Welcome to CAB’s Place!

The email comment read, “If life were a supermarket, I bet I’d find you in the desserts and treats aisle”.   I pondered this statement momentarily, thinking, well that’s a pretty creative way of putting yourself out there.  However, I thought to myself as I gazed at the digital text, I’m not so sure that’s entirely accurate. 

So I decided to rewrite myself as if my life were a supermarket.  Where would one find me?  Here’s the start to that creative question.

If life were a supermarket, I’d be not only in the desserts and treats section, because I am sweet and fun, I’d be in the fine wines section because I am aging well and I deserve to be savored rather than gulped.  You’d find me in the the tri-tip steak section because I am tender, flavorful, tasteful and authentically real unlike the hot dogs you find in the processed lunch meats aisle. You find me in the produce aisle especially near the dark green leafy vegetables, the mushrooms and the zucchini because I am really down to earth, health conscious, but not fanatical.  You’d find me in the bakery because cake is my weakness.  You’d find me in the coffee aisle because the smell of fresh brewed coffees is more about ambiance that caffeine.  You’d find me in the cleansers and detergent aisle because while I’m not OCD, I am definitely a bit of a neat freak and I like my home and my things and my children to be clean…as well as myself and my own clothing. Of course, you’d find me in the toiletries aisle, at some point, because like all good moms, I take care of the details and I’m prepared for any emergency.

You  would not find me in the fast food or chips and dip section, because I have a bit more substance than that. However, even I have been known on occasion to indulge in popcorn or cotton candy and even I, on occasion drink a beer.  But I don’t live there and if you caught me there it would be a rare occasion indeed.  

You’d find me in the International Foods section because I love the world, it’s peoples and hope to travel to meet them someday in their own countries, at their own tables,  not mine. 

In short, you’d find me in any aisle with food that goes well with fine wine, friends, good music, good times and the making of cherished memories…that is…if my life were a supermarket.

Now, if your life were a supermarket, where would I find you???

I was talking with a good friend about a week ago.  Now, mind you this person exemplifies the term “good friend”.  In fact, he is poster boy for the phrase.  He actually befriended me at a very authentic level long before I was healthy enough to recognize and attribute his behavior as real, authentic friendship with no sexual agenda or game playing involved. But, as I am so often capable of doing…I digress.

This particular friend and I were talking and he said “Money isn’t everything, but I am convinced that it is vital in reducing a number of stressors in life”.  He gave the example of me, as a homeowner, living in a thirty-year-old fixer and trying to pay of past marital debts, maintain and improve my home, deal with defunct drains and dying vehicles on my teacher’s salary.  He said, “If you made six figures, there’d be a lot of those stresses you’d just pay to have someone take off your plate.”  And he’s right. I would.  I’d drive better, new (not new) more reliable fuel efficient cars, I’d pay someone to put new energy efficient windows in my home, I’d hire it done as much as possible, just to alleviate the added stress.  But such is not my lot. 

That was two weeks ago.  I was in the midst of panic due to a backed up drain problem in my house and no emergency money to put toward it. I adjusted some things in the budget and got the plumber paid, but, even so, I was incredibly stressed.  A bigger paycheck would have circumvented some of that stress for me.

Today is payday.  And, with a full bank account, I feel better.  I don’t feel like I should go blow it…I’m not even tempted that way, but the world simply looks better to me today because I know I’ve not spent any money, the bills are mostly caught up and today, I will not be overdrafting my account.  It looks even better to me today, because for the first time in a long time, my cars are running and in good repair and I have gas in the tanks. The weather should be cooling which will result in me not having to use heat or cooling and thereby maybe being able to make one more month before I have to dip into the meager amount of wood I’ve been able to scrounge for the winter.  

It is payday.  I feel great.  I actually have a job and in this economy, that’s no small feat.  I own my own home, I’m not anywhere close to foreclosing, I’ll make my payments this month and when I consider the foreclosure rates in this country and in my state alone, I once again consider myself very fortunate. I won’t be travelling to the Bahamas this month.  I won’t probably even make it to the coast.  I’ll be lucky to purchase a new pair of boots and jeans for myself this month, but I have a roof over my head, I’m making it and not falling behind, and my four kids are safe, healthy, happy and we have a wonderful place that we call home.  Sure, the house is the source of a lot of stress that a bigger paycheck would alleviate.  But this house is also our sanctuary from the world, our personal private park in the summer, our fireside retreat in the winter.  It is the place where we play, argue, disagree, do homework, watch movies, gripe and complain about chores and mom’s cooking.  It is where we pile into a giant king sized bed on top of mom on Saturday mornings and watch cartoons.  It is where we live.  It is where we celebrate.  It is where we heal from our pain.  It is where we love. It is home.  And, because of all that, I am grateful it is payday.

My children, the oldest three have been away from me for a week.  I miss them.  My youngest went to be with her dad for the weekend.  I miss her.

I wonder if my children miss me when they are not with me at these times or do they just figure I’m here and will be here when they return and that is just the way life is?