Tag People

Change for the Better

Michael Leave a comment

Who said, “Oh please don’t change?” Change is good! The only constant is change. Change makes things happens. You know what I mean by change. Loose change. Pocket change. Coins.

Yes, coins. Every night I empty my pocket of change. I don’t specifically hoard change. During the day if I can spend change I use those coins. Sometimes I might even drop a few into the “Need A Penny Take A Penny” dish at the cash register at the farm market up the road. But at the end of the day I relieve myself of my metallic burden and each morning I start with empty pockets – some mornings more easily than others.

Does it ever amount to anything? Well, there is a new commercial on TV during the daytime that proposes that if you are between 50 and 85 you can come up with enough spare change to buy life insurance for a month. I don’t spend mine quite so impulsively.

About twice a year I sit down with my Mason jar wherein I toss my daily haul. Back when I was working and was spending more time on irresponsible buying I used a big old pickle jar like you’d see on a counter of an old-fashioned country general store. But I digress. Last weekend we had a couple rainy days so I spent my indoor time putting off rolling coins for a while. After sufficient procrastination I broke down and counted and stacked and rolled. And when I added it up I’ll head off to the bank in the next couple days with about $134.00.

It’s not much but enough that I refuse to spend it on food or shelter. I’ll find something to blow it on and sometime after New Year I’ll do it again and I’ll blow that wad.

Now let’s see. What can I get with this new found money? A field level seat at the ball game? A couple of tickets to a play? A round trip to one of a few destinations on a low-price budget airline with advance purchase? Sixty-five round trips to several destinations on Mega-Bus with advance purchase? A really, really cheap cruise? Half a TV? Quarter of a phone? More life insurance? Whatever It is I’ll probably write about it some time. Stay tuned. Change is exciting!

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

A Matter of Opinion

Michael Leave a comment

Last night I was reading when this feeling came over me. Hunger! Not just any hunger. Something specific. Something a little chewy, a little crunchy, a little sweet. Cookies!!!

There must be cookies somewhere. Checking the kitchen cabinets I found no cookies, no Twinkies, no cakes, Danishes, donuts, ice cream sandwiches, or overly sweet chocolate flavored breakfast cereal. I did find an empty PopTart box and that is so not like me. Must have been a previous Cookies!!! craving.

I did however find brown sugar, honey, cinnamon, eggs, butter, flour, and oatmeal – aka Cookies!!! the DIY version. Unfortunately the butter was frozen, all the measuring devices, bowls, and baking doodads were in the dishwasher for their semi-annual “good” cleaning, and I had graciously donated my stand mixer to my daughter’s kitchen. Roughly an hour later the butter was softened by sitting under the grow lamps in the seed starter that had been sitting empty in the corner of the dining room since the herbs got transplanted to the patio pots, the bowls and other necessary doodads were dry
ing in the rack (and would be redeposited into the dishwasher upon completion of their appointed tasks), and I found a hand mixer buried in the bottom cabinet behind the counter top fryer that someday I have to find counter toCookiep space for.

I spare you the measuring, mixing, dropping, b
aking, cooling details. Suffice it to say that roughly another hour later I
was reading when I dribbled cookie crumbs into the book’s gutter when this feeling came over me. I never had dinner. No wonder I was hungry before. That’s ok. I just marked the food diary that indeed I had dinner – oatmeal with a splash of honey and a few raisins. Sounds healthier than the burger and fries I probably would have had.

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

 

Word

Michael Leave a comment

The other day I was reading the dictionary – because…yes, I really do have that kind of time [sigh] – and I was taking note of this year’s new words.  It seems “they” came up with a few hundred new words yet they still seem to be missing some that are quite desperately needed.

