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Making the Case for Glitter Free Decorating

Michael 1 Comment

You all know I am just out of the hospital a few days now. I was out only a few hours when I discovered that my fingertips shimmered in the dark. No, it wasn’t some reaction to a drug I was given. It wasn’t a remnant of some procedure done. No, it was glitter. Glitter. That shimmery, flaky stuff that adorns cards, bows, wreaths, probably even some brands of toothpaste for all I know. Oh how I hate glitter.

While protected under the blanket of sterility and cleanliness of the hospital I was able to enjoy a couple of weeks knowing my immediate environs were blissfully glitter-free. Then I got better. I was released to the world overrun with those sparkly specks. Oh how I hate glitter.

Why do I so hate glitter? First consider that I too recognize the prettiness of light twinkling from multiple surfaces. I just wish one of those surfaces wasn’t me! Once I come into contact with glitter it is with me forever. I can’t wipe it off. I can’t blow it off. It doesn’t wash off, scrape off, or soak off. It doesn’t even loofah off. Glitter on me is like iron filings on a magnet.

I think we need to establish some glitter rules. First, no surprise glitter. If I see a glitter gilded wreath on a door I will gladly climb through a window to get into that house. But if you send me a glittery card in a plain, white envelope – that’s just not fair. Second, manufacturers of shiny objects must identify the presence and level of glitter used in the making of said sheen. And third, stores, particularly card and home good shops, must provide a glitter free zone for glitter magnetic consumers.

I’m sure working together we can have a glitter free society where sparkly prettiness and good mental health can coexist.

That’s what I think. Really. How ’bout you.

Shower Power

Michael Leave a comment

Yesterday I had more fun naked than I’ve had in years. I took a shower. Talk about good, clean fun!

To many of us, pretending to be the recipient of an automatic car wash might not seem to be epitome of carnal satisfaction. But I had just been released from an 8 day stay at one of the cleanest places on Earth, a hospital. And boy did I feel grungy.

I am not at all unfamiliar with America’s health care system. For almost 40 years it provided me my pocket change as I toiled on the provider side and for almost 4 years it provided me a place to hang out and spend said hard-earn pockrt change on the patient side. I am very aware, and very appreciated of the advances it has made. Technically, that is. Humanly, maybe not so much. Consider the following.

With modern imaging they can see tiny slivers of our insides down to the 32nd of an inch in detail almost better than lifelike. They can see with sound. My surgeon worked to delicately open my abdominal cavity, clean and repair the offending parts, and then put me back together using a camera through a couple of holes not much bigger than one made by a flu shot needle. Yet when all of that was done I was left to recover in a room with a TV the quality almost as good as a 1960 portable set with rabbit ears wrapped in aluminum foil. (Ask your granfather. He’ll explain.)

I was attached with the necessary wiring so my pulse, heart beat, breathing, and temperature could be monitored from a station 80 feet away. But the aforementioned television was controlled by a remote that contained only Power, Volume Up/Down, and Channel Up/Down buttons. This in a housing that also held the Nurse Call button and, for some reason, a button to set the room lights to three different brightness levels. All that looked much too alike.

And of course, unlike even the smallest movement towards improvement the silly remote has provided to the patient since I started my career those years ago, the one thing that hasn’t changed at all is the hospital gown. The famous see-through garment with non-sleeves that nobody can get their arms into, a neck fastener reminiscent of a backward bow tie, and all in an indecent package that only makes it 80% of the way around your body. And of course the remaining 20% is not on the side.

Yet given all this, on my return I was not overcome with the urge to finger my high tech remote, triggering the high def TV and the surround sound, grateful for work done to keep me going for another 4 to 40 years. It was to strip off those clothes that completely covered me and bask in joy of hundreds of gallon of hot water pouring over me, drenching every pore, soaking every personal nook and cranny. Thank all that is holy that one imorovement we’ve never had to endure is the restorative power of water.

It was enough to make me want a cigarette.

That’s what I think. Really. How ’bout you?

The Pause That’s Necessary

Michael Leave a comment

Think about these three sentences please. My father, Tim is dead. My, Father Tim is dead. My father Tim is dead. Changing the pause between the words makes for three quite different scenarios from the speaker’s perspective. Not to mention Tim’s. Sometimes that pause needs to be stronger than just some well meaning punctuation.

I get to come to you today from a hospital bed. Ahh, the miracles of the ever shrinking electronics platform. I’m fine by the way. Just a scheduled tune-up. But because my body is the way (mostly reconstructed from spare parts) I’ve been here longer than anyone should expect. My daughter had been here every day until the one when she woke up doing a really good audition for an over the counter cough, cold and flu medicine. That day, she stayed home – to the rousing cheers of pent up germs everywhere.

