People Who Love Cats
January 18, 2006
There are people who love cats and then there are cat people. People who love cats relate to their furry friends and enjoy their company; cat people are simply furless bipeds who nevertheless prefer the company of like-minded creatures to that of beings nominally identified as being of the species into which they were born.
Every college campus has at least one individual who is a self-designated guardian of the feral cat population on the premises. This individual often drives a battered station wagon filled with the largest discounted bags of dry cat food available from local contributors, often stores moving outdated stock off the shelves. Such a vehicle generally arrives at or near sunset on a daily basis. It is identified by every feral cat within a ten-mile radius. This “Pied Piper” reenactment is a ritual faithfully attended by cats and students alike, much to the dismay of dog lovers and gardeners of the neighborhood.(1) The owner of the station wagon is, of course, the lover of cats.
Such a lover of cats stands in contrast to a cat person, though this is not to say that being one precludes being the other. A cat person is one whose official residence is an abode shared by numerous felines, not necessarily related to one another. Said abode, though nominally a human domicile, is clearly the domain of furry quadrupeds. Every sense asserts this fact. Many legal documents have been drawn up to assure that this fact remains the status quo, regardless of what may happen to the human in whose name the facility was initially procured.
Some of us like to think we belong to one category, others proudly claim membership in another. For those who have fallen under the allure of one or more felines, however, the truth is quite simple: ownership belongs to the quadruped.
‘Nuff said.
___________
1. A sad truth is that an increasing number of students now last longer on campus working towards those elusive degrees than the average feral cat will be in attendance on the nightly ritual, the average lifespan of a feral cat having been determined to be three years on the streets. Domesticated cats, who have been known to live beyond thirty years but generally make it into their teens, may live almost as long as some graduate students take to complete their programs…
Wednesday, January 18, 2006
Sunday, January 15, 2006
For Those Who Take Life Too Seriously.....
For Those Who Take Life Too Seriously.....
(These keep showing up in my mailbox, so I thought I'd share them here. Sorry if you've already seen them...)
1. Save the whales. Collect the whole set.
2. A day without sunshine is like...night.
3. On the other hand, you have different fingers.
4. 42.7 percent of all statistics are made up on the spot.
5. 99 percent of lawyers give the rest a bad name.
6. Remember, half the people you know are below average.
7. He who laughs last thinks slowest.
8. Depression is merely anger without enthusiasm.
9. The early bird may get the worm, but the second mouse gets the cheese in the trap.
10. Support bacteria. They're the only culture some people have.
11. A clear conscience is usually the sign of a bad memory.
12. Change is inevitable, except from vending machines.
13. If you think nobody cares, try missing a couple of payments.
14. How many of you believe in psycho-kinesis? Raise my hand.
15. Okay, so what's the speed of dark?
16. When everything is coming your way, you're in the wrong lane.
17. Hard work pays off in the future. Laziness pays off now.
18. Everyone has a photographic memory. Some just don't have film.
19. How much deeper would the ocean be without sponges?
20. Eagles may soar, but weasels don't get sucked into jet engines.
21. What happens if you get scared half to death twice?
22. I couldn't repair your brakes, so I made your horn louder.
23. Why do psychics have to ask you for your name?
24. Inside every older person is a younger person wondering what happened.
25. Just remember - if the world didn't suck, we would all fall off.
26. Light travels faster than sound. That is why some people appear bright until you hear them speak.
27. Life isn't like a box of chocolates... it's more like a jar of jalapenos. What you do today, might burn your butt tomorrow.
(These keep showing up in my mailbox, so I thought I'd share them here. Sorry if you've already seen them...)
1. Save the whales. Collect the whole set.
2. A day without sunshine is like...night.
3. On the other hand, you have different fingers.
4. 42.7 percent of all statistics are made up on the spot.
5. 99 percent of lawyers give the rest a bad name.
6. Remember, half the people you know are below average.
7. He who laughs last thinks slowest.
8. Depression is merely anger without enthusiasm.
9. The early bird may get the worm, but the second mouse gets the cheese in the trap.
10. Support bacteria. They're the only culture some people have.
11. A clear conscience is usually the sign of a bad memory.
12. Change is inevitable, except from vending machines.
13. If you think nobody cares, try missing a couple of payments.
14. How many of you believe in psycho-kinesis? Raise my hand.
15. Okay, so what's the speed of dark?
16. When everything is coming your way, you're in the wrong lane.
17. Hard work pays off in the future. Laziness pays off now.
18. Everyone has a photographic memory. Some just don't have film.
19. How much deeper would the ocean be without sponges?
20. Eagles may soar, but weasels don't get sucked into jet engines.
21. What happens if you get scared half to death twice?
22. I couldn't repair your brakes, so I made your horn louder.
23. Why do psychics have to ask you for your name?
24. Inside every older person is a younger person wondering what happened.
25. Just remember - if the world didn't suck, we would all fall off.
26. Light travels faster than sound. That is why some people appear bright until you hear them speak.
27. Life isn't like a box of chocolates... it's more like a jar of jalapenos. What you do today, might burn your butt tomorrow.
