Posted in Life, waiting

Forgotten? Probably not.

Posted on by William Douthwaite
Photo by Sandra Seitamaa on Unsplash

We weren’t in a hurry. After an afternoon of crafting with a crafty friend, we decided to get chips, wings, and a burger at a nearby sports bar type restaurant. I was surprised by the crowd when we arrived. The parking lot wasn’t full. But the wait was short and we settled into a big booth.

Our server breezed by to get our drink order. “Chips and salsa, too, please.”

“Sure!” She quickly returned with our drinks, took our order, and disappeared around the corner. Disappeared is the key word here. From now on our waitress will be out of sight. (Sorry. It’s almost Christmas. I can’t help it.)

We chatted about the Christmas cards we had just crafted, upcoming family birthdays, this week’s trip to Mickey’s Very Merry Christmas, next week’s trip out of town, big dogs and little dogs, and “She heard us order chips and salsa, right?” It had been about ten minutes since we ordered. Someone usually runs them right out.

As we sat, a few tables finished up, replacement families sat down, and no one was watching the televisions around the room. We talked about Christmas Eve and Day with the family, gifts ordered, gifts we were waiting for, gifts to return, and “I don’t even see our server.” When other servers brought plates to folks who arrived after us, we began to feel forgotten.

“How long have we been here?”

“About twenty minutes.”

“Maybe we should flag down another server.” While several hustled around the dining room, none passed by our booth.

As I scanned the room again, our server suddenly appeared from around the corner with our food. Well, most of our food. Wings? Check. Burger? Check. Chips and salsa? Nope. “I’m sorry.”

“That’s okay. Just be sure to take them off our check.”

Our server stopped by multiple times to make sure everything tasted good. It did. Our food really hit the spot. I didn’t say anything, but wondered how we got lost on a not-so-busy night. I’m sure I have no idea all that happens in the back, even when things slow down.

So I’ll just be thankful for a less frantic, more relaxed moment in my day, food on the table, and time together.

Posted in Christmas

Christmas in my neighborhood: a virtual tour

Posted on by William Douthwaite

As my twice a day dogs walks take me through the streets of my neighborhood, I’ve intentionally captured the wide variety of Christmas yard decorations. Some are traditional. Some are way out there. Here’s a little tour, with a little commentary.

Snowmen rule the front yard displays this year, even here in Florida. As you can see, snowmen are happy, marry and raise families, and are athletic. They all dress for winter weather. I especially like the unique green imitation shrub snowman.

Interesting animals show up to celebrate the holiday from large dogs to elephants to dinosaurs.

And speaking of interesting animals, I thought this yard was worthy of it’s own place in my gallery. Be sure you don’t miss the narwhal, llama, fox, and brontosaurus, all decked out for the holidays.

The Christmas Basset Hound about to howl along with the herald angel makes me smile every time I walk by. Snoopy and Woodstock are classic, too.

This is the best of the nativities I’ve seen on my walks. The nicely built stable makes it stand out among the silhouettes, inflatables, and light-outlined figures in front of homes. Since none of the Christmas cards we’ve received picture a baby Jesus, I am glad we get to see him on this block.

Santa isn’t getting a lot of shade this year, but he still shows up here and there. I like this Santa and Mrs. Claus.

The Grinch isn’t as popular as he was last year. I thought this was Santa scrambling up the ladder, until I saw the green hands. Yep, Mr. Grinch.

Oh boy! Of course Mickey and Minnie will show up for Christmas.

Here’s a collection of strange characters. This year, someone decided gnomes looked enough like elves to include them in Christmas decorations. The cast of Christmas characters now includes Jack Skellington, Grogu (baby Yoda), Baby Shark, a goat, a unicorn, polar bears, and a frightened crab.

This one is for all you minimalists out there: a Santa hat on a stick.

And I’ll leave you with these two iconic characters. That is a very nice, big nutcracker outside a front door. Then I was delighted to see Saint Nicholas welcoming all to this home.

When I was growing up, it was candles in the windows and strings of lights on the eves of homes. Now you are likely to see anything and anyone celebrating Christmas!

