Then and Now--That Was Then; This Is Now

Sometimes you get a smack in the rear from life.  The trigger can be most anything.  In my case, I have inherited my mother's "flatsurfacitis" gene. People with this affliction are subject to suddenly finding there is no room to eat on the table, piled as it is with assorted stacks of "very important papers." All flat surfaces are fair game, be it a table, kitchen counter or dresser.

These papers range in size from torn corners of napkins to post-it-notes to full size sheets of binder paper and anything in between.  The stacks may also include books or magazines not put away, (after all, I don't want to forget to actually read them). This "must have" information runs the gamut from phone numbers to old bills and recipes.  We flatsurfacitis sufferers don't want to lose any of it, so it's been carefully saved.

Eventually, the piles may migrate to other surfaces.  The ironing board is a favorite. Portable as it is, the unsightly mess can simply be shuffled about to various out-of-the-way spots around the house. (But at least the table is now clear.)  After all, who irons anymore anyway?  "Ironing"  is an obscene word in my house.  

Company's coming?  Put it in the bedroom.  Need to change the bedding and vacuum the carpet?  No problem.  Stick the thing into the office.  Ooops--that was a mistake--need to use the office.  Oh, well, put it in the guest room; no one ever comes to visit overnight anyway.  Uh-oh--can't sleep?  Disturbing hubby?  Need the guest room! 

Oh, great!  The thing is wedged against the door, and I can barely squeeze inside.  How on earth did that happen?  Make note to self:  must dig in (tomorrow!) and start sorting out this crud. And so tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow...and many tomorrows later, I've arrived at to-day--as in to-do to-day!  No more putting it off.  Something must be done, for I can barely squeeze into the "guest" room; it's become more storage locker than anything else.

Mind you, I don't hoard all manner of junk until my whole house is full.  I'm not one of those people who collect so much crap that they can barely navigate through tiny pathways between all their "collections."  Not by a long shot.  I have books,  family memorabilia from the current generation, and heirlooms.  Oh, and my important papers.  

I don't shop at flea markets, raid dumpsters or go midnight shopping on trash day.  It's just that it's a bit too much to fit into what might be considered proper storage and display areas. I'm a family history buff, so many of my important papers are tidbits waiting to be entered into my genealogy program, or scrap-booked.

Some of my 'stuff' is clothing that is, what's the new catch-phrase?  "Gently worn."  I'm quite sure it will fit again--one of these days.  So there it sits. Ah, here's another pair of pants--full of paint stains. Well, I'm sure one day there will be another painting project, and I wouldn't want to ruin another pair of pants, so I'd better save these.  My original old Nintendo game is in there.  One of these days...real soon...(as soon as I can figure out all the cables and what goes where)...I'm going to hook it up to the TV next to hubby's X-Box, so I can play my old games I enjoyed.

No matter.  While sorting, I eventually get sidetracked.  I come by that honestly, as well.  After all, I grew up in a household facetiously nicknamed "Sidetrack Manor."  But I digress.  Today's smack in the rear came in the form of an old ledger accounting book that fell from a closet shelf and conked me on the noggin.  It was one of the many such books my mother used over the years to keep track of household finances.

Hubby and I sat down to read it.  Wow.  This was one I had saved for just such comparisons.  The rest, I tossed when we sold Mom's house.  The book covers the period from 2 years before I was born; 1946, through 1954 when I was 6 years old. Comparing what things cost back then to what we pay now was nothing short of shocking.  Keep in mind that our current home is only slightly larger in square footage than the house where I grew up. Our house is fully insulated with a new, efficient furnace. I grew up in a house with a humongous and not-so-efficient furnace and the building was totally uninsulated.

Here's a sampling of monthly costs:

Item or Service		1946		2011
Gas and Electric		$3.35		$250.00
Water		$2.50		$30.00
Telephone		$2.15		$45.00
Mortgage Payment (2011 adjusted to actual amount)		$34.14		$2,200.00

 

This bit of  sticker shock made me feel old, for it reminded me that I can recall bread being sold for twenty-five-cents a loaf, and a quart of milk the same.  A nickel candy bar was actually a nickel, and a dime bought a week's supply of bubble gum. (Oh--just remembered--I am old!)

It also reminded me of why I save such antiques:  it is possible fodder for an angry letter to The Powers That Be . I'll write that letter...someday.

