Page 103 of 121

Prepping for Halloween

Michael Leave a comment

Tonight is All Hallows’ Eve, better known as Halloween, better known still as Trick or Treat.  It’s a holiday, a festival, a night out for the children, but darned if we don’t enjoy it too.  No, not at costumes parties.  At the front door watching the little ones parade up and down the street.

She of We doesn’t see many trick or treaters.  Other than a next door neighbor, all the little ones have grown into real adults.  But her porch is still festive for the day.  Scarecrows greet you from the street to the door.  Number Two Son of She has turned into a pumpkin carving expert, pairing up two carved gourds as kid friendly couples ala Woody and Buzz Lightyear to the children’s delight.  He of We mounds some plastic pumpkins for a less labor intense look.  They are all different but all say the same.  Come on up and let us treat you.

Now, pumpkin carving, mum selecting, hay stack gathering all notwithstanding, the hardest part of prepping for Halloween is selecting the treats.  So many choices.  Do you go with full size candy bars and let word spread down the blocks that yours is the house to visit?  Do you go for fun size and insist that each T-n-T-er take several at your one stop variety shop?  Do you have treats targeted to specific age groups knowing the smallest of the crowd, those carried in a patient parent’s arms, will not appreciate the same caramel filled goodies as the six your olds?  So many choices.  And then there is the quantity.  You don’t want to run out but how much is enough.  Will impending foul weather shrink your number of visitors?  Will you need more for a projected 50 degree night than if it were a 30 degree evening?

Yes, here is where the real planning takes shape.  You know you’ve hit it right when you turn off the light, close the door, and have a piece left for each treat distributor.  Of course, if you should happen to have a few hundred pieces left over, well, it’s not right to waste food.

Now, that’s what we think.  Really.  How ‘bout you?

 

Good News, Bad News

Michael Leave a comment

Regular readers will have noticed there hasn’t been anything to read for the past few months.  We have an explanation for that and some news to go along with it.

Our last post was on July 8.  It was that same day that He of We went into the hospital.  It should have been about a week’s stay with the next couple of weeks at home to fully recover.  As does much of the things he attempts, it didn’t go according to plan.

It wasn’t completely his fault.  He of We tried to recover.  Things just kept happening.  And before we knew it, July turned into October before he was back at home in front of the computer.  Four months in a hospital is not fun.  That’s the bad news.  The good news is next summer we’ll get to experience for the first time all that we might have this summer.  True, we missed several music festivals, music cruises, drives through the country, and rib tastings (honestly, never a high point for us anyway).  But they will be back.  They always come back.  Even the ribs.

There wasn’t one night spent in the hot tub pondering the heavens and wishing on the stars.  That’s the bad news.  The good news is we didn’t get at all vexed at any one of those stars for not coming through with one lousy little wish.  One would think with all the pondering and wishing (and a fair amount of white wine) that one of those celestial bodies would come through.  More good news is that by the time February rolls around and we get to spend a night in the tub under fluffy snowflakes, He of We’s incisions will all be healed and we’ll get to spend a night in the tub under fluffy snowflakes.  And we already have a decent supply of wine in the cooler.

There was no vacation, no trip to paradise, no well-deserved break from reality.  Not in the execution or even just the planning.  That’s the bad news.  The good news is we saved a lot of money.  Has anybody seen the price of airfare to the good spots?  Sure you can get a $79 flight to Little Rock.  With apologies to the Arkansans, there aren’t any white beaches there!  And with those dollars saved it was a perfect opportunity to sit back and work out a real budget and we’re sure that’s more good news than bad.

So exactly why did we miss our entire summer?  Well, He of We fell under the hold of the most feared of medical diagnoses, the one that starts with “C.”  We can’t even say it.  The best way to excise that which befell him was to excise it.  And there came a day when the surgeon came into the room and said, “I just got all the pathology reports back.  We got it all.” And that’s the good news.  We’re certain there isn’t a bad news side to that one.

Now, that’s what we think.  Really.  How ‘bout you?

