August 6, 2018 – Hacks is now the word for tips and tricks?

         Obviously, I have been living under a rock.  That is my usual phrase when something that has been around for some length of time hasn’t jumped up and “bit me in the ass”. 

         I sound a bit perturbed, now don’t I?  Why do we suddenly have to change the meaning of words?  What was wrong with the words: tips, tricks, clever ideas, or, sleight of hand?

     Suddenly they are not good enough for anyone searching on the internet?  So, now I have to look for “tips for sassy styles for short hair” as well as look for “hacks for sassy styles for short hair”?  Perhaps the tips will be old fashioned and not suited for millennials and the hacks will be suited for millennials and no one else?  Do you think??

         So, I tested it, yes, ‘12 Hair Hacks for short-haired girls’.  Girls?  I resent being called a girl.   Women politicians do this all the time.  Who are they talking to?  Not me. I have a D cup bra and am certainly not a girl.  Call me a woman, a lady, even a bi__h before you call me a “girl”.

         And, next year hacks will be passé and I’ll have to figure out what the new word is?  When I search – are all hacks also cross-referenced with tips?  And, are all tips cross reference with hacks?  I doubt it.

         Then people wonder how us “retired folks” get along these days.  Obviously slower if we have to notice the actual usage of words are changing and spend valuable time sorting out a new word usage for a well-established word that still actually means “hacking into computer systems.”

         It is not as if it is a new word – selfie for instance or sexting.  Those were new words – with new meanings.

         I had to search the internet to get a handle on this new word to add to my vocabulary.  Below is what I found – just in case hack or hacks used in this sense is new to you.  You might as well take advantage of my research.

         Now, life hack?  [Life hack refers to any trick, shortcut, skill, or novelty method that increase productivity and efficiency, in all walks of life.  Wikipedia]

Don’t you just love how expanded that definition is, all walks of life.  Now all my skills are life hack – gosh I wish I had a job to apply to so that I could add that to my resume.  Lah de da!

The urban dictionary indicates the use as:  Frank was life hacking his fridge to make it more efficient.

Does that mean when I clean out the dryer lint catcher that I am life hacking to improve the efficiency of my dryer?  No, I don't think so.  It means common sense - clean out the lint catcher so that your laundry dries quicker or if you don't the dryer vent could possibly clog and you could have yourself a fire.  I guess I can be called a safety hacker now - yes, no?  Am I getting this completely wrong?  Sure sounds like I am. 

          What sort of language usage is life hack or hacks anyway?  Is it a verb, now, or what?  Interchangeable?  So far, I have seen it used in stilted sentences.

         I also found Quora who gave me a bit more information:

https://www.quora.com/What-does-the-use-of-hack-in-everyday-non-programming-contexts-mean-Specifically-Im-referring-to-the-use-of-the-word-hack-that-is-common-on-Quora-that-vaguely-approximates-to-the-word-workaround

"The word came out of MIT and the hacker culture there, so the best pseudo-primary source would be the Jargon File.  Here are some references, distilled to the relevant points."

·       hack - Originally, a quick job that produces what is needed, but not well. 

·       The Meaning of ‘Hack’ - ‘an appropriate application of ingenuity’.

·       neat hack - A clever technique

Does it replace the old phrase Gerry-rigged? Or the phrase – ‘must have been a gov’ment job’?

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Life_hack 

Life hack (or life hacking) refers to any trick, shortcut, skill, or novelty method that increases productivity and efficiency, in all walks of life.  The term was primarily used by computer experts who suffer from information overload or those with a playful curiosity in the ways they can accelerate their workflow in ways other than programming.

And finally, after an extended prowl around the internet, I found The New Yorker reporting in 2014 that 'hack' was overused, and, giving one a history:

https://www.newyorker.com/tech/elements/a-short-history-of-hack

“The Web site Lifehacker offers tips on “how to install a laundry chute,” “make a DIY rapid-fire mouse button,” . . .

         And, I also find a weblog called “Lifehacker” [launched in 2005] where you can learn tips and tricks for everything from computers to brewing coffee from the team at Lifehacker. Oh my gosh, they used "tips and tricks" how dare they?

         It was that simple – in order to get traffic to their blog they just created a new word or two to force the issue – then sent their merchandizing and advertising team out to use hack and hacks and life hack and lifehacker to become so well known that Wikipedia lists them.

