Pigs

I used to collect pigs. Of course I don’t mean the real ones. 

Here’s how it started.

Once upon a time, when I worked in a corporation office, I had a desk. I used to keep little knickknacks on my desk and a jar, which was always filled with candy.  

Unintentionally, but not unwelcome, the candy jar made my desk inviting and approachable.

One of my frequent "visitors", who would stop for candy and a chat, told me that his wife was into ceramics. He showed me photos of her work.  One of the items was an adorable pink pig.  

I purchased it and put it on my desk.

By the way the pig was also symbolic for me for another reason which I will not get into here. 

And that’s how it started.  Co-workers, friends and family began to gift me pigs.  People going on vacation would bring me back souvenir pigs. 

Over the years my collection grew to probably at least 100.

Two years ago, when I was down-sizing to prepare to move, I sold or gave away most of my pigs. 

I did keep a few for sentimental reasons. 

 The remaining ones were gifts from my kids, and the tall stacking pig was one was given to me by my mother.

Now my gifts tend to reflect whatever hobby I am immersed in at the moment.  

These days, that means art supplies.  

Have you ever been known for a particular thing that makes gifting for you easy?

 

 

 

 

Letter O - Opening

 Opening

I live in an age restricted gated community.  It's that time of year where we have to get our 2026 pool passes because they are "opening" the pool.  

Last year was my first summer living here. 

I was informed that in order to be able to use the pool, I had to go to the office with proper ID and get a pool pass.  

At the office they gave me a temporary pass until the annual permanent one was printed.

Being new in the community and not knowing anyone, it took me a couple of days to get up the nerve to go to the pool.

It was July 4th weekend.  I got myself together, packed all the gear...towels, suntan lotion, my knitting, and a book.   I was stepping out of my comfort zone, but I thought, maybe my knitting might spark up a conversation with someone.

There was a table set up at the entrance to the pool area where I was greeted by a young woman who asked to see my pool pass. 

I had my temporary paper pass ready to show her.  She looked at it for a few seconds and proceeded to tell me that the pass had expired a day earlier.  I was confused because I didn’t realize there was an expiration date.  She showed me where it was clearly stated.

She said I would have to go to the office to pick up my permanent one. “But it’s closed today,” she added. 

With a sigh, I thought, of course it was. 

I told her I had a community ID with my photo on it.

She said, “Sorry, I can only admit you with a proper pool pass.”

I was angry.  But I kept my cool and left.

 I couldn’t help but wonder why she couldn’t have bent the rules a little on that particular hot and sunny July 4^th. 

Logically, I understand, there are rules and she was just doing her job. But that experience stayed with me.  It made me think of understanding and empathy.   

We never really know what someone else may be going through,  

Here I was newly widowed, new to the community, stepping out of my comfort zone and this young woman had no way of knowing any of that. 

After that, I was a little turned off about the whole pool thing and didn’t use it much that summer. 

So next week we can go pick up our new pool passes.  Since I already have a permanent pool pass, I just need to get a 2026 sticker put on it. 

I will probably give the pool another chance, especially on one of those hot, humid, New Jersey summer days. 

And Maybe I’ll find a knitting buddy. 

What do you think?  Should I have been allowed to use the pool that day?

 

Neighbor

Two years ago, I moved from a single-family home to a duplex style house.  The design is clever because the two units are only connected by our separate garages. 

From the street, you see my front door. 

The entrance to my neighbors' is on the side of their house.  So, mine looks like a single-family home. 

I don’t hear any noise from them and, hopefully they don’t. hear any from me. 

Since moving in, I’ve only spoken to George and Cathy a handful of times.  

We’ve exchanged phone numbers, just in case we ever need one another.

Even though we don’t socialize, they’re nice and it’s comforting to know they are there, 

We each have a small backyard space. But because of how the houses are positioned, I have a direct view into their sunroom, and they have a direct view of my patio. 

Cathy mentioned they spend most of their time in the sunroom. 

In other words, not much privacy.  

Last year I bought planters with trestles. 

 I filled them with lovely plants which do provide a small amount privacy.  

George told me they are thrilled with the planters. 

One afternoon, Cathy, who told me she rarely leaves her house, walked over to my patio to tell me she enjoys looking at the flowers. 

As she was heading back toward the sunroom, she stopped, turned around and said: “We have binoculars. If you see us using them, don’t worry, we are bird watchers.”

I was a little taken aback by that. But I’m quite sure they are not spies.  

Or are they?