 

Who Could Ask For Anything More

Michael 1 Comment

Every now and then we look forward to retirement.  Oh, that is going to be years and years away, but it’s nice to sit and dream.  It seems that there are lots of retired people we know who have jobs.  Retirement jobs.  They tend bar on the slow nights, they drive limos, or they sit behind the big desk being the building receptionist.

That got us to thinking, if we didn’t have to work for money to live on, what would be our ideal jobs.  She of We would like to make floral arrangements or on a grander scale, design gardens.  He of We wants to own a Dairy Queen.  Nice, quiet, safe jobs.

But then we got to thinking, sometimes one could have the nice, quiet, safe job from the worker perspective, but how about those jobs that from the patrons perspective are the perfect jobs.  (When we think, we think big.  Or at least different.)  So what are the jobs that nobody can ever complain about when they are the patrons?

Let’s start with the ice cream stand.  For the worker it can be a headache sometimes.  Lines of Little Leaguers waiting for their celebratory soft serve next to the lines of losers waiting for their consolation cone.  But even though there are lines and the workers are working up a sweat scooping out the good stuff, nobody in line at the Dairy Queen, et. al. is in a bad mood.  They know there will be a sweet treat for them at the end of their wait and they’re willing to wait it.  Much different from the lines at the driver license picture taking place.

It seems nobody ever gets stressed at a book store.  We know most everybody is saying that book stores are a dying business but while they are still breathing they are places where the customer is always tranquil.  What’s to be upset over?  Maybe a book is out of print. It could be a little disheartening and probably it could be found on the Internet anyway.  But at the bookstore, there’s someone there to pour over the computer screen, slogging through the search engines, looking for the elusive title.  All the while our intrepid customer is skimming the best sellers, having a cappuccino and colache, and listening to the CD samplers in the music section.

A place where stress is the norm for the worker but the patrons are de-stressed to the max is at the amusement park.  The employees at the parks have it rough.  They are standing many hours and standing those hours in hot sun.  If they aren’t standing they are leaning against hard metal chair-like props.  And for the poor souls who maintain rides that ride in circles there is always that trip out to the ride proper to clean up one of the few times the rider might be just a tad stressed.  But we love these worker bees.  With a punch of a button or a pull on a lever they do to us what amusement parks are intended to do.  They amuse.  And what can be better than that?

Yes, there are those jobs that are ideal jobs but really, how many of us get them anyway.  The better ideal jobs are the ones somebody else is doing that we think are ideal because of the benefits we reap.  That might be just a little selfish but don’t we get to be that sometime?  We vote yes!

Now, that’s what we think.  Really.  How ‘bout you?

 

Weddings Gone Wild . . . well, sort of.

Michael 1 Comment

Another June has gone.  Throughout the world there have been probably millions of women transformed into traditional June brides.  We’ve been fortunate enough to experience a few of their transformations.

Early in the month we attended a beautiful outdoors ceremony.  We think the ceremony might have been conducted by a Catholic priest but he might have been Episcopal.  The services are similar.  Had there been a complete mass we would have had a firmer grasp on it.  Whoever he was, he officiated over a beautiful ceremony for a beautiful young couple with as many blessings as one could extend in such setting.  We then walked through the garden to the reception, dinner, and dancing as we toasted the new couple.

At another June wedding we watched another couple joined by an Apache spiritual leader who was also licensed to perform weddings in a state some many hundreds of miles from where one traditionally thinks of when one thinks of traditional Apache holy men.  Again it was a beautiful ceremony and concluded with a traditional Apache blessing for the new couple who can claim native Americanism only because both were born in America.  We then moved from one room in the hotel to another for a cocktail reception, and then to another for dinner and dancing.

Some few days after that there was another wedding at a restaurant and after “I do” was uttered to bride and groom on the patio outside, everyone moved inside and stuck around for what restaurants are known and the couple hosted dinner for all.  Some time before that we were at another wedding performed by a judge in his courtroom.  It was appropriate since both bride and groom were (and still are) lawyers.  The party then crossed the street to move from courtroom to ballroom where the party got started.  Then there was the wedding in the park performed among the trees.  After the happy couple became an official couple the male part fired up the grill while the female part got the music going.

