Cell Phones

I've been going the back way since my happy little incident with the nails. I think you get used to seeing certain things when you take the same way to work every day. The old way I never saw that many young people--some by the bus stop, maybe, if I got there before the bus arrived. Maybe a couple of young ones walking ahead of their mother or father as they were being escorted to the schoolyard... But this new way of going to work has brought about fruit for a post.

I've been struck by how many young people I've seen walking to school or headed to the bus stop. All of them, with the exception of one girl the other day, has been talking on a cell phone while they're walking. It's not just teenagers, either. A couple of them have looked to be junior high or less. Now, I work with parents whose children have cell phones. They've gotten their kids phones, or allowed the older ones to get them with their own money, because of the safety factor. I know it brings peace of mind to be able to get hold of your child or know that they can call you in case of an emergency. I sure hope the parents have them on unlimited plans for as much as I'm seeing kids on phones.

I know these are perilous times we're living in--I don't have to be convinced. Desi and I lived in simpler times but the peril was in our house and not so much outside of it. I can remember when getting a transistor radio as a gift was the highlight of my year! I'm not knocking kids being on cell phones, or the parents that get them, or even the cell phones--I'm merely making an observation of our times and how much they've changed in my lifetime.

This was brought home a few years ago when I used to drive up and make visits with Desi whenever I could. I live eight hours from her and had planned on making the trips myself. Now, I've been driving and traveling by myself for a long time, but all of a sudden people didn't want me making the trip by myself. My daughter finally came up with the solution. "Get a cell phone, Mom, to take on the trip and I won't have a problem with you making the trip." Bless her...hubby agreed. So, before anyone changed their mind, I went out and got my first cell phone--and did the salesman see me coming!!

I've learned a lot since that first sojourn into the cellular world. I had that phone for a little over two years. I changed jobs after the contract expired and made the decision to get rid of the phone. It was $50 a month that we could use since I'd taken such a big paycut to change jobs. So, now I have an old cell phone with all the accessories that has been sitting in a drawer for quite a while. It may get used again someday...or not...

About a year ago, I went ahead and got another cell phone. This time I was smarter and the phone came as part of the package. I didn't get a phone, or a plan, with all the bells and whistles, only the basics and unlimited in some areas. I had the phone with me all the time until a little over a month ago.

One morning on the way home from work, Hubby got a flat tire on the freeway right after he came up the on ramp. He had to hike back down the ramp and find a pay phone. When he got hold of me to tell me what had happened, he told me he had almost passed out on the trek. His health isn't the best, he's diabetic. That's the day the phone started traveling with him when he went to work. He's out and about on Mondays and has it with him then, too. This is a man that has been known to lose his wallet and keys in his own house so the compromise is that he leaves the phone in the console of the car. It's there if he needs to use it and I don't have to worry about it getting lost. The theory is that I have it during the day--that is, if I remember to take it out of the console in the morning... Now, that we've gotten a cord for the car, we don't even have to worry about it not being charged.

Cell phones are handy in emergencies, but there's only a couple of people that I talk to on it at any other time. Stink's one and Desi's another. I could talk to Mouse on it, but he's always so busy and I never know when to call him. I love the advantage of unlimited mobile-to-mobile. Stink, her husband, and I all have the same carrier so that's a nice bonus. I can call Desi and yak for as long as I want on the weekend. I really don't have to worry about the minutes during the week, either, cause I never use my minutes up. Desi has no need for a cell so I call her and save her a nickel.

I went and looked at some statistics for cell phone usage and it just keeps climbing every year. You'd think Ma Bell would be worried. I know we're considering doing away with our landline. We used to have to have it for dialup but we're on cable now and we very seldom use it. Now IT'S the $50 a month that we could use. We'd almost have to get the family plan so we'd each have a phone available at all times, but it would still be cheaper in the long run. Strange how things work.

I wonder what Alexander Graham Bell would think if he were still alive? In his wildest dreams do you think he could have imagined this mushrooming of his invention? I doubt it. Now, Jules Verne maybe...

I think at least one of the cell companies employees must be one of Verne's descendants. Only he could come up with the cell phones entering evey aspect of our lives...phone, TV, movies, pictures, games, and live video. I'm waiting for the cell phones to come equipped with a mini microwave oven so all you'll need in your apartment is a bed. Give them time, however, and they'll come out with an accessory for the phone to cover that, too...