Unexpected Enlightenment
Unexpected Enlightenment
Sunday, January 8, 2006
This, sadly, was the last morning to give a long-time member a ride to church. Her mother, who also usually rides with us, had a stroke in mid-December and has been hospitalized ever since. We only found out upon calling to let them know we were back and ready to resume Sunday shuttle service one last time before Dad also hangs up his license. It just wasn’t the same with just one rider in the back seat, and the usual catalog of chronic aches and ailments was intensified by the most recent complications. Naturally the situation called for a hospital visit after services.
Curiously enough, there is yet another push on for active political support of legislation to protect life in all situations at all costs. It struck me as curious because evidently the issue had gotten quite personal in the past forty-eight hours at the hospital, besides being an ever-present subtext in personal conversations of late. Sometimes life issues just have a way of coming to a head, with relevance popping out of every crevice and around every corner. What I particularly found revelatory yet sad was our pastor’s desire for each of us to reexamine our positions on the issues open-mindedly, even as one of the more vocal and active members, (who always seems to be stranded alone on “committees”), modeled for all to see the very closed-mindedness and finger-pointing the pastor was asking us to question. He evidently experienced a couple of true epiphanies as the lesson progressed, even if few others in the room seemed to do likewise. I wish I were around more to challenge and encourage him, but I just can’t visualize how that might be possible at this time; perhaps I should reexamine the situation more open-mindedly…
Abortion and euthanasia, medical intervention and assisted suicide: these are the topics that heat the blood in Christian circles these days. Abortion was compared to abandoning unwanted children to wolves, though to my mind unwanted births might make a more accurate parallel. Euthanasia is the active terminating of a life that is of dubious quality; isn’t that what “enlightened” folk are doing to their beloved pets after having extended the creatures’ lifespans beyond the norm through medical assistance? Medical intervention in the matter of dangerous pregnancies puts the choice of survivor in the hands of the physician. Is the child always to be privileged, no matter what the odds for either or both? Is the prospective mother always to have final say before a fetus becomes a child by means of birth? I do not hold with assisted suicide, though I am not averse to standing by while another exercises free choice, even when I disagree. Okay, I lie; I am loathe to pass up opportunities for interference when I am acting reflexively, though given enough time to think about a matter, I might well choose to stand aside, though I will not give aid except in the case of a request due to a last minute change of heart.
I’ll grant the foregoing does not sound particularly enlightened to those who value life, any life, over death. To my mind, however, the only true death is rejection of Christ as my Savior. The rest is a matter of second-guessing judgments. Would one deem those early Christians who willingly chose a date with a hungry lion over eschewing their faith as suicidal? Would they have appreciated well-meaning attempts at intervention? When did physical death in its appropriately designated time become so fearsome and abhorrent instead of the unique opportunity that it is to move on to better things and times? Not all souls are meant to run what is now considered the course of a “full” life. Who is to say what constitutes a natural lifespan?
These are fighting words, I know, and I admit to sufficient cowardice to hide behind my quasi-anonymous web identities. In fact, I don’t know that I’ll have the courage to publish this, but this is the rant that has been raging in my head for some time now, culminating with this morning’s input and this afternoon’s observations. There it is.
Sunday, January 8, 2006
This, sadly, was the last morning to give a long-time member a ride to church. Her mother, who also usually rides with us, had a stroke in mid-December and has been hospitalized ever since. We only found out upon calling to let them know we were back and ready to resume Sunday shuttle service one last time before Dad also hangs up his license. It just wasn’t the same with just one rider in the back seat, and the usual catalog of chronic aches and ailments was intensified by the most recent complications. Naturally the situation called for a hospital visit after services.
