The Givers and the Takers

There are people out there who have very little to their names but would give you the shirt off of their back. I admire those kinds of people. Then there are people out there who have plenty of money or time or both and they won’t give you an inch if you needed a mile. I don’t like those kinds of people.

I have an acquaintance who apparently feels that they are entitled to having others serve them without returning the favor; ever. They take and take and take but never go out of their way to help others. They’re the kind of person who would chip in exactly the amount they spent for their lunch when out with a group, but not pitch in for the tip. They arrive at BYOB events empty handed and drink everyone else’s stuff and at pot luck meals, they never contribute.

This person is a leader of many, who in my humble opinion should show good values that others should follow and yet I never see that happen. I see a perfect example of how not to be. I scratch my head and wonder how they achieved the status that they did.

Perhaps instead of being annoyed because of this person I should examine myself and be grateful that my mama and daddy taught me some great core values. I know I’m off the charts a little when it comes to doing things myself. I almost can’t ask for help, which is a weakness in itself. Maybe that’s why I’m so bothered by the takers. I feel that they are “less” because they won’t do anything for themselves. I feel that they are weak and lazy and worst of all, I have no respect for them.

I know that it’s not right to judge others and I’ve been working on improving my low opinion of the “taker” I have in mind. I’ve about come to the conclusion that the best way to remain unbothered is to simply avoid all interaction with this person. That in itself is difficult because I’m not the kind of person to walk away when someone needs help. It’s a vicious cycle.

I wonder if any of you have any helpful hints about how to deal with this sort of thing because while I am tied up in knots the “taker” is blissfully ignorant.

Blue, blue, blue weekend

This weekend was truly a blue Labor day weekend. Kidlet and I spent most of our free time listening to the blues. We started off on Saturday at the Bedford Blues Festival where it was a balmy 107 degrees outside. The park where the event was held did not have an abundance of trees and the lawn area in front of the stage was in a direct line with the blazing sun, so there was NO WAY I was going to stretch out on the parched ground in the blazing sun to hear my favorite musicians. Just walking from the car to the concert had me feeling queasy and my shirt was soaked through and through. I could feel my makeup sliding off of my face and the back of my hair was literally dripping with sweat. Luckily, the event staff were handing out hand fans to help with the heat but I couldn't wave that sucker fast enough to even disturb the rivulets of sweat that were running all down my body.

No, that's NOT hair on my chest and underarms. It's supposed to look like sweat - I just can't draw worth a damn.

Thanks to the scented lotion I had applied earlier in the day, I wasn't sticky...I was slimy! The only good thing was that there were hundreds of other people who were just as sweaty, stinky, slimy, and miserable as we were. Somehow, kidlet didn't seem to be as affected as me. I saw the fringes of her hair dampen a bit but she wasn't dripping.

We finally put our blanket down on the ground in the shade of a tree to the side of the stage. We couldn't exactly see the performers but we sure as shoot could hear them and that's what mattered. Now, anyone who knows me will know that I am physically unable to sit on the ground for any length of time. My back fusion surgery sealed that fate for me. My body just won't fold. I have to recline and when you're all sweaty and slippery, reclining isn't as easy as it sounds. I kept sliding across the blanket! I tried to stay seated and actually lasted for about 20 minutes before the pain got the best of me. 

My poor kid had to help me get up and I'm sure to the casual observer it looked like I was trying to tackle her or pull her to the ground or something because it was so difficult for me to get up. We finally got my lard ass up and gathered our things and went off in search of any kind of heat relief we could find.

I love festivals of all kinds but the only problem I have is with the prices that are charged for food and drinks. I know that's how the event people raise money but 6 bucks for a lemonade is a bit steep. We weren't allowed to bring coolers so we were forced to shell out mega bucks to keep ourselves hydrated. I don't think that the drinks we had kept up with the sweat output, though. 

Eventually, we ran into a crazy friend who is a pretty subtle guy. Can't you see? He and his friends had a spot under a tent so that's where we landed and stayed for pretty much the rest of the evening.

