Essential…no longer Associate :)

“I don’t see the bin for Flowering Chives” I asked Julie.

“You can place them in the Chives-local produce bin”, she responded from across the aisle.

I’m working temporary at the Food Coop stocking produce.

During normal times, the coop requires 3hrs of monthly volunteer shifts

and my shift was placing organic labels on the produce

in the basement, with a talkative crew.

But…

due to the Corona, all shifts have been suspended and most members have been hired to work for…

minimum wage.           101010428_714861959248941_178266032119480320_n

Now I hold the title of “Essential Worker” instead of “Training Associate”

severed by my resignation after three years at an org

with glass ceilings

stained with smudge marks

by those who tried to break through.

My choice. My body. My decision.

Julie is the supervisor for Produce at the food coop.

She is meticulous as I will never be.

I lack the energy to be meticulous in just about anything.

“I can’t believe it’s eight o’clock and the shelves aren’t stocked!!”

“We’ll get there Julie”, I said from atop a small stool stocking

the flowering chives

and secretly thinking,

How the hell do you cook flowering chives?’

“When you’re done with the chives could you stock the nettles? Just be careful when you’re bagging them.

They have thorns and it burns if it pierces the skin.”

“What do you do with nettles?”

“Well you can make tea from the leaves and you can boil the leaves and put into food”, Julie said.

“Why in the world would you cook with an herb that attacks you?”, I responded.

Sure enough…

I got pricked by a nettle at the wrist which led to a burning sensation.

“I got pricked!”.

“It will go away in 10 minutes”.

And…

it did, just as Julie said.

Four hours of my six hour shift was spent with Julie.

Stocking some melons and peppers, but mostly herbs.

I learnt more about herbs than was necessary

and…

Julie’s meticulousness found its way

into my hands.

I started arranging the bins to look attractive

neat…

inviting to the eyes and to the touch.

I became present in the task before me instead of daydreaming the day away

planning for what would happen when I was done

when I got home

walked the dog and

prepared my lunch.

For those four hours working at the coop

I was in the now.

 

Rolling, Rolling, Rolling…no. Running, Wobbling, Running…

Marathon #2 sits on the horizon and, god willingGod Willing I’ll cross that line again.

Marathon #1 was an all-out disaster that almost didn’t happen due to my mom’s illness but did happen due to my mom’s illness and her unrelenting push for me to train.

I trained through, tears, stress, worry and crossed the line many times arguing with incompetent doctors who destroyed my mom’s will to live and her health

And,

I finally crossed THAT LINE at the end of the marathon which my mom did not live to see.

-Actually, she did see, for she was on the corner of Sackett Street and Fourth Avenue, just not in this realm and as I woggled towards that street, I stopped, crossed myself and bowed for the Queen.

So,

back to Marathon #2 in which training has not officially begun but I’ve started anyway because well, I have nothing better to do than pound my knees via my feet kissing asphalt, concrete and dirt trails.

Love the trails, love my feet, love my knees, hate the dirt.IMG_0758.jpg

And at least I’m not kissing someone’s ass

So,

I’ll tie up the laces tomorrow, that are tied already, just need to slip on the sneaker.

-(I’ll set the garmin, set the interval timer, wear the running glasses that get dark in the sun, put on the Panache Bra, set up the Spotify, put on the lip balm, make the Nunn for the water bottle, separate Tara-Habby from the treacherous cat posse  (worse than the Sharks but just like the Jets) out to dethrone the Queen ( not me this time)  and ultimately sit on the throne (corner of my bed).)

IMG_0757.jpg

The Green Throne

And hit the road…not like Jack in Ray’s song for

I’ll be coming back, god willing.

 

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