Doctors...

Today is going to be another fun day. Oh, not at work--I get to go see my doctor this afternoon. Why is it, do you suppose, that we put up with doctor's quirks? I can tell you why--it's because they hold the keys to those little prescription forms! Because I've needed the maintenance medication that comes with the procuring of those little pieces of paper, I've put up with some interesting quirks from doctors over the years.

I had one that I went to for a number of years that was a really smart doctor. He had years of experience and was smart as a whip! He just had this one little quirk. His female patients had to strip from the waist up--every visit--even if they came in for a foot injury. I used to quip that I got a free breast exam every time I went to the doctor--no joke, I did! Stink was a teenager and he was our family doctor. I took her in there one day for something to do with her leg and, as usual, she had to strip from the waist up. After we left the doctor's office, she said she refused to ever see him again. My daughter is a whole lot smarter and feistier than I am. What can I say? I'm proud of her for standing up for her dignity. I guess all the things I said to her over the years must have sunk in a little bit. Too bad I was never able to apply them to myself.

Eventually, I was able to stop seeing him and found another doctor. Circumstances change, you know. Insurance companies, networks...that sort of thing. That same sort of thing happened to the next doctor I started seeing--the network thing, not the stripping thing. Good grief...stay with me...

The next doctor after the boob doctor was recommended by a coworker who had been seeing him for years. He reminds his female patients of Nick Nolte. I heard that for years and when I went to see him I could see the resemblance if I tilted my head just right and squinted one eye. To give him credit...yes, he did resemble him a bit--a much older, pudgier Nick Nolte. Now, they probably look a fair amount alike. He's a great doc! He's the only one that ever managed to cure my sinus problems. For over two years I didn't have a sinus headache or infection. But before that time period was up, however, the network thing happened and he was out of network. Bummer!! I've needed that sinus treatment for years and described it to subsequent docs--no takers. So, I have sinus headaches a lot and am constantly dealing with them. There were really no indignities to suffer with him--he's a pretty straight-shooter.

The doc I'm going to this afternoon has his own particular idiosyncracy...or should I say soapbox? He's pretty good at what he does but he doesn't care for insurance companies meddling in treatments. I usually hear about that or some other little tidbit that comes to his mind while I'm in there. He gives me those little blue slips of paper which turn into the maintenance meds that keep me on an even keel so I sit there and listen to him. I feel I get my money's worth from my visit--I get the scripts, I get information on my condition and the bonus shot are his theories on the state of the world, or death, or some other thing that happens to come to his mind.

There are those that feel I'm getting ripped off...but isn't that my call? I went to him by choice--well, sort of... He's the only doc in his specialty in our network. There's that word again... If Desi, my sis, were to come down here and go with me on one of my visits, she'd come out and roll her eyes and go, "Woooooo! Shouldn't YOU be treating HIM???" I love my sis--she's a hoot! She knows about docs, too. She has WAY more experience with docs than me. Comes with the territory, I guess.

So, today is going to be a Whoosh! day cause I'll get to work through lunch. I forgot about that til I stepped in the door this morning. I still have six minutes before my insurance premium earning time starts. Strange how we count our time... I used to say I had to work because my better half has this nasty habit--he likes to eat. But, now, it's more for the insurance premiums. Who'da thunk it!

Ogden Nash

Yesterday morning as I was getting ready to take my shower before going to work, I suddenly remembered something from when my son was young. I know I was having a chain thought--I just don't remember where it started. I don't know about you, but I've always done my best thinking in the shower. Maybe it's the solitude.

Anyway, in case you're not familiar with chain thoughts, it's very simple. You start thinking about one thing, which makes you think of the next, which makes you think of the next, and so on. Most of the time you'll wind up someplace completely different from where you started.

Like I said, I don't remember how the chain started...I just remember that one of the links was my son and his room when he was about seven or so. Hey, I'm an old person and I can't pin it down any closer than that. Mouse, my son, had this problem with keeping his room clean. It was a terrible battle! Looking back, I can see that I was a real room Nazi. Stuff that seemed so important to me then seems really stupid now. In fact, some years ago he told me something I had done when he was young regarding his bedmaking skills and I just looked at him and said, "I didn't do that!! You've got to be making that up!!" He swears up and down that I did it and it's one of those really ridiculous things that I'll never talk about here!!

