April 25, 2011


When the kitchen debacle began, I obtained totally inedible meals from the Ripley E.W. James.  Just awful!  The next day's meal surpassed the first and I did what I do best--wrote a complaint.  No response from corporate...except that they brought in Ms. Belle, from the Brownsville store, to shake the deli up and put it on the right track.  She's been there for the last three weeks.  Belle laughed while telling me that my complaint and complimentary remarks for her leadership and the quality of food at her store were read in the manager's meeting. We're "doing lunch" later this week.

My two weeks at the Ripley store have been interesting.  Welcomed back by many; others (who weren't aware that I'd been there before) were puzzled by my appearance.  Those petty, small-minded individuals who didn't like me before still don't like me. And my response is the same--I don't give a damn.

The front end is run differently (why am I surprised) than the Brownsville store. But some things don't change.  You can't find a CSM (customer service manager) when you need one...especially when you need an infusion of funds for the cash drawer. My good friend, JM, told me "Lord, girl, you are slow."  That, I am, and will be for some time.  I'm not trying to mess up Wally's money.

I swear if one more male, Black or white, tosses his money on the counter, I will jump over it and throttle him. They've got it bad down here...young and old.  And to the Oriental, who threw his cases of beer on the counter, kung fu is in order for you.  And, what is it with finding the change after I've opened the cash register drawer?  My mind is too old to try and compute what you should receive in lieu of what the register has said.  Haven't I said that I hate math with a vengeance?  Are you deliberately messing with me?

And what's up with you, young lady?  You come through my line and ask me to price the bag of seedless grapes before ringing them up because you don't want to go over your limit.  Cool.  Then they bust you in the lobby  for stealing...a bunch of grapes?  Give me a damned break. The second bunch  was wrapped up in the sweater jacket in her  basket.  Lawd, Lawd.  How many times do I have to tell you that Wally is watching?

An investment tip:  Invest heavily in hair dye--male and female--as well as condoms and sexual products.  There is just no way that you can discreetly read the packaging while ringing it up but what the hell is Glide and Extenz?  Naturally, my intention to peruse the appropriate aisle, in the name of research, is forgotten at the end of the day.

Today marks the fourth consecutive Monday with rain and predictions of severe weather.  The fourth in a row.  It also marks my fourth week without a kitchen sink.  Hopefully, that will change today for another "tile man" is coming.  I finally gave up on the right arm was throwing out serious pain signals.  However, the lower section still has to be done.  Pain shoots through my arm as I think about it. I was told, "it is a labor of love."  And it is.  I can't wait to see a finished, uncluttered kitchen.

And what else is happening around Serendipity?  I believe that I have a mouse as a guest.  Damn.  You and I both know that he has to go.  Or, at the least, stay out of sight.  And if he dies, do so outside.  Thank you very much. 

The roses and azaleas are in bloom; the hostas and hydrangea are coming along nicely; the peonies shot up from nowhere--looking forward to their blooms.  There are some lilies somewhere along the fence.  They, along with my iris, aren't ready to show off.  And all those irises that I planted in the back?  Nada...not one.  I either planted them too deeply or the wildlife ate the damned bulbs.  Back to the drawing board. Have the solar outdoor lighting in place; however, I can't tell you how they look because I'm on lock-down after dusk. Can't wait for the bars.  Patience is definitely a virtue which I don't possess. 

That's it from the Big Rip for the moment.  Be Safe.  Be Blessed.

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