I volunteered recently to help teach seniors how to use computers. Basic. First steps. As in, this is a hard drive, this is a monitor, mouse, keyboard, etc., and here’s the button to turn it on. Don’t be afraid of it – it can’t do anything without you. Relax.
The gentleman currently teaching the class brusquely confronted me, first thing, and asked, “What’s your background?” Dumbfounded, I said, I was self-taught, had been using computers for almost 30 years, and was good at working with people who were new to, and afraid of, computers.
Eat your broccoli.
Don’t bother to stop and smell the supermarket roses.
Don’t be afraid to tell your doctor what you think.
Give your cat anything he wants because he’ll just pester you until he gets it anyway.
Start Kegels and sit-ups when you’re ten and keep doing them until you die.
Marry someone who makes you laugh.
Read, then read more.
When times get tough, dance furiously.
Don’t listen to what people say about you.
Merry-go-rounds are for grownups. Swings, too.
Wear sunscreen even when you’re not at the beach.
Liver tastes gross for a reason.
Sleep as much as you want. Play even more.
Build a fort.
Good people sometimes die young for no good reason.
Some things are more important than having a boyfriend.
Not everyone likes bossy people.
Even mosquitos and spiders are here for a reason.
Make your life plans flexible.
Let me disclose this first thing: I don’t like cucumbers; they don’t like me.
Two nights ago my doorbell rang – at a reasonable hour, but we hardly ever have anyone ring our doorbell or even come onto our porch. The doorbell rang a second time and after exchanging surprised looks with my husband, I answered it. I expected door-to-door Bible thumpers who wanted to convert me, or at least a couple of guys farmed out by their company (always a cable/internet provider) to drum up business on the block. These are the only people who come to our door. But, people like this ring the doorbell and stay politely behind the closed screen door.
Imagine my shock when I opened the door and a very nice woman, holding the screen door open, shoved a huge cucumber in my face and asked, “Do you want a cucumber?” I hesitated only slightly, said “sure” and took the cucumber. She smiled and quickly left the porch.I closed the door and held the cucumber up for my husband to see. “You don’t even like cucumbers,” was all he said before returning to his book, leaving the cuke and me alone. I held the big ugly thing for several minutes, wondering what had just happened. I tend to be the kind of person who questions most everything, and so it was that I found myself staring at it, trying to wrap my head around this mystery gift.
I’ve spent odd moments since wondering if there was a message for me in that cucumber (which, by the way, left the house the next morning for a new home on the “take it” table in my husband’s office kitchen). Was it telling me I should be more accepting of gifts from others? Or, that cucumbers can be gifts, too? That the cucumber-bearer just had the wrong house? Or, maybe, never to answer my doorbell? To lighten up a bit and stop looking for ulterior motives and meaning in everything, especially cucumbers? Or, was it a sign that aliens now lurk outside my windows, under the Buddleia and lilac?
And, after all this stewing, here I sit. I still don’t know. Maybe it was just a sign that I should let my husband answer the door from now on.
I’m thinking about starting a new series called “how to tell” and decided this would be an awesome first post in the series.
How to tell . . . it’s time to toss the onion.