Posted in Stories

Hey, nice head of hair

Posted on by William Douthwaite

The self-checkout line at Walmart was long, winding back on itself. I wasn’t in hurry, so I enjoyed a little people and cart watching.

A voice in the line next to me exclaimed, “Hey, I like that head of hair!” I looked up and saw a thick gray mop like mine. I returned the compliment, “I like yours, too.” He was about my age and height, in good shape, wearing a back brace, earphones in, chatting it up with other shoppers. His hair is pretty good, better than most guys our age, but mine is fuller and thicker.

If there’s one thing my family has a lot of, it’s hair. My dad lost most of his, but the rest of us inherited thick dark brown hair from my mom, which we passed along to our kids and many of the grandchildren.

The gray appeared in my thirties, salt and pepper through my forties, and took over by the time I was fifty. It hasn’t started thinning out yet.

As every barber and stylist tries to run a comb through my hair, they comment, “Wow, that’s thick.” It’s like a snow storm when they start thinning it out. When the haircut is done, I feel a couple of pounds lighter.

When my dermatologist is checking me out head to toe, she laughs when she runs her fingers along my scalp, “No problems up here. The sun can’t get through this!”

My new Walmart acquaintance told me his hair started going gray when he was sixteen. It started in the back, a circular patch on the back of his head. Mine uniformly appeared over time until I had that all-over head of hair and beard.

Posted in Christmas

Mission impossible: green sugar sprinkles

Posted on by William Douthwaite

The hardest to find Christmas cookie decorating ingredient this year: green sugar sprinkles.

Blue, red, and purple sprinkles lined the Publix shelves. How many bottles of green? Zero.

Walmart’s kiosk featured every imaginable baking ingredient. Do you need dates or nuts? Lots to choose from. Chocolate sprinkles or teeny tiny multicolored balls? Plenty in stock. Silver balls or cinnamon bits? Load up your cart. Any bottles of green sprinkles? Nope.

With a new (new to us; we bought a used on online when last year’s plastic one broke) aluminum Mirro cookie press locked and loaded, we had to have green sprinkles for the Christmas tree cookies. When we checked online, we could have bought some for $7 on Amazon. No thanks.

My quest last weekend was to find green sprinkles. I was confident that the stores we don’t frequent may have them in stock. Like Target. I came up empty there. If I was making Hanukkah cookies, I’d be all set. The shelf was filled with dozens of bottles of blue sprinkles. No red or green.

On my way out of there, I saw a dollar store. What do you think? It can’t hurt to look. No luck. They had one bottle of multicolored sprinkles.

Around the corner was another Publix, one I rarely go to. I passed boxes of cake mixes, tubs of frosting, all kinds of birthday candles, and found the sprinkles. No green. But wait, what’s that hidden behind a hanging display of kabob skewers and bathtub squirt toys? Green sprinkles! And they were only $3.79.

Mission accomplished. Christmas was saved. The tree spritz cookies looked and tasted great.

Posted in Moments of grace

Sunrise and sunset: best times of the day

Posted on by William Douthwaite
Morning
Evening

Now that I’m taking our dog out for a daily morning and evening walk, I’m not only getting a lot more steps in but I’ve discovered my love of sunrises and sunsets.

I love the walks that begin in the pre-dawn darkness and end in light. I also love the walks that I start before sunset and end in darkness. For some reason, I enjoy the transition from one state to another. As the sky brightens, I anticipate a new day. In the same way, as the night approaches, I’m acutely aware of the blessings I’ve experienced.

For instance, my early morning thoughts were all about going to church today. I was looking forward to special Christmas music today, and imagined what carols we might sing. In the evening, I thought about all the people I talked with today. I hadn’t spoken with some for over a year. It was so nice to catch up with each others’ lives.

It’s not always easy to time my walks for these moments. My dog Winston isn’t a morning person, and if I want to walk before dawn, I have to wake him up and lift him out of his cage to get him out the door. In the afternoon, he’s ready for his second meal of the day long before sunset, so I have to resist the “please feed me” look on his face about 4 pm.

