Thank Yous

This is the season of gifts and parties and gifts and more gifts.  Hope you all had a good time.  And I hope you all expressed your thanks.

When I was a kid (aka: Back in the old days, The way we used to do things, In my day) we had to write thank you notes for gifts.  We had to write them to adults or relatives, whether-or-not they were there when we opened the gift.  I liked to write, so it was no big deal for me.  In fact, I much preferred writing than calling to say thank you.  I was taught it was important to thank someone for thinking of you, even if you had to wonder what where they thinking when you opened your gift.

I thought thank yous were so important that I included them in my teaching.  Every year I taught a letter writing unit which included friendly letters, business letters, sympathy notes, and thank you notes.  Most of my students enjoyed that unit.  Probably the most fun was had when I directed them to write sincere thank you notes for imaginary horrendous gifts.  We'd laugh out loud as they were shared in class, but my students ultimately understood that thank yous were important, no matter what the gift.

So, I just don't get it.  Why don't people write thank you notes anymore?  I am not talking about writing notes to people who are sitting in front of you and can be personally thanked for a gift.  That's not usually necessary, unless they gave you a gift so grand a verbal thank you isn't enough.  In fact, at showers or birthday gatherings when the gifts are opened in front of me, I specifically tell the recipient not to write a thank you note as I have already been thanked.  They appreciate the reprieve, and all is fine. I do not care if I receive a thank you for a gift I have given to someone who is in mourning.  I am pretty sure that I missed some people after the deaths of my parents.  I was not thinking straight and in a lot of pain.  Mourners do not have to follow any etiquette rules; they just have to concentrate on pushing through the grief and letting friends help them.  Happy newlyweds - sorry, but you are not excused.

This "trend" of not sending thank yous for gifts received at weddings or gifts received when the giver and recipient are not together in person is appalling.  Lack of acknowledging wedding gifts is inexcusably rude.  About twelve years ago I could not attend a wedding because I was traveling in China.  While there, I had an artist draw up a wedding announcement with Chinese calligraphy and art work.  It was gorgeous, if I do say so myself.  I gave it to the groom's parents to deliver when they next saw the couple who had moved out of the area to their new home.  I ran into the groom a year or so later and had to ask if they ever received it because I never heard from them.  Yes, he was embarrassed. He should have been. He said they loved it and have it proudly displayed. It would have been nice to tell me, don't you think?

Within the past few years, I have attended weddings and not received thank yous for my gifts.  Since they were checks and those checks were signed and cashed, I knew they'd been received.  So, you can sign a check but can't say thank you?  Rude. Rude. Rude.  And no, you don't have a year to write a thank you note.  If you believe in taking that year, I personally think you are taking that long in the hopes your guests will forget.  We don't.  I have to compliment Donna and Bill's daughter who was recently married.  There were probably 250 people at that wedding, yet that couple had thank you notes written within weeks. I was amazed and appreciative.  I could go on and detail gifts I have sent that were never acknowledged, but I think I've made my point.  Or said enough.  Whatever.

Is this a generational thing?  Do young people not send or expect official thank yous?  Is it only old people like me who hang around the mailbox waiting for a note on creamy white paper?  Enlighten me, please, if I am
so hopelessly behind the times.  I'd appreciate your input.

Let me take this time to thank you all for reading and sharing my blog.  I have enjoyed writing my thoughts, and I have really enjoyed your comments and responses to my opinions.  Thank you for civility and kindness.  Thank you for the compliments.  Here's to joy and happiness in 2014 and to more A-muse-ings from your curmudgeony friend.

Things That are Fun To Do This Time of the Year

Here's my list.  No need for checking it twice.

1.  Wait for Santa
     This isn't what it sounds like.  I wait for the fire company's Santa.  It is a tradition for the fire company to drive Santa around the neighborhoods in one of its shiny fire trucks.  He honks the horn, flashes lights, and his helpers give candy canes to the kids.  Well, one year Santa didn't get to my street until about 10:00 pm.  There were no kids awake for the candy canes, and good thing too, because Santa was drunk!  I couldn't stop laughing.  I'm laughing now as I remember that night.  Poor Santa.  I think he got in a lot of trouble because I didn't see him again for another two years.  So yes, I wait for Santa because I am so hoping for a repeat performance of drunk Santa.  It was fall down funny.

2.  Diffuse angry people in the department stores
     Have you ever looked into the faces of people deeply engaged in Christmas shopping?  They look very serious and downright dismal.  So I hum along with the muzak. People laugh at me because they think I'm crazy or maybe it's because my voice is pretty bad.  But usually, they'll return my smiles.  Sometimes they join in and sing with me.  While waiting in line to check out, I have let people go ahead of me.  If they are visibly agitated, it calms them to be offered a better place in the line.  Often, they won't take me up on the offer, but they relax.  And that calms everybody else down.  I give upsies to moms with kids.  They really appreciate a chance to get their kid out of the store faster.  I will chat with people.  Today I listened to some guy bash Obama and the economy and I just said, Uh huh.  Hmmm.  Oh yeah.  Ho Ho Ho  - That guy has no idea the self-restraint I exercised just to help him vent and chill.  I am always nice to the cashiers, no matter how crabby they might be.  Kindness paid of at Kohl's today.  I forgot my discount coupon for 15% off.  The lady liked me so much, she gave me 30% off my purchases.  Good deal!

3. Tip
     I tip my newspaper guy and my mail person.  I give them rather nice tips.  And I get the best daggone service in the world.  My mail lady brings packages to my door rather than leaving a "pick up" slip in my mailbox.  She leaves daily treats for my dog. She will wrap my mail in plastic to keep it dry if the rain is coming down hard.  But, I also tip those who least expect it.  Today I tipped the cheerful gal at the fast food pick-up window.  A couple of bucks, and I made her day.  I look for those poorly paid and under appreciated people who constantly serve us with a smile, and I try to surprise them with a little Christmas green.

4.  Eat Lunch
     I eat lunch out with friends as much as possible.  It's fun to get together in well-decorated restaurants.  Wine in the middle of the day is especially yummy. 

5.  Drive around and check out the lights
     This is an amazing thing to do anymore, because people are completely nuts about their outdoor decorations.  They wrap their houses with hundreds of lights.  They're beautiful and I'm sure their houses can be seen in outer space.  I always get a laugh with the houses that have Santa standing in the manger with the wise men, Mary, Joseph, and Baby Jesus.  One of my favorite houses dresses the Three Stooges in Christmas finery.  I wonder if those people know the Stooges are Jewish?  My neighbors across the street continue to entertain me.  From driving a car with two guys riding on the trunk and holding tree branches to be disposed of in the woods to setting up their decorations, they make me chuckle.  Yesterday, they set up four or five of those big balloon things.  Santa wouldn't stand up, so the one guy was punching him and cussing him out.  I wanted to walk over and tell him that Santa was going to put him on the naughty list, but I couldn't stop laughing long enough to put on a coat.  I don't decorate the outside of my house, so I appreciate those who do.

 There you have it.  What are some of your favorite things to do during the holidays?

Blue Christmas

I've heard a lot of people commenting that they simply aren't feelin' Christmas.  What a relief to know I am not alone.

What does it take to get into the Christmas spirit?  I used to get into the holiday spirit easily, starting with the day before Thanksgiving.  Just the anticipation of days off from work, sleeping in, and eating lots of good food was enough to bring on the holiday happies. The month between Thanksgiving and Christmas was fun at school.  I abandoned the strictly regulated curriculum for fun writing assignments.  The kids loved the one (created and shared by my buddy Rachel Coutts at a professional development day) where they wrote a letter from the point-of-view of the turkey that convinced the farmer to eat something else for dinner.  The kids had a great time with the topic, and I had the pleasure of reading some very well-written persuasive papers. We watched the B&W version of It's a Wonderful Life which, at that time, many of them had never seen.  Then, they wrote about their world if they didn't exist to impact it.  It was another good batch of papers. Besides the fun activities, the kids were in good moods and it showed. Sometimes I even got cards, notes, and gifts. If you were lucky enough to teach one of the Callahan kids you were gifted with legendary baked goods.  I gave generously to charity and truly needy people.  I decorated my classroom.  I decorated my home.  I baked cookies, gave parties, tinseled a live tree, and sent and received tons of Christmas cards.  Christmas was THE SEASON in the old days.

I don't do any of that stuff any more.  I feel that void, I guess, when I bah humbug the holidays.

The decorations in the shopping centers don't put me in "the spirit."  I hate shopping in crowds.  The pressure to buy the "right" gift is ever on me.  I am disappointed when I give something and the recipient isn't thrilled.  (I know, I know, thrilled is asking a lot.)  It has become pretty common to give gifts by sending them home with people who will actually see the recipient.  There's something not quite right about exchanging gifts with people you no longer see. It's just not Christmassy! The Christmas specials on television are terrible.  Hallmark has been running 24/7 holiday movies since before Thanksgiving.  But have I seen a single Ebenezer Scrooge?  Heard the words, Every time a bell rings an angel gets its wings? Been crooned a tune by the Bing?  No.  These movies are all fluffy romances with the same interchangeable cast of soap opera looking actors.  Boring!  I can't remember the last Christmas party I attended or hosted.  What a shame because I used to party the whole month.  The music on the radio are the same songs looped over and over again.  Dominic the Donkey is not Christmas, but in my opinion Grandma Got Run Over By a Reindeer is.  Guess which one I've heard a bazillion times and which one I have yet to hear? And snow?  We haven't had a whole lot of snow in years.  Today, it rained all day.  The world is grey and wet. Just like my mood.

