2

That Was a Bad Idea

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A couple of nights ago, it was really hot and humid here. We don’t have air conditioning so it was almost as uncomfortable inside as out. Horatio Hedgehog has his cage covered with a blanket so the sunlight doesn’t bother him while he’s sleeping.

I had forgotten to give him water that day, so I was worried about him. When I opened his cage, he was panting. I figured it was from the heat (not his grumpy personality.) Hedgehogs are supposed to love water and are good swimmers. Which had been the case with Jean Luc, his predecessor hedgehog.

So I put some water in our sink and brought out Horatio. When I put him in the water, he was not a happy hog. He immediately panicked and tried to get out. He managed to climb up the side of the stainless steel sink. I had to give him his favorite treat (wax worms) before he would calm down.

Speaking of bad ideas, I asked my (temporary) doctor for a note saying that I couldn’t unload pallets for more than 2 hours per day. I got the note. Unfortunately it says that I can’t do any repetitive motion for more than 2 hours/day. Which pretty much eliminates my entire job. I really need to enroll her for a course in empathetic listening.

It’s not just me. You may remember a few weeks ago I talked about Other Stocker and New Guy. New Guy didn’t last. First there was the work slow-down, then the quitting without calling in. Not the way to get a good reference.

But Other Stocker (OS) was the one with the really bad idea. The company is really strict about actually working while we’re on the clock (go figure). They even feel that we should be using the restrooms on our breaks/lunches (not gonna happen).

The deli and bakery are about as far from the break room as you can get. OS would pick out a bagel, pay for it, then go on break. Totally against the rules. It’s called abuse of time clock.

OS got caught one time and warned. He continued to do it without being caught. Until one day they got him again. He was called to Security and terminated.

The really stupid part about the whole thing is that his girlfriend was terminated a while back for abuse of time clock. She lived about 25 minutes from the store (why she would drive that far is beyond me). She always seemed to be running behind, so she’d pull up to the door, punch in, then go park her car. OS seemed to think it was reasonable because she lived so far away. It didn’t seem to occur to either of them that maybe she should leave the house earlier.

Probably the dumbest idea I’ve run across lately is from the guy in the next section over. He stocks overnight with another guy in dairy. The night people are supposed to take breaks consistently every two hours.

Dairy Guy (DG) has his own “system” and feels the need to not take his “lunch” until he should actually be taking his last break. And he usually schedules it so he misses unloading as much of the truck as possible. DG also has things he “has to do” before he goes to lunch.

The other day, one of the managers asked why DG was not working on the load. He went to find DG and told him to go help. DG was sure that his partner had ratted him out. DG was furious that his priorities should be questioned. He said that he was going to take his second break and leave on time. It was actually kind of amusing that he had thought he was impressing management by not taking his last break and working over every day.

The next day, DG went to the manager above the one who had “forced” him to help unload the truck. He told the manager that his “system” was being interrupted. The second manager agreed with the first one. I thought I was going to be stomped on if I got too close to one of his carts. It was the fastest any of us had ever seen him work.

At least Horatio will never tell anyone how I tried to drown him.

7

I Can Type Ten Words a Minute!!

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Actually that’s probably an exaggeration unless it’s something like “The Cat in the Hat”.

If you are a fan of old movies, you might remember the stereotype of the star reporter with a hot story. He (remember, it’s an old movie) types furiously with two fingers, finishes in a couple of minutes, tears the paper out of the (manual) typewriter and hands it to the errand boy. I am soooo jealous of that reporter right now.

I taught myself how to type on a 1903 Royal typewriter (with its corresponding manual). No, it was not a current version. It had been my grandmother’s and was old then. It’s one of those machines that allowed solicitous men to say that women could not be secretaries because their baby fingers were not strong enough to push the end keys. It probably would have been an excellent thing to drop on the heads of those men to show how wrong they were about women’s strength.  It was made out of iron. I recently saw a relative at a museum (I still have mine).

Anyway, you would be amazed at how much faster you can type on an electric typewriter (to say nothing of a word processor) if you have strengthened your fingers on the manual one. (The men were right about that – the keys were hard to push at first, especially if you’re a preteen.)

Aside – I do not want to hear from you if you do not know what a manual typewriter is. Look it up on Wikipedia. Or Google/Bing it.)

The point of all of this is that I have been reduced to typing with two fingers. As you may recall, my doctor (the one with the recessive bedside manner) ordered an EMG. It showed mild to moderate bilateral carpal tunnel syndrome. So she sent me to a medical supply store to get two cock-up splints. I only needed one since I had gotten the spica splint for my thumb a couple of weeks earlier. (My insurance company loves me.)

