Ponderings and Musings

Jammies.

I am writing this blog entry after just getting out of bed and throwing on a pair of pajamas to come down stairs and do the “it’s a holiday morning” thing. This got me to thinking ; this quite normal activity for me might actually be strange for others because I put on pajamas when I got up. I call them my “yuppie pajamas” because the top and bottom match, in lieu of wearing a t-shirt and sweat pants. I feel like I should be matching someone else in these things, kind of like I’m ready for a Christmas morning photo because they’re plaid. Pajamas always seem to involve plaid. I don’t know if it’s because of the flannel or because plaid makes people happy, but here they are, plaid.

I have mentioned before that I enjoy sleeping in the nude. Even if it’s 40 degrees outside and I’m in a tent in a sleeping bag. Wearing clothes to bed seems quite foreign to me. I remember as a kid I would always get out of my clothes in some manner during the night and then have to put them back on when I went downstairs to join the family for the morning. When I was 16 I spent the night with my grandmother and my aunt at the house while the rest of the family was at a cabin at the beach and my grandmother came in to check on me and made some noise about “my bare ass hanging out”. (I don’t like to think that my ass “hangs”, by the way, since some have said that it is one of my better attributes.) I just don’t want to get all knotted up in some clothes that are going to be covered by blankets anyway. And I like a lot of blankets; usually about 7, not including the sheets but definitely including at least two quilts.

So here I am in my matching pajamas which are keeping me warm after getting out of bed. I am ready for the holiday festivities to begin.

In plaid.

 

 

Awake.

Earl and I have a vacation today tomorrow. Actually, later today, because it’s after midnight as I’m typing this blog entry. I am stoked because we have a vacation day on the same day and in the same city. He’s not in Buffalo, I’m not in the J-town. The jet set life has brought us to our lovely home at the same time.

We enjoyed a nice dinner together earlier this evening at one of our local haunts, a Greek restaurant called Symeon’s. The food was as good as always, though one does feel a tad bit rushed when they are there. They like to keep the people moving, I suppose. I had the fasolakia. I didn’t even have to look that up in order to spell it correctly. The iMac is complaining that I’m spelling it wrong, but I’m not. Okay, I’ll admit that the Greek appetizer platter was quite nice as well. I enjoy bits of eggplant and grape leaves.

Earl and I have no plans for the weekend. I have been wanting to find time to write because I haven’t been doing it enough lately. I find it a little bit frustrating, because I commute a total of about 2 1/2 hours a day but I have no way of writing down all the thoughts that are jumping around in my head. I commented to Earl today that I enjoy blogging during my lunch time, but I’m not completely comfortable with typing a blog entry on my iPad (even when I use the aluminum keyboard) because it just feels slightly awkward to me. The iPad is the bees’ knees for content consumption but it’s not quite there, yet, for content creation. I was thinking that I was going to make a case for some sort of laptop again but then I remembered that I already have a MacBook Pro and it’s currently in Buffalo with Jamie, who is DJing a party with it this weekend. My short term memory works like that lately.

I can’t really put my finger on the reason as to why I’m awake at the moment. I’m actually really tired, but the idea of being able to sleep in an extra day on this three-day weekend has me giddy with excitement. I have been doing some reading on a few tech journalists that I admire and trying to figure out how they do their thing so easily. I know they don’t blog on their iPads for the most part, they go the notebook route. I will probably have to do the same. Our friend Scott has one of the new 11-inch MacBook Air notebooks and I’m setting it up for him. It’s quite sweet but might be a tad small for my tastes. Jamie used to have a 13-inch MacBook but he gave that up for the iPad route. My MacBook Pro is a 15-inch model with the older style case (like my old PowerBook G4) and I really like it but sometimes it feels a tad big in the Acura. I wish the J-town had something like Panera where I could sit down for my lunch hour and be creative. The weather in these parts isn’t conducive to sitting at a picnic table. The snow drifts get in the way.

