My significant other and I need the month of March to arrive.
We are tired of the dreariness of February. January had cold and snow, it is true, but at least the snow of January was white. You know the saying, "white as snow"? February often brings slightly warmer temperatures where we live and that often translates to gray skies and very dirty piles of snow. There is little uglier than dirty snow - except maybe for my car's carpet floor mats. They are crusted with a dirt/salt combination that has crystallized into a substance that resembles the dirty snow along every street, driveway and parking lot.
February's skies are often dull, with clouds blocking out precious rays of sunlight, leaving humans desperate for Vitamin D. Valentine's Day helps bring us out of our doldrums slightly but it is then easy to return to the idea that spring may never arrive.
Ah, spring. She promises but can she deliver?
Ancora imparo
Monday, February 9, 2009
Saturday, February 7, 2009
Bringing The Past To Life
My mother saved everything.
When I was growing up and, into my young adult years, I teased her about this unmercifully - to the point of berating her, probably. I can remember being, what I would now describe as, awful to her. Fortunately, I realized this early on in my adult years and spent years apologizing to her.
She was the classic mom. She loved me no matter what. With her I could be mad, sad, glad - you name the emotion and she would listen - no matter the time of day or night. In fact, I'll bet I was one of those kids that are described as 'if she would have been first, she would have been last!'
Anyway, from time to time, as I go through boxes from my storage room, I find treasures that my mother saved. It has become very apparent, over the years, that my mother saved nearly every letter or postcard that I ever mailed home. As I come across these bits of correspondence, it is as if I've been transported back across a time warp to my college years and beyond. In college, I wrote home on a regular basis, sometimes more than once a week, I see. Reading my writing brings my college experience back to me in living color. I don't know if I'll keep all this material once I've read it now, but it is as if my mom is perched on my shoulder saying, "See. This is why I saved it. I'm still with you." It is like reading my life history from a period of time.
Kind of comforting, in a weird way.
Thanks, Mom.
Ancora Imparo
When I was growing up and, into my young adult years, I teased her about this unmercifully - to the point of berating her, probably. I can remember being, what I would now describe as, awful to her. Fortunately, I realized this early on in my adult years and spent years apologizing to her.
She was the classic mom. She loved me no matter what. With her I could be mad, sad, glad - you name the emotion and she would listen - no matter the time of day or night. In fact, I'll bet I was one of those kids that are described as 'if she would have been first, she would have been last!'
Anyway, from time to time, as I go through boxes from my storage room, I find treasures that my mother saved. It has become very apparent, over the years, that my mother saved nearly every letter or postcard that I ever mailed home. As I come across these bits of correspondence, it is as if I've been transported back across a time warp to my college years and beyond. In college, I wrote home on a regular basis, sometimes more than once a week, I see. Reading my writing brings my college experience back to me in living color. I don't know if I'll keep all this material once I've read it now, but it is as if my mom is perched on my shoulder saying, "See. This is why I saved it. I'm still with you." It is like reading my life history from a period of time.
Kind of comforting, in a weird way.
Thanks, Mom.
Ancora Imparo
Thursday, February 5, 2009
Change Is Harder Than I Thought
It is confession time.
I'm having trouble with change. Always have and, I guess, I always will.
All my life I've had to deal with change. Much of it was externally imposed, some of it was internally imposed.
I understand that every human being has to deal with change so that realization makes me sound like a whiner, which I could be accused of being at the moment. I keep telling myself, "So, deal with it!"
I've survived the big changes. Moving from Michigan to Wisconsin. Leaving family behind. That was hard.
The death of my mother. That was and still is hard. I don't think you ever get too old to miss your mother. (Sorry, Dad. I love you and miss you, too.)
Moving from Wisconsin to Illinois. Giving my up my friends in Wisconsin and my full-time teaching job. That was gut-wrenching, or so it felt like at the time.
Having to put my dog to sleep. Tough, tough, tough.
Choosing to leave the teaching profession. Very bad decision that I am still dealing with.
So, those are the big changes and I've survived. You would think that I could get over the following little changes that make me sound like a real whiner...........................
The "look" of the new light bulbs. Giving up cable television. Thinking about canceling my newspaper subscription. Giving up my favorite brand of reisling wine - I only go through one bottle every seven days so I am not a lush, but I am fussy. Thinking about always sitting at my desk to watch television on my tiny computer screen.
I keep telling myself to grow up. No one is sick or dying. I know all this.
The world is good. These are truly tiny changes. I am a pampered, spoiled, over-indulged, self-absorbed human being.
Get over it.
Ancora imparo
I'm having trouble with change. Always have and, I guess, I always will.
All my life I've had to deal with change. Much of it was externally imposed, some of it was internally imposed.