Curiously enough, there is yet another push on for active political support of legislation to protect life in all situations at all costs. It struck me as curious because evidently the issue had gotten quite personal in the past forty-eight hours at the hospital, besides being an ever-present subtext in personal conversations of late. Sometimes life issues just have a way of coming to a head, with relevance popping out of every crevice and around every corner. What I particularly found revelatory yet sad was our pastor’s desire for each of us to reexamine our positions on the issues open-mindedly, even as one of the more vocal and active members, (who always seems to be stranded alone on “committees”), modeled for all to see the very closed-mindedness and finger-pointing the pastor was asking us to question. He evidently experienced a couple of true epiphanies as the lesson progressed, even if few others in the room seemed to do likewise. I wish I were around more to challenge and encourage him, but I just can’t visualize how that might be possible at this time; perhaps I should reexamine the situation more open-mindedly…
Abortion and euthanasia, medical intervention and assisted suicide: these are the topics that heat the blood in Christian circles these days. Abortion was compared to abandoning unwanted children to wolves, though to my mind unwanted births might make a more accurate parallel. Euthanasia is the active terminating of a life that is of dubious quality; isn’t that what “enlightened” folk are doing to their beloved pets after having extended the creatures’ lifespans beyond the norm through medical assistance? Medical intervention in the matter of dangerous pregnancies puts the choice of survivor in the hands of the physician. Is the child always to be privileged, no matter what the odds for either or both? Is the prospective mother always to have final say before a fetus becomes a child by means of birth? I do not hold with assisted suicide, though I am not averse to standing by while another exercises free choice, even when I disagree. Okay, I lie; I am loathe to pass up opportunities for interference when I am acting reflexively, though given enough time to think about a matter, I might well choose to stand aside, though I will not give aid except in the case of a request due to a last minute change of heart.
I’ll grant the foregoing does not sound particularly enlightened to those who value life, any life, over death. To my mind, however, the only true death is rejection of Christ as my Savior. The rest is a matter of second-guessing judgments. Would one deem those early Christians who willingly chose a date with a hungry lion over eschewing their faith as suicidal? Would they have appreciated well-meaning attempts at intervention? When did physical death in its appropriately designated time become so fearsome and abhorrent instead of the unique opportunity that it is to move on to better things and times? Not all souls are meant to run what is now considered the course of a “full” life. Who is to say what constitutes a natural lifespan?
These are fighting words, I know, and I admit to sufficient cowardice to hide behind my quasi-anonymous web identities. In fact, I don’t know that I’ll have the courage to publish this, but this is the rant that has been raging in my head for some time now, culminating with this morning’s input and this afternoon’s observations. There it is.
The Children of the Fifties Are Turning Fifty
The Children of the Fifties Are Turning Fifty
(January 7, 2006)
That’s it: the children of the fifties are turning fifty this decade. The middle of the first noted baby boom in the United States is moving through the half-century mark, still fairly fresh as babies go, though many claim grandparent status while just as many seem to be claiming first-time parental status. As middle children go, this is an average group of children of privilege and opportunity. Like all Baby Boomers by definition, this group of people is too young to remember World War II firsthand; this is the age group on whom the undeclared Vietnam War was so vividly imprinted, the group of children who saw firsthand the birth of societal civil war, also unofficially declared, but long-lasting in its social and psychological effects. Now this is the group that gets to watch the demise of social security and the return to imperialism in the office of the presidency within this nation. This is the generation that heard of McCarthyism on the radio and in the movies; now it gets to see the return of witch hunts within this society within this lifetime. It hasn’t even been a century.
Half a century is generally considered some sort of life marker, a milestone that declares childhood over, ready or not. Actually, it is supposed to be a wake-up call, a time to check on how one is doing in pursuit of life goals, but for a generation that proudly and shamefacedly must admit to having had the longest extension of childhood in the recorded history of humankind, one really must consider whether or not it is yet time to get moving along with the business of “growing up.” The fact is that this is a generation for whom cool new toys have been a neverending treat each Spring and Fall. Nominal life milestones have been accompanied by sufficient increases in cash flow, from allowances to salaries and dividends, to allow the continual indulgence of gadgets and gizmos that television and film of the sixties taught this generation to covet, that education in the seventies helped create, that invention and marketing in the eighties and nineties made easily accessible. Now as a new century and millennium are underway, gadgetry is a way of life, an addictive habit. Toys are, indeed, “US”.