Our Maddening English Language--Article Links

Here, for easy reference and search is a single page of links here to my various articles on our crazy language.

http://straythoughtsonaleash.blogspot.com/2010/01/every-day-there-are-more-language.html

http://straythoughtsonaleash.blogspot.com/2010/01/more-on-our-crazy-language.html

http://straythoughtsonaleash.blogspot.com/2009/03/words-and-more-lesson-2.html

http://straythoughtsonaleash.blogspot.com/2009/02/words-words-and-more-words.html

Ghosties and Ghoulies and Things That Go Bump In The Night

We have a spirit in our home.  A real-live ghost.  Well, not that a ghost is alive, but let's just say an actual presence.  And anyway--who's to say what the ultimate definition of "alive" is?  We are alive in our physical bodies, which when they wear out, and die, shed our energy, and release it into the universe.  Energy cannot be destroyed..who's to say that's not a form of life?

As a sensitive (one who is able to feel, or sense the presence of spirits and their energy) , my husband has been able to pick up that it is a little girl between about 8 and 12 years of age.

He has felt her often, and 3 times she's passed right through him.  He describes that as "an awful feeling."  Sort of all electric-tingly, and almost as if you can feel your innards being pulled upon--not painful, just unpleasant.  It's an experience I've not had.  The last time it happened, he yelled at her, "Don't do that!!"  Perhaps her feelings were hurt: all activity ceased for nearly a year.

She is mischeivous, though, and likes to hide things every now and then.  The most blatant episode was a perforated vegetable serving spoon.  It lives in the silverware drawer, in a section with the rest of the serving utensils, and right on top, as it is used most often.

On the day in question, I reached to get it, and it was not there.  I looked again, figuring it had migrated to the bottom of the pile.  Nope.  I searched among the few items in the sink.  No spoon.  I looked in the dishwasher--it was empty.  Next, I searched all the other drawers in the kitchen, thinking that if my husband had put away dishes, it might have gotten into the wrong spot.  Likewise if my daughters had been visiting.  No such luck.

Back to the original drawer I went, and this time, I removed the drawer, dumped the contents fully right down to naked empty drawer, and put everything back one item at a time.  No veggie spoon!  I looked elsewhere around the house, ready to (unrealistically) blame one of the cats for thinking it was a toy, and hiding it in some nook or cranny.  Nope! The cats didn't have it.  I gave up, figuring at last that it must have accidentally ended up in the trash and was simply gone.

Fast-forward about 3 months, and I opened the silverware drawer to set the table, and lo and behold, there was the stupid vegetable spoon, right on top, where it had always belonged and been in the past!!  Right where it had not been upon my initial search or in turning the house upside down!

Debunking checklist for this event: 

• My husand and I are the only living human inhabitants of this house 
• Although we have 4 cats, who can get into mischief, they are unable to open drawers and make off with silverware 
• It was not during any holiday, so neither of my daughters had been here helping put things away, nor had other guests
• This type of happening cannot be explained by drafts or 'settling of the house'  

Where the items go that they cannot be seen, is a matter far beyond the scope of this post.  At the moment, I am missing an antique doll.....

I've written 2 other articles in far more detail concerning the paranormal, and how to figure out whether you have a spirit in your home or not.  They can be found here:

http://hubpages.com/hub/Spooks-Spirits-and-Ghosts-the-Paranormal

http://hubpages.com/hub/Spooks-Spirits-and-Ghosts-The-Paranormal-Part-Two

Thoughts on Our Anniversary

Time is a funny thing.  It has a split personality.  On the one hand, it can zoom by so that years seem like minutes, and on the other hand, it can drag on, seemingly turning minutes into hours and days.

How often, as children did we all bemoan the slowness of time?  "I can't wait to be all grown-up!"  or "I don't think my next birthday will ever come around."  Suddenly, all that is behind us, and those slow-dragging days and years have turned into entire decades past.

By this habit, we end up wishing our lives away.  As young parents, "I can't wait until the baby is walking."  then, "I can't wait until the baby is talking."  A few milliseconds later,  we have teenagers whom we wish would just shut up!

"Teens are such a pain with all their drama!  I can't wait till my kids are grown!"  we cry. Two minutes later, we are mopping our eyes at their wedding and wondering where all those years went.

We mourn, yet survive the deaths of our parents, a few friends, and assorted maladies and misfortunes.  It is all part of living. As we grow older, though, our thoughts start to turn toward our own mortality, and perhaps our "bucket list" of things we wish to accomplish before our turn on the planet is up.