I sent her an email after about a week asking when they would start making my hands feel better rather than worse. I guess it was supposed to be sooner than a week because she referred me to an orthopedic surgeon and an occupational therapist.

I can’t see anyone in ortho until September. Guess summer’s not a good time to see someone who can take multiple weeks of vacation. Went to see the occupational therapist on Wednesday.

Apparently the good news about medical-supply splints is that they are relatively inexpensive ($100-$200) and fairly comfortable to wear (soft felty material with metal bars to hold your wrist in place). And I only had to wear them at night. It really only impacted the cats who do not like to be petted with soft felty material (no one attached a warning to the cats, so I had no idea).

The bad news is that the reason they are so comfortable is that they really don’t do a very good job of keeping your wrists in place. And an even worse job of keeping the thumb in place. The pain in my thumb was getting better, but I was having a lot of trouble with my wrist. Turns out the tendonitis had just moved to  better neighborhood.

You may know where this story is going. The therapist made me two custom rigid splints (more good news for the insurance company). It was really cool to watch. They take some kind of heavy fiber board and put it in a steamer. Then they mold it to your arm so it fits. Once it cools off, it doesn’t move (hence rigid splint). I was supposed to wear it 24/7 for two weeks, then only at night.

OK. The sensible person would think: Rigid split. I need to modify how I work. Not so sensible person: Rigid split. I can work the way I usually do, and the splint will set the limits. Guess which side I fell on. Rigid means that in a contest between your body and the splint, the splint wins. Hey, I’m not an engineer.

After 2 1/2 hours, I was so sore I had to go home. I called the occupational therapist. She said I was working against the splint. (It only took her 1.5 minutes to figure out what I was doing wrong.) She said to wear the soft splints during the day, and the rigid splints at night. It worked really well yesterday.

Not so much today when I took the wrong soft splints to work. That’s what happens when you don’t take the old splints upstairs when you get the new splints (they all look pretty much the same). I gotta tell you – having a semi-disorganized brain is a pain. I never know when it’s gonna flake.

The old splints were worse than no splints. Don’t ask me why. I have no idea. So I iced my wrist when I got home. And got the right splints. Much more comfortable. But still detrimental to typing. Thus the two fingered typing. My brain is going crazy. Some of my best snarks are getting lost in the time lag. Don’t feel bad for me – I’m enjoying them even if you’re not.

I wonder if any of those old newspapermen would be willing to come out of retirement?

 

2

You Think it’s About You?

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Many of us follow the same cycle through life. High School graduation. College graduation. Marriage. Kids. Kids’ high school graduation, college graduation, marriage, kids. It seems to go on forever (particularly some parts). And there are often parties associated with each step.

Interesting thing about those parties. The person who has achieved the milestone thinks the party is about them. I have never gone to a high school graduation party and not seen the graduate disappointed by how few friends showed up.

The graduate thinks the party is to congratulate him for finishing school (and reward him with lots of money). It’s the kid’s first introduction to the idea that we’d really like to get together sometime other than funerals. As a rule, the adults see these parties as a chance to catch up with relatives, friends, neighbors. It’s the reunion they’ve been meaning to put together but never got around to.

It starts with the invitation. Oh look, we got invited to Tony’s graduation party. I can’t believe he’s old enough to be graduating already. He’s Vivian’s son, right? I love that side of the family. They’re always so much fun to be around. Remember Gloria’s wedding? I have to write this down so I don’t forget.

Moves on to the gift. How much should we give? I don’t remember what we gave Amy two years ago. I guess it doesn’t matter. Amy’s my cousin and Tony’s my cousin’s son. Or do you give the same to everyone? Honey, do you remember how much Aunt Viv gave you last year for graduation? Maybe $50? Too much? OK, $25.

Then the accessories: I have to remember to take the pictures of Sheila in Scotland. I don’t think anyone has seen them. And that picture of grandpa I found in the attic. I wonder if Sandy is going to have her genealogy charts there. I guess it’s a good idea, but I forgot to see if I could find great-uncle Earl’s birthplace.

Finally, the day of the party arrives. The graduate has been chatting with his friends. They all say they’ll make an appearance. (The appearance turns out to be 10 minutes after the party ends. Smart kids.)

The first person to arrive is an elderly woman Tony doesn’t recognize. His mother rushes out to greet her and introduces her to Tony. Mom then disappears into the kitchen to finish up the food. Tony gets her a chair and asks how she’s doing. She proceeds to give him a rundown of her health, her neighbors, the weather, and her dead husband.

Finally Tony gets away to greet some other guests. It’s his aunt, uncle, and evil cousin who once tried to drown Tony. Turns out Jack is planning to become a lawyer. The adults leave to let the “kids” remember old times. Tony begins to wonder if anyone will miss him if he goes upstairs.

