Rings

          I thought I was doing well, adjusting to using my old laptop. Adjusting to not having the program to write in that I was used to. Adjusting to not having a CD/DVD player/burner. I thought I was doing well.

          And then...

          "You said you could make me some exercise DVD's?" my beautiful friend Jody asked me.

          "Yeah?"

          "Well, since we don't have class anymore, and I really need to do something, I was thinking you might make me a couple of DVD's so I can workout at home."

          "Sure!" I readily agreed and she told me which were her favorites. Having my computer crash and being on my old computer was still so new to me that I'd forgotten. I'd forgotten the DVD didn't work.

          Then I had another beautiful lady ask me about making copies of some music discs for her. Well, not for her but for the choir members at church. That way they can practice while they're at home. Joanie asked and once again I happily agreed without thinking.

          Oh, that reminds me! Mike has such a problem hearing the difference between Jody and Joanie when I talk about them that we changed their names. The only problem is he can't hear the difference between Ody and Oanie any better!

          "How about M.J. and B.J.?" Mike asked me after we'd had yet another round of my repeating a name ten times before he figured out which gal I was talking about.

          "M.J. and B.J.?" I queried.

          "Mike's Jody or Ben's Joanie," he explained.

          "Fine by me."

          "They might not like it though," Mike said. "Some women don't want to be known that way."

          "I don't think they'll care. Besides, we don't have to tell them."

          After I'd gotten home, and saw my computer, I had an Oh shit! moment.

          I spent a few hours trying to figure out what's wrong with my DVD player. I ran through a couple of fixes I found online but nothing worked. My computer sees it, but it isn't working. I got online and ordered an external CD/DVD player/burner. They're not expensive. For twenty bucks I got a decent one and it would arrive via the post office in a few days. So, in the meantime, I set about recording the videos Jody wanted onto my computer. That meant I had to install Roxio, a program that records the videos onto my computer, and I had to do it without the disc. My heart sank. Microsoft doesn't support Word 2007 anymore — you can't download it even if you own a legal copy. Would Roxio be the same way? But I didn't have to worry. There wasn't any problem downloading it from the website. However, when I went to launch it I got an error message. Sigh. I was missing something called .NET Framework. I don't even know what that is but I set about trying to find it and download it from the Microsoft website. It took me several failed attempts before I got it right, but got it right I did — and it works!

          Friday afternoon I transferred a video onto a disc, then tried it in my DVD player. It didn't work. Would only work on my computer. By then I'd had a full day and didn't fool with the DVDs anymore.

          Saturday morning I Google it. It could be the disc I used or the program I used to write it to the disc. I'm guessing, since I used the good old standby method of dragging and dropping, that the program was the issue. Roxio has a program to write them to a disc but it wasn't seeing the external drive. I found a free disc writer online, checked the reviews, checked for bugs, and downloaded it. It was only after I'd gone through all of that that they told me, and I paraphrase here, "We're gonna stick a logo right smack dab across the middle of your video unless you buy it."

          That wasn't going to work for me. I uninstalled that sucker, then went back to Roxio. I fooled with it long enough that I found another program inside it that I'd never seen before — never needed before. It'll make custom DVD's and it works! I've successfully made a DVD that Jody — er.. M.J. can play on her DVD player.

          And now for the bonus.

          Since I've now got a DVD player I can install Word 2007 on my computer!

          Yay!

          I'm back in business and happy as a clam.

          

          Monday morning we got a text from Duane, the crew boss of the guys working on the bridge. "We're going to be done pulling sheets in the next hour or so."

          Sheets. They call them sheets and I'd called them pans.

          Greg, Duane's dad and one of the crew, knew I wanted to watch them pull a couple of sheets and had Duane text us. I'm so glad he did. I'd've been sad had I missed it. We got there just as they were moving a stack of sheets from the bank to the staging area.

          Mike was talking with Brian, the inspector, so he was plenty entertained. I entertained myself by taking pictures of stuff around me until they started pulling sheets again. Like these airplanes. We live under a busy skyway.

   

           Next, they had to move the walk bridge. I watched 'em attach chains and pick up the bridge. They moved it over but it wasn't right. The guys signaled Greg to pick it up again. It was up down like three times. I don't know what the issue was, I'm guessing it wasn't sitting soundly so they kept moving it. Sometimes the movements were so small that I wondered if it was moving at all.

