This commercial irritates me to no end. It starts with fake thank-you letters to "Grandma" and segues to scenes of squeaky clean kids have abnormal amounts of "fun" with these over-sized stuffed animals.
I especially dislike the pandering voice-overs, allegedly by the precocious little kids. To me, they sound more like adults trying to sound like little kids.
Worst of all is the constant, "I love you Grandma", "Buy me this Grandma", "This is the best gift ever Grandma". What is this with all of the "Grandmas"? The whole subtext seems to be, "Buy me this and I'll love you, Grandma", or conversely, " Don't buy me this, Grandma, and risk me not loving you. Go ahead. Your choice."
Lately this commercial has been followed a different one- one for high speed internet. In this other commercial, two adolescent siblings are sitting in the back seat of a car. Dad's up front telling them that he knows visiting Grandma is about the most boring thing in the whole wide world, but for them to try not to kill themselves- it'll only be for a couple of hours.
But when the kids show up at Grandma’s door- good news! Turns out Grandma now has high speed internet! Finally, something to do! By the end of the commercial, the kids are begging Dad to let them stay over at Grandma's- presumably so they can surf the web, watch videos, and oh yeah, maybe talk to Grandma- that is, after she fixes them something to eat.
At what point did pandering to needy grandmas with poor self- images become identified as a profitable demographic? Do Grandmas really buy into this crap? Do they sit around at home wondering how they can be exploited?
And now that I think of it, where are the Grandpas? What the heck is going on here??
Friday, January 30, 2015
Friday, January 23, 2015
Today's Phone Call
Sam calls me at work every day to let me know when he's home from school. I usually try to get him to tell me a little about his day. This is a snippet from today's conversation:
Me: "So, do you have any homework today?"
Sam: "Well, just my reading, which I've already started. And I think there might be an expression in there."
Me: "Oh, yeah? What did it say?"
S: "It said, "Joe, it looks like you're losing your spare tire.""
M: "Yeah, that's an expression alright. Do you know what it means?"
S: "Not really."
M: "It means it looks like he's losing some weight around his tummy. Sometimes, when people are overweight, the stomach might be called "a spare tire". That's the expression."
S: "Oh, like you and me, right?"
M: "Um, ...well, yeah, I guess so."
S: "But that's ok, right?"
M: "Sure, as long as it doesn't get too bad."
S: "Or... it's like Mom and Memere!"
M: "Ok, look. Here's the thing..."
Me: "So, do you have any homework today?"
Sam: "Well, just my reading, which I've already started. And I think there might be an expression in there."
Me: "Oh, yeah? What did it say?"
S: "It said, "Joe, it looks like you're losing your spare tire.""
M: "Yeah, that's an expression alright. Do you know what it means?"
S: "Not really."
M: "It means it looks like he's losing some weight around his tummy. Sometimes, when people are overweight, the stomach might be called "a spare tire". That's the expression."
S: "Oh, like you and me, right?"
M: "Um, ...well, yeah, I guess so."
S: "But that's ok, right?"
M: "Sure, as long as it doesn't get too bad."
S: "Or... it's like Mom and Memere!"
M: "Ok, look. Here's the thing..."
Tuesday, January 20, 2015
Another Rambling Story
After a confusing day today, I was trying to figure out what direction to head in next. I sat and I stared out of the window and as I did, I started to wonder about what the chain of events were which had led me to be in this exact spot, at this particular moment in time. Asking myself that question is far from an everyday event, but it’s not uncommon either.
As I stared out the window, I thought back to a time, years ago, when I asked myself a similar question. Sam was in kindergarten, and Mom and I were sitting in the school’s auditorium, waiting for the end of the school year’s awards program to begin. I remembered thinking back then, how, in my wildest dreams, I could never have predicted a point in my future where I would be sitting next to my mother in the auditorium of a small grammar school, in a small hill town, waiting to see my young, special needs son graduate from kindergarten.
Thinking back on that day, in turn, led me to think about my own elementary school and one of the few, more pleasant memories from so many years ago.
I thought about the time I was sitting in the school’s gymnasium/cafeteria/auditorium, along with most of the other kids in school. What seemed like a hundred metal folding chairs had been set up by the janitor, Mr. Larry. The chairs all faced the stage where a large movie screen had been pulled down. The drapes had been closed to darken the room and at the back of the room was a movie projector- upon which sat a massive roll of film, all ready to go.