Half a century of toys can make for quite a collection, whether on the garbage heaps of the land or in the closets, cupboards, attics, basements, and overflow locations of individual abodes. People have made careers and fortunes from the collecting, categorizing, and recycling of these so-called vintage relics of an era that really isn’t far enough away to be accurately called bygone. Wooden tinker toy sets have made a comeback, as have plastic lego sets, but metallic erector sets have pretty much given way to a plethora of plastic-encased silicon chips and motherboards of diminishing shapes and sizes. Phillip K. Dick aptly named the detritus kipple, and recognized its innate ability to reproduce spontaneously and asexually, especially when left alone in dark corners, like mushrooms. This is a fundamental part of the legacy of the children of the fifties, and of the parents who may well outlive them, thanks to excellent medical advances and the frugality and clean living necessitated by hardship in youth that has eluded so many of the children of the fifties.
One can live long or one can prosper — Spock’s stock farewell was wishful thinking; the children of the fifties have had every opportunity to live well; their parents have demonstrated an amazing aptitude to live long. Thus it is.
(January 7, 2006)
That’s it: the children of the fifties are turning fifty this decade. The middle of the first noted baby boom in the United States is moving through the half-century mark, still fairly fresh as babies go, though many claim grandparent status while just as many seem to be claiming first-time parental status. As middle children go, this is an average group of children of privilege and opportunity. Like all Baby Boomers by definition, this group of people is too young to remember World War II firsthand; this is the age group on whom the undeclared Vietnam War was so vividly imprinted, the group of children who saw firsthand the birth of societal civil war, also unofficially declared, but long-lasting in its social and psychological effects. Now this is the group that gets to watch the demise of social security and the return to imperialism in the office of the presidency within this nation. This is the generation that heard of McCarthyism on the radio and in the movies; now it gets to see the return of witch hunts within this society within this lifetime. It hasn’t even been a century.
Half a century is generally considered some sort of life marker, a milestone that declares childhood over, ready or not. Actually, it is supposed to be a wake-up call, a time to check on how one is doing in pursuit of life goals, but for a generation that proudly and shamefacedly must admit to having had the longest extension of childhood in the recorded history of humankind, one really must consider whether or not it is yet time to get moving along with the business of “growing up.” The fact is that this is a generation for whom cool new toys have been a neverending treat each Spring and Fall. Nominal life milestones have been accompanied by sufficient increases in cash flow, from allowances to salaries and dividends, to allow the continual indulgence of gadgets and gizmos that television and film of the sixties taught this generation to covet, that education in the seventies helped create, that invention and marketing in the eighties and nineties made easily accessible. Now as a new century and millennium are underway, gadgetry is a way of life, an addictive habit. Toys are, indeed, “US”.
Half a century of toys can make for quite a collection, whether on the garbage heaps of the land or in the closets, cupboards, attics, basements, and overflow locations of individual abodes. People have made careers and fortunes from the collecting, categorizing, and recycling of these so-called vintage relics of an era that really isn’t far enough away to be accurately called bygone. Wooden tinker toy sets have made a comeback, as have plastic lego sets, but metallic erector sets have pretty much given way to a plethora of plastic-encased silicon chips and motherboards of diminishing shapes and sizes. Phillip K. Dick aptly named the detritus kipple, and recognized its innate ability to reproduce spontaneously and asexually, especially when left alone in dark corners, like mushrooms. This is a fundamental part of the legacy of the children of the fifties, and of the parents who may well outlive them, thanks to excellent medical advances and the frugality and clean living necessitated by hardship in youth that has eluded so many of the children of the fifties.
One can live long or one can prosper — Spock’s stock farewell was wishful thinking; the children of the fifties have had every opportunity to live well; their parents have demonstrated an amazing aptitude to live long. Thus it is.
When an iPod Just Isn't Enough
When an i-Pod Just Isn’t Enough
(January 7, 2006 — 3:30 p.m., HST @ Manoa Starbuck’s)
Let’s face it: the i-Pod is a brilliant invention, true heir to the Sony Walkman and the portable CD player, each in its turn. On such an implement one can carry most, if not all, of one’s audio collections, oral and musical. On the most recent models, one can even pack a collection of videos. Another corollary truth, seldom verbalized, is that such toys are for the young and keen of sight. Still, it has quickly become an indispensable accessory for many, for in addition to allowing one to bop along in one’s own little world of sound, it has the added advantage of blocking out unwanted cacophony . . . or does it?