Some neighbors come by and Tony relaxes with them. His mother makes him get up to greet each person as they arrive. He talks to each for a few minutes. Hello. Thank you for coming. Yes, I’m glad to be out of school. I’m going to Wilderness U to study forestry. Yes it is an unusual major. Yes, there are actually jobs in that field.  Begins to wonder why anyone has a graduation party.

There is a good turnout for the party. People are complimenting his mother on the food. Except for the woman who says that she was at a graduation party the weekend before and it was catered.

The usual compliments and stories were told by the guests.

You can also overhear: I can’t believe her mother let her come wearing that. Of course Doris was the same way at that age. Or: Can you believe Eve is still dating him? He doesn’t even have a real job. Well at least he’s better than Jerry, remember him?”

Is that really the last impression you would want to make on your friends before you all go off to college?

 

 

2

A Cat’s Life

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My name is Snooper Katt aka SuperSnooper and Snoops. My human thought it was a cute name after I spent the first few days in my new home exploring. What did he expect? I’m a cat. I had to make sure I could find all the important cat places: sun spots, hiding places, litter box, food, etc. I have heard that many humans are under the impression that all we cats do is sleep. I am writing a summary of a typical day to dispel that error. I have used Google Translate to make it intelligible to you. It would be a lot easier if you humans would just learn to speak our language.

2:30a – I hear my human’s mate (from this point forward human #2 due to the order of her appearance) coming down the stairs. I can hear her telling cat #2 to keep moving so she won’t get stepped on. That human is the clumsiest thing I’ve ever seen first thing in the morning. It’s OK though, she’s come to get our breakfast. I used to get up and go into the kitchen with her to make sure she picked out the right food. Now I can trust her, so I stay in my tree and let cat #2 make sure it gets done.

3:00a – Human #2 comes back all wet. I’ve been in the kitchen to try out breakfast. Not bad. I’m sitting on the table waiting for her. She reaches over to pet me. I let her scratch me, a couple of times. She sits down at the thing she calls a computer. I stand at the table behind her and watch. Then I jump on her table to check out Cat TV. Since it’s still dark out, sometimes there are some good moths on the screen.

3:30a – Human #2 leaves. I check out cat #2 to see if she got any treats I didn’t. Sometimes we clean each other or play or fight or ignore each other. Depends on the mood. I make a quick check of the perimeter on Mouse Patrol. If I hear anything, I stay on guard. Otherwise, I go upstairs and wait for my human. Sometimes on his bed, sometimes in the hall. Sometimes in human #3’s room.

Sometimes I see human #4 in this period. He used to get up for school, but now he’s “graduated”. I think that means he’s nocturnal. He eats and/or does laundry then disappears again.

5:00a – My human wakes up. I like to be there to make sure he’s up. First thing in the morning is the best time to get good skirchies from him. (Human #2’s father came up with that word to describe the kind of petting-cuddling-scratching attention we cats like when we want full attention from humans.) It’s best to get him before he’s fully awake. That way I can help him get dressed.

5:10a – We go downstairs. He does human stuff in the kitchen while I check out the food again. It’s always the same stuff. Guess I’ll get some kibble. And get some water.

5:15a – We go into the study. He turns on the big “computer” while I settle in his lap. I help him get his messages and type anything he needs. I really like it when he plays games – one hand for the mouse and one hand for me. Why do they call that thing a mouse? Humans are so silly sometimes.

5:30a – My human goes upstairs. Sometimes I go up ahead of him and lay on the bathroom floor. It’s the best place for tummy rubs. It’s the best place because he can shut the door and cat #2 can’t hog in.

5:40a – My human leaves. He usually closes Cat TV so I have to watch through the window and can’t hear anything out there. I use the facilities. I love my human, but sometimes he forgets to clean the litterbox at night. I bet he wouldn’t want to step in that.

5:45a – Perform a more thorough Mouse Patrol. The best place to find the little guys is in the pantry. We find quite a few in the dining room too. Cat #2 is a pain in the neck, always getting in the way with the humans and talking nonstop, but she is a pretty good mousing partner. We can watch for them from two places. Morning Mouse Patrols are rarely successful.

6:00a – Get another snack. Time for my morning nap. Should I go to the cat tree? The chair in the living room? My human’s bed? Human #3’s bed? If it’s chilly, there’s no question about going to sleep with human #3. I think she “graduated” too, but she’s only part nocturnal.

Noon – Get up and wander around the house. Cat #2 is asleep in her chair (it’s pretty funny how human #2 thinks it’s her chair). Do a perimeter scan. Sit in the tree.