Having a movie at school was always good news. There was a good chance that it was going to be one of those long, sometimes pretty good science movies from Bell Labs. But it really didn’t matter what the movie was about. What mattered was, it offered a respite from the tedium and torment of sitting in the classroom.
Judging from the size of the reel, the movie looked to be about forty minutes long, and that was a bare bones assessment which didn’t include any possible interruptions. Interruptions, though, were almost guaranteed. Based on previous events, there were several possible scenarios.
At a minimum, the teachers would invariably have to shut the movie off at least once, to yell at us for having any fun. This was usually good for wasting anywhere from five to twenty minutes, depending how angry the teachers were. Usually, it was closer to twenty minutes.
Along with the guaranteed getting yelled at, there was always the chance that the movie would jam in the projector, and the frozen, bubbling frame would be projected in front of us like some brief, psychedelic light show. Lights would turn back on, while a couple of teachers and a student who fancied himself an AV expert (i.e. the teacher’s pet), would hover around the projector, trying to figure out what the hell was going on.
This happened many times in the past, and as they were trying to assess the situation, the noise level from the increasingly unruly audience could be expected to rise- until it got to a point where the only other remaining teacher- who had not been able to sneak off with the other teachers to chain smoke in Teacher’s Lounge, would begin screaming at us. This teacher’s anger was no doubt fueled, in part, by the fact that she, too, desperately needed a cigarette- but she was either new- or had picked the short straw- and was now even more pissed off than she normally was.
In my mind, I can still see the teacher with her pale, wrinkled skin, standing in front of the stage- her voice trembling in barely contained rage. Also, I remember her wearing a Gestapo uniform, but I'm not positive about that part.
Anyway, after we would all get yelled at, either a second attempt to run the movie might be made, which may or may not be successful, or if it was completely hopeless, we would all have to file back to our classrooms where this event would be the topic of classroom conversation for the rest of the day. (This usually resulted in me having to stay after school for enjoying the whole scenario too much.)
Another possibility would be that the once proud aforementioned AV kid might have forgotten to reset the “rewind” switch on the projector. This would mean that the take-up reel at the back of the projector wouldn’t move at all during the entire course of the movie- resulting in a massive pile of spaghetti-like film sitting on the auditorium floor. This would again lead to a couple of the teachers, along with the now humiliated AV kid, hovering around the projector, trying to figure out what to do next.
Based on past experiences, it wouldn’t prolong the movie-going experience much, but it would take the Teacher’s Pet down a notch and be good for a laugh, at least for the rest of the day- which again, usually resulted in me having to stay after school for enjoying the scenario way too much.
Those were all good possibilities, but on this particular day, something different happened.
On this day, we were all in our assigned, boy/girl/boy/girl seats, and after the obligatory dire threats and warnings from Frau Linkmeyer, a hush fell over the crowd and the movie started. There was the usual garbled, not-quite-synchronized sound problems as the film stuttered and the AV hero made his necessary top secret adjustments to the projector, and then the movie proceeded.
The movie was indeed one of those science films, if not from Bell Labs, then at least by someone who made movies of similar length. This one was was about the human heart- or maybe the entire circulatory system, but the heart is what I remember.
At some point in the movie, they were showing a close up of some poor guys heart, pumping away in his open chest cavity. And let me tell you, this looked nothing like those soft-edged, red hearts that other kids got on Valentine’s Day. No, the only thing red here were the veins on this pink, pulpy, pulsating hunk of yuck.
For once, an un-instigated hush fell over the crowd as this image filled the giant-sized screen in front of us. After what seemed like several minutes of this giant repulsive image beating away before us, the silence of the crowd was interrupted by a crash of metal folding chairs coming from the faintly lit back rows. I, and everyone else, turned around to see a pair of feet and legs sticking straight in the air. Apparently, one of the kids had passed out cold.
It was awesome. Nothing like that had ever happened before.
The film was immediately stopped and after a great deal of commotion, the absent teachers returned from their lounge after hastily snuffing out their cigarettes- and we were all hustled back to our classrooms. I think I had to stay after school for several days on that one- having had the nerve to be in the same room, and all.
None of the teachers would ever say who it was that passed out. I assume this was to save the kid some well deserved torment.
Today, as I sat looking out the window, I reflected back on these memories. And I came to the conclusion that, I’ll bet it was Jacky McDonald.