The colors of sunrise and sunset aren’t visible any other time of the day. The mornings are filled with pinks, while oranges show up in the evening. Sometimes I try and take a picture of the dawn and dusk skies. The photos never seem to capture the hues that my eyes see on my morning and evening walks. It’s as if God is saying, “You can experience these colors, but you can’t capture them. Enjoy!”

In both the early morning and early evening, few cars drive by on our walks through the neighborhood. Many are still waking up to get ready for work of school. Later, they are gathering for supper. So we own the empty streets, walking right down the center, only listening for the newspaper delivery cars driving by.

Timing is everything. Right now, as the winter solstice approaches, sunrise is late while sunsets comes early. Summer is a different story. But don’t worry. I’ll be chasing them both.

Posted in Life

More houses, fewer wooded lots

Posted on by William Douthwaite

The steady beep-beep-beep echoed down the street at 7:15 am. Not just one, but two excavators were at work clearing lots for new homes on my street. The heavy Case equipment easily uprooted thirty to forty foot tall pine trees, leaving behind an impressive pile of logs ready to be hauled away.

Twenty-eight years ago, as we slowly drove up and down these streets in search of a place to build our home, there were twice as many wooded lots as houses. Ironically, most of the trees in Palm Coast were tall, skinny slash pines, accompanied by a few cedars and palm trees, and surrounded by palmettos. From what I remember, all the lots pretty much looked the same. We picked one on a street where most people took good care of their homes.

When we built our house, we were surrounded by undeveloped lots. While schools, church, and stores weren’t far away, we were living in the woods. There was plenty of space for BMX bike trails, forts, and wildlife. The surrounding trees provided welcome shade in the summer, dusted our cars with green pollen in the springtime, and dotted the yard with pine cones in summer.

We knew it wouldn’t stay this way forever. Every once in a while a lot would be cleared for new construction. New neighbors gradually filled in the spaces between existing homes. More cars drove down the street each day. Little by little, the woods disappeared.

Besides trees, I’m interested in what contractors find on the property. Once a lot is cleared, a pile of old tires often appears, along with furniture, boards, buckets, metal and pieces of concrete. Vacant lots are popular dumping grounds for all kinds of trash.

When we cleared our lot, we left about fifteen feet of wooded area in the back yard. Now, every single tree is taken away. The land is stripped bare to become a blank canvas for fill dirt, concrete, sod, and landscaping.

On the plus side, there are fewer trees for hurricanes to blow around. But I miss the green. The deer and bunnies have moved out, too, as relentless waves of people continue moving to Florida.

Posted in Life, memories, Travel

A blizzard, a phone call, and Florida

Posted on by William Douthwaite
Photo by Pixabay: https://www.pexels.com/photo/trees-and-cars-covered-by-snow-512229/

Subfreezing temperatures. Flurries in the forecast. Pretty normal February day in Iowa. White piles along the road reminded me of last week’s snow. The gray sky, leafless trees, and bite in the air testified that spring was still far away.

The car heater had barely warmed up when I pulled into the parking lot. After a quick walk inside, I piled my coat, scarf, hat, and gloves on a side chair and turned on my computer. My car, just a few feet away on the other side of my office window, didn’t seem to mind the cold at all.

Not long before lunchtime, the wind blew the first flakes of snow past my window. As I watched, more and more snow fell, and the winter world’s grays and browns succumbed to a coating of white. The wind picked up as the sky suddenly dumped all of it’s snow at once. I couldn’t even see my car as today’s “flurries” matured into a full on blizzard.

My desk phone rang. It was probably my wife, making sure I was okay. I wasn’t planning on driving anywhere anytime soon. But it wasn’t her. It was someone calling me from Florida. They just wanted to ask if I was open to considering a job change and relocating.

To Florida? The Sunshine State? I said, “Sure,” but in my mind I was thinking, “How about I come down today?” Lol. The interview was in April, and we moved there in June.

That was twenty-eight years ago. And you know, I just don’t miss the gray skies, leafless trees, bite in the air, and driving home in a blizzard.

Posted in coffee, Life

Fewer seats, more customers

Posted on by William Douthwaite

After I dropped off my dog at the groomer, I drove by my favorite Starbucks to see if they had re-opened. The store had been closed for remodeling, and the half-full parking lot was a welcome sight. With journal and pen in hand, I looked forward to an hour of coffee, eavesdropping, observation, thinking up story ideas, and doodling.

