Tag Behavior

Close Enough

Michael Leave a comment

A few days ago I was walking through the parking lot to a medical office building.  Heading in my direction at a pretty good pace was a young man who I figured was on his way to an appointment. It’s pretty clever the way I figure out things like that. As he got closer he asked if I knew what time it was.  I checked my watch and told him “a quarter after 10.” To that he stopped and stared at me. I thought perhaps he hadn’t heard me so I repeated “a quarter after 10.” When he still hadn’t acknowledged me I said what was going to be for my last time, “ten-fifteen.”  His eyes unglazed, he thanked me, and resumed his way to the building, now a little more leisurely since he probably had more time than he thought he had.

I hadn’t given it much thought until I got to my own car, started it, glanced at the dashboard clock, saw that it read “10:17” and calculated in my head, “a quarter after, take a half hour to get home, be there around a quarter till.”  Actually, I live only twenty minutes from that building so to be precise (or accurate, I know there’s a difference but I’ve never been sure what it is) I would arrive home at 10:37, eight full minutes shy of a quarter to eleven. But I figured that’s close enough.

I’m not sure when we all decided to become as accurate (or precise) (compulsive?) about time.  Was it a generation ago when digital clocks were all you could find on somebody’s wrist?  Or is it a more recent phenomenon brought on by most people using phones for watches leaving wrists unadorned? And does it matter that much anyway? Every time I’m in an airport I smile at the optimism of the person timing flights. Somehow they know that the plane that took off over 2,000 miles away and made 2 other stops will get here at exactly 5:36.

And it’s not just a timing issue.  Weather people have gotten into the act also.  Only 10 years ago the forecast would have been that today will be in the mid-70s. Now it’s a specific number at a specific time. You’re most likely to hear, “At 7:00am it will be 67 degrees, noon 72, at 4 we’re looking at 76, and 71 degrees at 8 this evening” in the morning weather report.

Even the stock market was more cavalier about its numbers once upon a time. Used to be stocks were reported and sold in eighths of a dollar as in “International Widget is up 3/8.” Of course, an eighth is 12½ cents and there haven’t been half-cents since the late 1800s.  But that’s ok, nobody ever buys just one share of stock anyway.  Today what with all the computer trading, stock prices are very specific (precise?) and they don’t use real money anymore.  The broker just pulls it out of an account you set up for him.  Or her.  They could be pricing things down to the one-hundredth of a penny and it all magically gets rounded up to an even dollar amount.

When did we become such sticklers for accuracy (specificity) (precision)?  You’d think people would understand when I say “a quarter after” is close enough. They certainly didn’t when I color-coded my closet.

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

Textiquette

Michael Leave a comment

These aren’t novel observations. In fact, She noted much of this several years ago when cell phone use just exploded. To make a long story short, we need more phone use etiquette, particularly when texting. To make a short story a blog post, read on.

What people weren’t listening to just a little while ago is now hitting morning radio, Internet sites, news fillers, and feature stories. Everybody has their own pet peeve that semms to have finally reached the last straw. Now that it is happening to them, they want somebody to do something.

Some of the annoyances people are tired of include:

People who don’t answer their phones but then text back a “what’s up?”
People who don’t answer their phone but will answer a text.
People who call and if you don’t answer leave a voice mail and then text the same message.
People who call to tell you that they just sent a text.
People who can’t end a text and/or have to get in the last word.
Texts so long they require scrolling.

They don’t seem like much but they are getting lots of ink as we used to say in the old days. But then, in the old days most of this would have been covered under the general heading of good manners.

Odd, nobody mentioned texting at the dinner table.

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

Subconsciously Yours

Michael Leave a comment

Does anybody have any idea what our minds actually do while we are sleeping? Let me explain. Since I got out of the hospital my body has taken revenge for all those weeks that I ignored it and is making life challenging. Perhaps due to the rigors of physical therapy and a twice daily set of exercises designed to satisfy the Marquis de Sade, I am asleep every night by 8pm, up again around 2am for an hour or so, then back to sleep until 6 or 7. It’s during that second phase that the mind is now joining the body in a quest to make me wake up most mornings with “huh?” on my mind.

I rarely remember my dreams. Sometimes I’ll get a snippet of the movie my sleeping subconscious played for me, but most often I wake up blissfully ignorant of what went on inside my head those few hours. All that has changed recently.

Now I’m waking with vivid details of the sleep show. And I’ve figured out where they are coming from. One recent day I heard Pinball Wizard on the radio. I recall that iconic rock opera as one of my favorites from overture to finale. Throughout the day I was humming and singing (just to myself in my head) that famous modern aria. The next morning I arose fairly exhausted from having been chased by a silver ball in a life-size pinball machine never finding the drain that would have saved me from exhaustion.