As I stared out the window, I thought back to a time, years ago, when I asked myself a similar question. Sam was in kindergarten, and Mom and I were sitting in the school’s auditorium, waiting for the end of the school year’s awards program to begin. I remembered thinking back then, how, in my wildest dreams, I could never have predicted a point in my future where I would be sitting next to my mother in the auditorium of a small grammar school, in a small hill town, waiting to see my young, special needs son graduate from kindergarten.
Thinking back on that day, in turn, led me to think about my own elementary school and one of the few, more pleasant memories from so many years ago.
I thought about the time I was sitting in the school’s gymnasium/cafeteria/auditorium, along with most of the other kids in school. What seemed like a hundred metal folding chairs had been set up by the janitor, Mr. Larry. The chairs all faced the stage where a large movie screen had been pulled down. The drapes had been closed to darken the room and at the back of the room was a movie projector- upon which sat a massive roll of film, all ready to go.
Having a movie at school was always good news. There was a good chance that it was going to be one of those long, sometimes pretty good science movies from Bell Labs. But it really didn’t matter what the movie was about. What mattered was, it offered a respite from the tedium and torment of sitting in the classroom.
Judging from the size of the reel, the movie looked to be about forty minutes long, and that was a bare bones assessment which didn’t include any possible interruptions. Interruptions, though, were almost guaranteed. Based on previous events, there were several possible scenarios.
At a minimum, the teachers would invariably have to shut the movie off at least once, to yell at us for having any fun. This was usually good for wasting anywhere from five to twenty minutes, depending how angry the teachers were. Usually, it was closer to twenty minutes.
Along with the guaranteed getting yelled at, there was always the chance that the movie would jam in the projector, and the frozen, bubbling frame would be projected in front of us like some brief, psychedelic light show. Lights would turn back on, while a couple of teachers and a student who fancied himself an AV expert (i.e. the teacher’s pet), would hover around the projector, trying to figure out what the hell was going on.
This happened many times in the past, and as they were trying to assess the situation, the noise level from the increasingly unruly audience could be expected to rise- until it got to a point where the only other remaining teacher- who had not been able to sneak off with the other teachers to chain smoke in Teacher’s Lounge, would begin screaming at us. This teacher’s anger was no doubt fueled, in part, by the fact that she, too, desperately needed a cigarette- but she was either new- or had picked the short straw- and was now even more pissed off than she normally was.
In my mind, I can still see the teacher with her pale, wrinkled skin, standing in front of the stage- her voice trembling in barely contained rage. Also, I remember her wearing a Gestapo uniform, but I'm not positive about that part.
Anyway, after we would all get yelled at, either a second attempt to run the movie might be made, which may or may not be successful, or if it was completely hopeless, we would all have to file back to our classrooms where this event would be the topic of classroom conversation for the rest of the day. (This usually resulted in me having to stay after school for enjoying the whole scenario too much.)
Another possibility would be that the once proud aforementioned AV kid might have forgotten to reset the “rewind” switch on the projector. This would mean that the take-up reel at the back of the projector wouldn’t move at all during the entire course of the movie- resulting in a massive pile of spaghetti-like film sitting on the auditorium floor. This would again lead to a couple of the teachers, along with the now humiliated AV kid, hovering around the projector, trying to figure out what to do next.
Based on past experiences, it wouldn’t prolong the movie-going experience much, but it would take the Teacher’s Pet down a notch and be good for a laugh, at least for the rest of the day- which again, usually resulted in me having to stay after school for enjoying the scenario way too much.
Those were all good possibilities, but on this particular day, something different happened.
On this day, we were all in our assigned, boy/girl/boy/girl seats, and after the obligatory dire threats and warnings from Frau Linkmeyer, a hush fell over the crowd and the movie started. There was the usual garbled, not-quite-synchronized sound problems as the film stuttered and the AV hero made his necessary top secret adjustments to the projector, and then the movie proceeded.
The movie was indeed one of those science films, if not from Bell Labs, then at least by someone who made movies of similar length. This one was was about the human heart- or maybe the entire circulatory system, but the heart is what I remember.
At some point in the movie, they were showing a close up of some poor guys heart, pumping away in his open chest cavity. And let me tell you, this looked nothing like those soft-edged, red hearts that other kids got on Valentine’s Day. No, the only thing red here were the veins on this pink, pulpy, pulsating hunk of yuck.
