Knee High by the 4th of July

There are millions of metaphors for time. Measuring time, the speed at which it passes, it's infiniteness, it's meaning and so on. In Ohio there is a portion of the year that we measure time with corn. If you've never had the pleasure of driving through Ohio, then you may not be aware of what the rest of the world already knows--in Ohio we grow corn, and lots of it. I may be biased, but I have to say it is probably the best corn you'll ever sink your teeth into as well. That said, whether cognisant of it or not, Ohioans measure their summer with corn. Spring has passed when the first seedling have sprouted and school is starting when the harvest hits. It's just the natural order of things. In order for there to be a good crop it is said that the corn should be knee high by the 4th of July, and I'm happy to report that this year it is even a bit above the knee.

I'm spending a lot of time driving back and forth between this tiny town and another for the purpose of seeing someone who is becoming an increasing part of my life. The other day I was making the now familiar journey when it occurred to me that not only was the corn in good shape, but I just might be growing too. When I started making this trip the corn had barely sprouted and now it's more than halfway to harvest. And there I was measuring time in corn, I actually laughed to myself. The last time corn was my clock I was a child, but somehow the comfort of it's paradoxical slow and steadiness coupled with the surprise of seeming rapidity of it's passage was strange and familiar all at once.

In a few short days I will experience the last birthday I plan to have until 29 is an obvious and overt lie (or I'm happily married and settled into domestic life, whichever comes first) and my life feels like an Ohio summer. Part of me sees Fall right around the corner and is holding on for dear life to the waning days of summer while another part of me is looking forward to the Fall and what it might bring. There are moments when I wonder how I ended up here, literally and figuratively. I imagined facing 30 from a different vantage point. At some moments I yearn to turn back, wish I could start the season over in hopes of yielding a better crop, while at other times I wonder if the perfect crop will be just what I harvest this Fall. I meant to be somewhere else, and now I'm measuring time with corn! That said, I'm going to view it positively because after all, it's about growth and regrowth and that is what I always hope to see in my life wherever I may land.

You Can't Make this Shit Up #3: An Affair to Remember

This fun little character we shall name Trixie.

My current lackluster occupation is selling furniture, and I can't say that I'm selling tons of it these days, but recently I learned that blackmail is excellent sales technique not mentioned in most sales manuals.

A couple of weeks ago an odd couple came into the store. The woman, Trixie, appeared to be in her late 30s while her "date" appeared to be in his 60s. I spent a certain amount of mental energy trying to determine if in reality the man was her father and they had some sort of HIGHLY inappropriate relationship, or if he was her sugar daddy or whatever. The two of them spent at least 20 minutes looking at sofas and "trying them out" by snuggling, her climbing into his lap and other such nonsense all the while holding hands and grinning like idiots. They arrived at a lovely red paisley number, but I was unsuccessful at closing the deal. (A problem I'll probably need to address in another blog entry.)

A week later Trixie walks through the door with a man close to her age and four children that look remarkably like her and this gentleman. Within a few moments they sit down on the red paisley sofa. I walk up and say, "Did you decide to go ahead and get this one." Thinking to myself that maybe her family is just really screwy and the man from before was her dad or an uncle or something. Well, apparently not. She gave me an odd and uncomfortable look before turning to her husband and saying something about looking at sofas the previous week. Ultimately they decided on an olive green Pottery Barn knockoff and were hemming and hawing about whether or not to buy it. I elected to leverage what little power I held, looked her straight in the eye and said, "We're gonna write this up tonight, right?" This time I closed the deal.

Trixie and hubbie are now the proud owners of a lovely green sofa because you just can't make this shit up.