So how do I handle my seasonal disorder?  Realistically by expecting little and enjoying what does occur.  First of all, I have given up on a month of holiday fun and festivities.  Christmas Eve and Christmas Day - that's it for me.  And that's ok.  It helps me keep the meaning of the season in the forefront.  Advent services soothe my soul.  My charity donations are not so personal anymore, but I've written a bunch of checks lately.  I know I'm helping others, as I try to do throughout the year.  I don't exchange as many gifts as I once did, but at my age what do I need (that anybody I know can afford ha ha)? Cards and Christmas letters have gone the way of email and Facebook shout outs.  Saves me a lot of work, right?  I keep in perspective that I enjoy a good life, and that is something to celebrate every day of the year.  And if that doesn't work, I keep a box of wine chilling in the fridge.

Happy holidays to you!  Enjoy your Christmas, Hannukah, Kwanzaa, New Year's!  And if you know someone who's feeling a little blue this season, bake them a bunch of cookies and pour them a glass of wine.  Feel the spirit!

Kids and Common Core

This time of the year always makes me think of one of my former students whom I shall call Paul.

He was one of those kids who sat quietly in the back of the room.  He didn't disrupt, often because he wasn't awake through the whole class.  He did his classwork, but there was never any homework completed.  He was skinny, pale, and rarely smiled.  He had dead eyes.

Nobody seemed to know much about him except that he came from a "good" family.  I wasn't too sure what qualified his as a good family.  The neighborhood they lived in?  The family name that was well-known in town?  The siblings and cousins who excelled at school?  He didn't look like a kid from a "good" family.  He was always tired.  Sometimes I had to buy him lunch.  And, he refused to remove his coat.  Many times he hunkered into it and dozed off in class.

Because I rarely let kids get away with doing nothing, I started talking to him. A lot.  At first we discussed school work. He willingly stayed after school for help, but his grades barely improved.  Eventually, I started getting him to talk about home.  When I learned this boy was being verbally abused, occasionally hit, and often not fed, I was angry. When he told me about the night his father locked him out of the house, I was furious.  It was freezing cold that night.  One of the girls sitting near him heard our "casual" chat, and she confirmed she'd seen him wandering the neighborhood that night. I reported this to the guidance counselor, and he got to work on it.

Paul went into foster care.  At Christmas time.  I took some gifts and went to visit him in his temporary home.  The family was nice.  It was a comfort to be warm, fed, and certain of where he'd be sleeping at night, but he was completely miserable.  It was Christmas time and his father had thrown him away.  He was mad at the world, probably at me too, and who could blame him?  He did not finish the school year with us as he began the bounce from foster home to foster home.  I never heard from him again.

 I have never forgotten him.  

When politicians babble about what has to be done in the schools, when politicians throw money into "accountability" tests, when politicians tie teacher performance to student results, I think of Paul.  There's nothing in the Common Core that addresses the needs of kids like Paul. No page in that curriculum can help a student whose foremost thoughts are of survival.  Yet, it is all the teacher's fault when they don't succeed.  I did what I could for Paul and it wasn't enough to bring him academic success.  I hope his life eventually stabilized and that he graduated from high school.  What politicians don't know is that there are many kids like Paul.  All students need to feel that school is a safe and welcoming place for them; not a place to cause them nightmares on the nights before testing.   What I wish politicians would learn is that the pressures of state testing and pushing every kid to attain the same level of academic achievement is not education.  What I wish politicians would experience is daily classroom life so that the "curriculum" they develop is realistic to the kids they force to swallow it.

Yes, and I wish for peace on Earth, too.

Where were you when the world stood still fifty years ago?

Fifty years ago on November 21, I had no idea that it would be the last day of my childhood innocence.  Who would have thought that me, a ten year old girl, would become glued to the news and fixed in front of a black and white television watching the world as she knew it explode?  Kids today have been exposed to many televised horrors that were unknown to ten year olds in 1963. Unknown that was, until the Friday when President John F. Kennedy, father of Caroline and John-John, was murdered.  Today, I am sharing a piece that I wrote in 1989 for my middle school's literary magazine.

                                                     November 22, 1988

          On this twenty-fifth anniversary of the assassination of President John F. Kennedy, it has been said repeatedly that those who were old enough to understand can remember exactly where they were and what they were doing when they heard the news. I remember that day and those that followed as clearly as I remember the happenings of last week. 
          Twenty-five years ago I was ten years old and a fifth grade student at Darby Township Elementary School in Glenolden, Pennsylvania.  We were ending recess and had been assembled in orderly lines for our return to the classrooms.
          Two women teachers, whose names I've long forgotten but whose faces are etched forever in my memory, stood at the head of the lines.  The taller and greyer of the two held a transistor radio to her ear, as the shorter teacher held onto her arm, tilted her head, and strained to listen.  Their faces, frozen with horror, warned us to wait quietly.  We shifted uncomfortably in our silent lines, wondering about the reason for the delay, but too afraid to ask.
          Finally, the teacher announced that the President of the United States had been shot.
          The orderly lines disintegrated into pandemonium.  Everybody began talking at once.  Though the noise was deafening, it was as if I had slipped into a vacuum of silence.  Shocked and sickened by the news, I withdrew from the crowd, drifted off to one of the logs surrounding the playground, sat down, and quietly began to weep.
          I remember being the only person crying.  Gradually, other students drifted over to stare and me and speculate about my tears.  I could hear them asking: Why is she crying?  Did she know the President?  Was he her uncle?  And so, the silly rumors began.  My friend, Keith, awkwardly patted the top of my head as I bent over and pressed my face to the tops of my knees.  He quietly whispered over and over again that it would be all right.
          Eventually, we drifted back to our classrooms.  By the time President Kennedy's death had been officially announced, everyone else had begun to weep.  My tears, however, had stopped.  The numbing shock that was to last for days had set in.
          I did not know then  why I cried.  Perhaps I mourned the death of Caroline and John-John's father.  Perhaps I was terrified by this sudden upheaval in my life and in my country.  Perhaps I realized deep in my heart that a time of innocence, a time adults called Camelot, was over.  My country would never again be the same.  Neither would I.
        

Buh Bye Keswick Theater

I used to love the Keswick theater, a smallish venue outside of Philadelphia. Those of you who remember the Main Point in Bryn Mawr  know how special a place like that can be.  Sadly, the Keswick is no longer this generation's Main Point.

Over the years, I have seen all kinds of shows there from Chinese acrobats to Wanda Sykes to fake Beatles to Cyndi Lauper, twice.  After last night however, I am done with them.  Cyndi was great, the Keswick not so great.

The Keswick needs to decide if they are a dance venue or a theater venue.  Seriously, I know that many clubs exist where kids go in, grab their booze at the bar, then stand on an open dance floor where they actively experience the music.  Last I checked, the Keswick didn't have a mosh pit in their theater.  They had seats.  Expensive seats.  Seats that too many people choose to ignore.  I get it if you want to stand up and dance as the concert draws to an end; a good musician should drive you to that point.  But to stand for the sake of standing is just plain rude! 

Don't tell me to get with it and join in the standing fun.  At five feet tall, I'd have to stand on the seat to see over the six feet tall gaggle of gay guys blocking my view.  Yes, I know Cyndi is a great friend to the LGBT community; but news flash guys - you do not have the corner on fandom.  She did not write Girls Just Wanna Have Fun for you! She wrote it for me and all those other women twice your age whose views you were blocking. If you possessed an ounce of courtesy, you'd have moved your dance party to the sides of the theater.  But nooooo, you were going to do what you wanted, when you wanted, and where you wanted.

I blame the Keswick for this.  When people from the back congregate up front blocking the aisles and the views of those who paid a hefty fee for their seats, security needs to return them to their section. When people are standing and audience members are yelling, Down in front, don't expect your patrons to cooperate.  Send security to sit them the hell down.  I saw a few things that scared me.  This big old blockhead was standing in the aisle, dancing in a way most white men try to avoid.  A little, and I mean tiny, woman confronted him and asked him to sit.  He began screaming at her, bending down, face purple, spittle flying and telling her to F this and F that or he would F her up.  I was frozen and ready to go get help, when she backed away and he went back to his stupid little dance.  That asshat was dangerous and stinkin' drunk and should have been removed from the theater. Cyndi had to stop her concert to appeal to some audience members who'd started to fist fight.  What where they fighting over?  Idiots blocking their views.  And that brings me to what has really turned me off to the Keswick  - their irresponsible sale of alcohol.

Any business that sells alcohol is required by law to stop serving customers who are obviously intoxicated. Not the Keswick.  Unlike other theaters I've attended, their bar is open from an hour before the show starts to its close.  From what I observed, they are doing a booming business.  I was shocked to see a guy balancing six beers in his hands as he stumbled down the aisle.  Does the theater have any idea where that alcohol is going? (No!)  Are they providing limitless booze for underage drinkers? (Yes!)  Is alcohol being delivered to people too drunk to walk to the bar by themselves? (Yes!)  How many of those same people are going to start fights in the theater?   (From what I saw, there were a bunch of "fires" being put out by Lauper's security.)  How many of those people will get behind the wheel of a car at the end of the show?  When is the Pennsylvania Liquor Board going to shut them down?  Think about that lack of revenue, Keswick Theater owners, as you peddle your cocktails.

