Note to Ben

Where did you go?

After a semi-long week and a semi-long day, I sat down at my computer, ready to enjoy your latest post (and maybe some older ones, too) and they were gone!

Hope to see you back soon.

Update on My Commute

It's been a while since I mentioned my commute to work. Let me put the suspense to rest. It hasn't changed a whole lot.

I haven't seen Rav4 in months. Knowing her driving skills, it's entirely possible that she's still creeping out of her driveway at her typical negative two miles per hour. Whatever is keeping her from getting in front of me, I can only hope it continues.

I thought I was free of Grey Kia as well, but it turns out that Grey Kia is now Dark Grey Kia. I guess this is both good news and bad news. The good news is that every time I've been stuck in the long line of cars behind Dark Grey Kia, I've been assuming that there was a new contender in the ring.

The other day though, I was "lucky" enough to get directly behind Dark Grey Kia. When I eventually reached the point where she went straight while I turned, I looked over my shoulder to give her my patented, "Learn How to Drive" glare, and I immediately recognized the all too familiar tightly premed head of hair, teetering on those hunched shoulders. That's when I realized that this had been Grey Kia all along. So, the fact that there isn't an additional player to contend with is, I guess, good news. The bad news is, it's still Grey Kia.

Speaking of new contenders, I suspect there may be another interloper in the group. Lately, I've noticed Blue Nissan holding up traffic from time to time. Blue Nissan is not yet a regular, but they're on my radar. Of the few times I've been stuck behind them, it's been for at least half of my commute. Since Blue Nissan is not a regular, I'm wondering if maybe they're just giving someone else a ride to work. Maybe someone like Rav4.

A Quick Trip to the Supermarket

I hate these kinds of things. What you're looking at is a photo of a self-checkout section at the local supermarket (digitally modified). This stockade-like area was put in place a while back and I have avoided it like the plague. I resent self-checkouts - not because I mind doing the work myself, but because it puts people who need jobs out of work - especially low skilled people.

I also resent that this grocery store is trying to “encourage” it’s customers to use this abomination by keeping as few “normal” registers open, as possible.

Last Friday evening, for example, Sam and I went to this grocery store so that Sam could choose something for his dinner. He found what he wanted, plus another couple of items, and we went over and stood in the line of the ironically named “express” isle.

What should have been a quick shopping trip, taking all of maybe fifteen minutes - including parking, shopping, leaving the store, picking my groceries off of the parking lot because their unbelievably cheap bags have once again ripped - and then leaving, vowing never to return - turned into more than half an hour, and that was just inside the store. Far too much of this time was spent standing in line, staring over at the havoc taking place in the self-checkout area.

Aside from the self checkout stockade, this store has nine “normal” registers. Guess how many of these “normal” registers were open when Sam and I were there. If you guessed: "Two"- you win. Did I mention that this shopping trip was on a Friday evening? At dinner time? When people were stopping on their way home from work?

Anyway, last night, I made the mistake of going back to this store. I only needed a few things and it was after dinner time, plus it was a Monday night, so I thought, how bad could it be? I think we both know the answer to this question.

Sam and I went in and since the store wasn't unusually crowded, we found what we wanted fairly quickly.  We ended up getting about 15 items - all but one of which were the exact same thing. Since the store was keeping with their apparently standard policy of only opening two regular registers - each with the now standard long lines, I figured, “Well, let's give the self-checkout thing a try. How bad could it be?” I think we both know the answer to this question, as well.

Almost immediately, I knew it was a mistake. There was a person at each of the six self checkout registers and there was only one other person waiting in front of me. Sam and I got in line behind her and we waited. And we waited. And we waited…

It took what seemed like an eternity for a register to open up. I stood there, watching this slow motion melee taking place in front of me. What was going on? What was the problem? I could understand it if one or two people were having a problem. You always get a couple of outliers. But everyone in there was slow. Everyone in there seemed to be confused and struggling with what to do.

I watched as a customer slowly picked up each individual item from their cart - one by one, studying each one carefully, as if trying to comprehend what it was that they were looking at. “How did this get in my cart? What are these- carrots? ... Did I mean to buy carrots? Let me think... What are these- apples? Did I mean to buy apples…?”