I understand that every human being has to deal with change so that realization makes me sound like a whiner, which I could be accused of being at the moment. I keep telling myself, "So, deal with it!"
I've survived the big changes. Moving from Michigan to Wisconsin. Leaving family behind. That was hard.
The death of my mother. That was and still is hard. I don't think you ever get too old to miss your mother. (Sorry, Dad. I love you and miss you, too.)
Moving from Wisconsin to Illinois. Giving my up my friends in Wisconsin and my full-time teaching job. That was gut-wrenching, or so it felt like at the time.
Having to put my dog to sleep. Tough, tough, tough.
Choosing to leave the teaching profession. Very bad decision that I am still dealing with.
So, those are the big changes and I've survived. You would think that I could get over the following little changes that make me sound like a real whiner...........................
The "look" of the new light bulbs. Giving up cable television. Thinking about canceling my newspaper subscription. Giving up my favorite brand of reisling wine - I only go through one bottle every seven days so I am not a lush, but I am fussy. Thinking about always sitting at my desk to watch television on my tiny computer screen.
I keep telling myself to grow up. No one is sick or dying. I know all this.
The world is good. These are truly tiny changes. I am a pampered, spoiled, over-indulged, self-absorbed human being.
Get over it.
Ancora imparo
Wednesday, February 4, 2009
This Makes No Sense To Me!
We're surrounded, daily, by entreaties to become more "green". "Save the environment" is the clarion call by the experts on television, newspapers, magazines, lectures, and the web. Recycling efforts are all the rage. I'm doing my part, albeit bit-by-bit, to become more environmentally educated. So why, I foolishly ask, do I watch my Waste Management employee, weekly, dump my carefully sorted recyclables into one giant hole in his big, green truck. Can you look me in the eye and tell me that, somewhere down the line, people or machines actually sort my paper/cardboard from the glass/aluminum/plastic 1's and 2's?
Let me move to the ecologically friendly light bulbs. Expensive, to be sure. Can the people who really need to save the money afford to buy these bulbs? And, why, can't someone design them in a shape/style that has less twists and turns. For people with allergies, these dust traps are just that. They are impossible to remove the dust particles from and, they last so long that the dust can collect for years.
Next, let me move to the national political and economic scenes. This "bailout" package is a farce. With little regulation as to how a corporation can spend bailout dollars, the environment will be ripe for more Merrill Lynch boondoggles and taxpayer ripoffs. The former chairman of ML should be, at the very least, ashamed and personally mortified at his own actions.
The legislative confirmation of Timothy Geithner to be our Secretary of the Treasury should be an embarrassment to President Obama and every senator and congressman who voted for Geithner's confirmation. I agree with Connan O'brien's joke that with two of President Obama's nominees to cabinet positions bowing out this week because of unpaid taxes or penalties, the lesson to our young people is this: You had better pay your taxes, because if you don't, the highest job you can ever hope to hold to is Secretary of the United States Treasury.
These things make no sense to me. Do they to you?
Ancora imparo
Let me move to the ecologically friendly light bulbs. Expensive, to be sure. Can the people who really need to save the money afford to buy these bulbs? And, why, can't someone design them in a shape/style that has less twists and turns. For people with allergies, these dust traps are just that. They are impossible to remove the dust particles from and, they last so long that the dust can collect for years.
Next, let me move to the national political and economic scenes. This "bailout" package is a farce. With little regulation as to how a corporation can spend bailout dollars, the environment will be ripe for more Merrill Lynch boondoggles and taxpayer ripoffs. The former chairman of ML should be, at the very least, ashamed and personally mortified at his own actions.
The legislative confirmation of Timothy Geithner to be our Secretary of the Treasury should be an embarrassment to President Obama and every senator and congressman who voted for Geithner's confirmation. I agree with Connan O'brien's joke that with two of President Obama's nominees to cabinet positions bowing out this week because of unpaid taxes or penalties, the lesson to our young people is this: You had better pay your taxes, because if you don't, the highest job you can ever hope to hold to is Secretary of the United States Treasury.
These things make no sense to me. Do they to you?
Ancora imparo
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
New Tricks For The Old Dog
Kicking and screaming into the electronic age? That may be me.
My significant other and I are looking at cancelling our cable service. Now, on the surface, that doesn't seem too difficult. Just make the phone call, you say?
There are alternative ways to receive internet service and we own one of those. A little "air card". OK. That is objection No. 1 overcome. One for him and purchase another for me.
There is the obvious alternative to a "land line" - the cell phone and we are set up for that. OK. That is objection No. 2 overcome.
Objection No. 3: Cable television service. Hmmm. We don't watch a lot television, but much of what we do enjoy is produced by a cable network.