1:00p – Human #2 comes home. I like her new car. It’s a lot quieter than the old one. I go to meet her at the door. She bends down to pet me. I let her scratch behind my ears. I try to lead her into the house, but she almost trips on me. See what I mean?

1:15p – Human #3 comes downstairs. She and cat #2 are both trying to talk to human #2. Human #2 eats something that looks unappetizing, but I check it out anyway. Cat #2 talks her into taking a nap. I stay down with human #3. She has a “computer” too so I only get minimal attention. It helps if I walk on the “computer”. Eventually I go to sleep.

3:30p – My human comes home. They all eat. Most of the time it is pretty unappetizing. But everyone once in awhile, she makes good meat. Regardless, I have to make sure I don’t like it. How would I know if I don’t get close enough to smell it completely?  The best is when I sit in front of human #4 and stare at him. They all say he really likes cats, but he is bad about sharing. But he does talk to me and pets me.

4:30p – My human and I spend a few minutes on the “computer” then go watch TV. The only thing he ever watches is people so I get bored pretty easily and either go on Mouse Patrol or take a nap. This is the best time to track down a mouse, although sometimes it takes cat #2 and me quite a while to actually make the kill and deliver the gift.

Cat TV usually gets opened up again somewhere around now.

10:00p – Human #2 gets the rodent out of his cage. He’s big and smelly and covered with quills. She tries to cuddle with him. Sometimes he’ll sleep; other times he just makes a lot of noise. I try to stay as far away as possible unless I’m bored. Then I try to stare him down. He’s really boring.

11:00p – My human and human #2 go to bed. Cat #2 goes with them. Sometimes I go up and let them pet me. If it’s cold, I ‘ll sleep up there. Otherwise I go back to sleep downstairs. The rodent is on his wheel. He walks on that thing for hours.

So that is a typical day for me. Is your life any more interesting?

6

Do I Know You?

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I decided to get back on Facebook. This is my third attempt. The first time a few years ago resulted in a serious addiction to Farmville and its various relatives. I was away for eight months and came back “clean”. I lasted a couple of months and got bored. So I went away again. I started feeling  bad about asking people to read the blog without showing any interest in what they were doing. I thought it might help if I went back and started reading their posts.

It wasn’t difficult getting back it. I’d been getting emails every day (it seemed) that I had “notifications” waiting. The notifications usually seemed to be someone inviting me to a game I had never heard of.  After going cold turkey a couple of years ago, I’m afraid to even look at another game. What if I fall prey to a dancing cookie or something?

The other type of notification was someone asking me to “like” some obscure page. While I have no issue with the “Don’t Bludgeon Baby Animals” type, I have no appetite for the “Like Dr. Smith. He Has the Answer to All of Life’s Questions.” From what I can tell, if I like something it goes up on my wall for everyone to see. It also goes on that crawl on the right side of the screen, although things pass through there fairly quickly. What if the world knows that Dr. Smith has just been arrested for fraud? Will my “friends” still “like” me? Will they respect me in the morning?

About those “friends”. I forget how I originally started, but a lot of my first friends were people I had known in high school. The last time I was back, my daughter taught me how to “un-follow” people without “un-friending” them. It worked really well. When I came back there were only a couple of people in the feed who I really didn’t know. One of them, I have no idea whatsoever who she is or where she came from.

The last time I was on, I got a feed question from someone thinking it would be interesting to find out where she met her “friends”. Oddly enough, I had been trying to figure out who she was for a couple of weeks. I responded with that answer. I don’t think we’re friends anymore. (Am I missing the point of Facebook in only connecting with people I actually recognize?)

Now that I have winnowed my feed to the people I actually know, I have discovered that the vast majority of my feed is from the same few people. Some of them have lives that are interesting enough to fill the space. A few search the web for pictures and quotations they like. A few seem to use it as a way to share every thought they have.

I don’t have a problem with any of that. I just don’t know how to join. My life is not that interesting, and I really don’t have any fun pictures to share. Does anyone really care that I almost ran over a bunny yesterday morning (not really)? Or that the cats have caught three mice in the last week (really)? Things that would be a throwaway in person seem to have an increased sense of importance when you write it down.

Worse yet, I really don’t get the “liking” idea (I have the same problem on WordPress). I haven’t fully accepted the concept that people have no idea whether or not I have read what they have written. “Liking” is not required to avoid hurting their feelings. Conversely, I guess I could write whatever I want since very few of my “friends” would see it anyway.

When you “like” someone’s post, do you actually have to like it? Is it like nodding your head to indicate that you are paying attention to what the person is saying? Or is it full buy-in for whatever they are talking about?

