By Love Cruikshank, Love notes

I’m trying to resist the seasonal bustle. I won’t be able to, though.

Whether it’s cleaning a house, getting a company meal or studying for a final exam it’s always the same with me.

Wait until the last minute and then race madly around in circles, knees to chin, doing my best to catch up.

I had a dear friend who sort of believed in astrology. I don’t. I firmly believe that mankind is controlled and directed by a power higher than the stars.

I did have a bit of a chill when my friend brought me two large phonograph records dealing with the characteristics of a Virgo (him) and a Sagitarius (me) one Christmas.

If either one of us had taken the records seriously we would have scampered off in opposite directions as fast as possible. As it was we remained fast friends for almost 30 years, until his death.

One of the greatest handicaps to friendship between virgos and sagitarians was their work habits. A virgo, the record informed us, with a project before him, began working at it at once even though he had six months to complete it. Everything would be completed, double-checked and filed ready for presentation.

The sagitarius, slothful creature, would begin working on its project the night before it was due. My only comfort was that the project usually turned out all right.

It reminded me of my problems with a second-grade teacher I once had. She was my father’s fifth-grade teacher. She didn’t like him either.

“I know the family,” she would say in a dark and ominous tone. “You have to watch them all the time.”

“What does she do?” my mother was genuinely curious.

“I suppose you couldn’t hurry her on a bet!” snarled my teacher, “I hand out the arithmetic problems. All clear and easy to read.

&8220;All the children have to do is put down the answers. They start right in. Love gets this sort of tortured look on her face and stares out of the window.”

“She doesn’t get her work in on time.” said my mother, feeling she was getting to the problem.

“She gets it in on time,” “The answers are wrong?” “The answers are always correct and she doesn’t copy from anyone. I’ve checked.”

“Well if she gets her work in on time and it’s correct …&8221; said my mother.

“A devious family,” muttered the teacher. “I taught your husband when he was a child. Trying to teach Love is just like doing it all over again. Devious.”

I heard nothing about this problem until I was an adult. I’m sorry I didn’t know about it before.

I wasn’t fond of my second-grade teacher, but even as a child I always tried to be fair. If I had heard that record earlier in life I could have explained to my second-grade teacher that I wasn’t devious, just born under the wrong planet.

I’d like to explain to the people I owe Christmas cards to, also. I’ve got the cards right at hand. And after all isn’t there something cheerful about getting a Christmas card in June or July?

(Love Cruikshank is an Albert Lea resident. Her column runs Thursday.)