         I guess I will just add “hacks” to all my blog labels – it might increase my visits . . . .ha, ha, ha.

August 5, 2018 – Puddle walking

         Is there anything more carefree or delightful that walking in a puddle?  For me it has the same attraction as walking in the ocean surf on a secluded beach.

         But, this was last week and it was in Fred’s parking lot.  Yes, one of those discount chain stores.  When I need a box of Borax, I go to Fred’s.  The walk to the Borax and back to my car is 1/12^th of the walk than going into the Super WalMart.  [I am not the only one who doesn’t care for the ½ mile hike each way shopping at the local WalMart.]

         But, again, I started at the wrong place in this tale.  I am still recovering from a pulled Hamstring and I am literally counting the steps or the minutes I am walking or standing on this left leg.  I want it to heal, not flare up every other day.  So, I am pre-calculating my distance of walking until I am healed.

         It was sunny when I left home and when I arrived at the store.  We have had these afternoons of pop-up storms consisting of heavy rains that come on as a flash and leave just as quickly. On the way into Fred’s I noticed a 30% off sale on some cobalt blue plastic Adirondack chairs.  I was in need of a pair to replace a pair that had seen better days and one that was actually broken at the arm.  The store personnel unlocked them and took a pair in for me while I shopped.

         I limped around the store, trying not to overdo it and arrived at the cash register with my half a dozen items and as I was checking out the storm hit.  I couldn’t even see my car in the parking lot and it was parked pretty close.

         I’d have to wait until the storm passed as I intended on taking the two chairs with me.  Fred’s has a little bonus not known to my husband, but they have a little freezer toward the front of the building after you check out that has ice cream bars and the like.  I found a “Klondike ice cream bar” and paid for it.  Then I un-nested the chairs I had purchased and plunked myself down to wait out the storm eating my Klondike bar.  [One thing about living in rural America – you can do this sort of thing and no one questions it.  I can’t imagine ever doing that in Charlotte or Boston shopping.]

         Another customer stood and waited as I munched on my ice cream.  We chatted.  He too was thinking about waiting out the storm.  Ten minutes rolled into twenty minutes and the storm was dissipating – not a deluge now, but a normal rain.  He slipped out into the rain along with a few more customers.

         I was just about to run out to the car and drive it up close to the door in order to retrieve my chairs when I realized I had on a brand new pair of all leather shoes that had cost me dearly.  The parking lot was a raging river now lapping the store curb.

         Earlier when I parked my car, I did not see any coins or any glass or actually any litter on the way in. Common sense told me I wouldn't get hurt going barefoot to my car only a short distance away. I pulled off my new leather flats, shoved them in one of the two shopping bags, and dashed out to my car.

         OH – what a surprise!  The puddles were warm. The rain had absorbed the afternoon heat from the hot tar.  How absolutely delightful!

The puddles were deep, six to eight inches in places and rushing around my ankles – making my ankle length capris sopping wet half way up to my knees as I splashed to my car.  I own a big car, a decade old Lincoln and I’ve shoved huge items into my back seat on many occasions. That was the plan for my chairs.

         I pulled my car close to the curb and jumped out.  I opened my back door and I was surprised that I could not get even one of the Adirondack chairs into the back sheet.  It was drizzling now, so I popped the trunk and even then, I couldn’t get the nested pair into the trunk and close the trunk lid.

         I had to allow the chairs to hang out of the trunk and pulled the lid down as much as I could.  As I started out, I wasn’t concerned about a little bit of drizzle.  It would dry out.

         But, about a mile from the store and still about 4 miles from home, another squall – another deluge of rain came down so hard I had to put my wipers on ultra-fast to even see where I was driving.  I had to crawl home in the heavy rain with the trunk lid ajar about 6 inches.

         Not wanting to put my shoes on wet feet, I drove barefoot.  When I got home, I had no choice but to put on my shoes, wet feet or not, as I have a crushed stone driveway that I can’t walk on barefooted.  I tugged on my shoes, jumped out of the car, pulled the pair of chairs out of the trunk leaving them in the driveway, and quickly closed the trunk.  I was surprised there wasn’t a pond in my trunk; in fact, it looked almost dry.

         I rushed into the house and stuffed crumpled up grocery bags in my new shoes so they could dry properly.

         All afternoon I had a lingering smile as it rained and rained and rained.  It had been a long time since I’d walked in puddles. In puddles so deliciously warm and so deliciously deep.