One of my doctors noticed her absence and asked where adult child was. Oh, she’s home sick. It wasn’t until hours later that I realized how less a perplexing response I would have gotten had I instead said, “Oh, she  is at home and sick.

So whatever you do out there, to make yourself as clear as can be, keep your pause clean.

That’s what I thimk. How ’bout you?

Sticking With It

Michael Leave a comment

We passed a milestone last month. The Real Reality Show Blog turned 5 years old on November Somethingorother. (It was November 7 but Somethingorother has a more reflective ring to it, don’t you think?) I find that quite amazing that somehow I’ve managed to come up with a mindless topic a couple of times a week every week for five years. Well, almost every week if you don’t consider those times that I was more or less in a coma and not writing much of anything.

Some of the mindless stuff that I’ve brought you shows how notably I’ve mentally deteriorated over those 250 or so weeks. Five years of rambling has resulted in many times of hitting new rambling heights. But of all of those words written might some of them actually made any sense? In the process of trying to answer that I just spent a few minutes scanning some past posts and have come to the conclusion that some of them actually didn’t. I suppose if what I wrote made much sense I would have had a grand career as a journalist. Since I didn’t that should explains it.

But that’s ok. I’ve enjoyed the last five years so I guess I’ll stick with it and keep on posting posts and challenging your sensibilities for maybe even another five years. After all, I have that kind of time.

That’s what I think. Really. How ‘bout you?

 

 

Keeping On Keeping On

Michael Leave a comment

The Urban Dictionary defines Keep on Keeping On as “The act of doing what you have been doing but an encouragement to do it more.” I get to keep on-ing tomorrow as I get to undergo yet another surgery.

It won’t be so bad. At least this time isn’t a matter of life or death but rather one of comfort and convenience. And with any luck once we’re all done it will be more convenient for me to be comfortable.

I’m sure I’ve said this before but before I began to have this current round of medical issues I had made it through some 55 odd years without ever having to be in the hospital other than while I was at work. Then as suddenly as all that I was on the other side of the bedsheets. Now, four years and as many surgeries later and I’m still around to write about it. Is that great or what?

I’ll spend the rest of today brushing up on the patient version of improving my bedside manner, eat as much as I can until that famous “nothing by mouth after midnight,” and spend this evening at the hockey game while I keep telling myself how fortunate I am to be able to well enough to go to a hockey game.

Wish me luck, please say an extra prayer, and I’ll be sure to tell you all about it sometime next week. While I keep telling myself how fortunate I’ll be to be well enough to tell you all about it.

That’s what I think. Really. How ‘bout you?

 

 

Everything I know about being a gentleman I learned from Hockey.

Michael 3 Comments

When I was at the hockey game this weekend I got to thinking how much as a society we can learn from hockey. Yes, the sport that is the butt of the joke “I went to a fight last night and a hockey game broke out,” is the same sport that can be our pattern for good behavior.

Stay with me for a minute or two and think about this. It started at the singing of the national anthem. I’ve been to many hockey, baseball, football, and soccer games. Only at the hockey games have I ever been in an arena filled with people actually singing along. Only at the hockey games are all of the players reverent to the tradition of honoring the country where they just happen to be playing even though they come from around the world – Canada, Russia, Germany, Sweden, Finland, even a few Americans.

A decent dose of nationalism notwithstanding, hockey has much to offer the gentility. Even those fights. Or rather any infraction. If a player breaks the rules he is personally penalized for it. Ground isn’t given or relinquished like on a battlefield, free throws or kicks aren’t awarded to the aggrieved party like victors in a tort battle. Nope, if you do something wrong you pay the consequences and are removed from play for a specified period in segregation from the rest of your teammates. No challenges, no arguments, no time off for good behavior. Do the crime. Pay the time. In the penalty box. Try doing that to a school child who bullies and you’ll have some civil liberty group claiming you’re hurting the bully by singling him out.

Hockey is good at singling out people but in a good way. At last Saturday’s game the opposing team has two members who had previously played for the home team. During a short break in the action a short montage of those two players was shown on the scoreboard screens and they were welcomed back by the PA announcer. And were cheered and applauded by the fans in attendance. There weren’t seen as “the enemy.” Rather they were friends who had moved away to take another job and were greeted as friends back for a day.

While play is going on in a hockey game play goes on in a hockey game. Only if the puck is shot outside the playing ice, at a rules infraction, or after a goal is scored does play stop. Otherwise, the clock keeps moving and play continues. Much like life. If you’re lucky you might get to ask for one time out but mostly you’re at the mercy of the march of time. Play begins. After a while play ends. If you play well between them, you’ll be ok.