Which one is it, Keswick?  Are you a theater venue or a dance bar?  'Cause I don't go to dance bars anymore.  Until you decide what you are, I won't be going to Glenside for theater anymore either.

Former Students...Part 1 in a Series

All of you who know me know that my weakness is Facebook.  I love the daily statuses, the games, and being on top of world events, especially Hollywood world events.  What you might not know is that one of my biggest pleasures concerning FB, though, is the opportunity I've had to peek into the adult lives of my former students.  I'm going to name names (in most cases), so if any of you kids object, just message me and I'll invent a fake name for you.  Right Aimee Granger?  LOL  You know who you are.

I must start with one of my favorite students in the whole world.  Now, that doesn't mean the rest of you weren't important, but this kid grabbed my heart and I have never forgotten him.  Tony Saunders, come on down!

When Tony was in seventh grade, he was a mess.  He was doing poorly in class, his behavior made him the talk of the faculty room, and he was a fixture in the assistant principal's office.  At the time, Bart Simpson was a popular cartoon character.  No lie, Tony looked just like him.  Well, our assistant principal, Mrs. Jones, decided that each of us on the team was to select an at-risk student and mentor him/her.  However, we were not to let the students know they had been selected;  we were to establish helping, encouraging relationships on the sly.  When I eagerly announced I wanted to mentor Tony, my team members had the deer-in-the-headlight look before they burst out laughing.

Such cynics!  I already knew that Tony could be reached.  I'd taught his older brother, I knew his mother cared, and maybe this kid was wild, but he was not a lost cause.  So, as we were instructed, I made an effort to get to know Tony.  To get him to trust me. To get him through seventh grade.

Every day he'd come to homeroom and I'd ask him how things were going, if he'd done his homework, if he had his library book for class, if he needed a pencil for the day.  Tony was smart, though, and he caught on to my not so subtle tactics.  One day, I remember him looking at me in horror and blurting out, "Ms. Snyder!  Why do you talk to me so much?!?"  The jig was up.  So I told him the truth, I had to. I told him that he was my project.  He rolled his eyes, probably called me crazy under his breath, but he put up with me.  It was a difficult year.  One day I even called his mom in  tears because I was so angry and frustrated with him.  As always, she was very supportive.  I never gave up on him.  Due to many different factors, he began experiencing success in his classes; his grades improved, and he realized he liked doing well. Tony made it through seventh grade.  I was there the evening he graduated from high school.  Now, I see him on FB.  He's a hardworking young man, and I'm proud of the person he has become. 

I'm really glad for FB because I would not have known what happened to him unless I read about him in The Record or The Aegis.  (We locals know that is not where you want to be featured.) I'm not totally up on all that happens in Tony's life because I have most of his feeds blocked.  Bless his heart, he and his friends use the F-word as noun, verb, adjective, and adverb.  And I can't help it, but such a lazy use of the English language just drives this English teacher crazy.

(PS: In case any of you are horrified that I have used his real name, please know that I obtained his permission before sharing this.  And, I didn't reveal half the stuff I learned about him during our homeroom conversations. )

Procrastination

One of the downsides to my retirement is that it has allowed one of my bad habits to flourish.  I am a procrastinator.  A certified procrastinator.  Yes indeed, I even have the certificate to prove it!  Years ago the Procrastinators of America allowed you to join their organization for a small donation.  I eventually got around to sending the donation, they eventually got around to sending the certificate, but I never got around to renewing my membership.  I'm sure, though, that I continue to be a member of this fine organization because I'm sure they rarely get around to clearing their files.

But I digress.  The point I had started to make was that because I am retired and under few actual time restraints, I can put off until tomorrow just about everything.  However, that stuff needs to get done!!  I just don't feel like doing it ... today. Or in some cases, this week, this month, or even this year.

When I taught, doctor appointments were always tricky.  I'd schedule the annual ones for the summer.  The regular ones I'd try to fit in without having to make plans for a substitute.  I'd "get 'er done" because I had to do it.  Scheduling was a must in order to complete all the demands on my days.  They were the good old days of regular wellness check ups.

All this talk of health care has reminded me of all the  check-ups I haven't had in months, years, or forever.  I need to get to the dentist. I have health insurance and I should take advantage of those teeth cleanings and check-ups. I hate the dentist. But, I love my teeth.  Gotta get there...one of these days.  It's been so long that I actually had to do internet research to remember my gyno's name.  I wonder if she'll remember me?  Breast Cancer Month passed with me thinking, I gotta get those babies squashed one of these days.  And Nancy, I have not forgotten your kind offer a few years ago to take me to my colonoscopy appointment, whenever I make it. Sigh.  I'll be mad as hell at myself if I do finally get these things done and find out I let something  awful go undiagnosed.  Mad as hell.

Yes, I need to make these appointments.  Soon.  But, you know, the holidays are coming up and they're going to be so busy....

Happy Curmudgeon Halloween

I hate Halloween.

You'd think that someone who loves theater as much as I would be orgasmic at the chance to dress up and act crazy.  Nope, not me.  My favorite acting gigs were the ones that provided a costume director, and all I had to do was put on what he/she set out for me to wear. (xxoo to my favorite Costume Boy - you know who you are)

I was all excited about the costume I'd selected for this year.  I dressed as a member of the Tea Party for Rita's soiree last weekend.  My friend, Marie, who identifies with the Tea Party, seemed a little miffed at the idea because she knows I'm a bleeding heart liberal.  But she didn't seem offended by my costume choice when I told her I wore a red, white, and blue dress with an 'Impeach Obama' campaign button, and that I carried a tea cup with a few tea bags.

The costume bombed.  Just bombed.

First of all, I had far too many people clapping me on the back and saying "Oh yeah!" when they noticed the campaign button.  When I explained I was a liberal and the costume was a joke, they backed away and stayed away for most of the evening.  After I put down the tea cup, no one knew who/what I was.  I like wigs, and so I chose a 50's style bob for the evening.  Unfortunately, it was a red wig.  Without my tea cup, the party guests thought I was trying to be Lucy Ricardo.  It is very tiring to carry a prop and continually explain your costume.  It just sucks the fun out of it. 

So when Dee wanted to dress up and go to a local restaurant tonight for dinner, I realized that my costume wasn't going to work.  Now, I have to come up with another costume, and that just feels like too darn much work.  I think I have settled on being a politically incorrect gypsy.  Of course, I can't find my zumba belt.  The long black wig I once wore is a tangled mess.  Most of the jewelry I used to dress up the ubiquitous black dress has been sold at a yard sale or two.  And my scarves?  I think I gave all of them to my nieces for dress up.  Sigh. 

Because of my age, once I do get dressed up, I can't do what really makes Halloween worthwhile.  I don't think too many people will open up their candy bowls to a sixty year old trick-or-treater.  I can eat a pillow case full of chocolate in one sitting.  And then, because I am old enough to drive, I can head over to the stores tomorrow for half-price Halloween candy.  Yep, I could do all that except I am an overweight diabetic and I do NOT dare indulge in a chocolate binge.

I hate Halloween.

Halloween Costumes for Adults

Another Halloween is approaching and once again, I need to figure out what to wear.  Some adults I know are excited by this challenge.  My lawn mower guy is dressing up as a Rubic's cube for his daughter's Halloween parade.  He was describing the intricacies of his costume as my eyes glazed over.  If it can't be done with the ubiquitous black dress then I don't want to hear it. For the past two years, I've gladly donned my favorite costume - Magenta from The Rocky Horror Picture Show.  Sadly, I am under orders to leave Magenta in the costume box this year.  After days of brainstorming whether to go as scary or funny, I have finally decided what to dress as this year.  Let me describe the costume to you, and see if you can guess.

I have a very patriotic red, white, and blue dress.  With it I will wear two campaign buttons.  One will say, Impeach Obama.  The other will say, 'Murica - Love it or Leave it.  I'll wear a blond wig in a sort of beehive shape. No, I won't be dressing as a Baltimore Hon, but that was a good guess. If I'm lucky, I'll locate a colonial tri-corner hat before Saturday.  In my hand I will carry a fancy tea cup with a couple of tea bags in it.  Got it now?  Yep, this year I am dressing as a member of the Tea Party.

I opted to go for scary. 

Computer Craziness

Does your computer drive you crazy?  Mine does.  Since retiring, I spend a lot of time on line. Too much time.  Ridiculously too much time.  So much time that I am too embarrassed to reveal the many hours.  And when it doesn't work, my life goes into a spin. We're not talking Verizon going down for the tenth million time this year, we're talking the dreaded mechanical failure.

The keyboard on my laptop has suddenly stopped working.  Any time I attempt to type a message or an email, all that shows is gibberish.  (If you're wondering how  I am writing this blog, I'm using someone else's computer).  What the heck happened to it?  I ran Avast scans for a few hours, but they revealed nothing.  If I had a virus, wouldn't Avast tell me and then quickly clean it up?  If the computer has done the unbearable - suddenly crashed - wouldn't I be unable to surf the net?  I spent all last night trying different fixes.  Nothing worked.  Imagine what someone as obnoxiously opinionated as I goes through when she can't type a snappy retort to someone else's obnoxious opinion?  Not pretty!