It’s always fashionable to address fashion fashionably. Another way to put it would be that it’s always in style to address style stylishly. Thus each year must have this year’s just right word or words to go along with this year’s just right trend or trends. Personally I think the new “mom jeans” meaning unattractive women’s denim is as tasteless as “granny panties” from a generation ago but it probably will be the one to stick. If you’re going to lobby for a word describing ugly ladies’ fashion (that’s ugly fashion, not ugly ladies) somebody better be working on what to call those pocket linings that stick out below the equally unattractive shorts that are so short the longest part of them is the zipper. A positive citation from the fashion police is the new modifier “athleisure” to describe athletic wear that can be pressed into service as casual wear. Much more useful than the “hostess wear” of the 60s in an attempt to make people believe lingerie can be turned into formal attire with the indiscriminate use of costume jewelry.

Although “manspread” has been around for a few years it formally made its way to legitimacy this year. So now we have a word to describe sitting with one’s legs apart to take up too much space on a shared seat. But we still don’t have a word for the spread of humanity when a mom walks down a grocery store aisle pushing a shopping cart with two small children each holding onto opposite sides of the cart and attempt to pull cart, and mom, apart. I propose “familyspread” but I don’t see it catching on.

“Misgender” is the official term for calling an individual by a “noun, pronoun, or adjective that inadequately represents the person’s gender.” Inadequately? According to what I read the definition notes it is especially applicable when addressing a transgender individual but I know people who have been calling “ma’ams” “sir” and vice versa for decades especially when speaking on the phone representing a marketing firm and when the improperly addressed individual is a 3 pack a day smoker (sir for ma’am) or an anabolic steroid abuser (miss for sir). We still don’t have a word for calling an individual by a noun, pronoun, or adjective that inadequately represents when a person isn’t pregnant but is asked when she is due.

My favorite new word is an activity I had taken part in many, many times. “Al desco” is the long awaited, accepted term for eating lunch at one’s desk. This year’s most useful and most memorable new word.  Now I think the only furniture related word we are missing is one for the impressions left in the carpet when you re-arrange your living room. I propose “furnident.”

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

All Dogs Go To Heaven

Michael 1 Comment

Dog gone it if it isn’t the most useful day of the year. Today, the third Monday of July, in the midst of the dog days of summer, is … hold that thought for a minute.

I have spent no telling how many electrons celebrating useful, special days that only a special interest group could dream up. There are days that deserve to be recognized and often get left in the shadows, like Groundhog Day (Feb. 2). There are days to honor those who truly should be but the governments of the world collectively have dismissed them, like First Responders (there are First Responders Appreciation Days and they vary by state and whether it’s an election year but Sept. 27 seems to be a popular choice). There are days to honor people you’d think could do with just their salaries as honor enough like Talk Show Host Day (Oct. 23). There are so many special days that 365 calendar days aren’t nearly enough so just about every day has multiple recognitions although sometimes you wonder if whoever assembled them had really wanted a special day to commemorate irony (like April 7 which combines National Beer Day with National Alcohol Screening Day (technically the first Thursday in the first full week of April, and isn’t that a designation that only the collective governments could come up with, which this year happened also to be April 7).

All of them worthy of being called special – if for nothing else than their dog and pony show aspects – but certainly not all commendable for their usefulness. So what about today would make one jump up and shout “Hot Diggity Dog!” It is in the recognition that even though you may not be able to teach an old dog new tricks, you can make sure that every dog has its day. And today that lucky dog is the one that is up to his neck in doggie doo.

The one in your dog house is today’s luckiest dog because today is Get Out of the Doghouse Day. For today to work the one who done the wrong has to do the heavy lifting. You know who you are. Put down the bone and apologize. While you’re at it, put down your cell phone unless you are going to use it to actually make a call. You don’t want to trust a chance to get back in somebody’s good graces to an e-mail, a text, or (Heavens, don’t even think about it) a tweet. You need a personal touch.

It’s a dog eat dog world out there. Let sleeping dogs lie and get back in the fight. You might have to work like a dog today but if you end up being man’s – or woman’s best friend again, it’s all worth it!

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

The Meaning of Life – No, I’m Not Kidding!