Honolulu has grown over the years into one of the geriatric centers of this country, boasting an average life expectancy that is the envy of many. Envy is an odd thing, however, accustomed to biting its bearer on the behind. Those who might covet longevity should take a good hard look at its reality. Here in Honolulu such sights are quite common. Everywhere people vie for the handful of parking stalls set aside for the handicapped. Such stalls claim not only proximity to one’s destination but freedom from fees as well, even as they cost ineligible users dearly in fines. Everywhere one can see elderly citizens escorted by younger kin who carry bags, hold open doors, and generally assist in the navigation of life’s daily challenges. Generally speaking, people not related or associated with the seniors are still willing to give way for those who have clearly survived the challenges of life with which the rest of us still daily wrestle. Life looks pretty cushy for the elderly.
Not so their escorts. Senior citizens are losing more than their mobility. Whereas the young fill their ears with earbuds or cover their heads with headsets, seniors may or may not be wearing hearing aids: they all should. Those who forget or who choose not to do so subject the rest of us to the periodic sounds of their irate companions sharing their views on inconsiderate and demanding family members, sharing at the tops of their lungs in the vain hope that the senior companions might catch at least the gist of their complaints. This brings me to the title of this piece: i-Pods, even at maximum volume, just are not enough protection against such auditory assaults. It’s a double assault, too: sound and emotion, equally abrasive. What a shame that the seniors I would have know this do not read blogs.
Take my senior citizen: he raised me by modeling loving thoughtfulness, but time has taken its toll. Now he speaks subvocally so as not to offend, so I can’t hear him. Then he requires me to yell so that he can hear me. He buys top-of-the-line hearing aids but leaves them at home so as not to lose them, thus wasting his valuable investment. I get to look and sound the ass in public, the privilege of the young(er).
When he’s busy falling asleep into his food, I pull out my i-Pod to pass the time. He promptly awakens and engages me in conversation that ranges widely, requiring me to turn off my toy and unplug my ears so as not to give offense or seem rude. My answers will have to convey my rudeness for me. Once he has me properly engaged in my usual monologue, he can quietly go back to sleep over his food once again. I think he just enjoys the cacophonic sound of my rasp. I dunno why the hacking of the senior lady at the next table did not suffice, as it was her daughter who drowned out my i-Pod anyway. Ah well…
One must never lose sight of what a good life one leads . . .
(January 7, 2006 — 3:30 p.m., HST @ Manoa Starbuck’s)
Let’s face it: the i-Pod is a brilliant invention, true heir to the Sony Walkman and the portable CD player, each in its turn. On such an implement one can carry most, if not all, of one’s audio collections, oral and musical. On the most recent models, one can even pack a collection of videos. Another corollary truth, seldom verbalized, is that such toys are for the young and keen of sight. Still, it has quickly become an indispensable accessory for many, for in addition to allowing one to bop along in one’s own little world of sound, it has the added advantage of blocking out unwanted cacophony . . . or does it?
Honolulu has grown over the years into one of the geriatric centers of this country, boasting an average life expectancy that is the envy of many. Envy is an odd thing, however, accustomed to biting its bearer on the behind. Those who might covet longevity should take a good hard look at its reality. Here in Honolulu such sights are quite common. Everywhere people vie for the handful of parking stalls set aside for the handicapped. Such stalls claim not only proximity to one’s destination but freedom from fees as well, even as they cost ineligible users dearly in fines. Everywhere one can see elderly citizens escorted by younger kin who carry bags, hold open doors, and generally assist in the navigation of life’s daily challenges. Generally speaking, people not related or associated with the seniors are still willing to give way for those who have clearly survived the challenges of life with which the rest of us still daily wrestle. Life looks pretty cushy for the elderly.
Not so their escorts. Senior citizens are losing more than their mobility. Whereas the young fill their ears with earbuds or cover their heads with headsets, seniors may or may not be wearing hearing aids: they all should. Those who forget or who choose not to do so subject the rest of us to the periodic sounds of their irate companions sharing their views on inconsiderate and demanding family members, sharing at the tops of their lungs in the vain hope that the senior companions might catch at least the gist of their complaints. This brings me to the title of this piece: i-Pods, even at maximum volume, just are not enough protection against such auditory assaults. It’s a double assault, too: sound and emotion, equally abrasive. What a shame that the seniors I would have know this do not read blogs.
Take my senior citizen: he raised me by modeling loving thoughtfulness, but time has taken its toll. Now he speaks subvocally so as not to offend, so I can’t hear him. Then he requires me to yell so that he can hear me. He buys top-of-the-line hearing aids but leaves them at home so as not to lose them, thus wasting his valuable investment. I get to look and sound the ass in public, the privilege of the young(er).