The point of hockey is to score goals. Sometimes goals are scored ridiculously easy, sometimes goals seem to be scored only because of divine intervention. Most times, goals are a result of working together, paying attention to details, and wanting to score more than the opposing team wants to stop you from scoring. There is no rule that says after one team scores the other team gets to try. It all goes back to center ice and starts out with a random drop of the puck. If the team that just scored controls the puck and immediately scores again, oh well.

Since we’re talking about scoring, the rules of hockey recognize that it takes more than an individual to score goals. Hockey is the only sport where players are equally recognized not just for scoring goals but for assisting others who score goals. Maybe you should remember that the next time someone at work says you’ve done a good job.

handshakeThe ultimate good job is winning the championship. The NHL hockey championship tournament is a grueling event. After an 82 game regular season, the top 16 teams (8 from each conference) play a four round best of seven elimination tournament. It takes twenty winning games to win the championship. That’s nearly 25% as long as the regular season. It could take as long as 28 games to play to the finish. That’s like playing another third of a season. After each round only one team moves on. And for each round, every year, for as many years as the tournament has ever been played, and for as many years as the tournament will ever be played, when that one team wins that fourth game and is ready to move on, they and the team whose season has ended meet at center ice and every player on each team shakes the hand of his opponent player and coach, wishing them well as they move on and thanking them for a game well played. No gloating. No whining. No whimpering. Only accepting.

So you goto a fight and a hockey game breaks out. It could be a lot worse.

That’s what I think. Really. How ‘bout you?

 

Thanksgiving 2016

Michael Leave a comment

Happy Thanksgiving.

In the spirit of the holiday and following the lead of newspaper editors, television magazine executive producers, radio talk show hosts, and others who have taken holidays off for their entire careers, the Real Reality Show Blog is taking today off and repeating some of the best from years past posts.

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Once upon a time all of the traditions that we hold so dear on Thanksgiving weren’t.  They weren’t traditions, they weren’t habits, they might not have even been normal.  But they stuck.  For some reason everybody decided that on Thanksgiving we would have turkey and stuffing with cranberry dressing.  Turkeys are impossible to cook properly, cranberries are the sourest of all the fall fruits we could possibly pick, and to quote a well know TV celebrity chef, stuffing is evil.  Somehow, this terrible trio became the standard for our most family-centric holiday.

Eventually we learned how to prep that bird so it stayed juicy throughout cooking, figured out how to sweeten those bog berries, and learned that you could make a stuffing that actually cooked all the way through when you do it in Pyrex rather than poultry.  The imperfections guided our practices to make a new normal.

Thanksgiving 2014

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Think way back, back to the day when all of those stores were closed on holidays, Sundays and most other days after 5.  But even then there was a corps of people who knew that when the holidays came around they were just as likely to be at work as they were on any Thursday afternoon.  To these people we say, “Thank You!!!”

Thank you to…   Firemen, policemen, paramedics, and ambulance drivers.  First responders of every kind.  The members of our armed forces.  Hospital workers in every department except administration.  Priests, ministers, rabbis, and other men and women “of the cloth.”  Newspaper production and delivery people, reporters, television and radio engineers, producers, directors, and on-air personalities.  Toll collectors, train engineers, pilots, co-pilots, flight attendants.  Bus drivers and taxi drivers.  Air traffic controllers, airport security, baggage handlers, and airplane maintenance.  Train station and bus depot ticket sellers and collectors.  Hotel receptionists and housekeepers.  Restaurant cooks, servers, bus-people and hosts/hostesses.  Bartenders.  Electric company, gas company, telephone company, water company, sewage company, alarm company, and cable company employees employed outside the executive offices.  Tow truck drivers, snow plow drivers, and street repair people on a moment’s notice.  Commercial truck drivers and freight handlers.  Couriers.  Nursing home, personal care home, retirement home and home health care workers.  Security guards.  Heating and air-conditioning technicians, plumbers, and electricians when they least expect it.  Gas station attendants and clerks at convenience stores with convenient hours (yes, retail stores but they have always been open).

Thanksgiving 2011

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The holiday may be called ThanksGIVING but if not for what was GIVEN we can’t appreciate the joy of being special to someone and a target of his or her special gratitude.  What have you done that someone can thank you for?

Each of us has an amazing story since last year’s celebration and a special thank you to give at this year’s.  The really amazing stories are in the special thank you that you have been given.

Thanksgiving 2013

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Give thanks.

Be thankful.

Live thankfully.

Say thank you.

Thanksgiving Every year

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That’s what I think. Really. How ‘bout you?

 

Small is the New Large

Michael Leave a comment

A couple of years ago I uploaded a post “Large is the New Small.” This one has nothing to do with that but it was a pretty nifty concept so if you’re not busy, feel free to search for it.