Michael Leave a comment

Some day I have to figure out how my mind works. Not my brain. I have that figure out. Seven years of school better have taught me something. No, what I can’t figure out is how my mind works. That unfathomable piece of consciousness that works on its own stream and might or might not let us in.

Monday I woke up with a sore back. Check that. I woke up with a back that hurt like all the gods on Olympus and in the Coliseum (or wherever the Roman gods lived) were mad at it. I called my doctor; he worked me into his schedule, poked, prodded, and ordered some x-rays and gave me some muscle relaxers. Monday night I took some muscle relaxers and Tuesday woke up and did my normal morning stuff, sore but not in outright pain. Tuesday night I took more muscle relaxers and Wednesday woke up even less sore and certain I wasted my doctor’s time on Monday. Wednesday afternoon he called and told me I have three compression fractures in my spine. All of a sudden I can’t sit still I’m in such pain.

Normally I walk with a cane. I’m not too weak to walk but if I don’t use some support I wobble. In fact, without it I look for all the world like I’ve had one bourbon too many. (Yes, I used to also believe that was a contradiction in terms but you really can have one too many. Try not to spread it around.) Every morning I walk a couple of miles and if it’s not raining I go to the pool for an hour or so. To get to my pool I go out the door, through the breezeway, across the courtyard and up a flight of stairs. Since the stairs have a railing and to get to them is a short walk I usually leave my cane behind. Yesterday, before I found out that my back is living on borrowed time, on the way in from the pool I detoured down the front walk to the mailbox. The mailman was just dropping off the day’s haul but he hung around long enough to comment that it looked a little early to be “hitting it” (aka “the bottle”). I immediately felt bad to be out in public like that. It was only after he was pulling away for the next mailbox that I realized how little I had to be feeling foolish of.

Why do we put so much stock into what others say? Nothing changed in my back between Tuesday and Wednesday other than the doctor confirming what other doctors had already told me several years ago. I hadn’t removed the cap from the Marker’s Mark for a couple of weeks when I fortified the glaze for a steak I put on the grill. Yet I was willing to change how I felt, indeed how I was, based on what others – one supposedly learned and one supposedly a federal employee – had to say. (How many people work for the federal government? About half of them.) (Sorry, I couldn’t resist.)

Quite some time ago I found this, printed it, framed, it and took it to heart. Since then I’ve Lifechanged. I got an incurable condition. I got cancer. I beat cancer. I still have an incurable condition. Through it all I see this every morning. I have to. It’s on the wall above my toilet tank. It’s a great place for a bit of inspiration. At first I misinterpreted it to mean that if we want to live life to its fullest we have to physically beat the odds. We have to literally skid in sideways. Not so! As long as we don’t give in we won’t give up. I sort of like that expression. Maybe I’ll hang that on the wall too.

As long as you don’t give in, you won’t give up.

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

Life should not be a journey to the grave with the intention
of arriving in an attractive and well preserved body,
but rather to skid in sideways, chocolate in one hand, martini in the other,
thoroughly used up, totally worn out and screaming
“Woo hoo, what a ride!”

Lather, Rinse, Stop

Michael Leave a comment

Did you know that the second most followed direction (“Dry Clean Only” is the first) is disappearing?! (Or would that be “…disappearing!?” I’m never sure which is right and that’s a style the Chicagoans haven’t addressed.) (I think.) Anyway, the second most followed direction in the whole world isn’t there anymore – sort of. “Lather, rinse, repeat” is vanishing from shampoo bottles throughout the hair care aisle at mega-marts all over! I discovered this last week when I was checking out the labels of all the personal grooming products at home and at the supermarket – because I have that kind of time.

It struck me as odd that of all that needs to be primped on our bodies, only hair requires multiple goes. My shaving cream doesn’t say “lather, shave, repeat,” nor does my deodorant instruct me to “swipe, wipe, repeat.” And the soap and shower gel expect me to work up a generous lather but say nothing of doing it more than once.