For once, an un-instigated hush fell over the crowd as this image filled the giant-sized screen in front of us. After what seemed like several minutes of this giant repulsive image beating away before us, the silence of the crowd was interrupted by a crash of metal folding chairs coming from the faintly lit back rows. I, and everyone else, turned around to see a pair of feet and legs sticking straight in the air. Apparently, one of the kids had passed out cold.
It was awesome. Nothing like that had ever happened before.
The film was immediately stopped and after a great deal of commotion, the absent teachers returned from their lounge after hastily snuffing out their cigarettes- and we were all hustled back to our classrooms. I think I had to stay after school for several days on that one- having had the nerve to be in the same room, and all.
None of the teachers would ever say who it was that passed out. I assume this was to save the kid some well deserved torment.
Today, as I sat looking out the window, I reflected back on these memories. And I came to the conclusion that, I’ll bet it was Jacky McDonald.
Saturday, January 17, 2015
Twenty-Three Years Ago
Jake was the only one of my kids where I knew ahead of time what the baby’s sex was. I won’t get into the reasons for this, as it wasn’t all that pleasant. But the result was, I knew a good couple of months before hand that I would soon be caring for a little boy.
When the girls were born, I never had a preference between a boy or a girl. I didn’t even think about it. And after they were born, I still didn’t think about it. I wouldn’t have related to them any differently had they been boys. I talked to them, played with them, cared for them as my kids- boy or girl, it didn’t matter to me. The same is true today.
Even though I never thought about it one way or another with the girls, the idea of now caring for a little boy made me wonder if I could do right by him. Among other things, I never did what I considered to be typical “boy stuff”. I didn't know anything about sports (and still don’t). Nobody would ever have described me as “rough and tumble”. I wondered if I had anything to offer.
All of this went out the window as I sat in the cold operating room. When the doctors lifted Jake above the tent’s horizon, I could see Jake laying back, his right leg extended at a ninety degree angle pointing at the ceiling. It looked like he had just kicked a ball or was caught in mid-step. And then, just as they had done with both Helaina and Rachael, the doctor handed him to me, and that was it. The doubts and concerns didn’t just vanish, it’s like they were never even there.
Maybe Jake was just reinforcing something I knew all along.
There are a ton of things I could say to give you an idea of the kind of person that Jake is. but for now, I'll only mention three. Each are from years ago, but to me, they speak to the core of who he was then, and who he is today.
First off is this great picture Jake drew when he was little. Jake's favorite stuffed animal, by far, was his Goodnight Moon Bunny. It was his constant companion both day and night. He was about seven or eight years old when he drew this picture and to me, this is Jake in a nutshell...
It has the tenderness and love of his Goodnight Moon Bunny combined with the added awesomeness of a ninja wearing a Superman cape. Words cannot do it justice.
That, by itself, should be enough, but below is a photo taken many years later. The occasion was the family’s annual Christmas get-together at Grandma’s house. Back then, after visiting and opening presents, it wasn’t unusual to go outside for a walk or to play in the snow. On this particular day, there was a good blanket of snow, just right for throwing snowballs and sledding, which is just what Jake and the others were doing- until Sam came out.
Sam wanted to be a part of things, but not only was he a good bit younger than most of the others, Sam wasn’t adept at navigating the snow. Whether this was due to his age or to his balance issues, it really doesn’t matter. What does matter is that Jake stopped what he was doing and helped his struggling little brother. Jake could have ignored Sam, or he could have felt put out over helping him, but if he felt that way, you never would have known it.
Jake’s been there to help Sam for all of Sam’s life. Often, it’s been by example. And while I know it's has been frustrating for Jake at times, he has never treated Sam like he was a burden.
---
The last thing I’ll mention, is a story that takes place somewhere between the other two- when Jake was a little over eight years old.
My dad died unexpectedly while he was away on vacation with Mom. I got the news at work, early on a Tuesday morning. I left work and, along with my siblings, went to get Mom. I didn’t arrive back at home until after dark that night. Up to that point, it had been one of the longest days of my life.
With the kids all tucked in, I went and sat down on the edge of my bed- and I couldn't hold in all of the day's emotion any longer. I sat there and completely broke down, sobbing. After a few minutes, Jake appeared from the darkness of his bedroom, wearing his little pj’s, and without saying a word, he climbed up on the edge of my bed, sat next to me- and he proceeded to rub my back.