When I had no success with my keyboard, I turned to the other electronic in my house, my Nook.  Of course, it was battery dead so I had to wait a few hours to charge it back up. By the time I gave up trying to get to my email on the Nook, I was ready to throw it against the wall.  Tapping my fat fingers on the keyboard yielded nothing but mis-taps and wrong letters.  I couldn't get the type big enough to read.  In fact, I couldn't even get all the messages to come up.  I yelled at it for refusing to cooperate with me.  I swear it smirked evilly at me as it turned itself off. 

For normal people, step three would have been to go to the smart phone.  I only have a flip up stupid phone, and it probably had a low to dead battery anyway.

I can't remember how old my laptop is.  If I follow the advice of  the geeks, anything over a year is too old and should be replaced.  Since all I use it for is emailing, blog writing, web surfing, candy crushing, words with friending, weather reporting, TV guiding, recipe locating (to be honest, I do little of that), and picture holding, I have no  desire to own a super duper deluxe machine.  For goodness sakes, I just spent $3000 to save my damn dog's life, and I so don't want another big expense.

What's a girl to do?  Right now I have turned it off and I am going back to it Sunday night.  If I'm lucky, I'll turn it on and type away.  We'll just pretend that little glitch never happened.  If I'm not lucky, and lately I seem to be in a luck funk, the keyboard will still be tuned into hyerogliphyics.  Call Geek Squad?  Decide to get a new one since the CD player on it hasn't worked since the day I dropped it, and now this is just another thing wrong?  Decisions. Decisions.

Things I Don't Understand

'Merica is pretty ugly lately.  I've gotten into numerous conflicts on FB as I've argued over the cause/solutions to our country's problems.  I will admit it, sometimes I just don't "get" how some people think. There are many things happening in our country that confound me and confuse me.  The first is the uproar over the new requirement to purchase health insurance.

The argument is that the government shouldn't require people to buy insurance, especially if they can't afford it.  Lots of people are enraged over that requirement.  Ok, well then, where's the outrage over required car insurance?  Isn't it the same principle?  The government, in this case the state government, requires everybody to have insurance or you can't drive a car.  In Maryland, you will not get tags for your car if you do not provide proof of insurance on your application.  Sure, people drive without it, but it is against the law and you'll face consequences if caught.  Right now, the only option for people without health insurance is to get really sick and then go to the emergency room.  No preventative care for them, only emergency treatment.  We, those of us paying for insurance, ultimately pay for the hospital visits of those without it. So is it with car insurance.  Ever have an accident with someone who is not insured?  Your insurance company will be stuck with all costs, and trust me, your future rates will pay them back.  So, if someone could explain to me how requiring car insurance is different from requiring health insurance, I'd appreciate it.  'Cause frankly, I just don't understand.

The second thing that absolutely confounds me is kids involved in cyber bullying that leads to suicide.  So much I don't understand about that.  Why are kids so damn mean?  Why do they take pleasure in driving someone into such a deep depression they choose to end their life?   I taught middle school, and I dealt with bullying as best as I could.  But, thanks to our social media, the stakes have risen to a new level.  My sister works at a private school.  She's told me about the cyber bullying going on at her school and the way families often "deal" with it.  The parents come into school and demand the school do something about it.  Huh?  This is going on in their homes on their computers.  Why is the school responsible?  Is it because parents refuse to take some necessary steps themselves?  Step one, parents, take the electronics away from your kids.  No more Facebook accounts, no more texting, sexting whatever.  Step two, get your bullied kid into counseling immediately.  Ultimately, we can't control the behavior of others.  So, get your kid and family the counseling they need.  You may be very uncomfortable with what comes out during the sessions, but the help is imperative.  How did society go from 'Sticks and stones will break my bones, but names will never hurt me' to name calling leading to suicide?  I just don't understand.

I don't understand our current Congress.  These "public servants" are proving themselves to be anything but.  It is the people, their constituents, who are being hurt by the current shutdown of America.  Why are those in Congress so damn stubborn?  Is it because they can no longer relate to the people who elected them since their pay checks haven't stopped?  their health care is not in jeopardy?  their immediate needs are being satisfied? Don't autocall me, Andy Harris, to tell me how proud you are to be stalling the government.  Start doing your damn job!  All of this turmoil is weakening the United States in the eyes of the world.  I don't understand how anyone calling themselves a "patriot" doesn't get that.  Will people remember these days and vote accordingly during the next election?  I doubt it.  It seems that electing politicians anymore is like the elections held in high schools, popularity contests.  Elect me!  Elect me! I'm good looking, I'm saying what you want to hear, and I have a lot of money to provide you with campaign buttons.  Elect me!  I'll pretend to listen to your concerns.  Then, once in office I'll do whatever I want.  I don't understand what has happened to America's elected officials.  When did they give up representing and caring about their people?

A little off topic (or maybe not since America is getting fatter and fatter) the last thing I just don't get is how come I have been following my Weight Watchers diet faithfully for two weeks and I've only lost three pounds?  Surely, I deserve to have lost at least ten, right?? I just don't understand it.

Dreams

Do you ever have bizarre dreams?  I've been having them all of my life. 

The one I awoke to this morning was excruciatingly embarrassing.  I dreamed I was on a Murder Mystery cruise.  Nothing wrong with that huh?  Well, my roommate/partner/whatever you want to call him was  a former student of mine who shall remain nameless.  He got into an altercation at the bar because he didn't like the piece of cake he ordered, and he demanded his money be returned. His disapproving aunt was a friend of a friend of a friend who doesn't even know this guy.  Why in the world did I dream of those two people?  These are people with whom I have little to no personal contact.  And why did I dream of them in a way that would make me blush if I were to tell the whole story?  (I will not be telling the story. Once I told Ron Luloff about a dream I had of monkeys in different colors.  He never looked at me the same way again.)

I had certain dreams as a kid that occurred so often, I remember them to this day.  One of them was a pretty typical dream.  I was able to fly, and I used to fly over the blacktopped playground of my elementary school.  That's an easy one to understand; I longed to be free during the school day.

Another one I had all the time involved World War II.  I lived in a hut on a tropical island. One day, soldiers invaded my hut.  They didn't find me though because I had turned into an oval-shaped braided rug.  They walked all over me, but I was safe from them and I could return to my natural state once they were gone.  I had this dream a lot.  Amateur psychologists?  Have at it.

One dream I had during college involved my father.  We were dressed as farmers with straw hats, overalls, and sh*t stoppin' boots.  Our chickens were ready to hatch so we were taking them to the farmers' market to sell.  Well, the truck broke down and the chickens hatched.  Only they weren't chickens, they were baby ducks.  As they ran all over the place, my dad was yelling at me.  He blamed me for the mix-up with the eggs, and he was furious that I couldn't round up those bright yellow balls of fluff (yes, I dream in color).  Are you amateur psychologists still on the job?

Far too many of my dreams leave me feeling anxious.  While they aren't about something currently worrying me, I suspect the anxiety is from the worry I try to suppress.  Do all adults have this kind of dream?  Or are some of you having the sweet dreams we always wish for each other?

Please, if you dare, share your dreams.  I'm curious.  And I promise, I will not psychoanalyze you!

Thoughts for a Quiet Saturday Evening

Sometimes when it's quiet and nothing much is on the TV, I fantasize about all kinds of things: what I'd do if I won a big lottery, things I'd change about my life if I got a Do-Over, places I want to visit, other jobs I might have done had I not taught.  You get the picture, things you think about before drifting off to sleep.

Today I was thinking about things I wish would be invented.

Besides the obvious, such as a car that gets 75 mpg or a safer source of energy than nuclear power, I was thinking of little things that would be so enjoyable.

I wish there was a patch like the smoker's patch that one could wear to control appetite and/or the desire to eat for the sake of eating.  I'd wear one even if the only effective place to put it was on my forehead.

I'd like to see shoes sold as singles.  Lots of people have one foot bigger than the other.  I have a terrible time finding comfortable shoes.  My left foot is about a half size bigger than my right foot.  If one foot is comfy, the other is sliding in the shoe.  If my right foot fits well, my left shoe may pinch.  I have lots of shoes, but only a few I like to wear.

I wish there was a formula or a polish that I could put on my nails that would really do what Sally Hansen falsely claims her products do.  I wish I could paint on something to actually make my nails strong enough to grow past the fingertips. I can get my nails to do that, but they will soon catch or split or break.  I won't use acrylics since the time I got a terrible infection.  I want a product that does the job without poisoning the body.  Surely a scientist could brew such a formula!

I wish there was an alarm clock that could hit its own snooze alarm.  And then after a certain number of snoozes, could reach over and gently shake you awake.  Oh, and yes, I'd want the ability to program my name and the voice waking me up.  I'd be happier to get out of bed if Dennis Quaid was saying, "Get up Barbara darlin'."

That's all.  Simple things to make life a bit better.

Because seriously, if someone could find solutions to the big problems in life, well, what would we complain about on Facebook?

Updating

Today's blog will contain updates related to some of my older blogs.  Not that you've actually clamored for updates, but maybe you've been somewhat curious.