As I’m typing these random thoughts into this entry I’m reflecting on the blog entry I wrote earlier this afternoon, the one about giving thanks and not glossing over the Thanksgiving holiday in favor of the more popular Christmas season. During dinner I was quite excited to share some news about my work with Earl and he did the same. I told him that for the first time in a long while I have been able to come home and say without a trace of sarcasm in my voice, “I love my job”. I really do love my job and it’s a gig I hope to have for a long while. With Earl having his new career opportunities all over Upstate New York (they call him the Duke of the Thruway because of his offices being along the Thruway corridor), we have been having some thoughts as to how we are going to accommodate two careers in four different cities. It’s a challenge that we are both looking forward to come spring.

For now, I think it’s time to go to sleep, because this blog entry went in a different direction than I intended it to be.

Especially when my forehead bounced on the desk as I finally fell asleep.

Thanks.

With the constant reminders of the impending arrival of the holidays blaring in our ears and assaulting our sight, it stands to reason that I’m feeling kind of crabby with all of this frivolity. People wonder how one can be so cranky when it’s soon to be the most wonderful time of the year. I’m going to throw my two cents out there on the subject and then you won’t need to irritate me with such mundane questions about my mood.

I was taught that a good person is thankful for what they have in their life. In the New York State educational system of the 1970s I was also reminded of how important it was to be patriotic and thankful that we live in such a wonderful country. The pilgrims made a very dangerous voyage to this new found land and through their hard work, I am lucky to be enjoying turkey as a yankee doodle dandy. I was also reminded that in case the air raid sirens go off, grab your nap carpet and get under your desk, but that’s another blog entry.

This morning I decided to see what “terrestrial radio” has to offer these days. I have limited such listening delights to the sounds of “little radio station” in the city in which I work, but even this little treasure is guilty of what is irking me so. As I jumped around the dial, I landed upon three radio stations that are playing nothing but Christmas music (and don’t start telling me it’s holiday music, because ‘O Little Town of Bethlehem’ is Christmas music). I believe today is something like the 18th of November. Said stations went to all jingle bells on the 1st.

People, it’s not that time of year yet.

Driving through the little towns along my commute I see lit up snowflakes, blinking sleigh bells and tin soldiers bolted to telephone poles.

I have recently read articles, and I’m too lazy to add a link for your perusal so you’re just going to have to trust me on this, that mention that the retailers want to move the Black Friday sales to something earlier, like the 1st of November. Perhaps it was the 4th of July. Nevertheless, they don’t feel they are getting enough holiday traffic soon enough so what the retailers want to do is extend the holiday shopping season so that they can rack in more bucks. So the Christmas message is this – skip that whole Thanksgiving thing, it’s not important. Don’t be thankful for what you have, just run out and get more, more, MORE!

I don’t like that.

You see, I’m spoiled. I know I’m spoiled. I heartily admit that I am very fortunate that we are in a comfortable financial situation but in the back of my mind I know that it can be taken away at a moment’s notice at any time. I don’t take any of it for granted; I could give it all up if I had to and most importantly, I am very thankful for what we have. There are times that I don’t seem very thankful for that which we have, both materialistically and in other ways, but by gods, don’t skip over the importance of my opportunity to sit down with family and friends and tell them how thankful I am to be part of this whole life experience with them. I learned long ago that filling your home with expensive gadgets is a fleeting joy at best and that spending the entire day under the covers with your lover, ignoring the world outside of that moment, is much more preferable. I figured out that buying your mom an expensive serving set will make her smile, but singing her a song at the piano will make her heart fill with happiness. I know that sitting down and listening to a person tell you why they’re thankful, and then reciprocating, is a precious moment.

In today’s society we are all about what we can obtain. I think we should focus more on what we can celebrate, even if it’s celebrating that we are just getting by with what we have. And by glossing over Thanksgiving Day (or as we now call it in respect to our Canadian friends and family, “American Thanksgiving”) and force feeding us the Christmas holiday earlier than intended, you’re telling us that giving thanks is not that important anymore.

