I love my job.  Everyone who knows me knows this.  However, just because I work for a newspaper doesn’t mean I’m out spying on people or out gathering gossip to print.

Before working here I was an Avon representative.  I enjoyed meeting and talking with people, and after awhile other people started to remember me.  I would chit chat with them at the grocery store, the video store and even the gas station. 

I used to be really shy and not have much to say.  In fact people used to ask my mother-in-law if I was stuck up or something.  I wasn’t, I just had a hard time coming out of my shell.  Selling Avon brought me out and I had found my niche.

Then I got hired here.  Now I’m forced to talk to a lot of people.  I answer the phones, answer general email questions and sell advertising.  I spend all day talking and laughing with people.  My self confidence has skyrocketed and now it’s hard to shut me up sometimes. 

Now here’s the problem.  Every once in awhile I will be somewhere public, a restaurant, a meeting or even a bar.  Someone in that establishment will be talking about something or other and then realize I’m sitting there.  They will immediately check themselves or lean over and ask me not to print that. 

Okay, when I’m out having a drink I tend to tune out the people around me.  Usually I’m sitting at the counter playing the game machine.  I just spent all day talking and now I want to unwind a little.  I don’t care about the gossip and I would never ask Chris to write a story about some scandal I overheard in a bar.  That would be silly.  This is a newspaper, not a tabloid.

If I’m in a group of people and see someone who’s always been nice to me and I ask them how they are that’s just me being Shawnee-hi-how-are-ya not Shawnee-I’m-gonna-tape-and-print-our-conversation.  Absurd.

So if you come across me somewhere in town please don’t be afraid to say hello to me.  I may work at a newspaper, but I’m still a citizen here and still friendly with a lot of folks.  And don’t refer to me as “you people,” what does that even mean?  That I’m short?  Or that I’m Indian?  I’m married?   Left-handed?  I live in the Wenas?  I’m a girl?  What?

I’m going to start my rant off by saying that I am qualified to complain because I’ve worked in fast food so I know what it’s like.  That being said . . . why, oh why, do the people working the drive-thru not use their people skills?  Do they just not have any? 

Way back in the day I used to work at Kentucky Fried Chicken.  While being trained the manager stressed the importance of good customer service at the drive-thru.  We were taught to greet the customer in a friendly manner, not to interrupt and to never, ever, say such things as ‘Is that it?’  Instead we were told to ask ‘Is there anything else I can get for you?’

I worked drive-thrus at Kentucky Fried Chicken, Miner’s Drive-In and the Cougar Den.  I was good at it and I took care of the customer.  I worked in the food industry for four years and had my share of cranky customers, but I was never cranky to them.  Well, not to their face.

This morning I took Wyatt to a local hotspot, he claimed he was starving.  As soon as I pull up the voice at the other end of the menu hollered “WhatcanIgetcha?”  Okay, first of all, I just got here so give me a second.  Or, say something like “Welcome to --- go ahead and order when you’re ready.”  Second, don’t scream at me, I can hear you just fine.  Lastly, you’re speaking from a box and you’re already a little muffled, don’t run your words together so fast that I can’t understand you.

I ordered what Wyatt wanted but the box didn’t understand me and said “Whatnumberdidyousay?”  I sigh and repeat the order again.  Granted, that is not a big deal.  It’s the combination of everything else along with this small offense that made it irritating.

I am easily annoyed by these people who’ve forgotten that they are serving me – the customer.  They are supposed to make you feel welcome not treat you like you’re a pebble in their shoe.  So when they act inconvenienced for doing their job I find it inconvenient to spend my money there.  They are being paid to take care of the customer in a professional and courteous manner.

The box offended me once more and the woman in the window shoved Wyatt’s order at me and forgot the straw for his drink.  She acted as if her hair was on fire and couldn’t push us through fast enough.  Oh, by the way, there was no one behind us. 

At this same establishment awhile back, my family and I pulled into the drive-thru.  I was driving so I had to talk to the box.  I got everyone’s order and started placing it.  After asking for whatever number it was the box immediately said “Is that it?”  I answered “No, I’ve got a few other orders, I’m sure my family would like to eat too.”