Oh, and I saw the incredulous look on your face when I called my son Mouse. You didn't honestly think I'd reveal the real name of a 33 year-old father and respectable business man, did you?? For shame... I'd never do that to him. It's more fun this way. I can tell all the humorous stories I like and only the guilty will recognize themselves... That's goes for my daughter, too...Stink, for short. If I didn't love my kids, I'd never have given them pet names. She'd probably prefer I'd use her dad's pet name for her, Gull, but when he gets his own blog and decides to start telling stories, he can call her anything he wants.

I was telling you about Mouse and his room. I'm sure you're wondering how that relates to Ogden Nash. Anyone my age probably remembers Ogden Nash but I'm not sure how many of my peers really appreciated his style of poetry.

He lived from 1902-1971 and, as far as I'm concerned, was the master of tongue-in-cheek poetry. I loved his work as a kid. When I got older and wrote some poetry of my own, I found that I really enjoyed one particular type above others...Limericks. Yeah, I know there's a lot of them floating around out there that have given the genre an unsavory reputation, but I've always loved them and have never written a dirty one in my life. I always felt that was such a waste. If it hadn't been for Ogden Nash, I'm not sure I would have become as interested in poetry as I did.

So many poems out there are highbrow and stuffy. His are all delicious. Some of his are long, others are really short. I took another look at his work yesterday as he was the last link in my chain thought. When his name came to mind as the last stop on that early morning train ride, I realized how much I had missed his work. I hadn't thought of him in years--and that was a real shame. His name just seemed to pop up out of some deep recess in my mind. Yesterday at work was great! I started the day off with his humorous musings floating around in my brain and, every time I thought about them during the day, I had to chuckle. I've even got one I'm going to share with my daughter, who has a new baby. You'll probably enjoy his short poem, too.

Ode to a Baby
by Ogden Nash

A little talcum
Is always walcum

Now, since you understand the influence he had on me when I was young, I'll continue on with my story of Mouse. I think, in retrospect, that my son must have as strong a will as I have. I mean, it's in the gene pool, right?? I think his was a form of passive resistance which, if I didn't already have a surfeit of drunks in my family, would have driven me to take up drink in earnest. I felt like I was never going to get through to him. Coming from a drastic childhood, I'm sorry to say that some of the methods I used to try and encourage him to clean up his room were drastic, as well. It's like computers...garbage in, garbage out. And, trust me, I'd had plenty of garbage instilled into me.

During that period, I decided to try and encourage him with a little humor. I wrote him a limerick while he was at school and wrote it out in HUGE letters on newsprint and taped it to one of his sliding closet doors. He came home and saw it and laughed--he liked it. I didn't realize til many years later that it must have had some sort of impact because he brought it up one time and recited most of it--only stumbling over a couple of the words that seemed to elude him. He said he always liked it. Well, so did I... Of all the poems I have written over the years...and never saved...this has to be my favorite. Knowing the background it sprang from, you may see the humor in it, as well. Ogden Nash, it ain't, but I think he might have enjoyed it.

There once was a lad from Philippi
Whose room was always a pig sty
He went in there one day
And was eaten right away
By a GIANT, junkitis amoebi...

I've decided that I need go back to writing my whimsical poetry. I have a number of grandchildren now and it might be something nice to leave them--especially if it features them. It will be something to share with their children, as well. I also started a children's book many years ago as a sort of therapy to work my way out of a problem I was experiencing, but it went by the wayside. Maybe I'll pick that up again... So much of life is unpleasant and we need to find our pleasantries where we can.

Oh, and someday I'll tell you about the battle I had with Stink and HER room... She won, by the way--she's even more stubborn than me, if that's possible.

Who'd have thought that all those trials and tribulations would one day become fodder for humorous stories. I need to remind Stink of that--she has four children. I guess that means she'll have double the amount of stories... She's already told me some that have had me crying and holding my sids because I was laughing so hard. I wish she had time to write hers down...they are WAY more funny than mine.

Nails!! - Update

I promise this will be quick!! Turns out the nail I found was only one of two that the tire had picked up. If the one I pulled out had been the only one, then the tire probably could have been salvaged. As it was, when my better half took the tire in for repair that evening, they found another hole on the inside of the tire--on the sidewall. Unfortunately, that couldn't be fixed. Well, it could but it just wouldn't last long. He wound up buying two new tires for the rear...to match the two new tires he had already bought for the front when he had problems with the front tire going on the freeway last month.