For the record, our holiday shopping is already under way (online shopping allows us that luxury without being subjected to the barrage of low-fidelity Christmas wails full of static). Our plans for our yearly shopping trip have been made. We know where we are going and that will take place in November. But in contrast to the neighbors that have their flashing icicles lit, the Santa Claus that randomly inflates and deflates over a blow up baby Jesus and a lit up reindeer that flashes faster than a Studio 54 disco ball, we are going to take the time to properly decorate our house in a tasteful, respectful manner for Thanksgiving. Menus will be planned, off-the-grid moments will be celebrated and good times will be shared.

And I will be thankful that we are able to do so.

Dreams.

I have been having very vivid dreams lately. I remember at least one dream every night, sometimes two. I faithfully write down the pertinent thoughts. Sometimes I act them out for anyone that happens to be in the house. I bet my little show would be less interesting if I was awake when I was acting them out. If the neighbors have ever looked out their window in the middle of the night they’ve probably seen my naked body standing in the window on more than one occasion. Earl guides me back to bed when I’m doing that, because I’m never awake when I’m revealing myself that way.

My dreams the past couple of nights have been very vivid. I have dreamed about flying, as in jumping onto an air current and soaring along the treetops. My hands are not out in front of me in a Superman pose, but at my sides. The wind is blowing against my face. The feeling of flying lingers on well after I have landed and the dream has come to an end.

The other night I dreamed about my Grandma Country. I hadn’t dreamed about her in quite a while and I must say it’s been too long since our last visit in the Dreamscape. Her presence helped me through the day yesterday when I was feeling a little blue. She always made me feel like I’m not so crazy after all.

Last night I dreamed about Grandma Country’s older sister, Aunt Rena. I think I know why Aunt Rena came around. We usually saw Aunt Rena around the holidays; as a widow she would come over for the holiday dinners and sit on the stool and visit with my grandmother during the dinner preparations. Aunt Rena always brought tossed salad, complete with radishes cut into rose petals, and “Mix”, which in contemporary times is called “Chex Mix”. Her Mix was always a little more homemade tasting than the Chex Mix you buy in a bag. The ladies on Grandma Country’s side of the family did that sort of thing pretty well.

Aunt Rena was a retired school teacher. She taught 3rd grade at the small school in town. I believe my Dad and his brother and sisters were all in her class. In fact, I think my grandmother was in her class, now that I think about it.

We rarely went to Aunt Rena’s house. The only occasion that we would really go over there is for trick or treating on Halloween. We’d get into the back of my aunt’s Datsun B210 and head over the Ridge Road to her house and get in as far as the front door. Her house was kept much like the way my grandmother kept house, very neat and orderly but still functional. We never made it passed the living room. We’d visit for a while, get a treat and then move on to the next relatives, usually Aunt Dutch’s, Aunt Dutch being another one of the sisters. Her house was neat and orderly too.

Aunt Clara on Bewitched reminds me of my Aunt Rena a little bit. Very smart, but a little bit bumbling. Aunt Rena wasn’t nearly as bumbly as Aunt Clara but her heart seemed to be as big. I kind of wish I had the opportunity to get to know her better.

At least I got to chat with her last night during my dream.

Savings.

I’m really good at spending money. I’m like really good at it. I have my suspicions as to where I learned this fantastic trait of mine, but I enjoy a certain je ne sais quoi when it comes to spending money. There’s a certain amount of excitement when one finds that next goodie on the Christmas tree, decides to buy it and then feel a bit of excitement as the new found treasure is revealed.

Ironically, I don’t enjoy shopping. It makes me yawn.

While I am really good at spending money, there are times when I like to do the responsible thing and feel like I’m saving money. And I have started a plan that will save me $270 a year. $270! That’s like three tanks of gas and five gallons of milk! Just think of the things I can do with that kind of dough in this economy. Where has my new found savings come from?

I drive thru McDonalds instead of Dunkin’ Donuts now when purchasing my daily dose of unsweetened iced tea with lemon. Dunkin’ Donuts price? $2.70. McDonalds? $1.69 (and I think the cup is bigger).