It turns out that two of the three traditional networks have full episode players available. And, after an afternoon of research, most, if not all, of the cable networks have full episode players available as well. So, Objection No. 3 can be overcome, too. Leaving our cable service entirely will mean that our ancient analog television will need a converter box. Yes, I am embarrassed to admit that our television is the "fat" kind, that is about two feet deep. We don't exactly go running into buy the newest electronic gadgets, as you can see. We both own laptops with small"ish" screens. I guess I can get used to seeing two-week old episodes of shows on a small computer screen. Sure - I think.........................
It is just that change is hard. You get used to a routine way of doing a task or experience, then comes a new routine. New buttons to push, new procedures, new sequences. This old dog learns slowly when it comes to electronics or anything that is remotely mechanical. Ouch.
New, new, new. I think I like vinyl records, rotor telephones, and fat televisions on wire racks with giant rabbit ears. That's the dinosaur talking again.
Am I "ancora imparo"?
My significant other and I are looking at cancelling our cable service. Now, on the surface, that doesn't seem too difficult. Just make the phone call, you say?
There are alternative ways to receive internet service and we own one of those. A little "air card". OK. That is objection No. 1 overcome. One for him and purchase another for me.
There is the obvious alternative to a "land line" - the cell phone and we are set up for that. OK. That is objection No. 2 overcome.
Objection No. 3: Cable television service. Hmmm. We don't watch a lot television, but much of what we do enjoy is produced by a cable network.
It turns out that two of the three traditional networks have full episode players available. And, after an afternoon of research, most, if not all, of the cable networks have full episode players available as well. So, Objection No. 3 can be overcome, too. Leaving our cable service entirely will mean that our ancient analog television will need a converter box. Yes, I am embarrassed to admit that our television is the "fat" kind, that is about two feet deep. We don't exactly go running into buy the newest electronic gadgets, as you can see. We both own laptops with small"ish" screens. I guess I can get used to seeing two-week old episodes of shows on a small computer screen. Sure - I think.........................
It is just that change is hard. You get used to a routine way of doing a task or experience, then comes a new routine. New buttons to push, new procedures, new sequences. This old dog learns slowly when it comes to electronics or anything that is remotely mechanical. Ouch.
New, new, new. I think I like vinyl records, rotor telephones, and fat televisions on wire racks with giant rabbit ears. That's the dinosaur talking again.
Am I "ancora imparo"?
Monday, February 2, 2009
Good Service
I found something that is becoming more rare these days..............good service.
Driving around today, doing what felt like a million errands, I found my filthy, dirty car more filthy and dirty than I could stand. The roads were mostly free of snow melt, so I decided to stop in the 'big city' to get my car washed instead of the small-community car wash I had planned on frequenting later.
It's been my experience, at my 'normal' car wash, that the employees might, and I do mean 'might', care about their work but the finished product, my clean car, doesn't reflect a strong desire for excellence. My litmus test of whether or not my car is clean, to my standards, is how much time do I spend in the parking lot of the grocery store near the car wash, wiping down my car, ridding it of water spots, road dirt, and interior smudges and dust. At this car wash, it takes me ten to fifteen minutes to detail my car to my satisfaction - post car wash.
I remember a USA Network 'Monk" episode where Monk, the obsessive-compulsive private investigator, has amnesia and gets a job at a car wash. He is so successful that a local newspaper writes an article about him, thus alerting his friends to where he is and they come and rescue him. The 'Monk' character's obsessive-compulsive tendency for attention to detail makes him perfect for auto detailing. I would like to clone those tendencies and transplant them into the employees at the car wash I frequent the most.
But, I digress. Back to my story. The young man who worked on my car today was amazing. He had no incentive to pursue excellence, other than his own inner drive to do a good job. As I observed him from inside the building, through windows that he could not see into, I watched him go above and beyond any expectations I might have had. Here is a young man, working in a job that possibly pays minimum wage only, working under the watchful gaze of no supervisor, maintaining his own standard of excellence. When he came to the door to find me, I thanked him for his attention to detail and told him I appreciated it. His beaming smile, on his young face, accompanied a "thank you, mam".
At this car wash, the employees get to keep the tips they are given. They do not have to put the tips in a communal 'pot'. Good thing for him.
Ancora imparo
Driving around today, doing what felt like a million errands, I found my filthy, dirty car more filthy and dirty than I could stand. The roads were mostly free of snow melt, so I decided to stop in the 'big city' to get my car washed instead of the small-community car wash I had planned on frequenting later.
It's been my experience, at my 'normal' car wash, that the employees might, and I do mean 'might', care about their work but the finished product, my clean car, doesn't reflect a strong desire for excellence. My litmus test of whether or not my car is clean, to my standards, is how much time do I spend in the parking lot of the grocery store near the car wash, wiping down my car, ridding it of water spots, road dirt, and interior smudges and dust. At this car wash, it takes me ten to fifteen minutes to detail my car to my satisfaction - post car wash.
