It was one o’ them days today. But it was sunny. It was Stress, Incorporated. But Sol was beaming down on blazing green grass. And you know, that springtime green, it does blaze. So I drove the dogs out to a place in the woods where a landowner has set a picnic table in a grassy clearing beside a beaver pond. And I enjoyed a sandwich made to order at the grocery store down the road, which has a fine little deli.
Ah. That helped.
Driving home, two teenagers with shovels scooted out of my way. They were on the road with a very unofficial looking truck, and as I slowed down I saw that they were filling potholes. Looking farther, I saw they were with a man who co-owns a local school.
The school is way back in the woods, and although it’s a religious, family-run operation, they also have a contract to take in kids who would otherwise flunk out or drop out of local high schools. Really remarkable place. Wish there’d have been something like that when I was a kid. Life would have been so different.
One thing they do is put all the kids to work in the afternoon, usually some type of charitable physical labor. Today it was filling potholes. In the county road.
This benefits them, too, because their school is way back out there off that road, beyond the rest of civilization. But it’s also for the many people who drive up there.
Dana commented about people putting up their own road signs. That’s an interesting development in the long and honorable history of people turning their backs on government, but of course could be negative or positive, depending on signage.
Pothole-filling? A plus for all. I wonder if they got the county’s permission first or just went out and did it?
I came home, followed up on some (late) email, then sat in the backyard with a Bloody Mary. More stress therapy.
I was preoccupied when I made the thing, though, and put in waaaay too much Worchestershire sauce. It was puckering me up something awful to take a sip of it. But I was in this way-comfortable chair and couldn’t bring myself to get up and go inside to dilute the thing with more V8 juice. Not as long as the sun was shining.
I kept wincing with each sip and waiting for a cloud to cross the sun so I could go inside and remove some of the fire.
Lately, I’ve worked with some very nice people. Some very difficult ones, too. Sort of a package deal. I wonder if anyone has ever calculated the ratio: how many nice people does it take to overcome the impact of one nasty?
I’m choosing to emphasize the good. And the good is prevailing. But my little body and brain can only take so much restorative vodka.