"Retro"

I decorated recipe boxes as gifts to the ladies in my office.  I won't claim to be the best at this, but I'm feeling pretty pleased with myself.  Are recipe boxes retro enough?  I usually try to cooperate with illustrationfriday's word for the week, but after all this time with little wooden pieces it seems a shame not to show off what I've been doing with my spare time.  Besides, all of these patterns are variations of themes that have existed next to forever.  Doesn't that count as "retro"?  Okay, it's a stretch, but I don't cheat very often.

I'm tired of playing nice with people this week.  I'm sick of being a responsible peacemaker with people who make me mad.  Why am I always the one who has to suck it in?  Hence, migraines.  If everyone did their share of sucking it in we'd all have a more manageable load and I wouldn't have headaches.

I've always had more than my share of responsibilities.  I got them at home, and I got them at school.  One of my early "jobs" was selling milk and ice cream at lunchtime.  This started when I was a painfully shy 5-yr-old.  The 6th graders were twice my size and I had one of my many moments of thinking that adults are lazy and nuts.

5¢ for white milk, 6¢ for chocolate, 10¢ for ice cream.  My little hand struggled to hold the coins.  Then I had to roll the coins, tally it all up, and file my report each day after reconciling the remaining dairy products against the $ amount I took in.  I'll have you know that I was never under or over in 6 years of money changing.

An older girl smiled at me and I started risking some eye contact with others.  After a while I appreciated my freedom while other kids were stuck in class through all those multiple lunch periods while I had about 2 1/2 hrs of pleasant money counting + my own lunch and recess.  Teachers didn't want me back in class, so my demonstrated ability to shoulder responsibility got me more freedom to wander halls, playground, and library.  I was best buds with the custodian and helped him roll up gym mats and climbed the rope to my heart's content.  It was a double edged sword.  I had freedom, but I didn't want the responsibility, and often felt lonely.

Making a painfully shy child speak with every kid and teacher in the school every day was rather torturous -- until it wasn't.  Maybe selling milk at such a tender age is a direct precursor to me being able to manage an office.  I learned some people skills and got some respect from my peers.

Sometimes I wonder if adult neglect allowed me to stretch my wings in ways that other kids never get to try?  That early responsibilities taught me that I really can do anything?  Or the flip side of it, which is that adults are lazy and nuts.  I'm pretty sure nobody would let this kind of thing happen nowadays, and in some ways I think that's too bad.  All I really know is that this is my life, and since I can't change it, looking at the positives beats looking at the negatives.  Just like a week of migraines forced me to turn off the tv and glue little wooden pieces on recipe boxes, which gave me much-needed time to think out better ways to handle the migraine inducing people.  See, it's all good.  The flowers are blooming and my ladies have pretty boxes too!