          Motion, out the corner of my eye, caught my attention. It was warm enough that this guy came out, crawling up the stack of forms I was leaning against.

          I turned back just in time to catch the rails splashing into the water.

          They settled the walk bridge, unchained it and tossed the chains in the water. Greg got out of the track hoe, grabbed a hook, and went to help. Using the hook, he got the chains hooked together.

  

          They lifted the rail out of the water and secured it back onto the bridge.

          I found myself waiting and looked around for other pictures to take.

          Joe dropped a plank onto the remaining sheets and walked out to hook the safety chains. He couldn't reach them and had to lay down.

          I don't know what they call this thing but it latched onto the sheet and started vibrating. I could feel the ground shake! Up came the sheet.

          We didn't stay long, we had other things to do such as run to town for milk. On the way back home we can see the top of a mountain. "Look!" Mike says. "They're putting a well in up there."

          I thought the trees were looking thinner up there, now I know why.

          My mind drifted as we drove. The last time I'd been out for a run, there was a dog. There'd never been a dog there on that stretch of road before but then again, the house hadn't been there either. It's been more than a year since I've run. Nonetheless, I'm afraid of dogs every since I'd been bitten. The dog saw me through the trees and I saw him through the trees as he ran down the driveway. I turned around but reached for my pepper spray anyway. I didn't know if he'd come down the road after me or not. So that's where my mind was drifting and we were approaching that road.

          "Mike, can we go check out that house with the dog and see if the dog'll bite me?" I asked.

          Mike is a good husband and drove out to the house. The dog came loping out to meet us, barking all the way. There was a man working on the back deck.

          "You getting out?" Mike asked as he reached for the door handle.

          "Nope!"

          The dog came up and sniffed Mike's leg. "Hi puppydog," he cooed and pet her on the head. She's a her.

          As it turns out we know this guy. I worked with him at Proctor and Gamble when I worked there and this is his daughter's house. He's helping build a deck.

          I got out of the Jeep and pet Gem.

          "I don't know if she'll come out on the road or not," John said, 'but Gem won't hurt you."

          Now I know I don't have to be afraid when I run out past the house.

          I hadn't made any goodies for the guys working on the bridge for a while so the next morning, after I fed our tribe, I got busy and made the Indoor S'Mores that Miss Rosie gave me the recipe for. Golden Grahams cereal, mini marshmallows, chocolate chips — what's not to like? I divvied them up. A big bag for the guys at the bridge, some for a friend of ours we were going to see, and kept a few for us. 

          We passed Duane and stopped to chat. "There's just three of us working today. We had to lay off the other guys for a week or so until the piles come in."

          "Oh well," I said. "You can always take the cookies home for the kids."

          Mike and I went on down and checked out the job site anyway. They'd poured the concrete on the other side of the creek and it was all tucked in.

          The pile driver.

          Then it was off to Tunkhannock to do some shopping. Mike took a little side rode past an equipment place.

         Flatlander. That's what it says there under the mummy, sitting on a motorcycle, on a pole, with a buzzard or maybe it's a crow, on his head.

          We get back from shopping, put the groceries away, and see those S'Mores sitting there. "You wanna cookie?" and I handed Mike one. He took one bite, made a face, and handed it back to me. "You don't like them?" I was incredulous.

          He shook his head and confirmed, "I don't like 'em — which is good! I won't eat 'em then."

          Well, maybe good for him, but not so good for me! I'd be stuck eating them all. I guess I could freeze them but it's more fun to share.

          Then I thought of Jody. Her Mike is usually game to try whatever I bake. I messaged her. "Stop on your way home tonight and I'll give you some cookies," I told her.

          "Peg! It doesn't help my diet when you give me cookies!" She mock scolded me.

          "I know, right! It might not help your diet — but it helps mine!"

          I got a little laugh out of her and that's what I was trying for. I'd already had my share of cookies anyway.

          That night, on the news, they were talking about coronavirus. They were saying how it's only a matter of time until it hits the U.S.