I actually had two journals with me. The one was just about full with just two blank pages left. The other was freshly unwrapped without a single mark on the pages. I love new journal day! I remember my mom telling me how much she loved cracking open a new notebook, feeling the smooth pages, and anticipating the words and images that would soon fill them. I know exactly how she felt.

Anyway, when I stepped into the redone coffee shop, I noticed a lack of seats. Half of the store was set aside for the baristas. The mobile order pickup area was expansive. One long table with chairs on each side filled the coffee-drinkers’ side. At each end was a table surrounded by a few chairs. A few scattered customers essentially filled the room. There was no place to sit, unless I was comfortable sitting side-by-side with purple-haired macchiato-drinking woman chatting on her phone.

I found a spot to sit outside at one of the ten patio tables. While there, I wondered, “Why did they get rid of so much indoor seating?” I put on my franchise-owner’s hat and came up with a few ideas.

  • Since it was right off the interstate, a lot of this location’s business was drive-thru and mobile orders. More room for more baristas will keep up with demand.
  • Every time I’ve been there, homeless were camped out, nursing a tall coffee for hours. Students occupied tables with laptops and textbooks for hours. Interviewers met with job applicant after job applicant. Fewer seats moves more customers through the store.
  • It was a corporate decision. This is what we want our stores to look like. We’ve never been to your store, but the data says this is the way to go. Live with it.
  • We want people to moan and groan about the change. There is no bad publicity, right? Let’s give the bloggers something to rant about. You have a problem with this? Let’s talk about it over coffee.

By the time I left, the parking lot was full, the mobile order counter was full, and the drive thru line was out to the street. Someone knows what they are doing.

Posted in communication, Life

You better check your email

Posted on by William Douthwaite
Photo by Stephen Phillips – Hostreviews.co.uk on Unsplash

At the beginning of my online bible study group, the leader reminded us of an email he had sent out a few days before, telling us that we would have to cover two lessons to stay on schedule. However, we would not have time to discuss two entire lessons in our one-hour time slot. So he sent out some highlight questions from each of the two lessons.

One group member entered the Zoom room about five minutes late, and was surprised at how far along we were. The leader explained that we were fast-tracking each of the two lessons, as outlined in his email. This member replied, “Oh, well, I’m only on my email once every couple of weeks, so I didn’t see that.”

That comment got my attention. He only checks his email once every two weeks? I check mine at least twice a day. I’ll bet many check it more often than that.

So I’ve been wondering if it’s better to check it more often or less. I can think of pros and cons for both.

If I check my email more than twice a day, I end up spending a lot more time online than I want to. A few newsletters bring me up to date on current events. Merchants I’ve purchased from send along coupons and discount codes so I’ll return to their sites to shop for more. I get weekly updates about activities at church and in the community. I receive notifications about recent purchases and upcoming deliveries. I get appointment reminders. All of these beg for my attention, tempt me to click and read more, eating away at my day one little bite at a time.

But if I go more than a day without checking my email, I’ll have over fifty unread emails. If I skip a week, my inbox will be filled with hundreds of emails. And that doesn’t include all that go immediately into the spam folder. When the list of unread email is more than several pages, I’m sure to miss something I need to know or communication from someone close to me.

On the other hand, I don’t get much email from those close to me. Most of my personal communication comes via text message. Family photos are mostly shared on social media. Important official correspondence comes in the mail.

But I depend on email to find out about local events. I get receipts from recent purchases and updates on travel arrangements. One Sunday morning, I was alerted to a detour I’d have to take to get to church. The library sends me a list of books I’ve checked out by email, too.

I remember when email was a new experience. We were all thrilled to read, “You’ve got mail.” Once, someone called me to ask, “Did you get my email?” Lol. You could have just called me. Twenty years later, the shine has worn off. Too much spam. Too many promotions. Too much junk.

Twice a day should be plenty. Productivity experts say don’t check email till 11 am and never after 8 pm. I can do that. But once every two weeks is a bit much for me.