A day or two of returned blissful ignorance and then it happened again. I was reading a novel, a favorite past-time, but was really too sleepy to have been reading with any concentration. As a result I kept reading the same passage over and again. I was at the part in the story where the good guy had chased the bad guy to a concert hall then to the concert hall’s basement, then to its sub-basement. Sure enough, the next morning found me waking wondering how I had become the good guy and chased the bad guy through several sub-basements including a fruit cellar, wine stores, utility rooms, a secret laboratory, a bomb shelter, fur storage, and garage. When I finally cornered the villain trying to hotwire a 40 year old MG Midget he surrendered and we rode an escalator back to the surface.

Then there was the day I read in the paper about the upcoming art show in the city and woke up the next morning having wondered why I was painting a geometric abstract including the use of a carpenter’s square and a hand held scientific calculator straight out of the 1970s. And I was painting this masterpiece from inside the canvas.

So you can see why I’m leery of going to bed at all tonight having spent the day craving ice cream. I guess I should wear my flannel pajamas – just in case.

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

Pacing Myself

Michael Leave a comment

The other day I was cutting into an eggroll and it reminded me of a story. Yes, I cut into the eggroll.  With a knife. So I could pick up a piece with a fork. What’s wrong with that? Oh sure, I’ve picked up eggrolls and eaten them out of hand. But I most likely will split it down the middle, add some duck sauce and hot mustard to the innards and then consume it slice by tasty slice.  Yum.

I guess there are other things I eat differently from others.  I always slice the corn off the cob rather than gnawing my way along it although just the thought of butter dripping down the front of my face makes me salivate. Unless there is a chocolate milkshake handy I dip french fries in mayonnaise. That’s the most efficient way to double up on fat that I can think of. And when I eat asparagus I have to start with the stalk and save the crown for last.

So what was the story that made the eggroll become a reminder? Once upon a time, She of We and I were dining at a Chinese restaurant. I know I wanted the General Tso but couldn’t decide between chicken and shrimp.  So I took the diplomatic route and ordered the combination of both.  (When it arrived I had to alternate between the two proteins, never doubling up on one or the other. But we’ve already covered my dining proclivities.) She asked how they were and I said I that the chicken could have been better. Later when the fortune cookies arrived and we went through our ritual of determining who got which, I opened mine, unfolded the tiny slip with the tiny print, squinted at it then almost fell out of my chair.  Printed there in red and white was “Next time order the shrimp.”  True story!

Oh. How does any of this relate to the title of today’s post? Obviously if I have to tkae the extra time to carve an eggroll or arrange my asparagus I obviously take some time to eat.  But that’s OK. I’m just pacing myself.  If I pace myself slow enough I could end up eating just one meal a day, all day. Sort of Roman Emperor-ish.

That’s what I think. How ’bout you?

Alert, Alert, We Need More Lerts

Michael Leave a comment

Even if you’ve been in a cave (or hospital) for the past few months, you must have noticed all of the food recalls lately. Everything from ice cream to baby food tainted with everything from bacteria to broken glass has been pulled from supermarket shelves.  I have to say thank you to the consumer protection people for picking up on these and protecting us from danger and disaster.

I also have to say, ok consumer protection people, let’s stick to the disasters. Among all of the life threatening issues, a local supermarket chain recalled 17 items because they did not include “contains dairy products” on the labels.

What were these products? Two types of rolls made with butter, two cream pies, prepared ham and cheese and turkey and swiss sandwiches, and a variety of cheeses?  Who does not know that butter, cheese, and cream (cream!) are made from milk. Well, except for the cream which is milk.

One would think that if bad things happen to a person when that person has a dairy product that the person would know for sure the list of foods he or she shouldn’t take. And no store should be forced to find room in the deli counter for a sign on each cheese that says “contains dairy” regardless of what a good personal injury lawyer says. We won’t even bring up how to label where cream comes from.

Recalls to protect us from dangers, disasters, and death and good things.  Recalls protecting the stupid from their own stupidity should be recalled.

That’s what I think. How ’bout you?

No Means Why Not

Michael Leave a comment

Jerry Seinfeld once said that the only warning label people really pay attention to is “Dry Clean Only.”  He has a point.  Just about everything else we are told not to do we do and do it with gusto.  If you take a warning label, put it on steroids, turn the fabric to metal, and hang it on a pole along the side of the road you get those big warning signs.  They don’t have anywhere near the impact of “Dry Clean Only.”