          "Maybe we should think about getting some masks," Mike said after hearing that report. He even got online and checked out masks. You won't believe what they're asking for some of them — then again, maybe you would.

          "I don't understand why everyone is freaking out about this coronavirus," I said, and I don't. "A lot more people have died from the flu. Shouldn't we be worried about that?"

          I did a quick Google search, just now. A little less than 3,000 have died from the coronavirus so far, not that I'm poo-pooing those deaths but do you know how many have died from the flu during the 2019-2020 season? 14,000! And we didn't run out and buy masks then! But I know Mike and once he gets something in his head, he doesn't let it go. So we made another shopping trip the very next day!

          Our first stop was the second-hand store in Towanda. I found a stack of blank DVDs and she let me have them for two bucks. There were 60 of the 100 left. Not a bad deal since a hundred pack costs around twenty buckaroos. I got a pair of black slacks and a Sunday go-to-meetin' dress for me and I light jacket for Mike.

          I didn't take many pictures. But I took a picture of the eagle nest as we drove past. I'd already warned Mike that I was going to try for one so he slowed down as much as he was able and traffic would allow.

           Is she sitting on eggs? I think it's time for them to be doing that.

          The only other picture I took was this old dozer, abandoned and dying in an overgrown field.

          Our next stop was Applebee's. We were seated at the table next to one of my church ladies. That was a nice surprise as I rarely see anyone I know on our shopping trips. And I didn't have to wait for Sunday to get a hug!

          Mike had a burger for lunch and I had a chicken salad.

          "I'm going to the ladies room before we leave," I told Mike.

          Applebee's had a paper towel dispenser and not an air dryer. That was cool. I'm drying the last of the moisture from my hands as I get to the door to leave, intending to use the towel to pull the door open. I checked for the location of the trash can. Knowing women do exactly what I was doing, opening the door with a paper towel, they usually have a trash can in easy reach. This one was kinda far from the door. Maybe they have a foot pull, I thought and glanced down. No foot pull. Why is it that only Lowe's has a foot pull on the ladies room door? I wondered. I'd have to make the shot from center court. I pulled the door open, hooked my foot, turned, aimed — and missed. It  hit the rim and bounced out landing on the floor. Sigh.

          "Oh just leave it, Peg," you say. "It's their own fault for not having it closer to the door."

          I know, right! That thought did cross my mind, only briefly though. I let the door go, retrieved the paper towel, tossed it in the can, and got a fresh one to open the door with. One of two things happens at this point. I'll either stuff the paper towel in my pocket to throw away later or I'll find a trash can before I leave. I didn't find a trash can so I stuffed it in my pocket intending to throw it away in the Jeep trash bag.

          Mike and I went to Aldi's for a few things. We didn't need anything except a couple dozen eggs. However, it didn't stop me from picking up oranges and cottage cheese.

          Our next stop was WalMart. Again, we didn't need much since we'd been shopping the day before. But Mike got a bottle of aspirin with nighttime sleep aid in it and I got Itsy her Cesar dog food.

          I never see anyone I know while we're shopping, did I tell you that? Well guess who's shopping in WalMart the same time we are? Another couple from my church! It's just crazy! I said hello and how're you doin' and the mister started telling me a story. I don't mind, I love stories. Sometimes I fool with my thumb ring while I listen. Absentmindedly, you know what I mean. I'll pull it out to my big ole fat knuckle, bend my thumb, feel it bite, and release it. Don't ask me why. I slide it back on, twisting it around in a circle, pull it back out to the knuckle, bend my thumb again, and well... you get the picture.

          We said our goodbyes and Mike and I head for the registers. It was busy. Lots of registers open, lots of lines to choose from. I found a line that had two people ahead of me but the only problem was the register light wasn't lit. Was she closing? I wondered. Usually when they close they have someone stick a closed sign up on the handlebars of their buggy so no one else lines up behind them. There wasn't a closed sign. I took in the way she was dressed. She looks like a manager — I bet she's helping through the rush! And I stood firm in my place refusing to line jump.

          "I'll wait if you want to find a bench," I told Mike, knowing his back can't take a lot of standing around. He handed me the credit card and headed for the front of the store.