Throughout the world there have been probably millions of women transformed into traditional June brides.  These were a few of them.  We don’t think these were the traditional June wedding.  But then, traditions shift over time.  Traditions only become traditions because they are expected and are continued. Maybe we only have the expectation part left.  We thought we’d have seen at least one of our most recent weddings in a church with an organ and the long walk down a center aisle.

We don’t want to be preachy about it but maybe the preachers of the world better get on their sticks or next June we might not even notice.  We’ll always have the traditional June bride.  Just not the traditional June wedding.

Now, that’s what we think.  Really.  How ‘bout you?

PS to all the June brides past, present, and future.  Don’t mind us poking a bit of fun.  At the end of the day if you’re married to the one you love, then the wedding was a success.  And that’s what we really think.  Really.

 

Summer Fashions, Summer Rules

Michael 1 Comment

The first day of summer is just a few days gone and it’s time to revisit our summer fashion rules.

For Women:

Most men won’t admit it.  Most other women won’t say it.  the bottom line is we don’t want to see you half naked in public.  Check your hems, watch your buttons.  Unintentional flashes of skin is sexy.   Intentional undressing is slutty.

Swimsuits are for swimming, or for backyard tanning.  Nobody would go to a production of the local symphony wearing a tankini?  Just because a quart of milk is the entire shoppingn list, it isn’t a reason not to get dressed before heading off for the store.  A cover up over a swimsuit works for being at or going to the pool but not in the actual acts of swimming or tanning..  Grow up, wear clothes. 

High heels and short shorts don’t go together.  Period.  Not even if one works with a brass pole nearby.  A business suit and flip flops don’t go together.  Period.  Not even if one works at the beach.  Keep styles stylish.

We know that women don’t want to be encumbered by big bags or totes exept maybe at the pool.  But don’t succomb to the urge to snug your cell phone under a bra strap.  There, we said it.

For Men:

Sleeves are mandatory.  Not areas formerly occupied by sleeves, the entire sleeve.  They are the cross pieces that put the T in T-Shirt.  They are needed.  They are required.  As are the shirts they accompany.  Come on men, the shirtless look hasn’t worked since the opening scenes of Bay Watch flickered across television screens.  Then it wasn’t the best of look even for those on the screen.  It is the worst of looks for those who are in the process of upgrading the six pack they really never had for the quarter keg they have every weekend.

Hair long enough to be in a ponytail on a male only looks good on a male pony.  This seems to be more an old man issue.  The young ones have discovered the ease that comes from buzzing hair down to a bit less than a quarter of an inch.  For the others, you’re old, you’re gray, and you’re balding.  No, you’re bald.  Don’t add to the insanity by having hair halfway down your back and certainly not in braids!  Shave it off, put on your shirt, and move along. 

Flip flops are not shoes.  Leave them at the pool, with your shirt.  Mandals are fine, but like the rest of you, grooming is essential.  Just because your feet are the farthest away from your brain, don’t be brainless about your feet.  Well groomed, trimmed, washed, and buffed feet are also healthy feet.

It’s hot out there.  You can be too.  Pay a little attention to the person in the mirror and watch how many pay attention to you on the outside.       

Now, that’s what we think.  Really.  How ‘bout you?

 

Relatively Speaking

Michael Leave a comment

Not long ago we mentioned we had a small handful of wedding events over just a couple of weeks.  We know the story that implies if it weren’t for weddings and funerals, nobody would ever see any relatives.  We also know there are some relatives who are probably best left uncovered except for the special occasions.  Then there are other relatives who can’t be put away.  Ever.  And then there are those who fall into the “Over there, two tables away, in the blue dress.  Who is she?” category.  Those are today’s topic.

One of our events was a rehearsal dinner.  What was once a nice, civilized way of getting some quality time with the happy couple, their parents, and the rest of the wedding party has grown up to become a mini-family reunion .  Some of the other but still closer members of the family are now joining the traditional rehearsing folk for an extra dose of fellowship among family members.

Whether at the newly expanded rehearsal dinner, the traditional family reunion, the now in season graduation party, or the unconstrained Christmas open house, we are finding ourselves in more situations wondering, “Over there, two tables away, in the blue dress.  Who is she?”