Jake and I sat there together in silence for- I’m not sure how long- but it was long enough for me to slowly regain my composure. Finally, I hugged Jake, and I put my hand on his shoulder as we returned to the darkness his bedroom. I tucked him in, and then I sat on the edge of his bed- and I rubbed his back.
---
As with all of my kids, it's been fun watching Jake's interests and talents develop over the years. But it's been especially gratifying to see that the really important things, which have always been a part of him, are still with him today.
When the girls were born, I never had a preference between a boy or a girl. I didn’t even think about it. And after they were born, I still didn’t think about it. I wouldn’t have related to them any differently had they been boys. I talked to them, played with them, cared for them as my kids- boy or girl, it didn’t matter to me. The same is true today.
Even though I never thought about it one way or another with the girls, the idea of now caring for a little boy made me wonder if I could do right by him. Among other things, I never did what I considered to be typical “boy stuff”. I didn't know anything about sports (and still don’t). Nobody would ever have described me as “rough and tumble”. I wondered if I had anything to offer.
All of this went out the window as I sat in the cold operating room. When the doctors lifted Jake above the tent’s horizon, I could see Jake laying back, his right leg extended at a ninety degree angle pointing at the ceiling. It looked like he had just kicked a ball or was caught in mid-step. And then, just as they had done with both Helaina and Rachael, the doctor handed him to me, and that was it. The doubts and concerns didn’t just vanish, it’s like they were never even there.
Maybe Jake was just reinforcing something I knew all along.
There are a ton of things I could say to give you an idea of the kind of person that Jake is. but for now, I'll only mention three. Each are from years ago, but to me, they speak to the core of who he was then, and who he is today.
First off is this great picture Jake drew when he was little. Jake's favorite stuffed animal, by far, was his Goodnight Moon Bunny. It was his constant companion both day and night. He was about seven or eight years old when he drew this picture and to me, this is Jake in a nutshell...
It has the tenderness and love of his Goodnight Moon Bunny combined with the added awesomeness of a ninja wearing a Superman cape. Words cannot do it justice.
That, by itself, should be enough, but below is a photo taken many years later. The occasion was the family’s annual Christmas get-together at Grandma’s house. Back then, after visiting and opening presents, it wasn’t unusual to go outside for a walk or to play in the snow. On this particular day, there was a good blanket of snow, just right for throwing snowballs and sledding, which is just what Jake and the others were doing- until Sam came out.
Sam wanted to be a part of things, but not only was he a good bit younger than most of the others, Sam wasn’t adept at navigating the snow. Whether this was due to his age or to his balance issues, it really doesn’t matter. What does matter is that Jake stopped what he was doing and helped his struggling little brother. Jake could have ignored Sam, or he could have felt put out over helping him, but if he felt that way, you never would have known it.
Jake’s been there to help Sam for all of Sam’s life. Often, it’s been by example. And while I know it's has been frustrating for Jake at times, he has never treated Sam like he was a burden.
---
The last thing I’ll mention, is a story that takes place somewhere between the other two- when Jake was a little over eight years old.
My dad died unexpectedly while he was away on vacation with Mom. I got the news at work, early on a Tuesday morning. I left work and, along with my siblings, went to get Mom. I didn’t arrive back at home until after dark that night. Up to that point, it had been one of the longest days of my life.
With the kids all tucked in, I went and sat down on the edge of my bed- and I couldn't hold in all of the day's emotion any longer. I sat there and completely broke down, sobbing. After a few minutes, Jake appeared from the darkness of his bedroom, wearing his little pj’s, and without saying a word, he climbed up on the edge of my bed, sat next to me- and he proceeded to rub my back.
Jake and I sat there together in silence for- I’m not sure how long- but it was long enough for me to slowly regain my composure. Finally, I hugged Jake, and I put my hand on his shoulder as we returned to the darkness his bedroom. I tucked him in, and then I sat on the edge of his bed- and I rubbed his back.
---
As with all of my kids, it's been fun watching Jake's interests and talents develop over the years. But it's been especially gratifying to see that the really important things, which have always been a part of him, are still with him today.
Wednesday, January 14, 2015
Don't Even Doubt!