When he’s busy falling asleep into his food, I pull out my i-Pod to pass the time. He promptly awakens and engages me in conversation that ranges widely, requiring me to turn off my toy and unplug my ears so as not to give offense or seem rude. My answers will have to convey my rudeness for me. Once he has me properly engaged in my usual monologue, he can quietly go back to sleep over his food once again. I think he just enjoys the cacophonic sound of my rasp. I dunno why the hacking of the senior lady at the next table did not suffice, as it was her daughter who drowned out my i-Pod anyway. Ah well…
One must never lose sight of what a good life one leads . . .
Perspectives
Thursday, January 5, 2006
Manoa Starbucks — 5:46 pm HST
Funny how perspective can change with each role one assumes. Here in my hometown there seems to be a different set of expectations as I accompany my parental unit about family business. I am actually considered competent, dutiful, and worthy of sympathy and consideration.
At the first government agency, the lady in front of us, also here for a very finite amount of time from the same point of origin as I am, and here for the purpose of winding up some recently deceased soul’s business affairs, is told that there is a waiting period carved in stone and that she must either extend her stay or return on another visit to this fair land. I, on the other hand, in company with my clearly aged and motion-challenged parental unit, find the closest available handicap parking, sans meter, get assistance filling out the necessary paperwork, get unsolicited directions, and am told that matters can be expedited after all, to return the following morning. The lady in front of us, still pleading at her window, is not pleased; neither, I think, is her clerk. What made the difference? One might leap to the easy assumption that race, age, or both factored into the equation. I like to think that it was a combination of our clerk’s amiable personality coupled with my invocation of the most dreaded governmental agency in this country that encouraged this sympathetic fellow to be so cooperative.
So the second task of the day took a tenth of the allocated time in our busy day, which was excellent, seeing as how the first task, (breakfast), took twice the time it should have. One must chew thoroughly, must one not?
The third task was facilitated by the fact that public schools here have not resumed classes, making recycling a cinch. That saved a half hour in transit.
The fourth task, again requiring human interaction, took relatively long but went quite smoothly, considering it involved more human interaction and dodging a garbage collection truck to boot. Did you know that some trucks come equipped with two steering wheels: left and right?
All this saved time naturally had to be used, so off we went on an unexpected wild goose chase. Curiously, we found the wild goose; it’s been that kind of day. Equally serendipitous, we found not one but two microwave utensils on sale, both potentially objects that will actually see use in the near future.
Well, all this positive karma had to run its course. Afternoons being what they are, there was a noticeable energy drop-off. Time zone difference factored in, it was right on schedule. Just one more errand, then, and it was time to make a run home. So, just how long can one leave a dozen eggs in the trunk of a car under a tropical sun before an issue of food danger arises?
Personal business having intervened, no second governmental or financial agency was fit into this day’s schedule, but the success of the first visit bodes well for tomorrow’s schedule.
Personally, I love the feeling of accomplishment and respect that comes with being largely in charge and able to get through a day’s agenda with extras. For me, the norm is a half to two-thirds of the targeted tasks achieved. I’m not sure whether I am too often too ambitious or plagued by poor interpersonal skills or just plain slow. We shall see how things go tomorrow.
Manoa Starbucks — 5:46 pm HST
Funny how perspective can change with each role one assumes. Here in my hometown there seems to be a different set of expectations as I accompany my parental unit about family business. I am actually considered competent, dutiful, and worthy of sympathy and consideration.
At the first government agency, the lady in front of us, also here for a very finite amount of time from the same point of origin as I am, and here for the purpose of winding up some recently deceased soul’s business affairs, is told that there is a waiting period carved in stone and that she must either extend her stay or return on another visit to this fair land. I, on the other hand, in company with my clearly aged and motion-challenged parental unit, find the closest available handicap parking, sans meter, get assistance filling out the necessary paperwork, get unsolicited directions, and am told that matters can be expedited after all, to return the following morning. The lady in front of us, still pleading at her window, is not pleased; neither, I think, is her clerk. What made the difference? One might leap to the easy assumption that race, age, or both factored into the equation. I like to think that it was a combination of our clerk’s amiable personality coupled with my invocation of the most dreaded governmental agency in this country that encouraged this sympathetic fellow to be so cooperative.
So the second task of the day took a tenth of the allocated time in our busy day, which was excellent, seeing as how the first task, (breakfast), took twice the time it should have. One must chew thoroughly, must one not?
The third task was facilitated by the fact that public schools here have not resumed classes, making recycling a cinch. That saved a half hour in transit.
The fourth task, again requiring human interaction, took relatively long but went quite smoothly, considering it involved more human interaction and dodging a garbage collection truck to boot. Did you know that some trucks come equipped with two steering wheels: left and right?