We have the solution.  Of course we do.  We never bring up something for which we don’t already have an answer.  That’s one of the perks of knowing the question before anybody else.  The solution of course is the use of name tags.  Yes, we know that some families already have discovered this and already use name tags.  These are different.  These include the connection between guest and point person of honor.  For example, at our attended function, She of We’s name tag would read “She, Aunt of Groom.”  At a graduation party, one might read “He, second cousin of father of graduate.”   At a family reunion where there is not always the central character that drives the reason for the party, there are always characters enough who everybody in the extended family will know or remember.  There it might read, “He, son of Cleo, the older one who took that job on the barge when everybody said she was being an asp for doing.”

On the other hand, as long as the party isn’t too big, sometimes it’s fun to wonder, ““Over there, two tables away, in the blue dress.  Who is she?”  This is especially true when the entire  table gets involved with the discussion of just who she is.  It’s exceptionally especially true if there is somebody at the table who knows the lady in the blue dress and the others can convince him or her that is wrong and the lady in the blue dress is really someone else.

We know some people will just go up to the lady in the blue dress, politely handle some obviously needed introductions, and go on to apologize for not remembering right from the start. Some would say that’s the right thing to do.

Yeah, but being right around the relatives is sometimes overrated anyway.

Now, that’s what we think.  Really.  How ‘bout you?

To Thine Own Art Be True

Michael Leave a comment

We recently spent a weekend being charmed and being charming at an absolutely charming spring wedding.  It was one of three wedding events we’re attending over nine days.  When it rains, it pours.

Fortunately, at this one, it did neither.  The sun shone over the outdoors ceremony and continued to the outdoors reception where the music was provided by one of our closest friends and one of the most talented individuals we know.  From ceremony through cocktails and into the dinner he charmed the attendees with his voice and music.  It was a pleasant addition to a delightful celebration.

On one of the other days of that same weekend we strolled the city parks areas in our town’s version of its annual arts festival.  Although it was pleasant, it was not delightful.  Of the almost two hundred artists selling their wares that day, we found a couple we had seen in the past whose works we enjoyed and found a couple new ones who might become favorites.  That puts about 98% of them in the “oh dear” category.  There’s a funny thing about artists, not everything they do is art to everybody.  And we think everybody is winning.

We love the arts and we won’t ever disparage someone from pursuing his or her dream.  Just realize that if that dream is taking vacation pictures on ‘round the world, tax deductible trips, we snap our own memories.  Or if the dream is a single vision in 42 sizes, few will want a collection.  It was unfortunate that these were some of the thoughts we had that day.

We missed a couple of our favorite artists.  Either they chose not to attend or were booked on some other days.  One is a charming lady who takes “local artist” quite seriously.  Everything she paints is local.  Cityscape, landscape, or still-life will be something you recognize but would never have thought of painting.  There is detail in her oil on canvas that those with a digital camera can’t find or don’t know where to look.   When one looks closely at her scenes it doesn’t take long to discover that almost every scene has her husband watching from inside.  Whether she is selling an original or one of her smallest prints, she’ll offer to include a personal inscription.

Another of our favorites not seen that day is on a mission to see that everybody who wants one of his pieces can have one of his pieces.  More than once we’ve heard him say to someone without cash in pocket, “Give me $10 and take it home.  Here’s an envelope, mail me a check.”  To those who can’t afford his work he says, “Pay me what you can every month, when it’s paid, it’s yours.”  He of We once asked if he ever regretted that.  “Never,” he said.  “Not even the one time someone gave me a ten, took my painting, and hooked me for the rest.”

And what does all this have to do with a weekend wedding.  It reminded us that Brother of She has that very troubadour booked for a party soon and is still waiting on his contract.  “You know me.  This is the part I like.  Being with the people.  I get around to the business part eventually but if I have you on my calendar, I’ll show up.  My word is my contract.”

That’s what we were thinking while we were walking the artists’ market and hearing the sound of nobody buying anything.  All the pieces were clearly marked.  All the catalogs and business cards were stacked neatly in the front corners.  But there wasn’t the passion that used to drive the artist who would stretch a canvas or test a microphone connection knowing that there might not be anything there now, but there will be soon.  Something very wonderful, very soon.