I have suddenly become very popular. Within two short weeks, I’ve received the following emails at work:
Someone named Nata writes:
Hi, sweet!
I am Nata. I want to know you better. I am looking for long-term relations.
Are you looking for the same? Then you need just write to my e-mail and know me better.
You will not lose anything. Why not to try?
Olga writes (Twice!):
Hi there sweet!
Would you mind to finding a young and nice girl of 24?
My name is Olga. I am from Russia.
Have you ever heard that the loveliest girls in the world live in my country? Don't even doubt!
I want to invite you to a very nice international family life agency where hundreds of single people are looking for their future lovers.
I long for finding a special person for serious relations or even family life.
Aren't you the one I am searching for?
Elana writes (3 times!!!):
Hi there sweet!
Would you mind to finding a young and nice girl of 24?My name is Olga. I am from Russia.
Have you ever heard that the loveliest girls in the world live in my country? Don't even doubt!
I want to invite you to a very nice international family life agency where hundreds of single people are looking for their future lovers.
I long for finding a special person for serious relations or even family life.
Aren't you the one I am searching for?
And someone named Laura (not my sister. I think.):
Hey, how are you?
Hope everything is going well and you are open for communication with me.I am a Russian girl who wants to find friends abroad.
I like you, and want you to check my photos
Apparently, Russia has an abundance of twenty-four year olds.
See, the key problem here is not that someone thinks I’m an idiot. The case for that could be made either way. No, the problem is that whomever is sending these things, is working on the assumption that offering some kind of a “relationship”, is something I’m after.
The reality is quite the opposite. There’s a reason I don’t belong to social networks and the reason is, I’m not particularly social.
At least here I can post all I want without the hassle of having to have a conversation.
Someone named Nata writes:
Hi, sweet!
I am Nata. I want to know you better. I am looking for long-term relations.
Are you looking for the same? Then you need just write to my e-mail and know me better.
You will not lose anything. Why not to try?
Olga writes (Twice!):
Hi there sweet!
Would you mind to finding a young and nice girl of 24?
My name is Olga. I am from Russia.
Have you ever heard that the loveliest girls in the world live in my country? Don't even doubt!
I want to invite you to a very nice international family life agency where hundreds of single people are looking for their future lovers.
I long for finding a special person for serious relations or even family life.
Aren't you the one I am searching for?
Elana writes (3 times!!!):
Hi there sweet!
Would you mind to finding a young and nice girl of 24?My name is Olga. I am from Russia.
Have you ever heard that the loveliest girls in the world live in my country? Don't even doubt!
I want to invite you to a very nice international family life agency where hundreds of single people are looking for their future lovers.
I long for finding a special person for serious relations or even family life.
Aren't you the one I am searching for?
And someone named Laura (not my sister. I think.):
Hey, how are you?
Hope everything is going well and you are open for communication with me.I am a Russian girl who wants to find friends abroad.
I like you, and want you to check my photos
Apparently, Russia has an abundance of twenty-four year olds.
See, the key problem here is not that someone thinks I’m an idiot. The case for that could be made either way. No, the problem is that whomever is sending these things, is working on the assumption that offering some kind of a “relationship”, is something I’m after.
The reality is quite the opposite. There’s a reason I don’t belong to social networks and the reason is, I’m not particularly social.
At least here I can post all I want without the hassle of having to have a conversation.
Sunday, January 11, 2015
Today's Brief Update
I don't have much going on, otherwise I'd write about it. Maybe.
The holidays are officially over and for the most part, people have scattered.
Jake's was home for about three weeks. He was planning leaving on Saturday, or maybe Sunday morning- it had been still up in the air. But either way, he would be leaving soon, so I had taken him out grocery shopping on Friday night to to stock him up with food, and for the traditional selection of the birthday cake mix.
His birthday was officially a week away, but we were going to squeeze a party in- somewhere, before he took off.
We managed to have the party, such as it was, on Saturday morning, which gave Helaina enough time to enjoy the festivities before she had to leave, and it allowed Sam and I to keep our Saturday commitments of grocery shopping and snacking on free samples.
Jake came along with Sam and I, and I stocked him up with even more groceries and, when we got back home, some additional items from our basement, along with a left over meatloaf from the three I had made earlier in the week.
He headed out just after lunch on Saturday, fully loaded with clean laundry and food and supplies- to the point where it caused me additional stress worrying about what to do with all that stuff if his car broke down.