All this saved time naturally had to be used, so off we went on an unexpected wild goose chase. Curiously, we found the wild goose; it’s been that kind of day. Equally serendipitous, we found not one but two microwave utensils on sale, both potentially objects that will actually see use in the near future.
Well, all this positive karma had to run its course. Afternoons being what they are, there was a noticeable energy drop-off. Time zone difference factored in, it was right on schedule. Just one more errand, then, and it was time to make a run home. So, just how long can one leave a dozen eggs in the trunk of a car under a tropical sun before an issue of food danger arises?
Personal business having intervened, no second governmental or financial agency was fit into this day’s schedule, but the success of the first visit bodes well for tomorrow’s schedule.
Personally, I love the feeling of accomplishment and respect that comes with being largely in charge and able to get through a day’s agenda with extras. For me, the norm is a half to two-thirds of the targeted tasks achieved. I’m not sure whether I am too often too ambitious or plagued by poor interpersonal skills or just plain slow. We shall see how things go tomorrow.
Saturday, January 14, 2006
They Walk among Us
Just got back and working my way through my backlog of e-mail. Will post some stuff later. Meanwhile, found this in my Inbox and just wanted to share:
1) IDIOTS IN THE NEIGHBORHOOD: I live in a semi-rural area. We recently had a new neighbor call the local township administrative office to request the removal of the Deer Crossing sign on our road. The reason: "Too many deer were being hit by cars" and he didn't want them to cross there anymore. This one was from Kingman, KS.
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2) IDIOTS IN FOOD SERVICE: My daughter went to a local Taco Bell and ordered a taco. She asked the person behind the counter for "minimal lettuce." He said he was sorry, but they only had iceberg.
______________________________________________________________________
3) IDIOT SIGHTING: I was at the airport, checking in at the gate when an airport employee asked, and "Has anyone put anything in your baggage without your knowledge? To which I replied, "If it was without my knowledge, how would I know? He smiled knowingly and nodded, "That's why we ask." It happened in Birmingham, Alabama.
______________________________________________________________________
4) IDIOT SIGHTING: The stoplight on the corner buzzes when it's safe to cross the street. I was crossing with an intellectually challenged coworker of mine when she asked if I knew what the buzzer was for. I explained that it signals blind people when the light is red.
Appalled, she responded, "What on earth are blind people doing driving?!" She was a probation officer in Wichita, KS
______________________________________________________________________
5) IDIOT SIGHTING: At a good-bye luncheon for an old and dear coworker who was leaving the company due to "downsizing," our manager commented cheerfully, "this is fun. We should do this more often." Not a word was spoken. We all just looked at each other with that deer in the headlights stare. This was a bunch at Texas Instruments.
______________________________________________________________________
6) IDIOT SIGHTING: I work with an individual who plugged her power strip back into itself and for the life of her couldn't understand why her system would not turn on. A deputy with the Dallas County Sheriff's office, no less.
______________________________________________________________________
7) IDIOT SIGHTING: When my husband and I arrived at an automobile dealership to pick up our car, we were told the keys had been locked in it. We went to the service department and found a mechanic working feverishly to unlock the driver's side door. As I watched from the passenger side, I instinctively tried the door handle and discovered that it was unlocked. "Hey," I announced to the technician, "its open!"
To which he replied, "I know - I already got that side." This was at the Ford dealership in Canton, Mississippi!
______________________________________________________________________
*They walk among us ... and REPRODUCE!
1) IDIOTS IN THE NEIGHBORHOOD: I live in a semi-rural area. We recently had a new neighbor call the local township administrative office to request the removal of the Deer Crossing sign on our road. The reason: "Too many deer were being hit by cars" and he didn't want them to cross there anymore. This one was from Kingman, KS.
______________________________________________________________________
2) IDIOTS IN FOOD SERVICE: My daughter went to a local Taco Bell and ordered a taco. She asked the person behind the counter for "minimal lettuce." He said he was sorry, but they only had iceberg.
______________________________________________________________________
3) IDIOT SIGHTING: I was at the airport, checking in at the gate when an airport employee asked, and "Has anyone put anything in your baggage without your knowledge? To which I replied, "If it was without my knowledge, how would I know? He smiled knowingly and nodded, "That's why we ask." It happened in Birmingham, Alabama.
______________________________________________________________________
4) IDIOT SIGHTING: The stoplight on the corner buzzes when it's safe to cross the street. I was crossing with an intellectually challenged coworker of mine when she asked if I knew what the buzzer was for. I explained that it signals blind people when the light is red.