You have our word on it.

Now, that’s what we think.  Really.  How ‘bout you?

 

 

No Two Are Alike

Michael Leave a comment

Lately we’ve been finding ourselves saying a lot, “She’s a flake, but really nice,” or “He a nice guy but flakey as high fiber breakfast cereal without the milk.”  We think we’ve figured out why.   They are the same!  Flakey and nice have the same attributes.  Check this out.

The really nice person is the one who says hello to everybody he or she passes.  The flake is the one who talks to complete strangers.

The really nice person is the one who smiles at whoever gets on the elevator.  The flake is one who always has that smile on his or her face and you can’t figure out why.

The really nice person is the one who takes impeccable messages at work even spelling the caller’s name correctly.  The flake is the one who’s always telling you in the lunch room that they know everybody you know/used to work with/went to school with/services your car.

The really nice person is the one who is always ready to help anyone move a box, a piece of furniture, or a side by side refrigerator.  A flake is the one who is always asking what you have in that box.

The really nice person will lend you his or her umbrella when you’re leaving work early and the clouds are starting to thicken.  The flake is the one with the psychedelic paisley print umbrella.  In golf size.

The really nice person always laughs at your jokes even when you know they aren’t funny.  The flake is the one who always laughs.  At anything.  Anytime.  Even during staff meetings with the big boss from out of town.

The really nice person “likes” your post on Facebook about trying to find the owner of the lost cat.  The flake has 37 cats.

See, they’re really the same person.  But that’s ok.  The world can use a few more nice people even if they are a little flakey.  And when you get down to it, the world can use a few more flakes to balance out the people who really do understand high fiber diets.

Now, that’s what we think.  Really.  How ‘bout you?

 

Family Time

Michael Leave a comment

For the first time in a long time She and He were not out in public as the We’s.  We were out in public, just not together.  It’s an unusual feeling, but then, we’re not your usual couple.  Not only were She and He not doing our things together, even the Children of We were off doing their own things, sometimes in completely different states.   Let’s take roll.

He of We is mostly responsible for the disparate activities in WeLand this weekend.  He set out for the waters of Lake Erie with Friend of He and three others on their annual fishing trip which precedes the annual Fish Fry and the annual how high can you get your outdoor flame contest.  Actually, that is not a sanctioned competition and only happened one year.  The fishing trip happens every year and there are no she’s connected to any of the he’s there there.  So that started out the weekend early Friday with He of We and Friend of He blazing the trail for the others to follow, getting licenses, checking into the hotel, and timing the route from hotel to dock so we know what time to leave in the morning to be there at 5am, our assigned departure time.  The trip was wildly successful with the fisherpeople maxing out in record time.  So fast were the limits caught that when the group returned to the dock there was actually a wait for the cutters and cleaners to come in and turn the haul into groceries. But even with an early return, getting up at something after three in the morning made for needing much sleep the rest of Saturday and Sunday and therefore few she’s saw anything of any of their he’s who were part of that group.

So there you have the impetus for the We-free weekend.  But there were still others among us who managed to spend their weekend times without the rest.  For example, Daughter of He spent her Saturday in running gear running past those who would be lobbing powder-based paint at her and the others taking part in another annual event, the Color Run.  The Color Run is too hard to explain here but it involves people who run a fairly normal 5K fun run circuit except they are clean at the start and look something like bad graffiti at the finish.  Daughter of She was doing this about 150 miles from home so that shot her day with any other family members.

Sons of She weren’t there to put the family in family time either, both taking part in one of their many shared interests, golf.  For two brothers who act like brothers as much as two brothers can act like stereotypical siblings, they have remarkably similar interests.  They both golf, they both enjoy the presence of a pool in each of their respective backyards.  They are both fond of eating out but with different partialities.  She of We often has told the story of them as mere toddlers in restaurants, the older would order for both of them with “I’ll have the steak and my brother will have the shrimp.”  They both like vintage toys and as we found out for the first time last week, they both like being at the racetrack.  But this weekend they were both golfing and even if they both managed to keep all four wheels of the carts on the cart paths and no errant drives found their ways through either’s sun roof (both potential topics for this very post), it would still be a full day affair because that’s how they do it.  Whether separately or together.