I thought that perhaps it’s not grooming items that harbor this expectation of duplication of application but it’s the soap based products that are insufficient to do their thing the first time around. So I checked the dish soap and found nothing but “not to be taken internally” under the picture of the oranges on the label. The window cleaner is sure enough of itself to read simply to spray and wipe clean. Tub and tile cleaner need only be sprayed on and wiped off with a wet cloth or sponge. (And if used on stainless steel it wants to be rinsed with plain water. I did not know that.) Although the toilet cleaner has more instructions than the car wash cleaner regarding how uncontaminated you want the end result, each direction need be followed but one time.

My mind was reeling. How can it be that one, and only this one aid to readying for our day requires multiple applications? A simple as the three steps are (lather, rinse, repeat -remember), is it really necessary to do them four times (lather, rinse, lather, rinse)? I pulled out my own bottle of shampoo and gave the label a good looking over. And there they were –

“Directions for use: Apply to hair. Lather then rinse.”

Wait. Lather then rinse? What happened to repeat? Had I been imagining step three. I couldn’t have been. Jokes were built upon it; campaigns were written for it. Do this. Do that. Repeat. I hadn’t imagined an entire pop culture. If I had, where are my royalties?! (or !?)

That’s when I took my quest to the street. Or to the aisle as it was. And there I was, in that aisle, selecting a product, reading the label, saying “hmm,” replacing the product, and moving on. Bottle after bottle. After bottle. After another. And so on. And on. And this is what I found –

Lather? Yes. Rinse? Yes again. Repeat? Well… Sometimes.

The mid-range, middle of the road, mass marketed, recognizable brands now bore the legend, “Lather then rinse.” Those brands aimed to the men’s market had no directions. (We wouldn’t follow them anyway.) High end “designer” shampoos informed the user that to achieve best results use with other products in that particular designer’s line including (but I would imagine not limited to) conditioner, deep conditioner, instant conditioner, conditioning mousse, styling gel, and light to the touch, extra hold finishing spray. Store brands proclaimed themselves to be the “Best Value!!!”

Lather? Yes. Rinse? Yes. Where is Repeat?

Finally I found it. On the dandruff and medicated shampoo shelves was the elusive thirst step – Lather, Rinse, Repeat. Buoyed by my discovery I pressed on.

There is a similar wording on the higher side of the mass marketed crowd, the ones not quite as expensive as the designer series of products but more than those aimed at Mr., Mrs., and Ms. Jo(e) Normal. They are the ones that include the product description and directions in French. Those advise the user to “Lather, Rinse, and Repeat if desired.” (Faire mousser, rincer et répéter si vous le souhaitez.)

So I wasn’t imagining it. Lather Rinse Repeat is still out there but in moderation. That’s the best way to take things anyway. With a little moderation. And repeat if desired.

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

 

Do You Believe In Chocolate?

Michael Leave a comment

Happy World Chocolate Day all you chocolate lovers! The appropriate method of celebration is, naturally, eating chocolate. So don’t just sit there. Go grab a chocolate bar while I regale you with tales from the dark side of chocolate.

The first tale to be told is yes, today is indeed World Chocolate Day, aka International Chocolate Day.  True chocolate lovers, and there have to be at least 7 billion cChocNuggetshoco-locos out of the 7.4 billion generally assumed to be wandering the earth about now, are certain that we had a chocolate day of some sort already, or not yet, or both. And all three are right!

Pay attention here. Things might get a little crazy. February 9, April 22, July 7, September 12, October 27, and October 28 all lay claim to Chocolate Day. Want some crazier? Bittersweet Chocolate gets its own day on January 10, Milk Chocolate Day is July 28, and September 22 is White Chocolate Day.  And let’s not forget special days for Chocolate Souffle (Feb. 28), Chocolate Mousse (May 2), Chocolate Chips (May 15), Chocolate Eclairs (June 22), and Chocolate Cup Cakes (Oct. 18). And those are only the ones that I’ve ever been able to track down. Yes, I’ll look high and low for any reason to add chocolate to my diet even if for just a day. (or two) (or thirty)

Oddly enough, none of the aforementioned days are sponsored by any chocolate or confection company. A couple are the brainchildren of a trade group or another and the September date does correspond with Milton Hershey’s birthday, but none are blatantly commercial.