          The line moved and the couple ahead of me unloaded their buggy. When the conveyor moved a bit more the man found a divider and put it in place behind his groceries. That was kind and thoughtful of him and I thanked him as I put my stuff on the line.

          My thumb knuckle was screaming for attention. I could still feel where the ring had bitten it. While I waited, leaning against my buggy, one foot propped up on the bottom, I satisfied my knuckle by letting my ring bite it again.

          The conveyor moved jerkily along as the cashier scanned items. When there was enough room for the lady behind me to put up her stuff, I found a divider and put it on the line behind my stuff then I moved out of the way so she could do that. I watched as she unloaded her buggy. The only thing in it? Six games.

          I smiled. "Game night?" I asked.

          "Oh. They're for my grandson. He's coming to spend some time with us and he's always on his iPad. I'm hoping to get him to put that thing away and do something else," she told me.

          From there our conversation ensued until the couple behind her spoke up. "You'll talk to anyone, won't you, Peg?" Pork said. That's his nickname. Pork. I hadn't even noticed him and Annette take a place in line. Observant, are I?

          Annette gave Pork a playful slap on the arm. "You should talk."

          "Only if they talk back to me," I answered Pork. "Like this sweet lady."

          Then the line moved and it was my turn. I paid and we left.

          We left. Put the groceries in the Jeep, put the buggy back in the buggy corral, and left. Went home.

          The first thing I do when I get home... well maybe not the very first thing but one of the first things is to take my rings off. I only wear them when I go out. My fingers like to be naked around the house, don'cha know.

          "Peg, not even your wedding ring?" you ask.

          Nope. Not even my wedding ring. It gives me a rash. I can wear it for short periods just fine, maybe even for weeks, but sooner or later I'll get an itchy blister where it touches the back of my finger. That's the only reason I stopped wearing it in the first place.

          And that was when I noticed one of my rings was gone. My heart dropped into the pit of my stomach and the recriminations started.

          That'll teach you to play with your rings!

           I only have four rings, besides my engagement ring, and they're all special to me. I have my wedding ring, of course. I have one of Kat's rings that she had on when she died. I have a sterling silver pinky ring that my cute little red haired sister Diane gave me. And I have one of Mike's old wedding rings.

          I know, right! Some women would throw that sucker away. Not me. Mike's past is Mike's past. We all have one. When I see the ring, slide it onto my thumb, I think only of Mike. I think wedding when I put on my wedding band. I think Kat and slide that ring onto my index finger. And Diane goes on my pinky. I think of people I love each and every time I put on my rings. Now that one of them was gone, I was heartbroken.

          Maybe it's in my jacket pocket, I think and check. I felt around the key fob, a glove, a tissue, a mint, and an empty mint wrapper. No ring. I even checked the pocket on the other side. Stop laughing! It could be in there — but don't ask me how.

          The grocery bags! We bagged our own groceries at Aldi's. Mike already had them out of the car and on the counter waiting for me to put away stuff. I pulled everything out. No ring.

          The Jeep seat. I grabbed a flashlight and checked all around, in, and under the seat. No ring. I came back in from the garage, put the flashlight back where it belongs, and paused for a moment, thinking. I looked at my thumb and could still feel it on the knuckle where I'd been playing with it. I know I had it at WalMart, I think, and checked my jacket pocket again, pulling everything out this time. Nope. Still not there. If I lost it in the parking lot I'm never getting it back, I tell myself, then Buck up, Peg, it's just a ring. But that's not quite true. It's more than just a ring to me. It's like having a part of someone I love with me.

          I put the groceries away and let my mind wander rather than trying to think on it too hard. I'd taken two bags into WalMart with me and only used one! When we got out to the Jeep I stuffed the one I didn't use back in with all the other bags. Maybe it's in there! Nothing like getting my hopes up, right? I went back out to the Jeep, took the reusable bag full of reusable bags into the house and went through them careful-like. I never gave up hope until I was shaking the last bag out and hadn't found it.

          Buck up, Peg, it's just a ring. I have to tell myself that and prepare my heart to let it go. But not yet. Maybe it is in my jacket pocket, I wishfully think. This time I take everything out of my pocket and go through it carefully, shaking everything out.

          Sigh.  

