pretty good very bad day.
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Finding Peace Through CreativityESCAPE FROM REALITY
My brain has been overtaken by the Wizard of Oz. I am obsessed with making Land of Oz themed fall yard decor. It snuck up on me, and before I knew it I was deep in the creative process and ignoring all of the other things I need to do. Is this a bad thing or a good thing? It’s bad in the sense that my to-do list just keeps piling up with unfinished chores. However, it’s a good escape route from the fear I feel about what is happening in the world right now. Doing something creative has always been an escape for me. I can’t remember a time in my life when I didn’t get lost in my imagination, working on a drawing or building something out of fabric, cardboard, paint, or anything else I could find to make my ideas come to life. It’s a problem solving process for me. I will start with an idea, in this case making a yellow brick road in my garden that leads to my scarecrow “Spike” (I made him from a garden rake several years ago). Then before I know it, ideas start filling my head and off I go into the Land of Oz. There are themes in the Wizard of Oz that speak to me, like following a path but not knowing what direction to go. I see myself in the characters, hoping to find some of the same wishes - a heart, a brain, courage, going home. When I was working on making Dorothy I tried to give her an expression that showed what I felt inside: dreamlike wonder, curiosity, sadness, but not fear. I didn’t want to go there because it was too real. EMBRACING REALITY I would rather be distracted by my creative ideas, but I can’t ignore what is going on in the Middle East. It brings up the same fear I felt when Ukraine was invaded. The horrors of war never seem to go away. I found myself trying to distance myself from reality by going to my other world, the one I discovered as a kid, the world of my imagination. I talked to a friend about this obsessive desire to escape from reality in times like this and she reminded me that creative energy is a connection to a higher power. For me that means opening my heart to a sense of trust in the world and letting of worry over all of the issues that I have no control over. It also means embracing all of my feelings through the creative process, especially my fear but also my sense of humor. Rather than feel bad about my desire to escape I am grateful that I have a way to find comfort and even a sense of peace. And, like I did in the past when war was looming, I can wish for others to find peace as well. CONFRONTING MY FEAR OF TICKS It amazes me how fearful I am of something so small. Maybe it’s because they are so small. Ticks can sneak up on you when you aren’t looking. There is nothing creepier than finding one climbing up your pants leg and knowing it’s probably not alone. Instantly I have a desire to rip all of my clothes off and jump into the shower as fast as I can. When I was young we spent a lot of family time out in nature, picnicking, fishing, picking blueberries, looking for wild flowers and interesting rocks. It was fun until the wood ticks showed up. I remember sitting in the back seat of our car behind my dad, as we headed home from an outdoor adventure, when I spotted something crawling up the back of his neck. Mom identified it as a tick and then we all freaked out. It was the longest ride home ever, knowing I was helplessly trapped in an enclosed space with wood ticks. I felt like they were were probably crawling somewhere on my body looking for a spot of bare skin they could poke their repulsive little heads into. Unlike many of my childhood fears, this is one that hasn’t gone away. THE GIANT MUTANT TICK The other day I took my Abby cat to the vet. As she is an indoor cat, I don’t even have to think about the possibility of ticks. However, sitting on the counter was a giant stuffed version of one. It was in a basket, poking its head out of a pile of other items that some vet supply company thought would be an amusing advertising display. I was not amused. It made my skin crawl, but I couldn’t stop myself from picking it up. I guess the people who thought up this ploy, to peak their customers’ interest, knew what they were doing. Despite the fact it was basically a chew toy it triggered my inner tick aversion. The plump body and rows of skinny legs were quite realistic. Then the fear was taken over by a little part of me that wanted to take it home. Maybe I could use it to take out my frustrations by whacking the bejeebies out of it. Perhaps it could help me find a more healing place in my psyche around wood ticks. I decided to just take a picture of it instead, knowing it would make good blog material. HEALING THROUGH HUMOR My blog is a good place to explore my fears and frustrations. Writing about them helps me see things from another perspective. There is something very healing about finding the humor in a fear inducing situation. I’m glad that I could experience that with the giant stuffed wood tick. Otherwise my vet visit might have triggered nightmares, reminiscent of some horror movie, about being attacked by giant mutant ticks. |
Leslie Masona woman in search of her post-retirement future Guess what! By subscribing, you get notices about the latest Little Old Lady with Cats posts sent to your mailbox!
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(from an entry posted on 5/1/2015) “I definitely fit some of the characteristics of a little old lady with cats: Retired - check, Single - check, Like to knit - check, Have cats - check. . .I do not want to get stuck in my Little Old Lady persona, however. In fact, this blog is a risk taking experiment in exploring and redefining what I want my retired life to look like.” Categories
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