Can there be truly one official Chocolate Day. Well, today actually commemorates the introduction of chocolate to Europe in 1550 by the explorers to Central and South America. So they say.

Good enough for me. Have a bar!

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

 

Bombs Bursting ‘n’at

Michael Leave a comment

I couldn’t wait for the Fourth of July this year. It is a Monday and that coincides with RRSB day and I knew exactly what to say. I was going to let all those people who think they know they’re way around the Constitution and the Bill of Rights and elections and the “noboby’s taking my rights away from me” crowd a thing or two. And then this 0730102118 (2)weekend I read a letter to the editor and darned if it didn’t make all that seem as trivial as it really is.

Many Americans will be out tonight enjoying a fireworks display. Some of us will be in boats on rivers or lakes looking up at them, some will be on mountains and overlooks looking down at them, some will be in recliners watching them in living color on big screen TVs, and some in bleachers or on park lawns watching them across the way. And we’ll truly enjoy them.

At some point, we’ll make our ways home and many of the many will want to continue the celebration and will pull out our home stashes of fireworks, the kind made by the company the letter writer works for. And that’s where his letter comes in. If I may quote from it:

As the Independence Day holiday approaches, Phantom Fireworks would like to remind its customers, friends and all those who use consumer fireworks to be mindful of the fact that some veterans can be startled and upset by the noise of fireworks.

Chelsey Zoldan, a licensed clinical mental health counselor and special consultant to Phantom Fireworks, advises that there is the potential for some veterans to be reminded of combat situations when they hear the loud sounds of gunfire and fireworks. Combat veteran Henry Jiminez, on a broadcast news piece aired on KABB-TV in San Antonio, Texas, indicated he found the unexpected blasts to be the worst. … Zoldan indicated that unexpected fireworks booms can cause some veterans increased anxiety that could be difficult and challenging for them. …

The bottom line is that giving veterans a heads up that you will be lighting fireworks seems to be the most helpful. Vets aren’t necessarily scared of or by the noises but the unexpected can trigger unwanted symptoms and distress. Please show courtesy to those military veterans who served so your freedoms could be protected.

William Weimer Youngstown, Ohio
The writer is vice president of Phantom Fireworks.

From: The Tribune Review, Pittsburgh Edition, Trib Total Media, Inc., July 1, 2016 (A7).

(Read the whole letter here.)

So let the air be filled with the colors and sounds of these rockets of joy as reminders of the rights that we have to celebrate as we wish. But remember also how we got and keep those rights.

Happy Independence Day!

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

On the Road – 2016 Style

Michael Leave a comment

I just got back form a little road trip. It’s been a while since I’ve been on the road for so long or so far. Things have changed – and some haven’t.

In general people still haven’t figured out the fine art of driving. Speed limits are optional, turn signals must be broken, brakes apparently don’t work nearly as well as horns, and lanes are merely a suggestion of vehicular placement. I recall when everybody went to driver’s ed in high school. Now nobody goes. And it shows! But no school will pay the cost of a car, a teacher’s extra time (for some reason it was always a gym teacher), and the outrageous insurance it must cost when the only authorized drivers are unlicensed teenagers and a gym teacher.