Perhaps it’s because we got back to real winter weather.  Perhaps it’s because all of the stars lined up just right and all of the blind, nearly blind, and soon to be blind-sided were out driving at the same time.  Perhaps it’s because so many people take traffic laws as suggestions.  For whatever reason, yesterday was not a day to be out driving in the local business district.

There are some “No” traffic laws that are never going to be heeded.  No passing on right.  No turns from shoulder.  No lane changing in tunnel.   Most people do them and get away with them without much problem.  There are other “No” laws that are to be heeded because they are more vital to life.  They usually involve aiming the car at a point that crosses traffic and that traffic is usually high speed and busy not paying attention to its own warnings.  No left turn.  No U turn.  No turn on red.  Yesterday was the day that for every “No” the signs said there was a driver saying “Oh yes I can.”

It’s along one span of a quite large business route that there are traffic lights every 500 feet or so.  Shopping centers, malls, clusters of stores and restaurants, and car dealerships line both sides of the 4 or 5 mile stretch of roadway.  To keep unnecessary traffic out of these various shopping areas’ parking lots, most of the lights permit U-turns.  But then, most of the road is only 2 lanes in either direction.  At the two lights where the road expands to 4 lanes each way the lights are clearly signed “No U Turn.”  At both of these there were cars literally lined up to reverse their courses rather than travel the quarter-mile to the next legal switching point.  At both of these the cars were still lined up after at one intersection the U-Turning car was struck by another and at the second the U-Turning car crossed two lanes of traffic and did half a donut to avoid being struck by a car bearing down on him.

Along a different road there are two “No Left Turn” intersections that, if permitted, would require the turning car to pass in front of three lanes of uncontrolled oncoming traffic.  At the first of these I had to stop while not one, not two, but three of the four cars ahead prepared to make an unlawful left turn.  To be safe about it, they all had their turn signals on.  At the second of these there was only one car making its illegal turn.  That car was a police car.

There just isn’t enough space to detail all of the No Turn on Red turns but one was absolutely spectacular.  That will be a post for another day.

There was no indication of how many of these scofflaws needed to have something dry cleaned.  By the end of the day, I did.

Now that’s what I think. Really. How ‘bout you.

 

Swing Your Partner

Michael 1 Comment

Did you ever run across something that is just so bizarre you can’t stop watching?  Then you are ready to experience the world of tractor square dancing.  Go ahead and re-read that sentence all you want.  It really does end with “tractor square dancing.”

I don’t know when I first ran across this spectacle (there really is no other word for it).  I think it might have been some 10 years ago when my mother was sick and I would spend afternoons with her so she wouldn’t be alone.  It was this time of year and our state was holding its annual farm show which was televised on the statewide cable network.  Yes, I know this is January.  Yes, I said farm show.  No I don’t live in the southern hemisphere.  Yes, this is getting sillier by the paragraph.  Anyway, on television back then, in the middle of the afternoon, there were soap operas, Jerry Springer shows, or silly cable programs.  Neither my mother nor I were farm people, animal people other than the occasional house pet, prize winning produce people, and certainly not tractor people.  Yet between choosing among soaps, Springer, or Farmville, tractor square dancing caught our attention.

There was a couple year period when I thought I might have successfully detoxed from the phenomenon.  Again, it was about this time of year and I was on the phone with She.  Our televisions were on and the inevitable “What are you watching?” was asked.  “The farm show.”  “Haven’t seen that for a while.  What’s on?” “Tractor square dancing!”  Another victim — err, fan.

That was when I gave up and made it a point that every January I would click my way around the TV remote until I landed on the Tractor Square Dance event.  Four “couples” of antique tractors in a dirt arena, do-si-do-ing and allemande-ing under the direction of a dance caller just like a regular square dance but this one powered by John Deere and diesel.

I see you don’t believe me.  Go to your favorite search engine and type in “Tractor square dance.”  Among the 300,000 or so returns you will find plenty of clubs dong it all across the country.  And videos!  Watch the videos!  But don’t blame me if you get addicted.

Although not even a regular (?) square dance person, tractor square dancing is so out of the ordinary that I considered it (albeit briefly) for inclusion on the bucket list.  Apparently there is a group not that far from me that is always looking for new drivers.  No experience necessary.  In fact, no tractor necessary either.  They keep their own stable of antique tricycle configured contraptions.  I’m pretty good with a riding lawn mower.  How hard could it be?