October is my "back to school" month; that's when classes start up again at the Senior Center.  (See "Shake Your Booty" written 11/19/12.) Zumba whipped my butt today.  That's probably because it got so hot this summer that I stopped leaving the air conditioned house for classes.  About the most energetic I got was to drive in the air conditioned car to float blissfully at the pool.  Class is back in session, and some of my favorite characters are back.  There's the athlete.  This squat older lady is always in the front row flinging her arms and her weights.  She wears a towel twisted around her bra strap and draping down the front of her shirt.  It always makes me laugh since the rest of us just wipe off on our t-shirts.  But, she got through class a lot easier than I did today.  My knees were in agony after a summer of no stretching them. (Remember "The Bees Knees" from 5/21/13?) The dancer is back, only now I think she fantasizes she's on Dancing With the Stars.  She raises her arms to dance with her imaginary partner and smiles over her shoulder at the judges (aka the back row).  The newest class member is the prancer.  Have you seen the You Tube video of the woman who loves horses and has developed an exercise program called Prancercise?  Well, prancing woman has turned up in our class!  She's fun to watch. I'm just waiting for her to rear up and whinny.  Gotta love her.  She also did much better than I at class.  This session I'm taking an intriguing class - cane fu.  Yep, you read that right - kung fu for the cane wielding set.  Can't wait to learn to flip a cane like Bruce Lee would have had he lived long enough.

Remember "Psychics" from 8/13/13?  I had my session with her, and it was pretty much what I expected...nothing special.  She told me I have arthritis.  Well, the doctor told me that news a while ago and at least his consultation was covered by insurance.  She kept harping about a man who had betrayed me, and how he had caused me a lot of harm that has lingered with me for far too long.  I didn't know what she was talking about, and then long after she could answer any questions for me, I realized to what she had been referring. In my blog called "Faith/Religion: Something I've Been Told Never to Discuss" from 11/4/12, I touched briefly on the lunatic rector that resulted in my leaving my church home of thirty years.  Now that was a betrayal!!! That was a terrible life experience caused by a crazy man.  But, since I couldn't recall it at the time of the reading, I never did get any advice from her concerning the matter.  She told me that my mother is always with me.  Well, that's nice, but I know that both of my parents send signs all the time that they're with me.  See "Dimes" from 1/19/13.  Am I going to meet a wonderful man?  No.  Gee, I didn't see that coming, insert sarcasm. (Refer to "matchsingleseniorsfishinthesea.com" from 3/18/13. ) But her biggest "prediction" was that I'd have a huge and unexpected expense in the near future.  I own a home; how hard is it to make such a prediction?  The expense, though, did occur.  And it wasn't what I was watching out for.

Do you recall "So if cats have 9 lives, how many do dogs get?" from 3/21/13?  Trixie struck again.  This past week I nearly lost her.  She ate a glob of dental floss.  I figured she'd pass it.  Thank goodness she ate a half cup of chocolate frosting the next day.  At least that worried me because chocolate is so bad for dogs.  The morning after, when I awoke to Trixie vomit all over the house, I thought the chocolate had poisoned her.  The next few days were a nightmare as she got worse and nobody knew what was wrong.  When the emergency vet alerted me at 1:00 am that she was going to do exploratory surgery because she suspected the dental floss was twisted inside of her, I thought I'd be sick.  Sure enough, the surgery revealed floss stuck in her stomach and twisted around her intestines.  Had we waited much longer, the intestines could have ruptured and filled her body with fatal toxins.  She's alive, almost $3000 later.  Seriously, couldn't the psychic have told me to watch out for dental floss instead of telling me to expect a big expense in the near future??

My Godgirl's wedding went off without a hitch. And without cicadas!  (See "My Godgirl's Getting Married" from 5/8/13.)  She was breathtakingly beautiful.  John was Prince Charmingly handsome. They exchanged vows that made us laugh and cry.  Being that they are animal lovers, a few special touches made the wedding extra special.  When John extended a leather-gloved hand, a hawk holding a little bag with their rings in it landed on his arm.  The couple set off two doves at the end of the ceremony, doves that joined a flock of white birds circling overhead.  The wine flowed, the music played, and we all danced in the moonlight.

I'm still working on my "Random Acts of Kindness" from 3/29/13.  When I won $500 at the casino, it gave me the chance to donate a little more than 10% for the classroom of a friend who teaches in a troubled Philadelphia school.  When I learned a former student was suffering cancer and in danger of losing the home she was working to provide for her three children, I was able to donate to her and share the information for her fundraising page. Sharing that information led others to donate, too.  She needed $700, but over $3000 was raised!  Those two I can tell you about, as those donations were publicly made.  My other RAKs are my secret.  I still have more to complete, though, before this year is over.

So there you go, updates on some of my blogs.  Is there anything else you might like to know? Send me your questions! 

Litter

What is happening in America?  Specifically, I am referring to trash.  Litter. Everywhere.

The hill leading up to my street is a prime target for litterers.  I have been appalled by the things discarded on this road.  Why dump your tinsel covered Christmas tree when the town gladly picks them up outside of your house?  You really can't hold on to your fast food bags until you get home?  The worst was the mattress that sat there for months.  Why? There are ways to get rid of trash that don't involve polluting the neighboring streets.

I'd like to blame young people, simply because I'm old and I want to blame young people for everything.  (I have my prejudices, I must admit.)  Having been a middle school teacher I was witness to countless acts of mindless littering. Kids constantly threw their trash on the floor or in the halls, and if you tried to get them to pick it up, they always said it wasn't theirs.  Argghh!!  So, I picked it up.  Constantly.  I thought I was being a good role model when in reality I was probably teaching them it was ok to trash the floors because the teachers or custodians would pick it up.  We teachers tried to rectify the situation by taking the kids out on beautiful days to pick up the trash on the school grounds to keep it from polluting the Chesapeake Bay.  They really got into it and felt satisfied about doing something to help the Bay. This was one part of their Service Learning Project.  I like to think it made a direct impact on those kids. 

I pick up a lot of trash in front of my house, snack food paper dumped by the kids walking home from the bus.  It annoys the hell out of me, but I don't say anything just to keep the peace.  The other day, my lawn mower guy and I were chatting on my front steps when a van with two young women drove by and tossed their trash out of the window and on to my driveway.  I jumped up yelling, "Yo bitch" while simultaneously shocking the heck out of the lawn guy who always thought I was a mild-mannered retired schoolmarm.  What did she rip up and throw out of the window?  A picture lovingly drawn by a child as a gift for one of them.  That made both of us even angrier. I remember when my friend Dottie got married.  One of her chores the morning of the wedding was to go to the church and scoop up the litter on the church grounds.  Once I asked a young man why he threw his fast food bags out of the cab of his truck.  He replied that he took great pride in his truck and didn't want to mess it up. 

Oy vay.

I know there are other people as disturbed as I am by this trash trend.  When he was in better health, my neighbor Herb would walk the streets and pick up trash along the way. Some group actually bagged the trash on the hill leading to my street.  I don't know when the bags will ever get collected, and now people driving up the hill are throwing their trash on top of the bags, but they tried.  There is a group of volunteers who meet regularly in Havre de Grace to collect and properly dispose of litter.  And the more prisoners on work detail detrashing our streets the better! (Well, I don't know if the prisoner example actually counts as people caring about our environment, but they work really hard and do a good job.)

The big question is how to get people to care.  I grew up with the single tear sliding down the weathered old face of an Indian mourning the pollution of his land. (Yeah, yeah.  I know he wasn't a real Native American, but he was a good actor).  No way could I throw a piece of paper on the ground without being haunted by his tear-stained countenance. What has changed?  Why do people trash their environments so easily? Where's the remorse? Where's the responsibility?  Where's the common sense?

                                 

Typical Tuesday

There was nothing spectacular about this day. Nothing special or memorable to rave about.  Yet, as I am about to go to bed, I realize I feel happy and content.  This was a good day.

I had a long chat with my friend Karen Green. If you know Karen, you're a lucky person. If you don't know her, trust me when I tell you she's amazing. She's an optimist. An inspiration. A hoot. A survivor. A fighter. And she's funny. I chuckled to myself the rest of the day after my visit with her. It's a blessing to have a friend who makes you laugh.

I had a long list of errands to do today. Do you enjoy crossing things off the list? I do. I'm feeling very satisfied that today's list is done and tomorrow's list seems doable.

Met with my book club and discussed a book I loved (And the Mountains Echoed). I missed my book buddies over the summer break and I was so happy to see them. The shrimp salad wrap at McGregor's was a delicious treat. What a great few hours!

Brenda, Ronnie, and I then went to the casino. No, I didn't win another $500, but who cares? We had fun. We played trivia. I drank a delicious frozen margarita.  Win win.

Since I've been retired, people frequently ask me what I do all day. When I try to answer that question, I'm usually stumped. I know I'm always busy and the days turn into weeks, turn into months, and turn into years.  But if I had to tell you exactly what I did with my time, I'd be at a loss for words . Just what do I do all day???   Well, I figured out the best answer to that question tonight - Whatever I want! 

I hope you had a good day today.  Here's hoping for a good tomorrow.

                                         Brenda, me, and Ronnie
                                              

Church???

It's Sunday, and once again I'm not in church.  In fact, I'm watching a cheesy movie called Return to Peyton Place.  I'm feeling guilty, but not quite sure what to do about that guilt.

I've written before about my experience with my church of thirty years.  It soured me on churches.  Not God, churches.  I've visited other churches, but none have called my name.  None have felt like home.  For a long while, I was attending the church across the street from my old church.  It's a beautiful building with a wonderful pastor, but I don't feel any connection to its community.  I visited the latest flavor in mega churches and while the pastor is motivating and the people kind, it wasn't for me either. 