We tried to figure out where the nails could have been picked up. My vote is for the construction site down the street from where I work. The nail I pulled was brand new--like it had just come from someone's nail apron. I've decided to start taking the back way to work to avoid this in future. Hubby doesn't seem to think it'll matter which way I'll go but I'd prefer to not take the chance, for now.

So, Mitzi now has four new shoes--not black patent leather...more a dull black with those funky new tread soles that are all the rage now... And since saddle oxfords are not in this season, they're just plain black.

Nails!!

Have you ever really considered the many different varieties of nails that exist? Neither had I…

There are what I call ‘regular’ nails. They come in different “penny” sizes. I know this only because my grandfather was a carpenter. Sadly, if he had not been around my education in nails would have been sorely lacking. I’ve often wondered about that penny nomenclature. I’ll probably go do some research since the time seems right for it. I’ll hazard a guess before I do that, however. I’d say…and only because I know such quirks in our language exist…that the designation came about in England and has to do with the size and weight in regards to their currency. Now, I may be way off base on this. It may have more to do with how many cents it cost get a pound of a certain size nail, I don’t know. I think I’ll go find out. My curiosity is really piqued now…

Okay…I was close, sort of… I found a rather humorous site with a pretty good explanation of where the name came from. It’s located at http://www.inthewoodshop.org/general/wwa20.shtml and the article is entitled “What The Heck Do Pennies Have To Do With Nails?” It seems that it came about in the 1400’s. A 6d, or 6 penny, nail was one that a blacksmith charged you six pennies for to make 100 two-inch nails. I think I’d have to say I’m more familiar with the 10d, or 10 penny, nails—they’re about three inches long.

I can say I know the difference between a penny type nail and a finishing nail—the latter is what I consider headless. I know it’s so that it can be countersunk and won’t show but when I was a kid, it was headless. I didn’t know about countersinking then—I had to spend years watching Bob Vila and Norm Abrams on PBS to gain an appreciation of that. When I was a kid and had to use a nail, I didn’t want no stinkin’ headless nail!! I wanted one I could grab hold of with a claw hammer in case the hammer misfired. You couldn’t get hold of a headless nail—there’s nothing to grab onto!! Well, we both know there is…now. But back then, security lay in those wide heads that got caught in the claw. Trust me, my hammer misfired a fair amount.

I was smarter than the average bear, though. I knew what a carpet tack was. They were those squat, chubby black things that were never sharp enough unless you found them with your foot. Not long enough to be useful for anything—and WHO ever heard of tacking down your carpet. Good grief!! They were the ugliest little things I’d ever seen…but my hammer misfired less with them…

Just about the time I thought I had things figured out someone came along and mentioned brads. Then, I was thoroughly confused. What do those little metal thingies that we used to hold our paper projects together with in school have to do with building things. I honestly couldn’t see where they could be of much use. You certainly couldn’t drive them with a hammer, you’d squash them right off!! A little while after that I found out that he was talking about a different type of brad. Then, you look at one and, it’s a case of, “Wait a minute!! This is a finishing nail, right? It’s a test, right?” Well, they do look similar…

Now, I bet you’ve been wondering where this is going. You have to admit, it does seem a bit of a departure from where I seemed to be heading earlier but then circumstances in life seem to dictate more about where we go, sometimes. Case in point….

I headed off to work this morning, thoroughly anticipating my first cup of coffee. I’m very fortunate to have an employer that furnishes us with coffee…that being a subject for another day. Anyway, I don’t live very far from work and have taken to heading in early before the workday starts and relaxing—translated psyching myself up—before I start another day. Don’t get me wrong. I really enjoy where I work now and what I do. You have to admit, though, that spending eight hours a day working in Customer Service can get to be a little trying sometimes. Each day is a new adventure and a nice cup of coffee and quiet time before the onslaught is always a good idea. So, here I am, pulling into an empty parking lot and nabbing my usual space. I go through my usual routine, click the automatic lock (love those things), get out, shut the door, pull up on the handle to make sure it worked (love ‘em, don’t necessarily trust ‘em). All’s well in my world. Normally, at this point, I’d head for the door. This morning, however, I happened to glance down and saw a nail sticking out of my rear tire about 3/8”-1/2”…it’s head a little bent on one side as if he was tipping his hat at me. Yes, I have flights of fancy, I admit it.