         When I was a child, I’d love to walk after a rain from my house down to Germains, where there would even be swirls of sand in the puddles. Of course, I’d take care not to be caught by my Mom or Mrs. Germain.

         I need to puddle walk again and soon – what a delightful country pleasure I’d forgotten all about.

You too, should try it.

August 4, 2018 – The context of a word - oligarch

         I subscribe to a Word of the Day email from Merriam-Webster and I find it entertaining and useful.  However, when the word Risorgimento, a noun, arrived in my mailbox a day or two ago, I paused and read the definition a few times and decided I would probably never use it in my life time.  If I actually hear it used in conversation or read it somewhere, I will look up the definition again to refresh my memory.  But, I purposely did not send it to brain storage.

         But, what caught my attention was the “Trending words” section.  Oligarch, pejorative, emoluments, exculpatory, etc., words used in current newscasts that people are looking up.

         It is always fun to see how much of a percentage higher the lookups are on those trending words.  It gives me an understanding of how I match up to other inquisitive minds that look up the meaning of words.  I often know what these words are, or they are vague to me and I like to review the definitions to cement the meaning of them for my future comprehension. 

         When the word insubordinate came in at 15,000% more than normal, I had to shake my head in disbelief.  In my opinion, everyone should already know what that word means especially if you have been in business and question the thought process of upper management. The phrase, “Are you being insubordinate asking a question like that?” pops into my head from experience. 

Then, I noticed abhorrent at 12,000% and that surprised me even more.  Hasn’t that word been used to describe every war in the last century? 

         On the other hand, I am comforted by only 1500% lookups on socialism – but that might be a false comfort.  Maybe during the Bernie Sander’s run for President it was a higher percentage.  I personally hope people know what a socialist is before they vote for socialism.

         Just for fun, I have listed several other trending words and their lookup percentage.

pejorative             2800%        

oligarch               6000%                 

emoluments         9100%        

exculpatory          8200%

socialism             1500%        

ideologue             6700%

epochal                6500%        

clemency             5800%

upholds               23,000%     

insubordinate       15,000%

abhorrent            12,000%     

promulgated        2000%

         Then, reading this morning’s small town newspaper, The Daily Courier, they had a guest column by Michael Jacobs, a community columnist, CEO of Jacobs Capital and on the faculty of UNC’s Kenan-Flagler Business School, on the editorial page entitled: Tech companies should pay us for using our secrets and discussing the Tech companies in Silicon Valley. I noticed the following:

“Tech company oligarchs have built their empires by capturing and exploiting the average person’s personal, private information, often without their knowledge or explicit consent.  And certainly, without paying for it.” [my italics]

         According to Merriam-Webster dictionary, oligarch means “a member or supporter of a government in which a small group exercises control especially for corrupt and selfish purposes.” 

Another dictionary program lists it as:

1.    A ruler in an oligarchy.

2. [especially in Russia] a very rich business leader with a great deal of political influence. [not my brackets]

And, Wikipedia explains it as: meaning ‘to rule or to command’ is a form of power structure in which power rests with a small number of people.

And, then “Russian oligarch” is described by Wikipedia as:

“The Russian oligarchs (see the related term “New Russians”) are business oligarchs of the former Soviet republics who rapidly accumulated wealth during the era of Russian privatization in the aftermath of the dissolution of the Soviet Union in the 1990s.”

And Russian privatization is described as:

Privatization in Russia describes the series of post-Soviet reforms that resulted in large-scale privatization of Russia's state-owned assets, particularly in the industrial, energy, and financial sectors. Most privatization took place in the early and mid-1990s under Boris Yeltsin, who assumed the presidency following the dissolution of the Soviet Union.

Private ownership of enterprises and property had essentially remained illegal throughout the Soviet era, with Soviet communism emphasizing national control over all means of production but human labor.^[1] Under the Soviet Union, the number of state enterprises was estimated at 45,000.^[2]

In the later years of the Soviet Union, Mikhail Gorbachev relaxed restrictions on private property and introduced initial market reforms. Privatization shifted Russia from the Soviet planned economy towards a market economy, and resulted in a dramatic rise in the level of economic inequality and a collapse in GDP and industrial output.^[3]

Privatization facilitated the transfer of significant wealth to a relatively small group of business oligarchs and New Russians, particularly natural gas and oil executives.^[4] This economic transition has been described as katastroika^[5] and as "the most cataclysmic peacetime economic collapse of an industrial country in history".^[6]

Above insert from https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Privatization_in_Russia

         Why am I bringing this up?  If you don’t know what a single word is, like oligarch, I suggest you research it.  You may not be getting the real picture or real understanding of what is being discussed in the news.  We, the voting public, need to be more informed than in the past with the 24/7 news we are inundated with.

