This will be brief, though, as I think maybe my last blog was too long. Anyway, we returned from Seattle to an empty house, with the usual feeling of sadness that the kids, dogs, cats, ducks, rabbits, and chickens we lived with over our 38 years together are gone. (Of purse we have forgotten that one of the dogs tried to eat two of the chickens, that the three rabbits died in their cages in the July heat in South Carolina while Bill was gone--I still remember having to bury them in the woods and then going in the house to throw up, that the ducks flew away in the fall, that the cats got a rare disease and died, and that the teenaged kids were enough to drive us straight to the mental hospital--though they are now super adults.) So, I decided that since our neighborhood is beautiful but not particularly welcoming, we needed to get out of the house and go somewhere. I am someone who needs the company of other people. My geologist husband does too, though since his forty-year plus career involved walking in the mountains and deserts alone with no other company than rocks, he can better tolerate solitude and silence. I need solitude (which I don't always get now that said geologist is retired!) but I do need conversation.
So I came up with Plan B. I had a good friend and neighbor here who said that the main thing about life was to always be ready to go with Plan B. I listened and learned from Susann. It was indeed Plan B day. I remembered that our wonderful Park City Film Series, which shows lots of indy films and documentaries every weekend at the local library, needs volunteers. I figured out how to sign us up online, and Sunday afternoon at 5PM we marched into the auditorium. Yep--just what the doctor (me, in this case) ordered: lights, people, action.
I ended up with what might be considered, for me, the perfect job. Shay, a full-time ski patroller and part-time theatre manager, asked me to ask everyone who came in whether or not they were full-time residents of Summit County. He gave me a clipboard with a sheet with the day's date. There were two columns: one for full-time Summit County residents, one for people who live outside our country. At first I thought that this might be because the film series gets local tax money, and the county commissioners want to be sure that people who pay taxes here are benefiting from this amenity. Nope: they want more out-of-county residents, because we have a local surtax which is meant to support projects that bring in more tourists.
Okay, I could do this. And it turned out to be REALLY easy, because after almost 26 years here I know a lot of people and in many cases I did not need to ask them where they lived. I just made a little black slash on the paper in the "full-time Summit County resident" column. I just add to total up the numbers at the end, and as there is not much in the way of quality control in this operation, no one would know if I missed a patron or two. . . . and no job evaluations, either, thank the lord.
Yep, easy. I didn't have to think, I got to see a number of old friends that I had not seen for a while, and it only took me abut 45 minutes to do this job, between the early arrivals and those who were late--being late, in fact, is a typical Park City thing. It turns out that lots of ski patrollers came because the movie "Summit" was an adventure flic about mountain climbing on K-2 or some place like that, and since Bill was a volunteer patroller here for 12 years, we got to see that group--great people.
And, last but not least, though the job pays nothing, I get to see a free movie AND--all the popcorn that I can eat with as much butter on it as I want! Mary, who was selling popcorn, even offered to send a bucket home with me. And listen to this: there is a bucket full of melted real butter next to the popcorn machine, so patrons can pour their own butter over the popped kernels.
Dream job, here I come--I just have to figure out how I can exercise more so that I can burn off that butter.
Who said that retirement can't be even better??