Rest stops have gotten dirtier, with less real food and more unreal people. And they are farther apart. When many highways were being built in the 1950s the cars were big but of suspect power. In the east and the west where mountains rule the terrain, all roads had stops at the peaks. This allowed the motoring public a chance to stretch their legs, enjoy the views, and allow their cars to cool down after doing their imitations of an asthmatic billy goat. And there the rest stops stayed. The ones that weren’t torn down.  Today’s cars are much more powerful and can easily make it up three or four thousand feet. And much too easily they then make it back down the other side. I feel sorry for the people who live in the flat middle of the country and don’t get to enjoy the experience of plummeting down a mountain around bends often only feet from all too real sheer drops, bending, twisting, turning, ducking into tunnels then back into the sunlight only to plunge into the new darkness of a companion tunnel then thrust back out for another few miles of downhill slaloming all at a speed for which breakneck is too mild an adjective. We don’t need rest stops at the top of the mountains; we need them at the bottom. With liquor licenses. And underwear changing stations.

Gas stations are being augmented by charging stations for electric cars. A great idea. I saw a half-dozen charging stations at each stop I visited.  Even at the smallest of the stops where I stopped there stood the usual six charging stands. For the entire four days on the road I encountered one electric car. Perhaps someday there will be lines for them also.

A new nicety at rest stops is the farmers’ market. I love farmers’ markets and have posted a few thoughts on them. But I don’t understand why they are there. Except for the few RVers still on the road, how many people pick up a peck of fresh veggies for dinner while on vacation?

In the 1970s everybody reduced the speed limit to 55mph to save gas since prices had skyrocketed to a whopping 59 cents per gallon. Even though gas today is cheap at $2.50 a gallon, speed limits keep getting higher. Except for whoever is driving in the left lane. For some reason as soon as I pull out to pass a slower vehicle the car that just sped past me discovers that his brakes indeed brake.

And perhaps someday somebody will be able to explain why there are handicap lanes at the toll plazas. I didn’t use them. But there they were, and that might be this week’s newest, greatest mystery.

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

 

Faster Than a Speeding Steam Shovel

Michael Leave a comment

Some years ago I posted a series of tales featuring the dubious driving abilities of those who had managed to plow their vehicles into unsuspecting, immovable buildings. (Enter “Cars” and “Building” into the site search window and you’ll find those contributions.) With the exception of one follow-up a year ago I stopped such posts not because I stopped finding them in the local news but that they had become so commonplace that I feared if I continued you’d develop a less than admirable perception of drivers from my part of the country. But even that can’t stop this installment.

Among last Monday morning’s news stories which included two separate car vs building scuffles and one report of a garbage truck assailing a house in an early morning sneak attack (apparently even the driver was unaware of it at the time) was a related incident. But first, we should take a moment and explore how one directs a vehicle under his or her control into a quite stationary, often multi-storied structure.

I don’t buy the excuse of “I thought I was hitting the brakes.” The pedal configuration in automobiles has been the same for roughly 110 years. That’s longer than anybody who has run into a building has been driving. It’s longer even than anybody who has run into a building has been breathing. No, you don’t suddenly “forget” which pedal is which. I also don’t buy the excuse that “I was distracted.” Distracted driving is indeed a real thing. Many accidents and unfortunately many accidental deaths have been caused by distracted drivers. That I am not disputing. But to hit a building you must leave the roadway, climb over curbs, drive through hedgerows and/or parking meters, flush quail and other small animals often including startled, screaming human beings before striking an object with force enough to propel your vehicle through it. I might buy operator death while driving but since all of the reports that I have seen end with “the driver claimed he (or she) thought he (or she) was hitting his (or her) brakes” and/or “the driver claims to have been distracted,” death clearly has been ruled out.

So now that we’ve explored how one directs a vehicle into a non-vehicle we know no more about the mental state of these drivers than we did before said exploration other than to say they are mental.

SS1And that brings us to my latest report. A man drove his back hoe into the living room of a house. He then drove off! Fortunately (that’s how the local police chief described it, “fortunately”) the homeowner got a good description of the vehicle and officers who were on patrol nearby were able to track down the alleged operator. Fortunately (yes, “fortunately”) they had that good description and they were able to stop the correct backhoe driving down the road. It would have been quite embarrassing to stop the wrong one with pieces of picture window frame hanging from it.

Thank God he didn’t drive around to window #2!

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