So now you see why She of We was We-less through the weekend.  Before it was over, the Children of We did manage to find their respective ways to the respective parents and made less than token appearances, because that’s what our kids do.  And She and He of We managed to find some hours together either by phone or by text to keep each other up to date with their We-free Weekend because that’s what we do.

Even if none of us were able to get any of ourselves together for just a weekend it would be fine because we happen to know that for this small group of people, all adults, all with their own lives, we still keep it together.  For us, any time is family time, and all the time is quality time.

Now, that’s what we think.  Really.  How ‘bout you?

 

But a House is Not a Home

Michael Leave a comment

We aren’t rich.  Barring a hit on the PowerBall we’ll never be rich.  Our investments taken together aren’t very interesting.  In fact the only interest bearing accounts we have are our televisions on account of we’re interested in old TV shows and cable has them.  We like little extravagances like motoring in the countryside in He of We’s little convertible but it’s 15 years old and was bought used 12 years ago.  We have some spectacular accessories in our houses because we were able to buy them in remainder shops, on sale, or on sale in remainder shops.  Our most recent extravagances are the little fountains we bought for our respective decks.  On sale.  Our wealth is in each other, our families, and our friends.  And we’re happy with that.

But boy we’d love to be rich some day.  For whatever reason we have taken to Sunday afternoon drives in said little convertible through the said countryside which is really the wooded borders between affluence and more affluence.  We like to look at the big houses and the way they aren’t as well landscaped as ours which we do ourselves.  It was on one of these drives that we sort of got lost.  We almost always have a good sense of where we are.  Whether it’s in a subdivision or an unincorporated township between hither and yon, we know how to read legislative route signs, can tell east from west, and have lived where we live for the better part of our adult lives.  The best part of our adult lives has been since we met each other but that’s a different post.

On this trip we were lost.  We knew from the signs that we were closer to more affluence rather than your garden variety affluence and when we drove past the horse farm we finally had most of our bearings back where they belonged.  In fact, it was just past the horse farm that He of We turned left onto a road we had never even heard of yet alone been on.  To the right of the car was a garden variety Mini-Mansion (not to be confused with a McMansion which isn’t one at all and yet again a different post).   And that’s when He or We mumbled, “Oh.  My.  God.”

“It nice, isn’t it?  A little plain though,” She of We responded.

“No, not there,” He of We literally stammered.  “Up ahead.”

And up ahead was just the peak of a roofline that screamed castle.  As we climbed the little knoll, more of the roof, or of the roofs came into view, then the stone, and the windows with their beveled glass and cross-shaped mullions, and the second floor windows, and the first floor cap, and the doors and fence and the biggest house, by far the biggest house we had ever seen.  There was a fountain in front that wouldn’t be out of place in front of a Las Vegas casino.  As we drove past we saw appendages angle from the back corners and out buildings larger than most of the Mini-Mansions that shared this short street.  We were in the land of million dollar houses and this made them seem small, very small.

We really needed to find out more about this building that was larger than most country club club houses in the area.  And find out we did.  Later, when we got home, the county assessment site obliging told us that we had been parked outside a 34 room, 30,000 square foot home with 12 bedrooms, 21 full or half baths, sitting on 6+ acres and valued at $9.5 million.

But back on that road, as we rounded our way around the cul-de-sac, another car approached.  A dark car.  A black car.  With dark windows.  Black windows.  The kind of car that would make you think Guard Patrol.  He of We did think it and thought it out loud just as She of We was saying “Slow down, I want to take pictures.”

“But it’s a patrol car,” He of We said.

”No it isn’t.  And if it is, what can they do.  Stop here, I have a good shot.”  And we stopped.

The black car circled behind us, stopped, then slowly pulled alongside us.  Slower still they passed us, pulled in front of us and stopped.  The heavily tinted window slid down.  And then the passenger leaned out the window and snapped some pictures of her own.  Just another sightseer in the land of more affluence.  Right there, in front of us.

And in front of that structure, among the million dollar houses, in our little car, we looked at each other and said, “Nice fountain.”

Now, that’s what we think.  Really.  How ‘bout you?