What's a gal to do?  I don't think that attending church in order to have a tax write-off in January is a very good idea.  But right now, I can't think of any other reason to go.

Pretty sad, huh?

Why do you go to your church?  Habit? Tradition? Or are you truly motivated because each visit makes your faith stronger, your life better?

I'm lost. 

Downy Ocean, Hon

This year we moved our family vacation from Rehoboth to Ocean City.  We needed more space than a hotel "suite" could provide.  We kept the same week because it is probably the least crowded week of the year.  While all the Maryland and Delaware children are back at school, those of us who waited all summer are enjoying a sparser OC.  Good things come to those who wait!

Getting here was a dream come true.  There was barely any traffic.  The ride I expected could take us as long as four hours was accomplished in less than three. Getting the key from the real estate agent was easily done.  Moving into the condo was great as this place had tons of carts and lots of staff to keep the process orderly. Lots of staff.  And lots of rules.  And lots of staff to make sure you obey lots of rules.  I'm good with it.  The first night here, a fight started with a loud bunch of drinkers.  The staff broke it up immediately; I think they're all ex-marines. 

Anyhow, I was feeling very lucky that things were going so nicely.  And in beach tradition, it was confirmed that I am lucky.  First day on the beach a seagull plopped one big hunk of poop on my back. Everybody we've laughingly told the story to has said the same thing, That's really lucky.  I believe it.

Today was an amazing day.  Since I broke my leg five years ago, I have had issues with leg strength, bad knees, vertigo, going up and down steps, and my leg just collapsing on me.  I don't know if this stuff is related to the broken leg, but I've noticed these symptoms since then.  The summer I broke my leg, I, my sister, her daughters, and a friend of hers rented a condo at the beach. I couldn't go.  I was wheelchair bound and it was just too difficult to get me there.  I was bereft as they loaded up the car and drove to MY vacation. I didn't get to the beach once that year or the next year as I was still slowly recovering from my second broken leg.

When I did get back to annually visiting the beach, we'd stay at Rehoboth.  We had a great time, but something was missing for me.  I couldn't get in and out of the ocean without falling repeatedly.  It terrified me when I couldn't get up without assistance.  That was the end of my going into the Atlantic Ocean. It broke my heart.  My beach buddy Dottie and I no longer took those bi-weekly day trips to the ocean.  I resigned myself to spending the rest of my aquatic life in a pool.

But I was lucky.  Really lucky today.  All the conditions were right and I ventured into the sea.  No deep dips in the sand.  Long gaps of time between each smacking wave so I could avoid my knees being attacked and me falling over.  Before I knew it, I was bobbing on the waves. I was spitting out salt water.  My sister taught my nieces how to body surf and I was able to join them.  It was heaven.  And like I used to do when I was young, I stayed in the water for hours.  I am so thankful to have enjoyed this experience! I was convinced that I was never, ever getting back together with my mermaid self.  But today, I swam in the ocean. For me, this was a miracle.  Can you imagine the joy of doing something you love that you thought was forever lost to you?  To quote Cathy from The Big C , "Lucky me."

But, I even got luckier!  Dee and I visited the casino.  It was either that or just throw money off the balcony and into the fly-infested wind.  We figured the casino would be more fun.  I actually won $30!!  Me, a winner.  Imagine that.

It's supposed to rain on Wednesday.  Oh well.  As the saying goes, even a bad day at the beach is better than a good day at the office.  And how!

Call Me Maybe

A recent event had me examining my cell phone use and my lack of interest in investing in a super phone.  Seems like I am totally out of touch with the 21st century.  And you know what? I don't give a damn.

My brother and I were supposed to meet half way between his house and mine so that I could take my niece to my house for a few days.  I was at the fast food place on time, 5:00.  He wasn't there at 5:30, 6:00, 6:30, or 7:00.  Had he been late leaving the house?  Bad traffic? Accident? Lost? I was worried, but couldn't do much about it.  You see, my phone was dead.  I'd not used it the week I was on vacation, and it never occurred to me to charge it until I wanted to find out where the heck my brother was.  Finally, I figured I needed to get home and use my land line to make some calls.  It was a forty-five minute drive.  When I got to my house, all the lights were on.  My friend had let him and my niece into the house.  He was apoplectic with anger.   He was literally foaming at the mouth and screaming at me for not having my phone charged.  He told me I was stupid, crazy, had Alzheimer's, etc.  I told him to get out of my f-g house.  Seriously?  He was beyond livid because I didn't answer the phone??  Whatever happened to common sense?  Why didn't he turn around when he realized he'd missed the restaurant? Why didn't he ask for directions when he realized he'd missed our meeting point?  He knew I was there.  Wasn't he the "stupid" one to drive on stubbornly to my house knowing full well I would not be there?  The couple of people I spoke to about this seemed to be in agreement with him; well, why wasn't your phone charged????

Because I don't use it that much.  Because I don't have any desire to be tied to a phone. Because now that my parents are gone, there are very few reasons that I have to be reached immediately by anybody.  I disabled my texting feature years ago after getting spam porn texts that I had to pay for to figure out who was texting me.  Who needs that nonsense?

Though I don't intentionally want to offend anybody, I have to say that people with phones attached to their ears annoy the hell out of me. I don't care to hear your personal conversations while I'm buying my groceries.  And don't you dare admonish me to mind my own business when I roll my eyes at you for blocking the aisle while you've stopped to respond to something someone said to you over the phone.  If I am at the movies, I'm annoyed by the light of your phone and the one-sided conversation about your boyfriend gambling away his paycheck that you think you're so quietly having.  I want to get out of your car when you insist on driving and talking on the phone.  It's dangerous, and it is rude!  If we're having a conversation that is constantly interrupted by your cell phone, I may pretend that I don't care, but I don't like it. If we are at a meeting and your phone rings, do you really think it's polite to talk on your phone while someone is speaking to the group?  Or to tap out a text before asking someone else, what did she just say?  I saw a YouTube thing recently where a bride interrupted her wedding to answer the cell phone she had tucked into her cleavage.  Maybe it was a fake, but with the way people are about their phones anymore, it was hard to tell.

So, I guess I am totally out of touch with the telephone technology so many of you enjoy.  Frankly, I'm fine with it.  After this recent incident, I have vowed to myself to keep my phone charged.  We'll see how that goes.  Just remember, if I don't answer immediately, it's not the end of the world.  And if our land line phone call mysteriously gets disconnected while you're simulataneously conversing on your cell phone, it probably wasn't a mistake. 

Am I the only one who feels this way?  Is there anyone else in America not tied to their cells?  If you can relate to this blog, I'm glad to not be alone.  But please, don't call my cell to talk about it.  Odds are, I won't even be able to find it in the mess I call my purse before you've hung up in utter frustration.

Psychics

My sister has scheduled a psychic party (I don't know what else to call it) at her house in September.  A psychic, whom some of the women have already met, comes to the house and gives everybody a half hour reading for a set fee. I have wavered about attending.  At sixty, how much life do I have left for her to predict? And what if all there is to see in my future is more boring stuff?  Do I really want to pay money to confirm more of the same?

I used to have a fascination with psychics.  Some experiences confounded me, others just left me laughing.  Mostly, I consulted psychics when I was in the midst of a major life change or I thought I was in love.   Since I couldn't read the uncommunicative guy's mind, I figured I'd let the psychic do it.  In my many visits to psychics, some experiences still stand out.

The summer I finished my fifth year of college was a job hunting nightmare.  So, I asked my cousin Joan to help me get my astrological chart done by a woman she swore by.  The woman was adamant about my future job prospects.  She told me I would get the job I interviewed for on Thursday.  I told her I didn't have an interview for Thursday, but I had one for Monday.  She told me I'd also be offered that job, but I would take the Thursday job.  After my Monday interview, I was contacted by HCPS, and they set up my interview...for Thursday.  The rest, as you know, is history.  Before you get all goose pimply about this woman's talent, she also told me I would marry a dark foreigner and have one child.  That never happened.  Granted, there were some very nice dark foreigners in my life, but I had seen the movie and read the book, Not Without My Daughter, so I wasn't investing any time in those men.

I sought advice about the men in my life.  One in particular really had my heart.  The psychic told me that he deeply cared for me, but for reasons I would later understand, he would never, ever be mine. She was right.  Like a number of men I cared for, he too, eventually came out of the closet. Another psychic described a guy I was drawn to and warned me away from him.  He was not just a bad boy, he was dangerous.  Before it got really bad, I took her advice and safely squirmed out of that relationship.

Over the years, I have maintained a fascination with psychics.  I have read how they trick people into providing the information a psychic needs to give a reading.  I recently saw an expose on one of the news shows where the psychic gave everybody the same general reading that each attendee found to be personally mind-blowing.  I even went to a Sylvia Browne show; she is, by the way, a huge fraud.  But, I like and still put some credence in John Edwards.  I've read how psychics have been hired by police departments to solve murders, I taught a book about the sight to my middle schoolers (The Third Eye), and Medium was a not-to-miss television show for me.  So, there is still a part of me that wants to believe.

I'll go to the psychic party.  I hope she doesn't waste my thirty minutes by describing my personality or past adventures.  I already know that stuff.  I want to know what I've always wanted to know - Dear Miss Psychic:  Tell me the truth, is there a man in my future?  And is he straight?