          Maybe whoever — whomever finds it will turn it in. There I go again! Getting my hopes up! I called WalMart and boy did I have a time of it! The first two times I called, after my call was transferred to Customer Service, it rang and rang and rang and no one picked it up. The third time I told the gal who answered.

          "Okay. This time I'll page them," she said.

          Again, the phone rang and rang and rang and Customer Service didn't pick it up. I called again. "It's me again. It just keeps ringing and no one answers," I told her.

          "I'll just walk you up there and find out what's going on."

          Unfortunately, no one had turned in a ring.

          Buck up, Peg, it's just a ring. Just a ring, I'm trying to convince myself. If it doesn't mean anything to me then it won't hurt as much. Maybe I lost it at one of the other stores. I decided to call Applebee's.

          "I was in earlier and lost a ring. Has anyone turned one in?" I asked.

          "Not that I'm aware of. Where were you sitting and I'll go take a look," the kind man offered. I told him, he put me on hold, then came back. "I don't see anything. I'm sorry."

          "Thanks. And I did use the restroom before I left. I could've tossed it in the trash can for all I know."

          "Give me your phone number and I'll have one of our janitors go through the trash can for you," he offered.

          Applebee's! Paper towel! I left with a paper towel. It wasn't in my jacket pocket. Did I throw it in the Jeep trash? Back out to the Jeep I went and brought the trash in. I dumped it on the counter and sorted through store receipts, used tissues, and gum wrappers. 

          "Used tissues!" you say. "YUCK!"

          I know, right. But I'd reach into a used toilet to get my ring back. Unless it was one of those automatic flush things then it would probably be gone forever.

          After Applebee's I tried Aldi's. Have you ever tried to call Aldi's? Don't. The listed phone number is for headquarters. I left a message explaining my problem and my phone number. A couple of hours later I got a call back.

          "I reached out to the store on your behalf and they have not had a ring turned in," the kind lady told me.

          And I'm back to: Buck up, Peg, it's just a ring.

          At this point I'm all out of ideas. All ideas except for maybe one. I prayed. Almighty God and Father. You spoke the world into existence! I'm just a lowly servant but I know you love me. Lord, I know that if it is Your will, my ring can be in my pocket.

          I went back to that dang jacket pocket one more time. This time, when I took everything out, I actually put my hand down in my glove. It was empty.

          Sigh.

          Life goes on. It really is only a ring after all.

          That night, Wednesday night, I have a standing phone call with Jody. We go over the Searching the Scriptures lessons that we do individually through the week. Our weekly phone meeting keeps us accountable to do our lessons. I'd answered my phone, got my lazy butt out of the recliner and was headed for the kitchen table when I remembered my bag from the thrift store must still be in the Jeep. I veered through the garage, got the bag, and dropped it on the kitchen floor intending to go through it later. Jody and I did our lesson and as we chatted, wrapping things up, I picked up the bag and started pulling stuff out. You won't believe this, I know you won't believe this because I barely believe it, but guess what was in the bottom of the bag.

          "Your ring?" you guess.

          Yes. My ring. I'd lost it on the very first stop. How is that even possible! I distinctly remember playing with it at WalMart and could even feel it on my thumb!

          It baffles me, or maybe I should say, God is good.

          One last little story before we call this one done?

          Saturday Mike was wanting a little something for his sweet tooth. "You know what we should've gotten when we were out shopping?" he asks.

          "What?"

          "A white cake."

          Mike loves white cake and buttercream frosting. "I have a box white cake. Want me to make it?" I offered.

          "What about frosting?" he asks.

          "I found a recipe online that's called The World's Best Buttercream Frosting. I can make that." Then I remembered my new Fanny Farmer cookbook. "Maybe Fanny's got one. I bet that'll be good."

          I made both. The World's Best has to have the butter beaten and fluffed for five minutes. Five minutes! I set a timer and let me tell you — that's a long time.

          Fannie's recipe only made a third as much. What's that tell you about our portion sizes over the years?

          "Maybe it's for a small cake," you wonder.

          I wondered the same thing. Even if it is for a small cake and I doubled the recipe, it would still only be two thirds as much.

          "What's the verdict?" you ask.

          Mike liked the World's Best best and I liked Fannie's better.

          With that, let's call this one done!