Nope, today’s post is all about Small Business Saturday. Now it so happens that a couple of years ago I also posted Thank Your Local Businessman (November 27, 2014) and that too was pretty nifty. I definitely think you should go back and re-read that sometime before you plan your attack on the Christmas Specials to follow this week’s Thanksgiving Feasts. It’s a simple enough idea. Businesses with less than 20 employees make up over 89% of American businesses. Not all of them are retail but a big chunk of them are. Boutiques, hardware stores, bike shops, outdoor stores, local theaters, and jewelers are just a few places where I have bought Christmas presents over the years. And bars, restaurants, barbers, and skating rinks are some of the privately owned spots where I took refuge from the rigors of holiday shopping.

I’ll be there again this weekend and probably even before, I have a most horrible cold or I would have gone on for several hundred more words. So my discomfort is to your benefit. And to the benefit of the locally owned drug store up the road where you’ll find me this afternoon.

That’s what I think. Really. How ‘bout you?

 

 

Visions of Fall

Michael 1 Comment

Each season has its own personality, its own identity, its own character. Fall is inexorably marked by the colors of the leaves, the aroma of burning logs in backyards and fireplaces, the promise of family gatherings, and the growing piles of laundry that threaten to lay ruin to your detergent budget.

It’s almost cruel that a single autumnal wash load comes close to equally all of summer’s dirty clothes. Think about it. Summer’s wardrobe is all the same fabric, all the same color, and in smaller pieces. Whites, pastels, t-shirts, shorts. If it wasn’t for sheets and towels I could probably go through an entire summer month on a single large load.

But fall, fall starts out ok. You trade in the shorts for khaki slacks, t-shirts for golf shirts, and you add socks to the mix. But in a couple of weeks you’re in to long sleeve shirts, polos, and jeans. Another week goes by and now you start layering. In one day between undershirt, shirt, sweatshirt, and hoodie you’ve worn – and dirtied – what would take almost a full week just 3 months ago. And all the different fabrics and colors. Everyone has to be checked for what can be washed with what at what temperatures in which cycles. It’s enough to make you breathe a sigh of relief when you find a care tag suggesting not to be machine washed.

And it’s not just the volume of laundry that torments your sanity. It’s the additional danger the fall wardrobe poses to your health and safety. Long sleeves and trouser legs get wrapped around the agitator causing you to wrench your back or possibly dislocate your shoulder trying to extract them from the machine. (And you wonder why they named that part an agitator!) Socks that are optional equipment in the summertime become entangled in other laundry pieces from the time you toss them into the hamper until you’re returning to the dresser. The only thing lost more regularly in laundry rooms is your temper when you realize you missed the beginning of the rinse cycle and your last opportunity to add fabric softener to the mix (an essential component to minimizing the chafing you’ll certainly encounter when untreated broadcloth rubs across the back of your neck).

But I digress. I was talking about the visions of fall and breathing in the sweet smell of burning logs while walking along the lane wrapped up in a warm, snuggly sweater. I hope it’s Dry Clean Only.

That’s what I think. Really. How ‘bout you?

 

 

I’ll See That

Michael Leave a comment

Now that the airspace during our favorite television shows have been returned to consumer advertisers I can return to hating to see a commercial come on simply because it’s annoying. Given that I spent a fair amount of money on my daughter’s degree in advertising and that hopefully it will be remembered fondly when she someday selects my nursing home, I should probably be more grateful that businesses are still advertising. But that hasn’t yet stopped me from uploading a couple dozen posts that rant on about ads.

My favorite ad annoyances are fine print on television commercials and pictures of things that don’t quite look like what is being sold. Apparently in an effort to make my annoyance easier to manage, advertisers combine the two topics onto one image allowing me to create a multi-tasked rant. Yes, small print that actually says the picture is not quite what is being sold.

In a TV commercial for a mattress sale I noticed the disclaimer in small white font that said, “Mattress photographs are for illustration purposes only.” What does that mean? I hope it’s not their way of saying look at this pretty mattress and look at this great price, and if you just come into the store we will be happy to show you what mattress you really get for this price.

matressad

Car makers have been good about adding fine print to their ads for years. It’s often only a half a shade darker than the background making it effectively illegible even if it wasn’t sized smaller than a well-proportioned dust mite. In addition to disclaimers that models shown may be of a different model year than the current, that some equipment is optional, and that dealers set the actual prices, I spotted one that actually said the one pictured is nice but is roughly $13,000 more than the big numbers that you can read.

carad

I suppose those who are responsible for the fine print (aka corporate lawyers) can argue that we should be happy that they are encouraging their clients to be forthright and truthful in their advertising. But I’m willing to bet that when they submit their bills to their clients that they make sure the total due is in a pretty good sized font.

That’s what I think. Really. How ‘bout you?