NOTE: https://www.merriam-webster.com/word-of-the-day

August 3, 2018 – Funny that, I do the same thing.

         I moved away from home when I got married and never lived within driving distance to my parents all those years as we moved from one company to another.  I kept in contact with letters and phone calls and the occasional air flight home.

         It was always an eye opener when I went home, sometimes it was a gap of two years or more.  My parents would scrutinize me as I did them.  I’d see less hair on Dad and more white in Mom’s hair.  They’d see me older and the same, but somehow changed.

         After the shock of how small my parent’s home, [my childhood home] was compared to my own home, I would look around and see the new and different touches Mom had made since my last visit.

         As they got up in years, I noticed one amusing note by the back door in her handwriting, “money, keys, spectacles, teeth?”  It made me smile and I even heard a comment or two from visiting relatives and friends.  To me, it was only amusing and I thought to myself, ‘I will be there someday.’

         Today I realized – I am there . . . and have been for a while, but I only really noticed it today.

         I remember on mirrors or on back of bedroom doors I would notice little snippets of news articles or magazine articles taped up here and there.  One newspaper clipping was “The best time to view the little dipper” taped to the back of the bedroom door where I would sleep on my visit.  I knew it was meant for me. 

My Mom had taken some of those glow in the night stars that you apply to ceilings in kids rooms and had made a perfect “little dipper” on the mirror  that hung in my old bedroom.  When I visited, I had to apply my mascara and lipstick around or between it.  Once it was there, I always looked for it when I returned home.  My hands would toss my luggage on the waiting bed, but my eyes immediately went to the mirror to verify the celestial dipper was still there.

         Yes, I do the same thing.  There are now more noticeable clippings and quotations taped up in my home.  No, I don’t have the ‘money, keys, spectacles, teeth?’ posting yet at the back door, but I’ll have to admit, I pronounce aloud my check list when I grab my purse to leave, “glasses, license, money, keys, lipstick, phone.”  I travel light with a small purse and those six items are the essentials. In the winter, I add, cough drops.

         This morning I paused longer looking at the little 3 x 3 clipping from the May 2015 issue of Shape.Com.  It is the left lower corner of page 140 and there is a white couch with just the ears and eyes of a grey pussy cat looking over it at the you.  In large font 37% is imposed on the white part and below is:

“Amount by which cat

owners are less likely to

die from a heart attack

than non-cat owners are.”

         It is stuck on an inside hinge of my medicine cabinet where no one can see - but me.  When I open the cabinet, I read it and paused.  Yes, I own one of those cats.

         I have the type of cat that will give me that 37% advantage.  She is:

The kind of cat that will jump into your lap

when you are having a rough day.

A cat that greets me at the back door

like you’ve been away on vacation

instead of grocery shopping.

A cat that crawls on my chest early in the morning

and tells you she is “hungry and you can’t lounge in bed

because it is not good for either of you”.

A cat that knows when I am sick,

sidles up beside me, and presses against me

when I need to be cherished

instead of the other way around.

A cat that sits and watches and guards

the storm door at night

while I take the dog out in the dark

for his business.

She’ll go back to bed

once I come in safely.

On more than one occasion, I’ve mentally wondered if she could sound the alarm if I didn’t come back.

A cat that sprawls out in my easy chair

and gives me that look –

“You’ve done enough, it’s time for you to pat me”.

         What other little treasures do I have taped up?  They are as corny as my Mom’s, but still they are out in the open for the world to see.

         Enjoy life now . . . it has an expiration date. [On the mirror by the back door where I verify I have lipstick on as I leave.]

         “The only person who is with us our entire life, is ourselves.”  [Taped to the side of an armoire and not readily noticeable, but I glance at it when I need to give myself a reality pinch.]

         “Nothing tastes as good as being thin feels.”  [This one is posted in several places and I must admit – it is not working, as it should.]  It should help me lose weight, but I usually read it aloud when I see it and then I answer myself back aloud. “If only things actually tasted that good, I would be thin because I would eat less of them!”