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

 

Then I Lay Me Down to Sleep

Michael Leave a comment

I don’t want to get maudlin here but lately I’ve been wondering if there are some things I want to do before kicking the proverbial bucket.  Proverbially.  Not so long ago we posted a “Hole in the Bucket List,” or those things we really don’t want to do.  (See “I Would Do Anything – Not!” Feb. 11, 2013.)  That list ran the gamut from alligator wrestling to tornado chasing.  And even in thinking of those things I’d like to do there are more that I don’t and certainly won’t than those that I wish I had and will try to do.  But if one was to write a bucket list and if that one was me, what would be there?  First it would be of three parts – things to do, places to go, and experiences to um, experience.

Starting with the second first we find the easiest category.  There was once a time that I’d have been convinced that I couldn’t call it a life fulfilled if I hadn’t visited all fifty of the United States.  With apologies to the Midwest, once I got to Kansas, that goal tarnished.  There’s only so much flat and level one can take.  There just isn’t that much difference between North and South Dakotas, and ditto the Carolinas to require four stops on that Triptik.  Alaska is way too big and Rhode Island is way too small to compose jaw dropping long weekends. Fifty states are just too many for more than just weekends.  Regions are a different story.  New England, Mid-Atlantic, Southeast, Southwest, Midwest, West Coast, Northwest.  Those are manageable.  And I’ve been to them all so that’s off the list.  But within each region there are special places.  And some special places deserve special notice.

One city that I have to get to while the getting is still getable is Punxsutawney Pennsylvania, home of Punxsutawney Phil, the world’s greatest weather rodent.   Another go to place is the home of the world’s greatest, and first pizza, Naples.  Naples is also the home of half of my heritage so a trip there would kill two tomatoes with one wheel of cheese.

Things to do before that bucket tips are probably at the top of everyone’s list.  I guess I never have been that conventional.  If I wanted to do it, it has already been done.   There aren’t that many noteworthy things that I feel I have to do again.  Drive across country – done that.  Jump out of a flying object – once was enough and I did it more than that!  Race around a race track in a race car just like a race car driver – no desire.  Nope, there aren’t many things to do to be done or else feel like there is something missing in my life.  Two things to continue to do are to wind down in the hot tub and to wind it up cruising top down along a country lane.  And if I get to pick a companion it would be She.

Part place to go, thing to do, and experience to experience is the last item on the list.  Last here is certainly not least but is at least the least likely to be experienced, or done, or gone to when last call is called.  That would be the Mediterranean Wine Cruise.  Years ago while dreaming of vacations to consider, She and I ran across an ad for a two week cruise across the Mediterranean Sea and all the ports of call were where “wine country” was one of your first thoughts of the area.  Whoever put this together did not use Mediterranean euphemistically like we feel compelled to in this country.  It was not code for Turkey or Greece.  It covered all of the countries that touch that body of water and there are a lot of them.  And they all make wine.  We didn’t get there and for why ever that was it never seemed to be a big deal except for now when I think of places I’d like to go or things I like to do or an experience I’d like to have that I didn’t, or hadn’t, or wanted.

So they aren’t the most adventurous things and places and what nots.  That’s my list and I’m sticking to it.  I wonder now, what would happen if you compare this list with the Hole in the Bucket List?  I guess that makes these sort of the pros and cons of things to do today.

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

 

If Not For Bad Luck

Michael Leave a comment

A recent Reuters news article reported that 65% of cancers can be attributed to physiological bad luck.  Some 22 of 31 identified cancer types were traced to unexplained, random cell mutations.  These cancers included leukemia, pancreatic cancer, and ovarian and testicular cancer.  The other nine types which included lung, skin, and colorectal cancers, could be attributed to environmental or hereditary changes.  One of the researchers whose work was examined for the article was quoted saying the real reason that people get cancer in many cases, “is that person was unlucky. It’s losing the lottery.”

Well, that’s a relief.  I thought I had done something wrong to earn my cancer.  Fortunately now I know that it was just plain old bad luck.  It was probably bad luck that I had a surgical wound open up after the operation to remove that fluke.  That was compounded by more bad luck when the infection popped up.  And let’s not forget the bad luck of the revisions to the original surgery that had to be performed, all of that keeping me in the hospital some six months out of the past eighteen.

And it was during those same eighteen months that the company I was contracted to sold off the facility I was assigned to dropping me into the ranks of the unemployed as well as those of the unlucky.  The unlucky circumstances thus continued when all of the treatments and therapies though quite effective in keeping me alive couldn’t keep me with enough stamina to work a full business day so I continue to be unemployed while searching for an employer compassionate enough to understand that someone who has been extremely effective can still be so while working only half days at a time.