I’m quite delighted with this little find. I think I’ll celebrate by buying something shiny.

 

Learning.

So I just passed through the local Dunkin Donuts drive through as part of my daily lunch routine. I normally order a large, unsweetened iced tea with lemon and enjoy that throughout the afternoon, but today I decided to get a little crazy and order a chocolate chip cookie to go along with the iced tea. I have a meeting scheduled to start at 1500 and go until 1600 tomorrow, so I figured I would need the extra sugar. On the other hand, adding the cookie breaks my record of consistency with the ordering process. I strive to achieve what my mother did back in the day, she could call the local pizza place, just say “It’s Sandi” and hang up the phone and 30 minutes later a pizza cooked to perfection would arrive at the door. No directions, no topping notices, no haggling over the tip.  Consistency got the pizza joint trained like so many cocker spaniels and it was good. I was hoping to achieve the same with Dunkin Donuts with the intent of them recognising the hum of the Acura but now it’s all crazy because of that chocolate chip cookie.

But I digress.

And I didn’t get the chocolate chip cookie.

Instead, I got the aforementioned iced tea with a toasted bagel smothered in pink goo. The goo was acting like a glue and holding the two halves of the bagel together. I figured one was suppose to eat it like a sandwich.

First of all, pink food of any nature just makes me nervous unless it’s a jam and then it should be much more red than pink. This pink was almost neon pink, kind of like something you would find on Cyndi Lauper’s hair back when she was telling us that She Bopped. Pink is not a natural food color. However, I was feeling adventurous and thought I was give this errant bagel a try, since it was toasted and all.

I’d rather eat shaving cream.

Wow, that pink goo had the strongest, foulest taste of strawberry substitution I had ever had in my life and that includes any attempts at downing a glass of Strawberry Quik. It was just plain awful. I chucked the bagel with goo into the bag and hastily grabbed the lemon out of my iced tea glass and licked the lemon, hoping to get the goo taste out of my mouth.

This got me to thinking, this chemically induced taste ‘sensation’ can not be good for us. If one peruses the interwebs in the right places you’ll find Public Service Ads for various things back in the day, and by that I mean back in the early 1950s. You know how many of us cringe now when we see Lucy and Ricky and Fred and Ethel smoking up a storm on every episode of “I Love Lucy” or when the Flintstones were smoking in their cave and the like? I’m sure more than one person has muttered to themselves, “What in the world were they thinking back then?” It’s like when we dumped chemicals into the river and killed Onondaga Lake or, and this one really gets me, when we covered models’ faces with radioactive dirt from Yucca Flats so a cleansing cream company could demonstrate how well it really worked. (They never show the part where their faces melt). Again, reading those sentences may make you think,”What were they thinking?”

Do you think in 20 or so years that we’ll be saying “What were we thinking?” when we think back to the all the artificial flavors and fake sweeteners and genetically modified food that we are eating today? I have told the story of when Frito Lay was doing a trial of their “Olean” product here in Upstate New York back in the mid 1990s. The stuff erupted my stomach in a way that hasn’t happened again and quite frankly to this day I still can not look at that tree just off Thruway Exit 24 without remembering how much I desperately needed toilet paper after a few munches of some sour cream and onion chips with that crap in it. Explosive bowels, my ass (no pun intended). Hiroshima had it good. Now do we run (no pun intended) around screaming that we want Olean (aka Olestra) in our food? Not so much. We know better.

One can’t escape High Fructose Corn Syrup these days unless you just make something yourself and now that it’s getting a bad rap they want it renamed to “corn sugar”. Why is it getting a bad rap? Because it’s probably bad for you and renaming HFCS as “corn sugar” is the same as renaming cancer sticks as “Kool”.

The bagel with the pink goo is now in a trash bucket where I have no doubt that it will survive 2012 and beyond. It’s much like that Happy Meal everyone has been chatting about this week, the one that was left in the garage for six months and it didn’t decompose, it looks the same as it did the day it was made. That’s freakin’ scary to me.