Dang! Look how red I am! And that was at about 6 in the evening when the temperature had dropped down to 104. My red face goes well with my friend's blue beard. All we needed was some white and we'd be downright patriotic. By 9:00 or so, we were so fried and overheated we had to get into the car for some air conditioning so we left the event. 

And that began the second phase of our music quest. The next day we continued to travel and went from the little house in the woods to east Texas for a little outdoor concert. Luckily, rainstorms were in the area so the temperature had dropped to a bearable level, but it was still muggy as heck and it took about a nanosecond for my nice, clean body to become encased with a layer of sweat. Again. Now, I mentioned that rainstorms were in the area where we were that evening and they were threatening to cover the area where we went. At one point, after the band had fully set up their equipment on the outdoor stage the restaurant manager scurried out to tell the guys that the threat of rain was too great and that they had to break down their set and move everything inside. Being good friends and fans we started grabbing equipment to help with the migration but were stopped in our tracks while the club owner and the band guys had a powwow to decide if a move was really necessary. As fate would have it, the clouds stayed away and the band was allowed to stay where they were. It only took about 10 minutes for the equipment that had been broken down to be re-set so that was a plus.

The evening was progressing nicely until I needed to go to the car to retrieve something and then calamity struck.

Yep, I locked the keys in the car. I had put the keys in the console while I fished around for what I went to get in the first place (in the dark) and when I felt around and grabbed what felt like the pointy tip of a key, I jumped and ran. Right after the door clicked firmly shut I checked my pocket juuuuust to make sure I had the key and I noticed that the pointy thing wasn't a key because there were 4 other points attached to it. I had grabbed the hubster's deputy badge. It's an easy mistake, right? A 5 point star feels a lot like a car key.

I mean come on - anyone could have made that mistake. Anyone who was drunker 'n Cooter Brown or on crack or something that is! And no, I wasn't on crack or drunk...I just made a bone headed mistake. 

My heart started pounding something awful because I figured Manchild was going to be furious at me for doing something so stupid. I went in to face the executioner him and surprisingly, he didn't rant or rave or cuss or call me stupid or anything! (Thank you, Shiner Bock!!!)  He was pretty dang calm about it all although he did let me take care of the whole problem including letting me stand in a dark parking lot all by myself while waiting for help but that's beside the point.

Kidlet #2 is a whiz bang at punching buttons on her iPhone so she helped me find the phone number of a local locksmith. Now, know this...all of this happened on the Sunday before Labor Day at about 10:30 at night in the middle of nowhere. The chances of me finding someone to come out to a bar in the boonies on a holiday weekend at night were slim. I crossed my fingers and placed the call to find out if he could help me and was told (by a very drunk man) that his car battery was dead and that his car wouldn't start. Then there was silence over the line. I asked the drunk locksmith if that meant he could not help me and he repeated the line about his battery being dead and how his car wouldn't start. The guy was so sloshed I didn't bother with niceties, I just hung up. The only other number Kidlet could find was for a wrecker service so I decided to give that a shot. Unbelievably, a sober nice gent answered my call, took down my location and told me he was on his way. And to top that off, he arrived when he said he would! 

He brought his daughter with him and she entertained me while he worked to unlock the door. He took great pains to make sure his tools didn't scratch the paint and he was very reassuring that he would get me into that car. Who said chivalry was dead??? After a short time of work he finally got the door opened to my great relief. I was profuse in my thanks and tried to tip him in addition to his charge but he refused to accept it. He stated that he had charged me plenty (CHEAP by city standards) and didn't need a tip. Man oh man, there really are some good people still out in the world!

I finally got to return to the show and enjoy the rest of our weekend. But not without a lot of ribbing from my man.

All in all it was a hot, great, sweaty, blues infused weekend filled with fun, friends and family and I wouldn't have changed a thing about it. Well, maybe I wouldn't have locked the keys in the car and could have saved myself $65 but then I wouldn't have a story to tell. 

Special thanks to Smith Brothers towing of Jacksonville, TX. Honest, hard working, great quality service!