This is cross posted over at Flawed But Authentic which I specifically wrote it for, but it sure it easy to copy and paste.

Some of my friends are more punctual than others. That, unfortunately, determines how ‘on time’ I am when meeting them. If I have to meet one of them at 7 p.m. then I am either sure to leave in plenty of time or else I will leave right at 7 and arrive late. Wednesday I was meeting a Punctual Friend and had to leave an evening meeting to meet her for dinner and drinks at my favorite Pacific Asian cuisine restaurant.

Except I was running late and I had to get gas and the card reader at the pump wasn’t working. And in the cold night air I was forced to go inside to pay.

That’s not a problem. Usually. But there were many people in there and I felt myself briskly walking to beat a few of them to the counter to pay. One of them beat me and instantly there were four others behind me.

Hurry, I was thinking. Come on come on come on. Let’s go. I gotta get out of here.

She was maybe in her twenties and buying only a bag of cheetos and some cigarettes. Her wallet was, naturally, at the bottom of her purse and difficult to find. When she did she handed the clerk a debit card.

Credit or debit? he asked.

Debit.

Come on come on come on. I gotta go. I have 6 minutes to get across town. Credit credit credit. Let’s go. Come on. My head was on it’s own, the gray matter swirling around as I focused on trying not to be late.

It’s been declined. Should I try it as credit?

Ummm. Oh. Yeah. Go ahead.

I wanted to butt in and my manners were going to be compromised. I could just feel it. I was going to blurt out I’M IN A HURRY. COME ON. LET’S GO. CAN I GO FIRST?

Sometimes it’s necessary to bite one’s tongue. Literally. Until you can taste your own blood and shut your own self up. My head kept getting in my way and an unexpected flashback to being embarrassed when my own credit cards have been declined finally got to me.

Sorry. That one’s been declined, too. Do you have cash?

Certainly, she did not.

Five minutes now. Five minutes to drive what will take 11 at most. The numbers began to spin around my head. Six dollars for two items. Five minutes. Seven o’clock. Forty two dollars worth of gas. Six. Two. Five. Seven. Forty-two. Let’s go let’s go let’s go.

My body took over though my mind was still impatient and I stepped forward pushing my credit card toward the clerk.

Just put it on my card with the gas, please.

I didn’t want to be late and in my selfishness that’s all I could think about. I wanted to say, “I’m in a hurry. It’s fine. Let me pay.” but I didn’t. Because at that precise moment my own need to be on time was displaced with the fact that she couldn’t come up with six dollars on a debit card to pay for her items. Being so broke that six dollars wouldn’t be approved at the gas station took precedence over my other consideration.

Protestations would follow. I would decline.

It’s ok, I assured.

No. You don’t have to do that.

Let me.

No, I have to pay you back. Can I pay you back? She took out her checkbook and asked for my name.

I’ll write you a check. Let me, ok?

Nah. I’m not even going to tell you my name.

I smiled at her. I finally got it. Being kind and realizing that not being able to pay for cheetos and cigarettes far outweighed being punctual.

Well, what can I do? she asked. She wasn’t begging or trying to show any shame. She wasn’t poorly dressed. Probably just that normal twenty-something still-owning-college-furniture kind of gal. Probably wondering what a 401K is and whether or not she should get one. Probably having heard of a Roth IRA but thinking she had a few years to even look into that.

You know what? Why don’t you take some time and go volunteer in a school sometime. Go read to a Kindergarten student or something. I’d love it if you did that.

Ok! She finally broke a smile. I don’t know what will happen. I will believe, however, that she will do it. And I will be late for dinner. And I won’t care one bit.

I’ve come to some realizations…

My feet are big but my sons are bigger now and that somehow comforts me.

This time of year I crave a clove cigarette and some hot apple cider but I know the clove cigarette will burn my lungs and not really be as tasty as I want it to be.

The reason I didn’t join NaBloShoeMo is that I felt guilty about buying more shoes because, for the love of grape jelly, I already had at least 30 pair from last year.

That didn’t stop me from buying them this last year and consider photographing them. I could be talked into that.
A cold turkey sandwich on wheat bread with some tomato isn’t on the menu soon enough. Come on, Thanksgiving!

When I consider baking cookies and taking some to my hairdresser because I see her each week makes me a total hair whore.

It’s been sixteen years since I got my braces off and I still run my tongue over my teeth when a student tells me they just got theirs off.

I won’t ever stop caring for and loving the students who cross my path. It’s worth it to give my heart to them.

My daughter will owe less than twenty grand in loans after college and that number seems kinda reasonable.

If I watch The Philadelphia Story I can’t help but say, “My, she was yar” about anything beautiful. I do this for about three weeks.

Getting me through some rough times…

…excellent black tea from Teavana.

…coveting these pretty shoes.

…drooling over this camera with that lens and this flash.

…hugs from my not so little boys.

…anticipating a commissioned painting from this artist.

…re-reading this little gem.

…watching this series that completed my 7 year set.

…listening to this song, even the Ben Folds version.