         If you have a cat, you are with me at 37% advantage, but if you also have affirmations, information, quotations, or instructions posted – I think you are just like my Mom, and that I say is a good thing.

August 2, 2018 – Wisp of a memory of a checkerboard wood bowl

         I got through the coarse sandpaper, then the medium sand paper and finished the tabletop with the fine sandpaper yesterday afternoon.

         When I was in the hardware store a few days ago, I happened to notice a 2-pack of tack cloth and I snapped one up.  It always amazes me when I remember a piece of advice as if it were yesterday and it's still crystal-clear in my mind.

         I don’t happen to remember what item I was refinishing at the time – I’ve “made do” and “made-over” more than my share of furniture in order to furnish a first apartment or make a home look lived in.  Some have been temporary things, and some I’ve kept for years. I don’t remember which project it was, but it was an important step and made a big difference in the final outcome.

         I remember talking with my brother, Ken, on the phone one day and he asked me what I was doing.  I told him I was on the final step sanding with fine sandpaper.  We discussed what type of varnish or shellac or polyurethane finish I was going to use.  He gave me some unsolicited advice,

         “Be sure to wipe it down with tack cloth just before you start.”

         “What is a tack cloth?”  I asked, as I’d never heard of one.

         “It takes the traces of any dust off your wood; you get a much smoother finish,” he continued.

         “You can buy one or make your own . . . .” then he went into the process of making your own.   I have forgotten what he said about making one, but I was impressed that he knew this stuff.  But, then again, I wasn’t surprised, both he and my eldest brother, Al, had both taken shop in high school and they built things – coffee tables, end tables, and more. And, my Dad knew how to do all this stuff, wood working, plumbing, electrical, gardening, etc.  There was very little my Dad didn’t know how to do.  Both Ken and Al sucked it up like sponges and both make things and fix things just like Dad.

         I remember my brother Ken made a two-tone wood bowl.  It was a checkerboard thing.  I am guessing now, but I think you cut two different kinds of wood, [one dark, one light] and glue them together in layers then stack them in the opposite direction. [I know checkerboard cookies are made that way, so I am assuming it is the same process.]

Ken was into this project and I caught a few glimpses of the beginning and the middle and almost the end of the process.  After the wood was stacked, he would turn it on the lathe in order to get a bowl effect.

         I don’t remember that much, I was a teenager at the time and working at the local soda fountain/burger place down at the bottom of our road.  I was too busy living my young life at the time to pay attention to one of his “masterpieces”.

         When I am in art studios, or upscale shops I always take time to stop and admire the beautiful two tone wood items.  I have even considered buying a cutting board or a salad bowl with a checkboard design.  But, I am usually put off by the price tag.  I am too cheap, yet I understand the labor cost involved.

         So, back to my project . . . I tore the tack cloth out of the bag and wiped the table down and applied the first coat of finish a half hour ago.  One coat done, and there will be a few more coats before I get the shine I want. The project is coming along fine. [The house is upside down, but the project is coming along fine.]

         Just now, my husband stopped in front of my desk as I type this and stated, “The wood has sucked up all your finish, you’ll have to do another coat.”

         “Yes dear.”

         “I remember that table you did down in Florida – that had a beautiful finish,” he went out to get the mail.

         Mentally I answer him, 'this one will too'.

        

August 1, 2018 – “I am not allowed to ask that question.” I answered.

         “What do you mean?”

         “When you interview someone you can’t ask if they are married or single,”  I explained, “I want to bring her through to introduce you first thing.”

         “Yes, do that and I will ask that question,” Loyce said.  Loyce was a real estate agent who was the next-door tenant in the office building that I rented for the first title company that I managed here in the county. 

But let me start it at the beginning.

         I needed to hire a replacement for a gal who wanted to go on to bigger and better things.  I had called Kings College near Charlotte and had asked them to announce a job opening for a paralegal graduate.  I had also put the ad in the local paper and I had only a handful of applicants apply.

         Years ago, a personal manager advised me about the first or last theory in job hunting. He told me you are either the first one or the last one when it comes to being hired.  He explained that theory.  If you are first, then they compare all the other applicants to you and the rest don't muster up and you get hired, being the first.  Or, if they have been searching a long time, and you are the last applicant, you are fresh in their mind and you get hired because they can’t remember who was better than you.  So, sometimes a stale job posting could get you hired.

I scheduled the paralegal first so that I could easily compare her attributes to all the rest of the applicants.