But after his three hour drive, he arrived safely and uneventfully. And he even remembered to let me know as soon as he got back, that he got back just fine, which was a plus.
So, I'm back to sitting in my Hopperesque environment. That is, if Mr Hopper ever painted a scene with a computer and someone else in the background playing a video game. And, come to think of it, it's less stark, largely due to surroundings being packed with more stuff.
It's another bitterly cold day, but the sun's trying to come out. As Dad would say, at least the days are getting longer.
They sure are.
The holidays are officially over and for the most part, people have scattered.
Jake's was home for about three weeks. He was planning leaving on Saturday, or maybe Sunday morning- it had been still up in the air. But either way, he would be leaving soon, so I had taken him out grocery shopping on Friday night to to stock him up with food, and for the traditional selection of the birthday cake mix.
His birthday was officially a week away, but we were going to squeeze a party in- somewhere, before he took off.
We managed to have the party, such as it was, on Saturday morning, which gave Helaina enough time to enjoy the festivities before she had to leave, and it allowed Sam and I to keep our Saturday commitments of grocery shopping and snacking on free samples.
Jake came along with Sam and I, and I stocked him up with even more groceries and, when we got back home, some additional items from our basement, along with a left over meatloaf from the three I had made earlier in the week.
He headed out just after lunch on Saturday, fully loaded with clean laundry and food and supplies- to the point where it caused me additional stress worrying about what to do with all that stuff if his car broke down.
But after his three hour drive, he arrived safely and uneventfully. And he even remembered to let me know as soon as he got back, that he got back just fine, which was a plus.
So, I'm back to sitting in my Hopperesque environment. That is, if Mr Hopper ever painted a scene with a computer and someone else in the background playing a video game. And, come to think of it, it's less stark, largely due to surroundings being packed with more stuff.
It's another bitterly cold day, but the sun's trying to come out. As Dad would say, at least the days are getting longer.
They sure are.
Friday, January 2, 2015
Non-Believer
A car passed me on the ride home from work today. It had one of those so called "vanity plates" on it. I've never understood the attraction of having a vanity license plate on your car. From what I understand, they cost a fair amount of money and they seem like a novelty, that once it wears off, you're pretty much stuck with it until it's ready to expire- or until you decide to pay another substantial amount of money again to get a regular old nondescript license plate (which, by the way, is my preference).
It seems to me that if you feel strongly about something and you want it plastered on your car, why not save a couple of bucks and buy a bumper sticker? I'm not particularly crazy about bumper stickers, but at least they're cheap.
I had a bumper sticker on a car of mine, maybe about 30 years or so ago. I'm not really the bumper sticker type and I don't know what possessed me to buy it, but my bumper sticker said, "I Brake For The Hell Of It". This was at a time where I would see a lot of bumper stickers that said, "I Brake For _____".
There were a multitude of these stickers around back then, each with their own variation of whatever the driver felt was special enough to proclaim it to the guy behind them. Usually the blank was filled in with "Tag Sales", and the people that had them on their cars may as well have had mine, since they would always break erratically- that is, when they weren't simply hopping out of their still moving cars once they finally spotted the elusive yard sale.
For some reason, I though my sticker was fairly clever and I put it on the back of my car. The cleverness wore off long before the bumper sticker did and I was left with the fading reminder of my store bought wisdom- pretty much until the car was eventually junked. It was the last bumper sticker I ever bought.
Anyway, the vanity plate on the car that passed me read, "BELEAVE". I had never seen this before. Was this a real word or a mistake? I figured it had to be a mistake. This person obviously meant "BELIEVE" and apparently screwed up the spelling on their license plate application. I say this because I live in an area where it's not unusual to see all sorts of bumper stickers, usually proclaiming some new-agey type of slogan like, "Goddesses Are Among Us", or "Buy Local".
I spent the rest on my ride imagining whether or not this person was aware of their mistake. Either way, they both had their pluses.
On the one hand, if they realized their mistake, they were obviously forced to still be driving around in this car before it could be replaced. Otherwise, why were they on the road right now? I imagined them getting up everyday, dreading the ride into work where they would be met once again with some variation of, "Hey Roger, I believe you're early for work today!" Each time, the crowd would laugh and give each other high fives as they walked away, leaving "Roger" to sit in his car, regretting his attempt at being an individual.
