The Savage Breast

Three weeks have passed since my magical apperations as Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore at the church's Harry Potter Day Camp. You'll remember that I was befuddled because the two lawns needed mowing and the front door step-up needed painting, and it was raining. You'll be ecstatic to learn that the step got painted that very afternoon and was unblemished by the next burst of rain, which began as I was finishing the job. The following Saturday I mowed both lawns.

Last Saturday we went to The Home Depot and bought stuff we needed to create a "Joys And Concerns" candle box. Carmen drew a Unitarian Universalist chalice symbol, I routed it into the back board on Thursday night, and finished assembly last night. This morning I had a commitment at the Community Garden to cut out and install doors on the cabinet in the pavilion. As soon as I got home from that, I unloaded my tools from the car, and vacuumed out the sawdust for Carmen, who had to drive it to a wedding she was officiating (refereeing?) this afternoon. Then I filled holes and cracks, listened to "Wait Wait, Don't Tell Me," sanded and- painted the box with primer, listened to "Car Talk" and painted the final gloss white finish on the box - ready in time for the minister's first Sunday back in the pulpit after her study leave.

By now, you're wondering what the heck the title of this report has to do with anything. Wellllll...

Two weeks ago was Nicki's last day at Sherwin Williams. She was the "third key," which means she had many of the responsibilities of a manager or assistant manager, but with lower pay. She closed the store most weekdays, worked at least one day each weekend, kept the inventory on track, ordered products and tracked them, calmly went about many other essential tasks while cheerfully greeting every customer by name and tinting paint efficiently. She was the one I could ask the stupid questions, and she answered them without snide commentary or exasperated expressions. Now she's gone, the manager and assistant are stressed out, and I have noone to ask. To make it even better, my hours of torture have been increased.

This morning when I arose at 6:30 to get to the Garden early, the one essential accessory I took along was my MP3 player and headphones. Painting the step, mowing the lawns, installing cabinet doors, assembling sanding and painting the candle box, having a thousand of my favorite songs playing just makes me happy. I sing along, dance, work in rhythm with the music, and am genuinely delighted with every song the "shuffle play" serves up. My grumpy mood is blown away by The Beatles, Steely Dan, Gershwin, Glen Miller, Simon and Garfunkel, Susan Werner, Roger Miller, Jesus Christ Superstar, The Association etcetera etcetera etcetera. The fact that a thousand of my favorite songs can be clipped into my shirt pocket still amazes and delights me.

Labor Day I have to work 10:00 to 3:00. I'll be fine. I've been soothed.