I began to think that maybe this is where they force the shoppers to go who are not smart enough to be in their store.

There was one woman with a full carriage of food and while I’m not sure what exactly the problem was, it seemed to be related to figuring out how to use a scale. She would pick up a melon - and then examine it, rolling it slowly around in her hand, staring at it as if it were a crystal ball.

What was going on here? Was she having some kind of contest with the register? Was she trying to see how close she could come to guessing the melon's weight? Maybe she was trying to figure out how to place it on the scale. I wanted to tell her that it doesn't matter which side of the melon she sets down on the scale - it would still weigh the same amount. For god's sake, just set it on the scale!

I imagined this woman at home, trying to figure out what to do each time she approached the bathroom scale. Should she sit on the scale? Should she lay down on the scale? Maybe she should just press the scale against her head.

Maybe the problem was bigger than this. What the heck was in her carriage that was taking so long to ring up? Why does the amount of groceries in her carriage look exactly the same as it did ten minutes ago? Maybe she was ringing up one green bean at a time.

Over at another register was a couple who were also struggling. You would think that having two people doing the shopping would cut the time in half. Instead, it looked like it was doubling the time.

There was another guy at a different register who was struggling to feed dollar bills into his machine. From what I could see, the machine just didn't want to take the money. Were the bills too crumpled? Were they the wrong denomination? Do these machines even take cash?

I watched all of this with a mixture of bewilderment and seething hostility. Why wasn't anybody finishing up? What was taking so long?

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, one of the registers miraculously opened up and it was our turn to self-check out. I couldn’t wait to get out of there. Almost immediately though, it became apparent that Green Bean Lady was not the only problem here.

It helps to know a little bit about this crackerjack system that the store has set up...

When you approach your very own personal checkout register, you put the basket (if you're using one) on the left (in our case, anyway.) On the right are three conveniently placed plastic bag racks - each of which holds the store's patented, extra-cheap plastic bags. (These bags, by the way, are another ploy, similar to their register scheme, to piss you off so bad that you’ll bring your own bags.)
 
Anyway, after setting down the basket and admiring the efficiently arranged plastic bag racks, the first thing you have to do is scan your Super Saver card - but apparently, you can't do it too quickly. If you do, you get an error. When you get an error, the register locks up, and above you, the register light flashes. This flags to the entire store that you've got a problem. (The only thing missing is a siren and the Store Manager calling you out over the P.A. system.)

While the light is flashing, you have to wait for an assistant to come over, who then scans his card, which both unlocks the machine and stops the light from flashing - and then he helpfully tells you how you messed up - thus allowing you to continue to complete your enjoyable shopping experience.

Needless to say, I scanned my card too fast (or so I was told) and I got an error. We got past the error and now it was time to start scanning our groceries.

The first item I scanned was an apple pie. Sam had picked this pie out of the discount rack. I figured that if anything, this thing would give me a problem. There were, after all, two different bar codes on this pie - the original one and the bar code on the discount sticker. But as it turns out, it rang up just fine.

I put the pie in one of their cheap plastic bags and instructed Sam to pick up the bag, thinking that I was done with it. I was wrong.

Apparently, when you take the bag off of the bag holder it also gives you an error. Once again, the register locked up, the light flashed and once again we waited for an assistant to come over who then scanned his card, which unlocked the register and un-flashed the flashing light. He then instructed us not to pick the bag up until we were done with our entire order, “Otherwise, you’ll get an error.” There was an unspoken, yet implied, “obviously” in the tone of his voice.

I figured this must be part of a ploy to maximize the usage of their extremely cheap plastic bags. I didn’t bother to mention to him that if I put more than one item in their extremely cheap plastic bags - say, a discounted apple pie - then there was a better than average possibility that I would be scraping that hypothetical discounted apple pie off the surface of their parking lot.

Instead, I scanned the next item. The next item was the first of approximately 14 identical items. I scanned this item and placed it in one of the other cheap plastic bags - and then I got an error. The register locked up, the light flashed and the assistant came over. This time, he tells Sam not to lean on the bag rack - otherwise, we will get an error. Fine. Sam steps away, the assistant scans his card and then leaves.