If someone “likes” my comment does it mean that they agree with me? Or do they just like the way I said it?

How many cute pictures of their families do people really think everyone wants to look at? On a daily basis? Do people ever think about their audience?

If someone sends me a link that doesn’t work, do I tell them? One guy sent me a link to like his company. When I followed the link it took me to a page for something else with a pop-up to go to the page to like his company. I didn’t like the company that much and left.

I didn’t give them much personal history to use for advertising. My location matches the information I gave them for high school and college. So I’m not really getting personalized ads companies want. I’m just getting a lot of them scattered all over the place. My friends and likes are pretty esoteric too. I am not a marketers dream. I’m guessing that the longer I’m on, the more the ads will standardize. I can hardly wait.

The one thing I do like about Facebook is the chatting. It’s great to be able to actually “talk” to people I never get to see. However, being on at 3a seems to have cut down on the number of people I can find to chat with. I need to get some friends overseas.

So I’m friends with people I don’t know and like things that are merely statements of fact. No wonder they call it virtual reality.

 

Aside
2

Recently I was reading an article on Consumerist (Consumerist.com) where they were talking about national food holidays. They had found a calendar that shows every food holiday of the year on Food.com. For some reason, they were significantly less enthusiastic about the idea than I was.

I checked it out. It is totally amazing. Not only does it have a month-by-month listing of the food holidays, but it gives recipes for the day.

Obviously, if you want to us it to plan your meals around it you will need to check out the necessary ingredients a few days in advance. But that’s not a problem since you can get the recipes for any day by clicking on that day. Just imagine – a holiday every day. Probably can’t get the day off work for them though.

There were only two disappointments on the calendar. I missed National Cheese Day (June 4) and will have to wait almost a year to use it as a holiday.

Second, I could not find a day for many of the delicacies I have suggested you make for important dates. For example, I could not find a National Scorpion Day. So you are still on your own for making scorpion suckers at home. I would suggest they add it, but it looks like the calendar is pretty full. Maybe I just missed it.

Interestingly enough, today is Kitchen Klutzes of America Day. Which you might note is not a food. It features super simple recipes like versions of cocktail meatballs and tomato sauce. It seems to me that if you’re that bad in the kitchen, you would probably buy that type of thing at the store. Or do without. Your friends could probably survive with caviar on crackers.

Speaking of Caviar Day, it is July 18. That seems like kind of an interesting day for it. Don’t people generally serve that inside? Perhaps rich people don’t go out in the really hot weather. They recommend a caviar torte. “Served at my wedding and it was the biggest hit.” Guess that explains that.

Not a big fan of caviar? Maybe July 21 is more your style. That’s Junk Food Day. You can splurge on things like Potato Chip Sandwiches, Snickers Dip, and Cheez-It Chicken Fingers. Why would I make junk food? Isn’t that what Taco Bell and Dairy Queen are for?

The ickiest thing I could find was August 8. That’s Zucchini Day. I hate zucchinis. They are not squash. I do not care what anyone says. They are tasteless, mushy cucumber wanna-bes. Then they try to disguise it in things like Zucchini Chocolate-Orange Cake and Zucchini Nut Muffins. They may taste good, but beware. There are little pieces of green stuff in your desserts.

There were a few that were a little confusing (or downright misleading). Hot Cross Bun Day is on September 11. In my church, we eat them during Lent. Last time I looked, Lent has never occurred in September. Drink Beer Day (September 28) has a list of foods made with beer. How do you drink it if you have cooked it into something? Groundhog Day (February 2) does not have recipes for cooking ground hogs (thank goodness) but is full of desserts that look like various animals that are believed to predict weather.

In case you don’t like to micro-manage your dinners, they also show what foods are celebrated in which months. This month you can celebrate with Fresh Fruits and Vegetable, Turkey Lovers, Soul Food, Candy, and Iced Tea. Which sounds a lot better than March. March is Nutrition Month as well as Noodle Month and Celery Month. Thirty-one days of celery recipes. Yum.

Still looking for the perfect meal for Father’s Day? You’re in luck. It’s Lobster Day (the calendar was apparently put together by a bunch of fathers). In addition to the standard lobster tails or lobster curry, I would recommend a lobster salad cocktail. If you don’t cook, you could probably buy some lobster salad and put it in cocktail glasses. Or you could grill a steak with a side of lobster potato salad. A new spin on surf-and-turf.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to start planning my menu for October 9. That’s Moldy Cheese Day. Unfortunately it does not refer to the cheddar in the back of my refrigerator. It is a celebration of Bleu Cheese, Stilton, Gorgonzola, and Roquefort. Smelly cheese from all over Europe. Since I missed National Cheese Day, I can’t afford to mess this one up.