Really?  Have people become so desensitized by texting, IMing and dealing with others on Face Book, MySpace or even Twittering that they forget how to talk to and treat real live people?  Seriously, Twittering?  It’s the most ridiculous thing out there right now.  I swear to you all, from here to eternity, I WILL NEVER TWEET!  The day I Tweet is the day I eat my hat.

What I’m about to tell you didn’t happen to me, these are two stories told to me by my crazy best friend.  I laughed so hard I nearly peed my pants.  They’re so good that I couldn’t keep them to myself.

One year she was gift shopping for her dad.  She came across a cool cookie jar that played the theme from the Beverly Hillbillies.  She loved it, so she bought it and filled it up with his favorite cookies and wrapped it up.  This was a few weeks before Christmas.

But that wasn’t enough.  She drives a wrecker for her dad’s auto wrecking business so she sees him quite a bit.  So she started singing the song to him . . . constantly.  She would call him and leave the song on his voicemail.  She is a master at overdoing things and driving a person crazy.

By the time Christmas came around he was beyond sick of that song.  Now she and her family are opening gifts, he unwraps his gift from her, and imagine the horror.  “Let me tell a little story about a man named Jed . . .” 

I wish I could have seen it.  Sigh.

The second story involved her dad and her cousin.  Jen was nearly as mischievous as she was and I’m not sure which one thought of this brilliant and crazy joke.  The two of them together was a recipe for chaos.

Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house, not a creature was stirring . . . except for Deane and Jennifer armed with wrapping paper and an evil plan.  Her dad had gone to bed with visions of sugarplums dancing in his head.  They quickly set out to pull off the funniest Christmas prank I’ve ever heard of.

They took everything that belonged to him and gift wrapped it.  The wrapped each of his shoes and set them back exactly where they’d found them.  They wrapped his lighter and placed it back next to his wrapped cigarettes.  They wrapped everything of his they could get their hands on.  They even wrapped his remote to the TV!

From my understanding, he didn’t find it as funny as they did.  I thought it was hilarious!  Someday I will pull this prank on someone.

Last year I got my brother a rather unusual gift.  I was laughing when I bought it, I laughed while putting it away and I laughed while he opened it.  It was a huge box of chicken fried steak.  That’s all I got in the way of me being funny at Christmas time.  I’ll work on it so I have something to tell next year.

First off, the kitten is really cute.  She’s a little calico with a short bent tail.  She’s the newest member of my very best friend Deane’s family.  Last week I went to Deane’s to attend a funeral for our friend Christina.  I got to her house before she got home from work, so I played with the kitty while watching TV and loading the washer.  I figured I’d catch up her laundry and dishes while I waited.   The kitty followed me around batting at my heels and ambushing me while I rounded corners.  I thought I’d be fine, crazy cats don’t bother me.

Usually when I go to Deane’s I have some sinister joke to play on her, but this time I didn’t.  I still haven’t come up with a good comeback to them making me think my son wrecked my car.  I didn’t think I’d be getting a joke played on me since she was so upset.  As it turns out, she didn’t have to.  Her animals took over and got me good.

Friday night I had finally fallen asleep.  So I’m relaxed and sleeping when the kitten climbed to the tippy-top of her cat tower, which just happened to be right next to where I was sleeping in the living room; then she jumped . . . directly onto my back. 

This continued for the next two nights, and not just with the cat.  The old German Sheppard snores really loud and I would wake up thinking there was another person in the living room with me.  Nope, it was just Bitey.

The other dog, Hemi, likes to scratch his back on furniture.  I would get woken up by him whining or grunting while scratching.  It’s an indescribable noise.  Also, he likes to play fetch.  He would bring his favorite toy and lay it by me and wait for me to throw it.  It’s very unsettling to wake up and see a couple eyes watching you at close range.

Another problem was my restless leg syndrome.  Every night while I sleep either one or both of my legs will move constantly.  That drove the kitten nuts.  She would attack one foot then the other.  Of course, I would wake up.

The attack that scared me the most was when I woke up and the kitten was very near my face.  She was hunkered down and very intent on what I thought was my eyeball.  She wiggled her behind and then leapt just centimeters past the side of my face and attacked my leg.  Any part of my body that was exposed would get chewed on or clawed.  My arms are really scratched up.