I think I’ll just start making an extra thermos of tea so that I don’t have another pink goo catastrophe.

 

Connection.

This is my second time writing this blog entry. I hope it’s as good as it was the first time around. The wordpress app on the iPad blows and has convinced me to find another way of blogging.

Over the past several months I have expressed a frustration with the social networks, especially Twitter and Facebook. Back in the day when these sites were fairly new, they had an on-going cocktail party feel to them, one could engage in banter of vary intensities and on a myriad of topics and feel like they were part of something. But like any good party, word got out on how much fun we were having and the casual cocktail parties morphed into a frat party, complete with loud obnoxious people spilling crap all over the place.

One of the more frustrating elements of these social networks is the limit of 140 characters to a message. While this adds to the whole cocktail party feel, this limitation lends itself to “barking” instead of “narrating”. For example, I could bark out that “Sarah Palin is a dumb bitch whore”. While this would fit into my colorful way of prose, it doesn’t really afford me the opportunity to really engage my audience in such a proclamation nor does it give me the chance to explain why I feel this way. Throwing out a statement like that is like a hit and run at the aforementioned party, bark out a fact and then drive away. Only if I look back will I know the response.

I like to write and generally I take pride in the way I write. Participating in the 140 characters crowd didn’t really make me feel proud of my words.* However, there smart men recently reminded me that Twitter and it’s brethren are what we make of them; they are just a tool in a room of toys we have at our disposal. Using these tools wisely is easily accomplished if you recognize that fact.

I despise the “self promotion” approach to Twitter. “Come see me teach a seminar on becoming a psychic! Only $495 for 15 minutes!”. Don’t waste my time. If you’re going to reach out to the masses then do something constructive with your reach. That’s what I try to do with this blog. I don’t need to have theme days or regurgitate 60 articles lifted from other sites. I am providing a resource, yes, but it’s a window on my life and the way I see the world. If you like what you see, stick around and enjoy the conversation. Have a Dorito or some popcorn with me and let’s talk about what we see or hear in as many characters as we want.

I am back on Twitter and Facebook full time again and if I’m barking I’m telling you why I’m barking and pointing you in the direction of my noise.

Thank you for sharing life with me.

Jury Duty, Part 2.

Okay, so the trial went faster than anticipated and after only 10 minutes of deliberation, the jury found the accused guilty on two counts. The defendant flipped out and started yelling during closing statements and had to be removed from the room. He was back for the verdict where he remained calm.

I stared at him for a few moments trying to get a sense of what his deal was. He stared back. It was a little unnerving. I don’t know if I’m suppose to do that, but I did.

I was impressed with the eclectic group (the way it’s suppose to be!) of jurors. Everyone asked reasonable questions and we each had a turn to speak our piece.

Serving on a jury was an amazing experience and I won’t ever dread doing my part again. I kind of look forward to it and might request a release so I can do it in four years instead of eight. I have a new appreciation for our legal system and now to sound overly dramatic, but I also have a strong sense of patriotism again.

Speak Up.

How many times have you gone into your assigned voting place, stared at the voting machine (or whatever newfangled version they’ve settled on now) and rolled your eyes as you pulled the lever, colored in the circle or touched the screen. As a proud American I know that I have on more occasions than I want to admit. Now why are you rolling your eyes? Because you’re picking from two candidates for an important office and quite frankly, you’re forced to vote for the one that sucks less. And that doesn’t leave you with a good, patriotic feeling, now does it. I know it doesn’t for me.

George Carlin used to quip that we had sixty brands of dog food to choose from on our supermarket aisles but basically only two candidates to choose from when it came to voting for President of the United States. And there’s a really good chance that those two candidates got up there by way of lots and lots of money.

