Schmorgesborg

I remember my mother being so excited when a Swedish or Danish schmorgesborg was opened in Akron. She lobbied hard for a visit, and it was worth it. Today is a schmorgesborg.

Perhaps I am so grumpy because it is cold and won’t stop raining (not that the rain barrel can hold any more).  I made a list of three things to do today. Two are crossed off. The last I can do while Laura is at band practice tonight.

The rain barrel will not be emptied Thursday; Laura has a one night job with Mrs. P, helping her teach an art class. She did ask if she should turn it down in favor of the rain barrel.

She is such an influencer of the Laura brand, and I mean that only in the kindest way. Deb told me the child won a place in her heart the first day she worked last summer. She put her personal belongings on a shelf, including her phone. When given the opportunity to work on a piece for herself, she went off the clock.

I went to lunch yesterday with Deb and Pam. I go out with friends as often as I can. Deb had her back to the TV; Pam is sort of apolitical and I was left denigrating the Fox TV news. Pam did say we only awaited the exposure of Trump's rump, but the amusement ended at our table. I wonder why Americans need televisions in restaurants.

It was Halloween yesterday and the wait staff dressed appropriately. Lunches at this restaurant don’t excite me, but I’m always up for breakfast, and ordered a waffle, with extra whipped cream. My Aunt Ruth doppelganger put on a double batch. Aunt Ruth approved, I’m sure.

I was attempting to keep this light, but keep coming back to troubling issues. I’ll skip over the latest discarded cat and move straight on to the little girl with the red shoes, and her brothers. They have no propane, no heat, no hot water, no stove. They do have electric space heaters, and the power was shut down and later restored a bit ago. In short, nothing is better. I try not to care; it’s not working.

So, I called Family Services in Columbus, the boss of all the counties and their services. They did not want to hear one word; they transferred me straight back to my county. I breathed deeply and repeated my story. No, they will not tell me if or when the situation is resolved, so I can stop bothering them. The social worker hung up on me when I said “Please let me know…”

One of the options is to hang up and call the police. At least I actually know this person and can say "Don't hang up on me Joe. What are you going to do?"

I saw a last flower of summer in town today. Schmorgesborg over and out.