(My 100th post. Thanks for reading.)

2

It’s the End of the World as We Know It

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(Thanks to REM.)

My kids graduated from high school on Thursday. They’re not twins, but it’s a long story. Our district doesn’t have graduations for kindergarten, 4th grade, 8th grade, or anything else. So this is a big deal.

On the last day of class (they let the seniors out two weeks before the rest of the district), they had the “Senior Walk”. This is a long-standing, hallowed tradition. The kids put on their caps and gowns and walk through all the halls saying good-bye to their friends. As my son said, his friends were all seniors, so it was just a long walk. Then they walk across the bridge over the road outside. A lot of the parents come and take pictures, and it ends up in  the local paper. I’m waiting for the movie.

In an epic case of cosmic bad timing, one of the students had died from cancer three days before. It gave the kids a chance to honor him with ribbons on their gowns and signs on their caps. That was the only positive – at least they were all together to support each other. And his identical twin. As I said, it was cosmically awful for these kids.

Next up was the Honors Assembly. I had flashbacks to my own. For me high school was socially passable, academically successful. So my mother made me go. It was an extremely long night. Everyone who had won anything had to troop across the stage and be applauded. When my daughter got an invitation, I was not thrilled. Proud, but not thrilled.

When we got the programs, it didn’t look too bad. There was a welcome by the principal (who everyone likes) and the handing out of several scholarships. We weren’t sure why we were there since our daughter had not won any of the listed scholarships, but it looked reasonable.

I should have realized that there would be a catch. We began with a paean to the top ten academic students. Who were sitting on the stage. They presented the names alphabetically in the interests of treating them all equally. Apparently there was no concern about segregating them from the rest of their classmates.

Being mainly academic scholarships, there was a lot of repetition in who was receiving them. The parents all clapped appreciatively, although a lot of us were wondering why they had been invited to see awards given to other people’s children.

Finally our patience was rewarded. Sorta.  After a break, we were treated to a parade of the students with their pictures and awards/scholarships flashed on a screen. It was great. Except they neglected to list the two scholarships our daughter had won from the colleges she applied to. At least her picture looked nice.

My uncle wanted to attend the ceremony. And drive. My daughter had gotten the directions, and it appeared to be an easy drive. But my uncle had a “better way”. I didn’t find out about the “better way” until we were driving past our exit. Long story short – the improvement added a half hour to our drive. If we’d been a few minutes later, the kids would not have been allowed to walk in the procession.

And we would have been sitting behind the stage. Did I mention that one of the main uses for the building is as a sports arena? It’s the home of one of the feeder teams for the Red Wings. It has two parts, but both are set up in a 360 degree viewing pattern.

As it was, we ended up behind the band. As near as I can tell, the individuals all play fairly well, but the director hasn’t taught them to play as a unit. It was a unique rendering of “Pomp and Circumstance”. Over and over as all 500+ students filed in (it’s a consolidated district). Plus the dignitaries and teachers.

The teachers. I’m glad they weren’t the ones teaching my kids manners. Most of them only applauded for a few of the students. Only a few of the students clapped for everyone. I was proud to see that two of them were related to me. I forgave their ability to sleep in while I get up at 2:30a for a few minutes.

Four of the teachers performed the class song, “Don’t You Forget About Me,” by Simple Minds. I love the song and thought it was a great choice. I think the band was more nervous than the kids. At least their parents weren’t recording every move.

The speeches were short and poignantly sweet. During the procession, they made it all the way to the middle of the “A”s before they got a name wrong. A first name. Totally wrong. He probably would have gotten more applause if anyone had known who he was.

Then it was over. And we had to find our kids among the hundreds of people at the bottom of the arena. That (and getting out of the parking lot) took almost as long as the ceremony.

 

 

 

 

7

Technology Strikes Back

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Miss me? Talk to Edgar.

Edgar is my new Toshiba laptop (with Windows 8.1). Yes, I finally have one. And my dreams of being able to finish my email and work on my blog on the same day are, at this point, still dreams.

The issue was that my weird work schedule leads to a weird sleep schedule. I have to get up at 2:30a to be at work by 4a. Due to some unfortunate genetic material, I have always needed 8-9 hours of sleep/day. Except when I’m manic, but that has its own problems.

The only time I tried to stay up all night at college to finish a paper was a bit of disaster. I’m sure the paper was horrible. At least I did it on a typewriter so I was saved the embarrassment of rereading it. But the notes I took in Constitutional Law were worthless – I’d write a few words then put a citation number. Never finished a single thought.

