Sunday, May 7, 2017

Live and Learn

Inspirational song: Teach Your Children (Crosby, Stills, & Nash)

I'm focusing on learning today. I'm trying new things, learning from mistakes, and trying to set examples of how I want (or wanted) to be treated. It hasn't always worked to my advantage. This morning, I tried to find the right route to line up for the big send off for the semi-annual Honor Flight from northern Colorado. We left the house late (not until at least 8:30, when line-up started at 8:15). The place to gather is in a weird place. The big highways don't go directly to it from our side of the interstate. You can wind through if you know the right county roads, or you can cross to the frontage road on the other side. I made the mistake of trying to find the windy county road version. I didn't remember the number road to take. By the time the hairs on the back of my neck stood up, telling me I was too far south, and I pulled over to check the GPS, we were already running out of time. I started to turn back north to look for the way across, but I couldn't find it on the old maps on my car. (Tangential lesson: Get The Update For The Navigation System) We argued about routes, and ended up popping up at the interstate as the flashing lights of the escort appeared on the horizon. We never even made it out of the car. There's always September, right? Will I remember which road to take then?

I've been singularly unable to mow grass for years. I've tried, and I've hurt myself. I've written about it at length. I even revealed how much it plagued me back in Charleston, when the best I could do was mow paths in the yard for Bump to run around in. Pushing a loud, rumbling, vibrating hunk of metal with whirling blades in the sun and heat knocks me out every year. Friday I bought an electric mower, and I've been hopeful that it would solve at least a few of the hurdles for me. It did fix one issue: it starts with a push button. Not for nothing, I have actually injured myself on the pull cord of traditional mowers. I have to pull so hard and so fast compared to what my body can handle, and by the time I get the damned thing running, I'm in too much pain to mow. So that part is a great success. The first few loops around the yard, I didn't realize the block was in place, preventing the grass clippings from going into the collection bag. It was mulching instead. We switched it to collecting clippings. Bad idea. By the time the bag was 3/4 full, it was too heavy for me to keep pushing. I had to take a long break, and even then, I couldn't do the whole thing myself.

For more than a year, my boss has been trying to convince me to follow through and contact the people I meet at open houses. I didn't like the idea of keeping a guest book when it was pushed as a trick to collect contact information (which some training materials suggest). But this time, the seller specifically requested that I do it, so I had a list of about 12 names, most of whom provided an email address. I was in touch with the couple who were most adamant about talking to me again yesterday. But today, while I needed to rest between attempts at lawn maintenance, I wrote a very quick email to the remaining people on the list to thank them for coming. It was simple, just three sentences long. I said the same thing to all of them. So far, two people have responded, and one asked several very serious questions. He could turn into another real client. How many times did bossman ask me to do this? He was right. I just had to get to the right place in my own head to do it.




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