I’m really not complaining, I found it to be a somewhat nice distraction to be able to giggle about a nutty cat, a whining scratcher and a snoring Sheppard.  It took away from some of the sadness of the moment.  Plus, I’m sure Jeremy and Deane had a little chuckle themselves knowing they didn’t even have to lift a finger this time.

Last month I went to Wilbur to deer hunt.  I wrote about this, but what I left out was a shock I received while there.

The two little girls and I were watching TV while the men worked on a deer a buddy had got.  I wasn’t paying much attention to the show; I was busy playing Zuma on my cell phone.  The only things I really noticed about it were that it was a black and white Shirley Temple movie and that her little voice was irritating to me.

After awhile I started hearing some of the things being said.  Particularly what caught my attention was the slow, stupid, caveman-like drawling that Hollywood has portrayed American Indians of having.  There, on the screen, was an “Indian” boy talking with Shirley Temple’s character. 

I’m not one of those minorities that uses my heritage as a crutch, nor do I use it as a propeller.  I’m just me.  I get what I want by working hard and setting goals.  If I fail I have no one but myself to blame and will try harder.  It’s never even been an issue.  This was the first time I ever felt anger as a minority.

So I’m watching this “classic” movie with my jaw on the ground and my eyes were unblinking.  I broke into laughter when the Indian boy said to Shirley “Squaw walk behind.”  Meaning, she had to walk behind him.  I found this hilarious because it was so inappropriate; she was maybe nine and he maybe 13.  A squaw is an American Indian woman or wife, neither of which Shirley was.

My instincts told me to turn the channel, but I was shocked into immobility by the amount of racism and ignorant assumptions being made towards American Indians.  I literally sat there glued to the couch in utter shock and disbelief.  And this is a classic, people.  The girls were barely paying attention to it anymore as they were busy coloring by now.

Rick came into the room and asked what I was watching.  I told him it was the most offensive movie I have ever seen.  While he passed through he said “Must be pretty bad then.”  It was.

Later there was a part where a man was soothing Shirley by telling her that Indians don’t know any better, that’s just the way they are and not to be mad at them.  How can they expect to be civil unless they are taught properly?  My mouth drops again.

Now I’m disgusted and just angry.  I’m sorry, but that was enough for me.  I don’t even know what the movie was called.  It was something to do with Canadian Mounties also.  In any event, it was the worst

What happened a long time ago was terrible.  As a society we have educated ourselves and though it still exists, racism is not as tolerated as it used to be.  People are not persecuting others because of gender, sexual preference, race or religious preference in the manner they did in the past.

We’ve got a long way to go still.  Hate crimes and narrow-mindedness are still out there.  At least the Catholics and the Protestants are not having at each other anymore.  At least cowboys aren’t out shooting Indians.  That could potentially be bad for me. 

This last weekend I got to do something I haven’t done before . . . I went deer hunting. 

Rick and Wyatt go hunting every year and usually don’t come back empty handed.  It’s a nice father/son activity for them.  I’ve gone with Rick before while he scouts or just gone along for the ride.  But this was the very first time I strapped up my boots and donned hunter orange and carried a rifle.

I enjoy the outdoors and I couldn’t wait to get up at a barbaric hour and take a long hike.  The morning dew fresh on everything and seeing my breath as we leave the house.  Of course I was hoping to get my first buck too. 

Mostly, I was hopeful Wyatt would get his.  I’d like to keep him interested in hunting since teenage years are hard and if he keeps involved with sports, school activities and family pastimes the longer I can keep him from things that will get him in trouble.

We didn’t get our bucks as of this last weekend, but we’re going to go again this week and hopefully we’ll get something.

Now, I understand not everyone understands or appreciates hunting, but it is a bonding sport.  You get your friends and hand out at another friends house swapping tall tales and cooking.  I get to see all this first hand.  These guys were having a great time.  I could hear them all laughing into the wee hours.

I think one of the best parts for Wyatt was the sausage making.  He got his hands in there and was mixing the meat and seasonings and had a great time.  Then after making a batch the guys would cook a few up and have a taste test.  Wyatt would bring me a piece every time.  I could tell he was pretty pleased with himself and wanted me to taste what he helped create.  It was indeed very delicious.