Anyway – if you calculate backwards from 2:30a, you get to 6:30p. I’m sure there are some people who are more disciplined than I am (probably 90% of the world). But I am totally incapable of going to bed at 6:30p and staying in bed until 2:30a. For one thing, I’d miss ‘Bones’.

So my solution (all you scientific types who understand circadian rhythms should probably skip this paragraph) has been 2 naps that last 2-3 hours plus ‘bed’ which is 3-3.5 hours). So I sleep at 1p, 4:30p, and 11p. It actually works pretty well. Except for sharing the PC. Since I’m sleeping while he’s at work, we need to share. Which wasn’t really a problem when I was only using it for news and emails.

Finally my husband got tired of me complaining, and here we are. As everyone else in the world knows, the first thing you need to do is name it. I’m sure there is a logical reason for that, but I haven’t run across it yet. (Don’t tell me – I want to be surprised.)

They recommend something like ‘Cat’s Computer’. I did that with my Kindle. I cringe every time I download a book. I mean, seriously, for someone who has my vocabulary is that not the lamest excuse for a name?

So when my husband asked me what named I wanted to use (you don’t seriously think I set it up by myself do you?), I didn’t hesitate. I gave him the first name that came to mind: Edgar. As in Edgar Allan Poe. Not quite as weird as you may have thought.

Thought Break –

I was going to finish this post with a litany of various strange experiences Edgar and I have been having as a couple, but now I will just tell you what happened as I tried to write this.

I went to the Reader and chose New Post. Then Text. It’s my favorite format for typing. So I’m typing and things are going along fine. I got down to the paragraph that starts, “So when my husband…”, and I touched the wrong thing or got too close to the wrong thing or thought the wrong thing and it ate everything back to “Don’t tell me…”

I could hear it laughing. I have never met a piece of hardware that was this touchy. It took me a day to get used to the touchpad, but I’m still learning why the time keeps popping up. And why sometimes the down arrow moves the screen. And why sometimes the ‘mouse button’ and the side arrow move the screen. And why sometimes nothing at all will move the screen.

And most annoyingly, sometimes it will react when I get close to a key and sometimes I can double-click twice and not get a response.

So I thought I would show it who’s boss. I would type in Word and transfer it into WordPress. That way, I wouldn’t lose anything.

Anything except Word that is. I couldn’t find it in any of the usual places – Control Panel, system files, HELP!!! Luckily my teenage son walked in at the moment and immediately found it under Apps (of course). I knew there was a good reason for kids.

So here I am in Word 2013, discovering that – surprise! – Edgar is here too. Moving text without my permission, deleting things.

There is much, much more to tell you at a later date, but I’m going to post this now before the whole thing disappears. Assuming I can get it over to WordPress.

I hadn’t thought about it before – I wonder if the problems are related to naming it after Edgar Allan Poe?

0

The Return of Cat TV

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Everyone has their own indicator for when spring starts.The first robin. The first golf game without a winter jacket. The lilacs blooming. For us it’s the start of Cat TV. Cat TV starts on the day that we can first open the windows and pull the screens down. It usually starts in the dining room (the window is easily accessible) and moves to the living room (table in front of the window). Both cats race to the first one open. When they’re both open, they choose whichever has the best picture. During the day it’s a toss-up, but at night the living room is definitely favorite since the lights attract bugs.

Cat TV is undoubtedly a popular time for the cats. Unfortunately, it also coincides with the time of year when we notice that we can’t see through the windows from all the gunk that the storms brought all winter. At least for me, the problem with washing the windows is that once it gets hot, we close all the drapes against the sun. You may remember that we live in an old farmhouse with a boiler for heat. Apparently farmers in the 1920’s did not see a need for central air. Probably something to do with being out in the sun all day making anything feel cooler. Or possibly that AC hadn’t been invented or discovered or however it came to be.

OK, windows have fallen to the bottom of the list. If I want to see the weather, I’ll take a chair and sit outside. We have a lot of trees. The traffic isn’t too bad and goes by at 55 mph (or so). If I’m really motivated, I can sit in the backyard.

Of course, it’s a lot more pleasant to sit in the yard if the grass has been mowed. Our lawnmower broke toward the very end of mowing season last year. We’ve been meaning to get one for awhile, but you know that goes… It will be delivered today. I’m not good with mechanical things – do they come with a machete function? I really should have bought that alpaca. It is amazing how quickly grass will grow when it knows you have no defense.

The other day my husband jokingly suggested that we replace our grass with lemon basil. Apparently it only grows a few inches high, so it wouldn’t require cutting. We may have to try it. If the deer and the rabbits and the rest of the beasties like it, maybe they’ll get full before they make it to the shrubs in the front. Or maybe it would just be a first course for them.  We could try phlox. Every year I cut it back and every year it takes over the sidewalk by the time it’s warm enough to garden.