Where the Boys Are

I was watching "Where the Boys Are," one of my favorite movies.  It is  a classic film that showcases the moral values of the generation in which I was raised.  Teenagers today don't know what they're missing.

Dressing up to go on a date.  Does anybody do that anymore?  Seems like kids just hook up, meet in groups, and then pair off as the mood hits them.  I used to like getting something new to wear, layering on the makeup, and even wearing pantyhose and heels. Preparing made the evening feel like a promise of something special.

Saying no.  Yep, girls could do that and still be popular and find love.  Guys expected it, and were ok with it.  What could be easier?  Kids today rush into sex before they even know each other's last names.  I get it that this is the 2000's and people should feel free of guilt to do what feels good. But there are so many unspoken strings tied to sex that kids don't actually face until the act is over.  There's nothing wrong with sharing minds and goals before sharing bodies.  Is there?

Innocent fun.  The cops rolled their eyes at the influx of kids and did what they could to keep them safe.  There were no riots, murders, drug/alcohol overdoses, gang rapes, girls gone wild videos, etc.  These kids were pulled into the police station because they jumped in a mermaid pool at a local restaurant.  Good clean fun.

I don't know.  Was life back then really so easy?  Do the movies glamorize a fifties that never really existed?  Life is hard for kids anymore, especially if we judge it by the movies that are made for them (gore, violence, and more gore).  Maybe we need a little more "Where the Boys Are."  I know that I enjoyed the escape this afternoon.  Now, time to watch my other favorite, "Dirty Dancing."  That too is a classic film that showcases the moral values of the generation in which I was raised.

Hmmm.....

Strong Women in Literature - My Heroes

Book recommendation time!  The following are some of my favorites.  They share a commonality;  the women are strong and the stories are real. 

The Diary of a Young Girl by Anne Frank

I'm sure you've heard of this book, even if you haven't read it.  Over the years, I've collected most versions published in the English language.  It is not a book to be avoided because the subject is the Holocaust. It is a book to be embraced because of the optimism Anne felt for the human race despite the oppression she and her family experienced at the hands of the Nazis.  I taught this book to my seventh graders for many years, and I was always amazed by their reactions to the story.  Many of the kids were surprised that Anne was so open about her love/hate relationship with her mother.  I remember reading it and thinking about how Anne's experience so echoed the difficult relationship I experienced with my mom.  My kids were uncomfortable with this strained relationship; I think because her words hit too close to home at times.  One year I was completely frustrated with a class who insisted Anne was a lesbian.  I wasn't about to get into a discussion about blooming teen sexuality; I remember telling them to stop watching afterschool talk shows and relating their salacious topics to great literature. Instead, I encouraged them to absorb the wealth of Anne's wisdom.  Here are a few gems for you:

“How wonderful it is that nobody need wait a single moment before starting to improve the world.”

“Look at how a single candle can both defy and define the darkness.”

“In spite of everything I still believe that people are really good at heart. I simply can't build up my hopes on a foundation consisting of confusion, misery and death.” 

So go ahead.  Pick up this book and read it. If you're lucky, it will change your life.  Anne Frank is my hero.

So Far From the Bamboo Grove   by Yoko Kawashima Watkins

This story takes place at the end of WWII when a Japanese family that has been stranded in Korea must return as refugees to Japan.  Their father has been imprisoned (some have claimed he was a war spy), the brother separated from the family, and the tiny frail mother must get her two daughters home.  Despite the harrowing journey and near death escapes they experienced, for me and my students the story really started when they settled.  They were poor, rejected by their country, and suffered in ways my students couldn't begin to imagine.  The harassment the girls faced as poor people in a private Japanese school and the determination they had to be educated despite the bullying, gave my students valuable insight into the importance of an education and how blessed they were to be receiving one. It's a wonderful and touching story.  The sequel, My Brother, My Sister and I , finished the story.  I love this book and the messages it sends: education is important, love one another, family loyalty, and peace on earth.  There's some controversy that this account is total fiction, without an ounce of truth.  Hmmph.  Some people also believe the Holocaust never happened.  Read it and decide for yourself.

On a side note, I heard the author speak at my school.  This tiny, soft-spoken woman kept an audience of antsy middle school students hypnotically engaged in her talk.  Some were near tears as she described the emotional torture experienced during her school years.  All wanted to read her book at the end of the talk.  I remember being required to send home permission slips so parents could consent to their child reading the book.  No one ever declined permission. (In fact, Adam T., your mom sent me the nicest note thanking me for introducing your class to this book.) At the end of reading the book, students in one of my classes each wrote a letter to the author.  She responded to every student with an individual, personal letter.  Yoko Kawashima Watkins is my hero.

Warriors Don't Cry by Melba Patillo Beals

I was first introduced to this book by a Black History Month edition of Read Magazine, a periodical used in our school to supplement the reading anthology.  I doubt the school orders the magazine anymore due to its contents not being test related and mandated budget cuts that eliminate all the good stuff.  But, there I go again, dragging out the soapbox. Anyhow, back to the topic.

This book examines the integration of Little Rock High School by one of the survivors from the group dubbed The Little Rock Nine.  It's an important book and an unforgettable story.  When I first read the excerpt, I was shocked that at my age and with my level of education I was woefully ignorant of the nitty-gritty of the Civil Rights Movement.  I had never heard of the Little Rock Nine.  I made it my mission to teach this book and/or share the moving excerpt every year with my students.  There is a lack of curriculum concerning the Civil Rights Movement in our educational system; there is so much more to this history than Martin Luther King or Rosa Parks.  Maybe if more Americans understood the complexities of the movement, our society would be in a better place today.  Anyhow, the soapbox is wobbly.  Back to the book.

Melba's description of the actual integration of the school is riveting, from the mothers' organization determined to stop them to the National Guard sent in to protect them.  The abuse these youngsters experienced once registered at the school made many of my students burst with emotion as to how/why they did all of that just to go to school. "Ms. S!  I'd be too afraid to do that!!!!"  Me too, kids, me too.  Melba Patillo Beals and The Little Rock Nine are my heroes.

All of these books have appeared on one or more lists of banned books for schools.  I'm glad that I read them, and I'm thankful that the admins at Havre de Grace Middle trusted me to teach them with diplomacy and compassion.

Now, I challenge you to meet my heroes in books you will never forget.  These are quick, compelling reads.  It's July.  There's still plenty of time to get in some quality summer reading.  Enjoy!

Paula Pounding

Paula Deen's in a lot of trouble. Social media has put her on trial and condemned her as guilty of being a racist. Her endorsements are being lost. Her television show is being canceled.   Her product sales are dropping. All because she told the truth and admitted that in the past she has used the n-word. People are burning the boards condemning the woman. And they are smiling broadly as they do it.  Paula pounding is fun!

Give me a break.


The trial is about unfair work practices, and the charges are mainly aimed at the behavior of her brother. (And for those of you who are unaware, the woman filing the hostile workplace charges is white. Just a little FYI.)  Did Paula ever call someone a n-word in the work place? No. Is the issue that Paula personally mistreated employees because of the color of their skin? No. Did Paula have some goofy ideas about southern plantations? Yes. (And so does the rest of the South as you can't go to any state without signing up for the plantation tour. It's a money-maker.)

The question she was asked was if she'd EVER used the n-word in the past.  What the hell kind of a question was that?  Had they asked her if she'd ever used the term to belittle an employee, that might have made more sense.  But to ask if she'd ever used the word?  How many of you reading this have never used the word, either out loud or in your thoughts/opinions?  How many of you have never said anything in the past that, taken out of context, could make you look mighty bad now-a-days?  If you're thinking 'not me,' then I'm calling you a liar. 

American social media..... gotta love it.  It thrives on making celebrities out of nobodies.  But where it really has fun is tearing down such celebrities and reporting on the drying up of their bank accounts.  We are such a jealous society.  And one that is so easily led.  It should scare you (general you) how easily your thoughts and opinions are dictated to you by the media.

I saw this on Facebook today.  Thanks to Kathy Lawson.  You really made me think.
                                    

First World Problems

After reading my last blog, my friend Anne commented that I had written about First World Problems. I don’t think that thinly disguised racism or weather reports that terrify small children count as First World Problems, but I do feel like a mini-expert in that field so I decided today to share the wealth of my knowledge with you, my dear readers.

　
If you are unfamiliar with the term First World Problems, it refers to a “problem” that only someone in America with no real problems (or perspective) could have. Such problems often involve eye rolling by the audience forced to listen to the person’s complaints. Usually, the person whining has no idea that the recipient of said whine would rather be walking barefooted on a rocky beach instead of listening to the drama queen/king going on and on. First World Problems sometimes involve narcissism, sometimes not. If you personally relate to a problem, you’d probably prefer to think of the universality of the issue rather than the selfishness of the complainer.

　
I am currently exasperated by a few First World Problems (referred to from now on as FWP). My internet went out four hours ago and has yet to be restored. Therefore, I cannot check my email, get beaten in Words with Friends by Debbie Cullum (who is really her sneaky husband Bart), stay stuck on Level 65 of Candy Crush, or any of the other things that keep me occupied throughout the day. I am, like, so totally, irritated. If I call my provider, I’ll be on the phone for an hour with “Peggy” who will eventually give up and set up an appointment for a service call. I will get anywhere between five to eight calls from the company telling me my service has been restored and do I want to cancel the service call. I will cancel the call five or eight times, and yet the technician will never get the message, so I will not get to sleep late tomorrow because robocall will start bugging me at 7:00 am and I’ll have to dress before he shows up around lunchtime. Have you rolled your eyes yet? Perhaps they have glazed over. Yep, it’s a FWP.