At this point, the normal person would mutter a four-letter word. Not me!! I did something far sillier. I reached down and grabbed hold of it to see if I could pull the nail out of the tire. Zowie!! I could, and it came right out and then I heard, “psssssssssss…” Like I’d hear ANYTHING else???? You know what I thought next?? Hmmmm, I wonder if I can put this nail back in the hole? Seriously, I considered it!! The only thing that stopped me is that I realized the person that is usually standing on the back porch of the building smoking when I get there in the morning, was standing there watching what I was doing. Never one to willingly look silly, I nonchalantly went about my business, went in the building, and got my coffee like nothing had happened.

Strangely enough, I have a workmate that says I provide her constant entertainment every day. I don’t try to…it’s just a gift. It must be catching because I seemed to be entertaining quite a few of them today.

Oh, I almost forgot! The nail from the tire?? It was a 10d nail. Well, it always has been my favorite size.

Hmmmm....

I'm one of those people who have always looked at those people who post their thoughts on the web and said, "What are these people doing? Are they NUTS!!!" Well, it appears that I seem to have joined their ranks. I'm not sure how long this will continue but we'll just take it one day at a time.

I think the thing that turned it around for me is when I saw an article on Yahoo this morning about older bloggers. Me, I always figured it was the teenyboppers that were doing most of the blogging--or people who wished they still were... Imagine my surprise to find out that there are authors out there considerably older than me! ...and lots of them!! I took a look at some of their sites and was really impressed.

One thing you should know at the outset--if you're looking for posts on religion or politics, you're gonna have to go somewhere else Growing up, I was always told that those were two subjects that were better left private and never contributed to polite--or positive--conversation. I figure there are enough of those types of blogs out there already.

I've found that, in the last year, I've started thinking more about how things "used to be". Not that I'm lamenting their passing, for there's no going back and progress is inevitable, but because so much has been lost that could enrich our offspring. There's so much that our children and grandchildren will never fully understand because they have no point of reference. Okay, so I guess I am lamenting their passing, in a way...

There have been many times that I wished I had a draincock (download port for you young folks) on the side of my head so that my memories could be given to my children--and now my grandchildren. I always felt that if my kids could see my experiences through their own eyes...as if they were there...then maybe they'd have a little more empathy for what makes their mother the looney toon that she is. But there's not just that...but think of all the great things we experienced when we were young that would enrich them.

Like the smell of my grandmother's kitchen... I still remember that smell and she's been gone for many, many years. She was a farm wife and my grandfather had built her cabinets. She didn't have the abundance of cabinets that housewives feel are a must in their kitchens now. She had two upper cabinets and one long base unit that ran along the West wall of the kitchen--the equivalent of two double-door base units with a single door cabinet on the left side of the sink. The double sink was on the left side of the base unit and a window was situated over that. The breeze used to blow through that open window and the curtains would billow just a bit as the wind shifted.

Do you remember the smells from your childhood? I do... She must have had something going on under her sink because it had this pungent odor. Of course, part of that was because they were on well water. I never really cared for the "under the sink" smell, but I remember it. On the South end of that cabinet, attached to the wall, was the first wall cabinet where she stored her dishes and glasses. These were just the everyday dishes and over the years the glasses and dishes had become a mishmosh assortment. You could stand there and wash dishes, put them in the drainer, dry them and put everything away without ever moving. The silverware drawer was the first drawer next to the sink just on your right.

The cabinet that I really loved the smell of, though, was the other wall cabinet that was situated over the top of the base unit on the West wall. I can still smell the aroma of all her spices mingled together as you open the cabinet door--cinnamon, cloves, sage, and pickling spices. That cabinet always smelled the same. Once in a while I'll be somewhere and get a whiff of that aroma and it'll bring those days back to mind with startling clarity. I loved opening that cabinet because of the aroma. You could even smell it faintly when the door was closed, but there was nothing quite like the fragrance hitting you full in the face when you first opened that door.

I have to give my grandfather credit--I loved her countertop. You have to remember that these were the days when nothing really went to waste. Her countertop wasn't tile or formica (which hadn't been invented yet) but was red linoleium flooring with white and black streaks intermingled. You would not believe the delicious biscuits and dumplings, and noodles that came off that cabinet top!! ...ah, but that's for another time because the real world beckons...time to go earn my insurance premium...