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Image by Cordelia’s Mom/TeddyRosalieStudio
“Line of Communication”
My family will be having a Zoom Christmas this year, rather than risk COVID-19 exposure by having a large in-person gathering. I think it will be fun because it’s a different kind of Christmas.
Although, I must admit I miss having Christmas morning with small children. While that has been the case ever since my own kids grew up and moved out, it somehow just seems different this year. Puppy Cody will just have to take up the slack.
Mother Nature is cooperating with the COVID-19 guidelines for social distancing. The ice/snow storm that hit overnight, and the additional snow that’s predicted to come in later today, may help to keep people in, at least I hope so. It’s only one Christmas; next year things will be better.
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Image by Cordelia’s Mom/TeddyRosalieStudio
(yes, that’s a really bad photo – blame the delivery driver)
My co-worker was on vacation, and we had certified mails that had to be taken to the post office, so guess who got elected?
The waiting line at the local postal branch was out the door into the parking lot, and due to COVID-19 requirements, only one person at a time was allowed to enter. The line inside the store was about 10 people long, spaced the required 6 feet apart.
Ahead of me, outside, was a lady with a huge, and apparently rather heavy, box. As the line snaked along, we exchanged minor comments, and she said she needed to get that package to her granddaughter by Christmas. As each new customer entered the store and the line advanced, she pushed the box along. Finally, it was her turn to enter (after about 20 minutes outside, in 26 degree (F) weather!).
About 5 minutes later, I was able to ease into the store behind her. At least it was warmer in there.
There was a young, foreign couple just ahead of us, who were trying frantically to finish assembling the two packages they intended to mail. They had run out of tape, and the store didn’t have any left. The Big Box Lady (as she shall henceforth be called) reached into her pocket and pulled out a roll of packing tape. She then not only offered the tape to the foreign couple, but she also did the taping for them – and believe me, the lady knew what she was doing. I got the distinct impression that she’s done a lot of package mailing in her lifetime.
After another 20 minutes, we were about halfway through the inside waiting line – when Big Box Lady turned to me with a chagrined expression on her face and exclaimed that she couldn’t mail that package after all because she had left her wallet at home.
Oh, no. I briefly debated offering to pay the mailing charges for her (she could always just send me a check), but realized I only had enough cash to pay for the postage on the certified mails for work. I felt a little sad as I watched Big Box Lady drag that huge parcel back out to the parking lot.
Eventually, my turn at the mailing window came. I completed my business and proceeded to leave the store, only to discover that it was after 5 pm and the doors had been locked – both to people trying to get in and to those trying to get out. I waited a few minutes, fruitlessly pushing on the door, until another departing customer came up behind me. I asked that customer to please go back to the desk and find someone to let us out, which she did.
As we waited for a postal employee to come with the door keys (and believe me, no one in that post office was moving any faster than absolutely necessary at the end of a very long work day), I glanced out the door into the parking lot. What to my wondering eyes should appear, but the Big Box Lady returning with her parcel, and her wallet. The look in her face when she discovered the locked doors was heartbreaking.
I waved to her and tried to convey that if I could get the door open, I would allow her to sneak in. After all, the line in the store was long enough that no one would really know who was supposed to be last in line.
But then the postal employee arrived with the keys – and it was the branch supervisor. It was after 5 pm, the store was closed, and this was a federal facility. How likely was it any rules would be waived for a somewhat desperate customer?
I tried anyway. I told the supervisor that Big Box Lady had been in line ahead of me but had to return to her car, only to then find herself locked out. Could he please let her in?
And he did. There were smiles all around. The huge gift was, I assumed, sent off to the Big Box Lady’s granddaughter.
That little dose of Christmas spirit made me feel warm and cozy all evening. Kudos to that postal supervisor and his kind heart.
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Image by an unknown Amazon/Fedex/UPS delivery driver
December 2, Buffalo, New York. Of course, there would be snow and ice.As Maureen prepared for work, she realized it had snowed overnight. Only a few inches, but when she looked out the kitchen window, she could see that the newly painted porch was covered. God, how she hated to wear boots! But sneakers would be a death-wish (or at least a broken-bone wish).
Puppy ran out the door first, and slid right down the steps. Thankfully, puppies bounce, and the dog shook herself off and scampered into the back yard to do her business. Not as brave, or foolish, as the canine, Maureen very carefully stepped onto the porch, felt her foot slip, and grabbed onto the railing to stabilize herself.
This was not looking good, but then again, this was Buffalo and it was winter. Buck up, Maureen!
Fortunately, the chain-link fence had been built right up to the porch. Maureen gripped the top of the fence and eased her way sideways down the steps. One step, two steps, three steps. Safe!
But Maureen was not taking chances. Still holding tight onto the fence railing, she eased her right foot onto the two-foot-wide wooden strip at the very bottom of the steps. Why the prior owners had not simply extended the asphalt to the steps instead of installing that wooden landing was unknown; Maureen could only assume they felt it was more decorative than black pavement.
Newly painted smooth wood holds black ice so much better than bumpy asphalt. Maureen’s foot slipped out from under her and she began to fall. Clinging onto the fence, she was able to avoid a full-out crash landing, but still wound up on her knees on the icy ground. Unable now to reach the top of the fence nor the porch railing, and unable to gain traction on the black ice, Maureen contemplated her predicament.
How embarrassing was this? Were the neighbors looking? Was everyone now laughing at the silly old fat lady lying next to her own side porch?
Thank God, no one seemed to be around. No bones were broken, and the pain was not severe enough for a sprain. Pride only had been hurt.
But there was still the issue of getting back onto those feet.
Slowly, Maureen scooted backwards on her knees from the black ice on the wooden strip to the somewhat less slippery asphalt. Sticking her fingers through the chain-link at the bottom of the fence, she ever so slowly pulled herself, inch by inch, up the fence and into a standing position. Afraid to let go of the fence even then, she inched along the pavement to the snow-covered grass of the backyard. Only then did she feel confident in her ability to walk without assistance.
Meanwhile, Puppy was having a great time running through the snowy grass. Couldn’t that dog have helped out at some point? Or did she think Maureen was merely playing as she crawled away from the porch? Or were the squirrels in the trees at the back of the yard simply more interesting than the dog’s owner?
Having accomplished what needed to be accomplished outside, it was time for owner and dog to return to the house – back across that icy landscape. A second fall would definitely not be amusing, But thankfully, going upstairs was a little easier than coming downstairs, and re-entering the house was uneventful.
No work today, after all. Maureen’s car was in front of the house. No way was she going cross that ice-covered driveway to her car. The fence did not extend that far; there was absolutely nothing to hold onto if she slipped. She would be in full view of anyone looking out their front windows or driving down the street. And she was sore from her fall. Time for a pain pill and a return to bed.
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I love to hear from my readers. You may comment on this post, comment on my Facebook or Twitter pages, or email me at cordeliasmom2012@yahoo.com
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Images by Cordelia’s Mom/TeddyRosalieStudio
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