My first impression never changed even after I hired her.  She was on time, dressed in business attire, with a firm handshake and a big smile and looked me straight in the eye.  She had an unusual quality of confidence for a young person.

She gave the impression that she was seriously interested in this job and asked for the job outright at the end of the interview.  After I had gone through my short punch list that included typing speed, if she enjoyed phone work and customer service, I asked my conclusion question to see what her personally, was like.

“What is your hobby?” I asked.

“Shopping!”  She said jubilantly.  I had noticed the stylish new bag she had carried and set down near her feet propped against the leg of the chair that she sat in.

“Shopping?” I returned it to her as a question with my delighted voice.

“Yes, you see, I must have this job, because I need to earn money to feed my bad habit, my shopping habit,” she said in a conspiratorial way.

I concluded that was all the questions I had and that I had five other applicants over the next two days and I would make a decision by Wednesday.

She was polite, and incredibly young – or should I say ‘youthful’. We walked to the front door where she shook my hand, thanked me for the interview and again asked for the job in a more professional way. She confidently walked to her car and got in like a lady and drove off.

She was a blonde size one.  She possessed the skills I needed, the raw material I would chisel into a great assistant.  She had great personality and a great hobby, Shopping!

And, I did compare her to all that followed and they all paled in education, skills, professionalism, and personality.  The rest of the interviews went rather quickly and I offered her the job.

She was so excited about getting the job. I was in for a delightful time training her.



         “Ashley, come, I’ll introduce you to the rest of the tenants in the building. Give you the grand tour.”

         When we met Loyce a few moments later, Loyce asked all the questions that were forbidden.

         Ashley gave it all up.  Her church, her Mom’s maiden name, Loyce immediately connected Ashley’s family to people she knew.  Asked her if she was living with her parents or her own apartment.

         “I know some nice young men who are always looking for a gal to date,” Loyce said it softly, “or, are you dating someone special?”

         “No one special, we are just friends, but I am open to dating new men.”

         Just then, one of the tenants from upstairs dropped in to Loyce’s office with some missorted mail.

         “Oh, Ashley, how are you?”  Come to find out they were from the same church and we found out she was dating a fella by the name “Jessee” and she called him, “Just a friend.”

         “No, we are not serious, he’s just a friend.”  Was her assertive answer a second time.

         As we left, I got the “wink” from Loyce that all her burning questions had been answered and I knew a lot more about Ashley than I did when I hired her.

Fast forward six months on a weekday.

         Ashley comes in the door and announces.  “I’ve got a flat tire!”

         We go to the window and look out together.  “It got me here – but it is really flat now!” Ashley sighs.

         In between first cup of coffee and answer overnight messages, I can hear her trying to cajole her Dad to come fix her tire.  Then I get busy and don’t pay any attention to her solving her tire problem and the both of us are getting things done in the busy office.

         Mid-morning Ashley skips out the door as a young man arrives in a truck and she tosses him her car keys from three paces away and skips back into the office.

         While I am on a conference call, I swivel my chair and watch the young man jack up her car, and take the wheel off.  He drives off with it in his truck.

         A while later I am watching him put the wheel back on.  It is hot out there in the blazing summer sun and he is wiping his brow on his t-shirt sleeve.  He tightens the last of the lug nuts, and pops the wheel cover back on, lets down the jack, closes the trunk and walks to the door. 

Ashley is on the phone with a client and can’t get up.  He opens the front lobby door, walks forward silently and slowly slides her car keys across the desk to her waiting fingertips.  He then slowly turns and quietly leaves without saying a word. 

         I can see all this from my manager’s desk.  Job done, off he goes.

         Later I casually ask, “What garage came to fix your tire?”

         “Oh, that is just Jessee, he’s just a friend.”

         I repeat the word “just” softly and she gives me a puzzled look.

         “What?”  She adds. “We’ve been friends for years. Just friends.”

         I smile and shake my head.  “I may not know about your relationship, but that man – that man loves you – anyone who changes a tire in the middle of this summer heat – he loves you.”

         Ashley simply laughs at me.



         It didn’t surprise me when I got a call a year and a half later, from Ashley informing me she was getting married. She had moved on to a bigger and better job and I had moved on to my own company.

         “Who?”  I asked with a picture of the tire changer in my mind.

         “Jessee!”

When I hung up the phone I whispered to myself

“just”.