Now, let’s swing this around a little bit. Up until about 10 or 12 years ago, if your average, middle-class American family wanted to do some shopping, they have several choices of department store chains to choose from. In 1990 when I worked for the Hills Department Store chain in the small western New York city of Jamestown, we were warned that if we screwed up and got fired, we wouldn’t be able to work at any of the chain stores in Jamestown or the surrounding areas, and that included Hills, Ames, Zayre, K-mart and Jamesway. Five department stores to choose from in a city of less than 35,000 people. We had choices and it was good.

Today, I live in a city of just over 60,000 and we basically have two chains to choose from: Wal*mart and Target. Admittedly, we also have a K-mart but it’s really depressing to go into that store. I have been told by several people over the years this is because the United States is headed in this direction: big corporations bring lower prices to consumers, which ultimately is a good thing for all involved. Except it’s not. Because while we are reveling at the fact that we bought at $10.00 toaster at Wal*Mart (Always White Trash, Always) and that it won’t blow up or electrocute anyone for at least a year, the fact remains in that we are settling for two things: having our choices narrowed down and/or dictated to us and items of mediocre value at best.

Now that we are down to two choices, we have to choose the lesser of two evils when they start playing their political tricks. Our friends at Target recently donated $150,000 to an anti-gay, anti-union candidate for governor in Minnesota. There is a growing movement to boycott Target and quite frankly, the reasons they outline I believe in. But that leaves me with one other choice: Wal*Mart.  And lord knows that I don’t agree with many of Wal*Mart’s practices, including the low wages for their employees (urging them to find public assistance to compensate for their crappy benefits), their vendor lock out policies (if you don’t package it the Wal*Mart way, you’re out) and their basic sterilization of the American community where you’ll almost always find a Wal*Mart 1.2 miles outside of town, luring consumers away from whatever is left in your basic American downtown, ultimately leaving said once-thriving business district as a bunch of run-down empty buildings.

Yes, I over dramatize, but someone has to.

We are distracted from the control being taken away from the American people on a daily basis by news outlets that go on for DAYS about Dr. Laura saying the “N-word” (which, by the way, is her right though it is not something I agree with) and hourly updates on how Lindsey Lohan is doing in jail.

There are groups in the United States paying MILLIONS of dollars to prove and tell you that gays shouldn’t marry because their love isn’t valid. It isn’t natural. It isn’t real. Heterosexual people can marry eight, nine, ten or how many ever times it takes to “feel natural” but by god, my unequivocal, undeniable, “unnatural” love for Earl isn’t real.

Put these two choices on a ballot: allow gays to marry or allow them to declare themselves gay and pay only 75% of the taxes married couples pay. If we are not afforded the same rights then we shouldn’t pay the same amount of money to maintain those rights.

I have two nephews that I love dearly. And at times I feel horrible for them because this is such a screwed up world we are leaving for them. Ice chunks many times the size of Manhattan are breaking off the ice shelf, people are going around spreading messages of hate in the name of religion and people are working very hard to make everything either a black or white issue: you’re Christian or you’re not, you’re Republican or you’re a Democrat, you love your country or you down. Well I’m sorry, future generations deserve better than that, and the only way that is going to happen is if we make good choices and more importantly, we have many choices to choose from.

By the way, Saturday night we needed some dry goods that we would normally buy at Target. We skipped Target, avoided Wal*Mart and drove 30 miles round trip to go to a halfway decent K-mart.

It was the gray in a sea of black and white.

Gorgeous.

I am sitting outside in the grass during my lunch hour. The weather is picture perfect as far as I’m concerned: sunny, blue sky with puffy clouds and a pretty good breeze to keep the air fairly dry. Bill Gates once remarked that the default desktop background on Windows XP (called “Bliss”) was inspired by sitting and watching the clouds go by. It was one of his favorite activities as a kid. I have to admit that it was one of my favorite activities as a kid as well and doing it during my lunch hour today is making me feel like a kid again.

I’d show you a picture but I’m too comfortable to get up, go to the car, grab the camera and share a shot. So I’m going to keep this one just for me.

And then I’ll probably change my desktop background to the default “Bliss” when I get back to the office.