We drove home a tired and worn out bunch.  Wyatt played games on his phone and Cheyenne fell asleep.  I tried to sleep and I played some games too.  We were glad to come home.  I’m hopeful that this next weekend will be just as interesting and hopefully more fruitful.

Saturday afternoon I sat in my kitchen and was looking out the window at some really interesting purplish flowers that popped up under the trumpet vine we have by the front door.  I never figured out what type of flower they were, they just sprung up a month after we moved in.  Upon moving we did they typical outside chores, mowing, raking, watering etc.  After all that we were rewarded by several volunteer flowers.

First I noticed that some marigolds were coming up by the back porch.  Next to them were some snapdragons.  The Rhododendron I planted died immediately, of course.  In the front yard some moss roses came up along with the purplish flower.  So I sat there admiring them.  I was literally thinking “Those are sure pretty, they’re really thriving there.”

I thought too soon.  Sunday morning I woke up to find our water pipes had frozen and that all my flowers had wilted and died horrible cruel deaths at the hands of Mother Nature.  I grabbed a rake and the wheel barrow and pulled all their pitiful carcasses out of their beds.

Don’t get me wrong, I absolutely love winter.  But where does fall and spring go?  It seems we get maybe two weeks of each before jumping right into winter and summer.  Fall and spring are my favorite times of year.

In spring I enjoy the warming of the weather, the singing of the birds, greening of the grass and the planting of the bulbs.  I dislike the wind that seems to come with it.  In the fall I love changing of the leaves, the cutting of the flowers, the cooling of the weather and harvest.

I’m predicting this year we’ll see very low temperatures and a lot of snow.  I can’t wait for the winter activities, but come on Mother Nature.  Can’t we have at least a month of fall?

No matter.  This week I’ll be getting the yard ready for winter.  We have some cedar trees that need a deep watering and our fruit trees need some pruning.  I suppose if I don’t get it done this week I may never have a chance before the snow falls!

Change doesn’t come easily for me.  I hang on as long as I possibly can, both heels dug in protesting all the way.  Once I get past the change I’m usually glad I did it and wonder why I’d put up such a fuss.

Except for one thing. . . . DVD players and discs.  I believe the products are a good idea, but they can’t deliver.  Let me explain what I mean. 

In 1994 I had a TV/VCR combo that my grandmother bought for me.  I loved it!  Then in 1998 my favorite electronic device met with an unfortunate end.  I was moving it from our living room to our bedroom and set it on the edge of the bed while I moved some stuff off the dresser.  Big mistake.  It fell off the bed and splattered on the floor.  Horrified, I picked it up and plugged it in to see if it would work.  It would turn on and you could hear it, but there was no picture.

So the next day Ricky and I set off to Future Shop to get a new TV.  (See, this was a long time ago if I’m mentioning Future Shop.)  We couldn’t find a TV/VCR combo we wanted, so we bought separate units. 

Not long after that we bought a DVD player.  I was uneasy about the purchase.  At the time they were like $300 and I thought we’d have to replace all our VHS tapes.  Then Rick pointed out that we still have the VCR so just any new movies we buy we should get the DVD.  Okay, I conceded.

That DVD player lasted about two years.  Since then we have had four more, a total of five DVD players in the last 10 years!  That very same VCR we purchased in 1998 is still working.

Now, I understand that the film in VHS tapes will eventually corrode.  But what is up with DVD’s?  One little fingerprint or one little scratch and you get to watch endless skipping.  After using DVD’s I really like the idea of them.  But why can’t they make them so that they’re scratch resistant?

Not to mention the DVD players!  I am so disgusted with them I don’t ever want to buy another.  I’m afraid technology is going to force me as VHS movies are no longer sold, or made perhaps, I’m not sure.  Currently we use our XBox to watch DVD’s.  So far it has been the most reliable unit, and that’s just crazy if you ask me.  Seriously?  A gaming system is more adequate than a device meant solely for watching movies?

So I’ve been hitting yard sales and the local Goodwill and looking for some of my favorite movies on VHS.  At least with them I’m only spending a few bucks and have yet to come across a corroded movie.  We’ll see how long they last.

Until they come up with a scratch resistant DVD and a player that will keep running longer than a year or so, I’m going to dig in my heels and resist purchasing them.