…reading your words from yesterday’s sad, sad post.

Thanks.

Fall brings the inevitable leaf changes and sweater weather I love so much and hate all at the same time. Don’t get me wrong: pulling out warm, snuggly clothing is fantastic and all, but when you add the discomfort of actually being cold, then I tend to get a little pissy.

And I don’t want to be pissy.

So how about I give away some prizes then?

Since I have been a kick ass Beta Tester for Photrade (read: my lass ass hasn’t done nearly as much as I wanted to do) they have decided to offer me three invitations to use their photo hosting service.

Leave me a comment and I’ll randomly choose three people to try out this awesome new service where you can make money on your photos. Not to brag, but I have a whole 8 cents in my account. See above: lame ass admission.

If you haven’t been taking some Fall pics yet, I hope you start because I’m having a contest to give away several HP Photo Books. Fall doesn’t just remind me of sweaters and boots, but also of Football games and walks in the park and pumpkin carving and Halloween costumes. I also think of changes and how everything morphs into one seemingly complicated mess that can look beautiful when it gets taken apart. To wit: a standard photo of my son.

It was an easy shot to get because I sat in the football stadium stands during the Homecoming game and was not allowed to sit close enough to be within earshot. I was also not allowed to look at him and give away the fact that I was his mother. Better still, if Mason caught me turning my head to the left where he was sitting then I would be completely off his planet until he begins to collect Social Security and not a moment sooner.

What’s a mom to do?

She is to put on her 75-300 mm lens, wait until her son gets up and starts to dress appropriately for the halftime show (Hello, cute adorable little beret that goes with the matching red outfit! I love you!) and takes out his trumpet and then SNAP, get a good shot of her growing boy.

This will ever remind me of Fall now.

So, the contest is: find a great picture you’ve taken that reminds you of Fall and send it to me with a description of why it screams FALL or AUTUMN (because honestly, Autumn is really a much prettier word) and you can win one of these. If you have a blog I will link to you, but it’s not necessary. Contest closes next Monday.

If you feel like you just. can’t. wait. then you can find out about getting a discount on the HP Photo Books here.

Or just enter my contest.

It’ll help me not be so pissy. That’s such an ugly word.

My sporadic writing of late is of some consternation because I used to be unfailingly accurate during the weekday. Then, that thing… LIFE got in the way.

I’m almost embarrassed to tell y’all this so I think I’ll stare at my toes for a moment. They’re so pretty today! All clean! Shiny! A French pedicure! Wow. All I need is something sparkly…

… I have stalled long enough. I’m taking another class this summer for that reading master’s and I said I was going to take a break but HONESTLY I tried to get some friends to talk me out of it and they didn’t. What’s wrong with them? Don’t they see this new grey hair on the lower fourth of my head?

“Busy” is kind of an understatement once again and I will positively slap the shit out of the next person who asks how my summer is going now that I’m done with school.

But good times have come upon me in one manner or another. I have yet to publicly or privately thank some people who sent me lovelies for my graduation and nothing blows me away more than someone sending a kind email asking if they can send me something because they were “thinking of me”. Just. Whoa. When someone thinks that much of me to take the time to want to send something to me I am in awe.

Mr. and Mrs. RW sent a beautifully engraved silver compact and perfume holder that I have held close to my heart at least once a week and not only because I use my shirt to rub it on to keep it all shiny looking but BECAUSE I LOVE IT SO.

Mommela sent on to me a fantastic book entitled M-A-C-N-O-L-I-A that I savored and cherished and can’t possibly keep to myself. It is SUCH good storytelling that often I found myself not breathing. That’s a good sign from me. If I were a famous book critic I wouldn’t give stars or anything cutesy and symbolic. I would say, “This book is so great that I held my breath for 5 minutes!” or “This book barely made me stop inhaling or exhaling and in fact, the less than 1 minute I spent holding my breath was from a passersby fart. But the book stinks, too.”

This is why no one has beaten a path to my door to write book reviews.

Also, MizAngie sent me a wonderful lemon wine decorated in pretty Texan cloth that she suggested I have with fish but instead I had with some string cheese and a couple of strawberries because as soon as it was open I was ready to drink it. Have I time to get fresh fish? No. Have I time to look around my fridge to see what will complement it enough to still enjoy it? Yes. STILL. It was muy delicioso.

Then there is this small business trip that has turned into a carefree trip because Lara has changed some of her vacation plans to meet me, Erin plans to kidnap me and host some parties and bar-b-ques in my honor, Leah has offered a fun yet crazy household with sea monkeys, and SueBob will grace us with her presence because she is kind of a big deal and SHE’D BETTER BRING HER RED STAPLER and so will mi chica Erica whom I met last year at BlogHer and is one of Those People in my life that I knew I loved before I even met her, ya know?

So. The following have been offered to me on this trip: drunken mazurka dancing, drunken Jenga, drunken Taboo, and sea monkeys.

Isn’t that what trips to California for people who have no reservations past their business trip are for? I didn’t say yes just to the free room and board, either. It was the sea monkeys that closed the deal.