　
It is getting close to dinner, and I am in a quandary about what to do. My swim club is having its first cookout, and as much as I’d like to go, I didn’t RSVP. That’s not too big of a problem, as long as I bring a side dish and a few bucks, I’m welcome. But, do I really want to go if any of the three big families (10+ people per family) are there? Do those people bring one side dish to represent twelve people when single old me is also bringing one dish? That’s certainly not fair! And soooo irritating! Will there be enough for everybody or will those vulture children get all the food before anyone else? Will there even be a place for me to sit with that crowd of kids circling the barbeque pit? This is a real problem because it is almost dinnertime and a girl’s gotta eat. What to do? What to do? First World enough for you?

　
FWP: Complaining about eating too much at Thanksgiving (or Christmas, Easter, Halloween or just plain Wednesday). Woe is poor, poor you. You have too much food and make yourself feel uncomfortable when eating it. There are people starving in the world, and we Americans love to complain about too much food and how irresistible it is. Smh (This means shaking my head in computer talk.)

　
FWP: Getting angrier and angrier as you’re stuck in a traffic jam on your way to the beach. Hey, you’re not working - you are going to the beach! Enjoy!

　
FWP: You are sick and tired of people misspelling your name. Britney, Briteny, Brittany, Brittaney, Britaney - seriously? How can anyone remember which way you spell it? Be happy people care enough to remember your name.

　
FWP: Three of your favorite programs are on at the same time. You can DVR one and watch one, so what happens to the third? Darn those TV stations for having the nerve to schedule all of your favorite programs at the same time!

　
FWP: Your pants are getting tight because you’ve been enjoying so many restaurant meals and glasses of fine wine. Darn those restaurants for making their portions so big! (This one’s for you Larry.)

　
Do you get the picture? Do you suffer from FWPitis? If so, it’s time to take a serious look at the issues that are driving you crazy. And to start laughing at some of them, instead of boiling over in rage. Life will seem a whole lot better if you can take the bad with the good and roll with the punches. However, as desperately as I feel the need to enlighten you with my opinion, it could be a while before I get to share my infinite wisdom with you. It’s been six thirty hours now and my internet still isn’t working! I have about had it with Verizon. This is America; there’s no excuse for such shoddy service!  *&X#@#!

Fear Not Lest Ye Be Judged

Recently, someone paid me a compliment by telling me she admired my strength and she bet I was afraid of nothing.  I was struck dumb by that because, to tell the truth, I'm afraid of all kinds of things.  While I try not to let fear cripple my life, it is probably the reason I have trouble sleeping at night.  Fear translates into worry, and we already know that I worry too much.  So, what do I fear?

I fear phone calls after 9:00 pm (except from Dee because she never has any idea what time it is).  This is, no doubt, an irrational fear because the worst calls of my life usually came in broad daylight. My father's doctor called me around 11:00 am to tell me my dad had been admitted to the hospital for his first heart attack (my mother and sister were away on a cruise).  My sister called me around 1:00 pm to tell me to head home, NOW, as my father had taken a bad turn.  When I taught, some of my former students were trying to torture me with prank calls, but they usually came between 4 and 7.  My usual nighttime calls are harmless, like the fax machine determined to connect to my non-existent fax machine.  Or a drunk misdialing a booty call.  So why am I terrified of night calls?  Maybe because they break the silence and startle me?  Maybe because the movies have convinced me that these calls are from a serial killer who is hiding in the upstairs bedroom (and I don't even have an upstairs).  Calls from my sister are the worst - I'm sure she's calling to inform me of the latest disaster decimating our remaining family.  Really, I need to remember she works two jobs and her calls will come at odd times.

I am afraid of any physical symptoms that resemble cancer.  Have you read the list of cancer symptoms?  Fatigue.  Body pains.  Skin abnormalities.  Fingernail abnormalities. Difficulty swallowing.  And so on.  How long should I observe said symptoms before going to the doctor?  What happens if said symptoms just go away on their own?  Am I ultimately going to blame myself for some fatal illness?  It doesn't help that I am afraid to go to the doctor and the dentist. 

I am afraid of driving sometimes.  Is it just me, or have drivers become more dangerous, reckless, and inattentive over the years?  I can't tell you how many times I've braced myself to be hit because I had the audacity to actually stop at a yellow light.  I have been cut off by people talking while holding the phone in one hand and gesturing with the other.  What is steering their car? (I'm afraid to ask.)  I am afraid of running out of gas or the car overheating during a traffic jam.  I am afraid of pulling out of parking lot spaces because I can't twist my neck enough to make sure no car is speeding down the road behind me.

I am afraid of big, unexpected household expenses.  A few years ago a plumbing problem cost me close to $3000.  My air conditioning system is on its last legs.  On top of my expenses are the ones I help my family with.  For many reasons, I have not saved much money since retiring.  I am blessed to have my needs met, but I fear what could happen with an expensive emergency.  I guess a lot of Americans fear money disasters (especially those who watch Faux news - they thrive on fear).

I fear going to Weight Watchers because the five pounds I lost two weeks ago found me again.  Oh, how I fear that look of disappointment on Joyce's face. 

I fear any change in my dog's normal behavior because I fear losing her.

I fear being alone, yet I fear dating someone from a website even more.

I fear crowds of people. 

I fear passing gas in public, even though that might gain me some space in that fearful crowd of people.  (Ha ha Larry - I threw that one in for you.)

I fear long flights, the aggravation of airport security measures, and putting my carry-on luggage into a bin so far over my head there's no way I can reach it by myself.

I fear guns and too many of the people who smugly feel entitled to own their personal arsenal. I especially fear the bozos who believe it is their "God-given right" to own them.  I read/watch the news.  That's a fear I am entitled to have.

I fear I will never again find a home church and God will be pissed off with me for being she of such weak faith.

So there.  I have bared my soul; seems my desire to write is stronger than my fear of exposing the inner me.  I hope the person who admired my strength isn't too disappointed to realize that I am the same bowl of jelly as she and many others are. 

WTH

Some may say I got up on the wrong side of the bed today.  WTH.  I'm retired.  A curmudgeon.  And I'll get up on any side of the dang bed I wish to exit.  Today I'm finding myself extremely irritable.  Maybe it's the heat because I am not running my air conditioning.  Maybe I'm cranky because I spend too much time on social media.  Whatever.  Today I'm in a mood and I plan to release said mood by venting. Following is my list of what annoys me today. 

News That Isn't News
I am sick and tired of social media creating news from things that just aren't news worthy. Where to start?  Ok, how about the recent furor over the Hispanic young  man who sang the national anthem?  WTH!  So, a few anonymous racists wrote deragatory things about him.  Why is the public so surprised? So outraged? They know that racism exists towards the Hispanics in our country; after all - social media accounts are bolstered by all the "forwards" about Spanish not being our country's national language.

WTH does anyone care if signs are bi-lingual?  If phones ask you to press 2 if you want your message in Spanish? If TV ads sing a Spanish song?  What does it matter?  Our country's official language is English, and that's not changing.  When I was in Honolulu, most signs were in English and Japanese.  I didn't hear any outrage over that.  So why all the umbrage every time Spanish is spoken/written in this country?  (Could it have anything to do with the color of many of those speaking Spanish?) I get the feeling that the people complaining the loudest are the same ones who when/if they travel abroad grumble that everything is in a foreign language and nothing's in English.  Get over it. Our country needs to embrace bilingualism (says the person who realizes most Americans can't even speak proper English).

Weather Reports
WTH  Lately I've come to believe that our weather people see themselves as oracles.  Why does every weather report become Armageddon?  We don't have rain storms - we have tornadoes and hurricanes that blow the east coast to the west coast.  We don't have snow storms - we have blizzards that will send us back to the ice age.  Or so the weather people would like us to believe. "News" stations must interrupt regularly scheduled programs to make sure we know it is snowing, raining, whatever. Why? So Americans don't have to get off the couch to look out the window?  WTH  Weather reports work people into a frenzy to get to the grocery store before the storm.  And the public shops in droves before the storm.  What are they buying?  Look in a few carts - chips, cookies, cake, JUNK!  What really annoys me though, are the constant mini-weather reports that happen ALL DAY LONG while we, the public, wait for the storm that never gets here!! Or my favorite, the all day snow reports on all three major stations for the snow storm that never crippled the city.  I have a niece who is anxiety-ridden because of the weather.  We were out to dinner once, and a television at the fast food place ran a ticker about an upcoming snow storm.  The kid went into a panic and demanded we leave at that very moment.  I could barely calm her down.  Turns out, there are a lot of kids who have become terrified of the weather, not just my niece.   ENOUGH of the severe weather warnings.  Stop scaring the kids!!! (and annoying me, of course)  Yeah, you said it was going to thunderstorm today.  Well, pox on you weather mongers.  I hanged (hung?) my laundry out to dry, and it is done! Ha! Never would have done it had I listened to you! WTH

Whew. 

Only two rants and I am feeling better.  I need to turn off the TV and sit outside to read my book.  But, if you read through this whole thing, you've  already come to that conclusion, haven't you?

Have a great day.  Don't let the little stuff get you down.  Unless of course, you're desperate for a blog topic.