On the other hand, it could be that the person that owns it has no idea of their mistake and they're driving around, blissfully unaware that their Pollyannaish/Smug/ Self-Serving (pick one or more) message, which was meant to proclaim something profound, but instead only serves to proclaim that they are an ignoramus.
I have no problem with either one of those scenarios.
When I got home I looked up the word, and what do you know, it's a real word after all. According to the "Wiktionary" website (don't ask me, it was the first site that came up in my search), it's derived from the Middle English "beleven", which in turn is from the Old English "belǣfan". "Belǣfan", apparently, merged with the Middle English "bliven". It should have been obvious.
Looks like it's my mistake.
I now take satisfaction in imagining that, in his attempt to inform the uneducated masses (of which I am a member), know-it-all "Roger" is instead having to explain over and over again to everyone who keeps pointing out his perceived mistake, that, no, it's not a mistake, "It's just the "third-person singular simple present of "beleaves"". I imagine him lying in bed, tossing and turning- night after sleepless night, alone, regretting the day he thought he was coming off as someone who was both smart and clever.
I'm OK with that scenario too.
It seems to me that if you feel strongly about something and you want it plastered on your car, why not save a couple of bucks and buy a bumper sticker? I'm not particularly crazy about bumper stickers, but at least they're cheap.
I had a bumper sticker on a car of mine, maybe about 30 years or so ago. I'm not really the bumper sticker type and I don't know what possessed me to buy it, but my bumper sticker said, "I Brake For The Hell Of It". This was at a time where I would see a lot of bumper stickers that said, "I Brake For _____".
There were a multitude of these stickers around back then, each with their own variation of whatever the driver felt was special enough to proclaim it to the guy behind them. Usually the blank was filled in with "Tag Sales", and the people that had them on their cars may as well have had mine, since they would always break erratically- that is, when they weren't simply hopping out of their still moving cars once they finally spotted the elusive yard sale.
For some reason, I though my sticker was fairly clever and I put it on the back of my car. The cleverness wore off long before the bumper sticker did and I was left with the fading reminder of my store bought wisdom- pretty much until the car was eventually junked. It was the last bumper sticker I ever bought.
Anyway, the vanity plate on the car that passed me read, "BELEAVE". I had never seen this before. Was this a real word or a mistake? I figured it had to be a mistake. This person obviously meant "BELIEVE" and apparently screwed up the spelling on their license plate application. I say this because I live in an area where it's not unusual to see all sorts of bumper stickers, usually proclaiming some new-agey type of slogan like, "Goddesses Are Among Us", or "Buy Local".
I spent the rest on my ride imagining whether or not this person was aware of their mistake. Either way, they both had their pluses.
On the one hand, if they realized their mistake, they were obviously forced to still be driving around in this car before it could be replaced. Otherwise, why were they on the road right now? I imagined them getting up everyday, dreading the ride into work where they would be met once again with some variation of, "Hey Roger, I believe you're early for work today!" Each time, the crowd would laugh and give each other high fives as they walked away, leaving "Roger" to sit in his car, regretting his attempt at being an individual.
On the other hand, it could be that the person that owns it has no idea of their mistake and they're driving around, blissfully unaware that their Pollyannaish/Smug/ Self-Serving (pick one or more) message, which was meant to proclaim something profound, but instead only serves to proclaim that they are an ignoramus.
I have no problem with either one of those scenarios.
When I got home I looked up the word, and what do you know, it's a real word after all. According to the "Wiktionary" website (don't ask me, it was the first site that came up in my search), it's derived from the Middle English "beleven", which in turn is from the Old English "belǣfan". "Belǣfan", apparently, merged with the Middle English "bliven". It should have been obvious.
Looks like it's my mistake.
I now take satisfaction in imagining that, in his attempt to inform the uneducated masses (of which I am a member), know-it-all "Roger" is instead having to explain over and over again to everyone who keeps pointing out his perceived mistake, that, no, it's not a mistake, "It's just the "third-person singular simple present of "beleaves"". I imagine him lying in bed, tossing and turning- night after sleepless night, alone, regretting the day he thought he was coming off as someone who was both smart and clever.
I'm OK with that scenario too.
Thursday, January 1, 2015
Moving Right Along
It's the first of the year and our local Stop and Shop has wisely put out their Easter candy- thus avoiding the inevitable rush that would have happened three months from now.
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