Of course there was the additional unluckiness of not being a child, a single mom, a returning veteran, a celebrity, a politician, or a television or movie character that may or may not be based on an actual person.  Nobody was submitting my name to any foundation to cover the expenses of a trip to Pisa or to Punxsutawney while arranging for free housekeeping, a new suit, and an interview on the late show thus garnering enough new found publicity that the previous paragraph’s ill fortune was quite handsomely negated.

So now I spend most days filling out insurance forms and sweepstakes entries with about the same odds of success, job applications with even longer odds, or call an old colleague to see if he or she has any spare hours or opportunities with the longest odds of them all.  On the bright side, I have been catching up with my reading and writing.  Seriously, on the bright side…come on, seriously a bright side?

Imagine playing the lottery with a 65% chance of hitting.  Oh wait, the researcher said that was like losing the lottery.  I manage to do that every week, twice a week.  That is ok.  If I hit the lottery I’d probably just squander the winnings on things like food and mortgage payments.  What a relief that choice doesn’t have to be made!  And here I thought I was just plain old unlucky.

Sorry, not every post is going to be up-beat.  Just real.

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

 

On Rode the 300

Michael Leave a comment

It’s milestone day!  Or should that be Milestone Day?  Subtle differences make differences.  Anyway…

It’s a milestone day – this is Post #300!  That means the next one starts counting all over again.  And it will, but the first 300 still hang out.  It’s also the start of a new year (or New Year if you prefer).  That means there should be some changes.  And there are but the old stays just as dear as always.

Like we did with the first and second hundred there are some favorites to call out.  It held to the original concept of the first post – this is real reality, not what some housewife, fisherman, storage locker junkie, dancer, prancer, or gator-bait would have you believe is.  What gets posted here really happened – unscripted, unplanned, sometimes unwanted, but always real.  Scary.

What were some of the best of the really real?  Well, best is in the eye of the beholder – or reader – not unlike an ugly Christmas sweater in one of the more recent and memorable posts “Being Beholden” (Dec. 11, 2014).  Another favorite on this side of the keyboard was “Good Things, Small Spaces” (Oct. 6, 2014), the real life adventures of a visit to a public restroom where everything was automatic and proved it!

Rarely was a post controversial other than if it actually fit in the selected category.  One that bucked that trend was “You Thought That Was Politically Incorrect” (Aug. 11, 2014) which was written after He completed several real surveys, each with remarkably different multiple choice answers to the same question – what race are you?  Seemed that someone said that shouldn’t be important yet it keeps getting asked.  Discrimination that made a difference was the subject of “Hair Today, Gone Yesterday” (Aug. 4, 2014), the true tale of a man getting a haircut in the twenty-first century.

There were lots of posts about spending money and buying stuff.  One of the more obtuse offerings was “What I Did on My Summer Vacation” (July 21, 2014).  The title notwithstanding it was about sales, Back to School sales specifically and a search for a new toaster.  Real, not necessary rational.   Shopping took a nasty turn at “Handicap Hate Crime” (June 19, 2014) another true story (they all are), this one of how one grocery store almost crippled the recovering He trying to negotiate his way to the handicapped parking slots.  Technology is not always wonderful.

With all this shopping there has to be somebody doing the selling.  Posts abounded about salespeople and clerks, with an emphasis on the occupant of the drive-thru window.  “If You Give a Teen a Penny” (April 7, 2014) detailed what was the first day behind the cash register for a high schooler whose parents you know told her to get a job.  Unfortunately, they didn’t tell her how to make change.

Fashion is always abuzz (not to be confused with a buzz).  The first post for this 100 posts hitting the fashion world was “Winter Rules” (Feb. 17, 2014).  It included the first two rules of winter fashion.  I’ll add Rule #3 here – It may be a new winter but use the old rules.

Almost a year ago we posted the recap of the second hundred posts with “Marching Onto the Third Hundred” (Jan. 2, 2014).  There we said “If we were going to pick a “best of” list we wouldn’t be able.  Yes, we liked them all but more than that, we liked what they all said about us.   What gets said in the third hundred might be completely different. But it will still say this is who we are and what we do.”

Well the third hundred has been different.  You might have noticed more of the posts were what He did rather than what We did.  She is still there in posts and in thoughts but sometime over the year the blog became more his chronicles.  And they will continue every Monday and Thursday as planned.  Or at least as anticipated.  About the only differences you might notice are more “I” and “me” than “he” and “we.”

And so the Real Reality Show Blog marches onto the four hundred however funny, thoughtful, observant, or a little off-kilter.   That’s the thing about blogs.  They are what you make of them.  And whether there are readers or not, there will always be writers.  And happy new year, too.

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