Appalled, she responded, "What on earth are blind people doing driving?!" She was a probation officer in Wichita, KS
______________________________________________________________________
5) IDIOT SIGHTING: At a good-bye luncheon for an old and dear coworker who was leaving the company due to "downsizing," our manager commented cheerfully, "this is fun. We should do this more often." Not a word was spoken. We all just looked at each other with that deer in the headlights stare. This was a bunch at Texas Instruments.
______________________________________________________________________
6) IDIOT SIGHTING: I work with an individual who plugged her power strip back into itself and for the life of her couldn't understand why her system would not turn on. A deputy with the Dallas County Sheriff's office, no less.
______________________________________________________________________
7) IDIOT SIGHTING: When my husband and I arrived at an automobile dealership to pick up our car, we were told the keys had been locked in it. We went to the service department and found a mechanic working feverishly to unlock the driver's side door. As I watched from the passenger side, I instinctively tried the door handle and discovered that it was unlocked. "Hey," I announced to the technician, "its open!"
To which he replied, "I know - I already got that side." This was at the Ford dealership in Canton, Mississippi!
______________________________________________________________________
*They walk among us ... and REPRODUCE!
Tuesday, January 03, 2006
Tomorrow
Tomorrow may not come for some
But tomorrow comes too soon for me
There is no sleep as thunder rolls
There'll be no sleep when the alarm goes
I'd like to stay if I might
But clearly that would not be right
Oh no, a rhyme
It must be time
To get back to pack
Before I hit the sack
I only logged on
To reprint a pass
But I had to blog
Cuz I'm such an ass
But tomorrow comes too soon for me
There is no sleep as thunder rolls
There'll be no sleep when the alarm goes
I'd like to stay if I might
But clearly that would not be right
Oh no, a rhyme
It must be time
To get back to pack
Before I hit the sack
I only logged on
To reprint a pass
But I had to blog
Cuz I'm such an ass
Monday, January 02, 2006
When It's Wetter
When it's wetter than I want
Words come back to haunt
I remember wishing the rains would come
Now that just seems so dumb
Spent the day driving round
Saw lots of places folks could've drowned
Thought about the dirt and mud
Thought of car wrecks and of blood
Saw wild birds skimming and diving
Remembered my own reckless driving
Hydroplaning can cause a thrill
Or leave one shaking with a dread chill
Stopped to watch a raincloud advancing
Realized it's not a good night to go dancing
Cruised for ice cream, alas, in vain
Legal holidays can be such a pain
Meant to spend some quality time
Got distracted by the sight of a soggy dime
Read of raging fires far away
Wish I could send this rain their way
Wanted the Boyz to come to bed
Stopped to type this instead
Since this seems to be rhyme without reason
Guess I'll quit; I'm freezin'
Words come back to haunt
I remember wishing the rains would come
Now that just seems so dumb
Spent the day driving round
Saw lots of places folks could've drowned
Thought about the dirt and mud
Thought of car wrecks and of blood
Saw wild birds skimming and diving
Remembered my own reckless driving
Hydroplaning can cause a thrill
Or leave one shaking with a dread chill
Stopped to watch a raincloud advancing
Realized it's not a good night to go dancing
Cruised for ice cream, alas, in vain
Legal holidays can be such a pain
Meant to spend some quality time
Got distracted by the sight of a soggy dime
Read of raging fires far away
Wish I could send this rain their way
Wanted the Boyz to come to bed
Stopped to type this instead
Since this seems to be rhyme without reason
Guess I'll quit; I'm freezin'
Sunday, January 01, 2006
Wishing You Well
Welcome to 2006!
The rains have offered respite, the sun has peeked playfully through still heavy clouds that cast shadows across this land. As night turns to a new day and the calendar marks an artificial new year, may this be a true opportunity for a fresh start for all who desire it, a chance to "take it up a notch" for all who are doing well, and a great time for the Janus in all of us to leave the past where it is as we move forward into this new present.
See, this is why I don't make my living writing greeting cards... ;->
The rains have offered respite, the sun has peeked playfully through still heavy clouds that cast shadows across this land. As night turns to a new day and the calendar marks an artificial new year, may this be a true opportunity for a fresh start for all who desire it, a chance to "take it up a notch" for all who are doing well, and a great time for the Janus in all of us to leave the past where it is as we move forward into this new present.
See, this is why I don't make my living writing greeting cards... ;->
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