I scanned the second identical item, then I placed it in the bag. I got an error - the register locks up, the light flashes - and we wait for the assistant to come over. The guy comes over and scans his card. Apparently, this time, after I placed the item in the cheap plastic bag, Sam must have been touching the bag rack. Ok, fine. Don’t touch the bag rack, Sam.

Next item, same thing. The machine locks up, the light flashes and the guy comes over and says one of us must have been touching the bag rack. I didn’t bother to argue that neither one of us were touching the friggin’ bag rack, but I told Sam not to even look at the bag rack until we were done.

On and on this went.

Finally, everything was scanned. Time to “Finish and Pay.” But first, it asks, do I have any coupons? I press "No." ERROR. I must have “hit the button too quickly.” Then it asks me to "Select Payment Method." I tap "Credit." Fine, no problem!

Sam and I finally finished with our order. It was now safe for Sam to look at the bag rack again.

Sam took one cheap plastic bag - the one with the pie, and I carried the other cheap plastic bags. As we approached the exit to the corral, the helpful assistant didn’t even bother to check our receipt. Either it was because, a) he already knew every single item that we had in our bags, or, b) he was as glad as we were that we were leaving the store, or c) he was afraid that, judging by the redness of my face, that I was about to have a heart attack right there in the store - and he would prefer that I have it outside, in the parking lot.

Sam and I left and got in the car to make the short drive home. As we pulled out of the parking lot, Sam broke the silence by saying,"Wow, that was pretty bad."

"Yeah," I said, "...but I'm sure it'll be better next time."

A Weekend Stroll

We’ve been pretty much housebound this past week. I'm blaming it on the bad weather - as if I needed an excuse. But the weather turned really nice this weekend, shooting all the way up to the mid- forties! So, along with running our usual weekend errands, it was enough to get Sam and I out of the house to go on our first walk of the year. We weren't able to get to the bike path, but the bike path isn’t maintained by the town during the wintertime. Presumably, it remains buried under the snow. 

But even though it's not the bike path, we were able to walk around the block. The photo is a fairly typical picture of what it's like to walk with Sam. I'm told that I walk fast. Maybe so, but Sam walks faster. I feel a little bit like the greyhound chasing the mechanical rabbit, but instead of trying to catch it, this greyhound is just trying to keep up. That, plus this particular greyhound is overweight.

Anyway, this particular Around-the-Block route was maybe a little over a mile or so - but that’s enough to let me know how out of shape I am. The only exercise I get this time of year is walking from the couch to go upstairs and go to bed. Oh, there's also the approximately thirty times a day that I walk back and forth to use the bathroom.

Funny Pages

I’ve been on a bit of a Nancy kick lately. Nancy was a comic strip from when I was a kid. It’s been years since I’ve read the strip. It didn’t appear in our local newspaper - at least, not in the one we subscribed to, but it was in the newspaper that Nona and Eleanore used to get. I remember reading it, or at least seeing it, back when I was little, when we used to spend the better part of our summers staying with them.

This revival, if you can call it that, started back in October. Rachael was debating about a Halloween costume and one of her possibilities was that she might be Eleven, from Stranger Things. I can’t remember if the original idea was to be Eleven from season two, with the short, yet slightly grown out hair, or the much more identifiable Eleven from season one, with the shaved head. For the purposes of this story, I’m going to say that the original idea (hers) was to be the Eleven from season two, with the slightly grown out hair - but the much better idea (mine... well, possibly both of ours) was also discussed.

The idea for the shaved head Eleven was that instead of Rachael shaving her actual head (which obviously had ramifications beyond Halloween night), she could wear a rubber bathing cap (the more ill-fitting, the better) and, with a marker, mark the bathing cap with fake hair stubble.

As a helpful guide for her costume, I later emailed Rachael, telling her about the comic strip, Nancy (remember her?) and how there was a secondary character in the strip named “Sluggo." Sluggo also had a shaved head and she might find a picture of Sluggo helpful for her potential costume. As a visual aid, I attached a strip showing a hat-less Sluggo for reference. (As I’m writing this, I’m wondering why I didn’t just send her a photo of the shaved head Eleven, but I guess this, unfortunately, is just how my mind works.)