I remember a humorous story by a Soviet writer (I wish I could remember his name) about the electrification of the Soviet Union in the 1920’s (bet it didn’t include AC either). A government official was going around asking the peasants how much they enjoyed their new light. When he got to one house, he noticed that the light bulbs had been removed. He asked the woman about it. She told him that she didn’t realize how dirty her house was until she got the lights.

I am looking around the house and seeing about twenty things that could be done. And I continue to sit here and write this post. Why does housework have to be so boring and repetitive? That’s the real reason men resisted women moving into the workforce. They knew that some of that stuff would eventually become their responsibility. When my kids were younger, I’d read articles about how to make cleaning up more fun. I’m really glad I didn’t lie to them about that.

I have a pile of books that I want to read sitting on the table behind me. Actually it’s grown to two piles in the time I’ve been trying to get to them. I can hear some voices in the back row: “You need to make time for yourself.” That’s great, but if I make that much time for myself, the dust bunnies are going to find out, get organized, and take over the house.

Thinking about it, I also have magazines, crossword puzzles, and books in the living room. And the bedroom. It’s probably a good thing they don’t do periodic fire safety inspections on houses. It’s truly unfortunate that we don’t entertain much anymore – we always cleaned the house thoroughly before we let anyone in.

And don’t forget about the closets. I need to bring out my summer stuff. Actually it’s more about putting away the winter stuff. When you don’t have AC, it is really unpleasant to be rummaging through heavy knits to find the sundresses. To say nothing of the psychological damage thinking about winter in July could cause.

I really should do that thing about throwing away anything I haven’t worn in the past 12 months. Unfortunately due to wearing a uniform I don’t have to change after work in the winter, I really don’t have any idea what I would wear if I got another job. And if I can’t do the winter clothes, why bother with the summer clothes?

I’m sure there are other things to do, but thankfully, I can’t think of them right now. Guess I’ll go watch Cat TV and see if they come to me.

10

Who, What, Where, When, Why?

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I refuse to include “how”; it ruins the symmetry of the group.

If a burger made out of turkey is a turkey burger, and a burger made out of vegetable matter is a veggie burger, what is a burger made out of ham called?

If chai is supposed to be relaxing, why do they offer to add shots of espresso?

Why do I always get nervous when I discover there’s a police car following me or sitting on the side of the road?

Why do some parents want to chaperone every school dance at their kids’ high school?

Who are these people who care that Kim Kardashian did not invite Lindsay Lohan to her wedding?

Did Fox really find twelve women who thought that Prince Harry of Britain would be so desperate for a date that he would go on an American reality show? If not, how disappointed are they that their shot at fame has been ruined by abysmal ratings?

Do people who wallow in negativity ever get tired of hearing themselves complain?

Why did the news organizations spend three days telling us that the Browns told Johnny Manziel to stop acting like a diva and he agreed that he was only a rookie? Were they afraid we would go into withdrawal after the draft?

Who invented bubble tea and why? And why do coffee shops sell something that comes in cherry and orange flavors (among others)?

Why do we celebrate/mourn those who have given their lives for their country by going out and buying a 1/2 price mattress? Or does that only happen around here?

Why do big box stores around here not sell potato mashers (or ricers) anymore? Are the people who shop at boutiques the only ones who eat fresh mashed potatoes these days?

Why would I find a half eaten turnip on the floor at work?

Why would anyone want to add pieces of candy bar to their yogurt? Doesn’t that negate eating a healthy snack?

Why are organic cucumbers so much smaller than other cucumbers?

Do people assume that things bought at a local farmers’ market are organic? Does being local outweigh the concern about pesticides for locavoires?

At what point does the excitement over spring finally getting here get replaced by the realization that the planting season for the garden is only two weeks long and the ground hasn’t even been tilled?

Why do the cats get all excited about birds and squirrels outside but totally ignore the large groundhog who has taken to hanging out in the flowerpot on the porch?

Why do the teachers at my kids’ high school continue to email about their progress after they have spent the entire year telling us that the kids need to learn to take responsibility for their own actions?

Do gasoline companies realize how insulting they are being by telling us that oil prices magically go up before every holiday and down after the holiday? Year after year?

Does the international soccer season go on year round? It seems like every few weeks there’s some sort of major match.

Why do as many people cry at weddings as at funerals? (no sarcastic answers from the men, please)

Why do I find the thought of donating my body to science creepy but have no problem being an organ donor? Aren’t the goals related?

Why is my need for orderliness so much stronger at work than at home?