I remember a USA Network 'Monk" episode where Monk, the obsessive-compulsive private investigator, has amnesia and gets a job at a car wash. He is so successful that a local newspaper writes an article about him, thus alerting his friends to where he is and they come and rescue him. The 'Monk' character's obsessive-compulsive tendency for attention to detail makes him perfect for auto detailing. I would like to clone those tendencies and transplant them into the employees at the car wash I frequent the most.
But, I digress. Back to my story. The young man who worked on my car today was amazing. He had no incentive to pursue excellence, other than his own inner drive to do a good job. As I observed him from inside the building, through windows that he could not see into, I watched him go above and beyond any expectations I might have had. Here is a young man, working in a job that possibly pays minimum wage only, working under the watchful gaze of no supervisor, maintaining his own standard of excellence. When he came to the door to find me, I thanked him for his attention to detail and told him I appreciated it. His beaming smile, on his young face, accompanied a "thank you, mam".
At this car wash, the employees get to keep the tips they are given. They do not have to put the tips in a communal 'pot'. Good thing for him.
Ancora imparo
Sunday, February 1, 2009
Confession Time
OK. Here it is. I'll put it right out there.
I HATE CAT LITTER.
I do feel better having removed that from my chest. Actually, I should have typed: I HATE CHANGING THE LITTER BOX.
Does anyone else out there in cyberspace feel the same way?
I know, I know. You can buy litter boxes that supposedly clean themselves. (I'll believe the long-term reliability when I see it.) What I'd like to have is a tiny creature that lives in my laundry room closet, whose only job in life is to keep the litter box clean and who will change the litter once a week. Of course then, it might be easier to simply not have a cat. (Cat lovers need not harangue me. My crotchety old female cat isn't going anywhere soon.)
It is just that I am so very tired of cleaning the litter box and, even more tired of cat litter being strewn about my rugs, carpet, and hardwood floors. There is no joy in going barefoot because stepping on particles of clay cat litter is downright uncomfortable and only serves to make me say pithy little words of complaint when my foot finds a piece. There is even less joy in discovering cat litter from the soles of my feet in my bed sheets.
If your shoe finds a particle and crushes it, then there are hundreds of tiny particulates that get dispersed in a wide area. Did I mention that I don't like sweeping the floors with a broom or vacuuming, either?
There is also the matter of the cat litter being picked up by stocking feet. At first blush, one might ask what the problem is with cat litter and stocking feet. If you are one of these questioners, then, obviously, you have never had a tiny, annoying piece of cat litter get in your shoe. It feels exactly like a pebble, only usually having sharper edges.
Furthermore, do you know what has been applied to cat litter in the cat box? This realization is gross to begin with and does not need further thought or reflection.
There is one positive use for cat litter, though. In the winter it makes for improved traction under your car's tires. I do not believe there are any other positive uses for the stuff. The last I heard, it did not work well as dietary fibre.
Why can't cats use toilet paper?
Ancora imparo
I HATE CAT LITTER.
I do feel better having removed that from my chest. Actually, I should have typed: I HATE CHANGING THE LITTER BOX.
Does anyone else out there in cyberspace feel the same way?
I know, I know. You can buy litter boxes that supposedly clean themselves. (I'll believe the long-term reliability when I see it.) What I'd like to have is a tiny creature that lives in my laundry room closet, whose only job in life is to keep the litter box clean and who will change the litter once a week. Of course then, it might be easier to simply not have a cat. (Cat lovers need not harangue me. My crotchety old female cat isn't going anywhere soon.)
It is just that I am so very tired of cleaning the litter box and, even more tired of cat litter being strewn about my rugs, carpet, and hardwood floors. There is no joy in going barefoot because stepping on particles of clay cat litter is downright uncomfortable and only serves to make me say pithy little words of complaint when my foot finds a piece. There is even less joy in discovering cat litter from the soles of my feet in my bed sheets.
If your shoe finds a particle and crushes it, then there are hundreds of tiny particulates that get dispersed in a wide area. Did I mention that I don't like sweeping the floors with a broom or vacuuming, either?
There is also the matter of the cat litter being picked up by stocking feet. At first blush, one might ask what the problem is with cat litter and stocking feet. If you are one of these questioners, then, obviously, you have never had a tiny, annoying piece of cat litter get in your shoe. It feels exactly like a pebble, only usually having sharper edges.
Furthermore, do you know what has been applied to cat litter in the cat box? This realization is gross to begin with and does not need further thought or reflection.
There is one positive use for cat litter, though. In the winter it makes for improved traction under your car's tires. I do not believe there are any other positive uses for the stuff. The last I heard, it did not work well as dietary fibre.
Why can't cats use toilet paper?
Ancora imparo
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