Even though my excellent costume idea was not used (some might say, "rejected"), Nancy was now on the radar.

This past Christmas, Rachael gave me the above old comics, which I have been reading and handling gingerly. These comics have further sparked my interest in Nancy, so I’ve also been reading some reprints, along with some strips I've found on the internet. Here, for example, is one panel I came across...

Not used by permission. Please don't sue me.

I later found out that this was the second to last panel of a four panel strip - but I like it all by itself. It's something I can relate to.

If this were fifty years ago, I might suggest that dressing up as Nancy would be a pretty good idea for a Halloween costume, but it would definitely be too out of context now. Then again, if this were fifty years ago, there wouldn't have been anyone around worth suggesting this to.

At the Movies

One of the things I did on my time off over the holiday week was to go to the movies with Sam. This was his idea. He wanted to see the new Star Wars movie and it was playing at the local theater.

The local theater is in the center of town, a few miles from where I live. Even though I don’t go to the movies very often, I like the fact that our town still has a theater. As I’ve mentioned to my kids on more than one occasion, and as I mentioned to Sam when we left for this movie, when I was little, almost every town had their own movie theater. Now, there’s fewer and fewer movie theaters around. So we’re pretty lucky to still have one in our town.

This comment, like most of my other “when I was a kid” comments, was met with the usual amount of intense interest - which is to say, I had to ask Sam if he even heard what I said - as if I expected there to be any follow-up comments or questions. (There weren't.)

Anyway, we drove over to the theater, getting there about 10 minutes or so before the movie was to start. This left plenty of time for Sam to get some popcorn and some water and for us to find a place to sit. As a matter of fact, we could have arrived a minute before showtime and still not had any trouble finding a seat. The place is almost never crowded - which, if I’m going to go to the movies, is how I like it. The fewer people, the better.

Almost showtime! You can pretty much taste the excitement!

Well, we saw the movie and Sam liked it just fine, but I could tell there was something bothering him. Turns out, it had to do with a scene near the very beginning of the movie. (This is far from a spoiler alert, being so incidental...) 

In the movie, there’s a character who dies early on, in the course of making an attack on the bad guys. I’m not sure if this character even had a name, the part was so small, but we find out later that she was another character’s sister. 

Anyway, she dies a Star Wars death, which is to say, heroically, and pretty much off screen - by maybe a second or two. When I had asked Sam what he didn’t like about the movie, he mentioned this person to me and the fact that she died, but I had trouble placing it - until he finally got through to me. It surprised me, but shouldn’t have, that this is what he came away with.

On the other hand, it wasn’t completely without its merits. It was filled with plenty of scenes that caused Sam, from time to time, to point at the screen and say things (way too loudly) like, “What???" and "That’s pretty mean! Why’s he doing that?” or “Someone should lock him up!” to which I can only assume that the handful of other people in the audience, readily agreed. At least, that's judging by their silence.

Oh, and there was another part he seemed to like, closer to the end, where a female character surprises a male character by giving him a quick kiss, which elicited from Sam a hushed, “Awww.” Then, almost immediately, the female character seemingly dies. But I’m pretty sure she’s still alive. So that was pretty good.

Today's Brief Update

Sam got called back for a job interview this week and I'm told that it went pretty well. Not only that, but I was told this news- not only by Sam, but also by one of his job coaches. So, that was nice.

I won't say any more about it, unless it turns into something. And even then, I might be holding my breath for awhile...

The Colors of Winter

What you're looking at is a grainy, yet unfiltered picture, taken from my backyard at six o'clock this morning. Why was I crazy enough to be outside at six o'clock this morning? Because, after a lovely break of just over a week, it was time for me to head back to work.

Harsh reality was made even harsher by the fact that the temperature was only ten degrees below zero when I left the house. As I write this, it is seven o'clock at night and the temperature has climbed to almost twelve degrees above zero. Progress!

And here, for no particular reason, is a picture of some pretty flowers I took on a walk with Sam last summer...

That's all I have to say.