It is now that we yearn for the slowly-passing time of childhhod, when every moment, every adventure was relished  to the fullest; when the agonizing anticipation of a vacation or special treat seemed to go on for years.  But alas, time does not march to our drummer..it simply marches on.

And so, on the eve of our 11th anniversary, my thoughts turn to this pensive mood, as I savor the years I've had with my soulmate, and look forward to many more.  At the same time I must realize that we met later in life, and the slow days and years are forever behind us:  all we can do is savor the present, and focus on the happy times.  One day at a time. 

This I know, however:  I will never be one of those old folks who mark their days by first reading the obituary column to discover if the names of anyone they knew appear therein.  That is too depressing:  it runs counter to staying happy.  If you knew the party who passed on, word will get to you, there's no point in wallowing in sad news.  People will pass--that's the one sure thing in life--you don't get out of it alive. 

Carpe diem!

Censorship Must Go!

Censorship of so-called ‘bad’ language is both rampant and pointless. Everyone knows exactly what those so-called ‘bad words’ are, including and especially those who rant against them, and are in favor of censorship in the first place!

When you see a TV show, and the ‘bad words’ are bleeped out, no one is fooled. Anyone watching knows perfectly well, or can make a reasonably good guess as to the exact word(s) that were bleeped!

The same goes for the written word in cyberspace. There are oh, so many internet sites that ‘do not tolerate’ what is termed as ‘foul language.’ No matter. There are a myriad of work-arounds, and again, most everyone knows them, and no one is fooled.

“Oh, hell,” is probably one of the most common and least offensive of the lot. But who among you does not know perfectly well that seeing “h-e- double hockey sticks,” or “h-e- double toothpicks.” is exactly the same thing? Ass is another that is frequently seen disguised as “a**,” or, if the entire and usual phrase is intended, then “A-H” is a common substitute, as is “A-hole.”  In any event, it is the use of the word that is in error, and no fault of the word.  An ass is a donkey,  while the original (from British origins) term for one's derriere is 'arse.' 

I’ve been in chats at sites where they censor the most ridiculous things, and instead of just 'blocking' the so-called 'bad word' and leaving a blank space, or "...." they substitute a 'correction,' as if to say, "we're sure this is the word you really meant!" One such chat room, (if someone should be so "horrible" as to type out the entire a-hole word),  inserts in its place, "...fantastic whole." 

This more often than not alters the entire meaning of the sentence or statement, e.g.,  "That man is an asshole," has a fundamentally different--(polar opposite!)--meaning than, "That man is a fantasic whole."  Not to mention the substitution does not actually make any sense.  This truly is an insult to folks' intelligence! 

(Besides, this is not a site used by kids--we are all adults there!  [No, not "that kind" of adult site], but one where you are responsible for carrying out your end of a contract made with a buyer, so must be over 18 to do so.)

In this same chat room,  I once thought I had made a typo, because “dorkens” came up on the screen. HUH? I tried again, being very careful. Nope. No typo. Same thing! Hmm… so, I was not allowed to make the statement, “I had a dickens of a time….”   it came out, "I had a dorkens of a time."  There is no such word.

Apparently, the internal censor picked up on the first four letters in the word. Well, excuuuuuuse me!  Have the programmers who decided to flag that never heard of the author, Charles Dickens? Are they unaware that ‘dickens’ is an alternate of ‘devil.’ (I could have as easily said that I’d had “the devil of a time…” ) Do they not know that “Dick” is a legitimate man’s nickname? Yes, it is. In fact, I had a geology professor whose name was Dick …. and no, he did not go by “Richard,” or “Rick.” (WHY ‘Dick’ evolved as a nickname for Richard, I’ll never know, and is not the point of this article), but it is in the mix, and the "workaround" is "D*ick."  Pretty lame, eh?

It is no one’s fault today that someone long ago decided to use the personal name as a euphemism for a part of the male anatomy, and thence to an insult applied to calling someone out by that term. The name was there first. Ergo, it should not be subjected to such silly censoring! 

Among the newest work-arounds that easily sneak by is “WTF,” found in wide circulation on the internet and in text and instant messages. Virtually everyone knows what it stands for, yet the ‘propriety programs’ don’t catch it. See what I mean? You cannot see that set of letters without your brain filling in exactly what each individual letter stands for. So much for censorship: might as well have spelled it all out.

We also hear about "f-bombs" as the latest euphemism for that well-known word.  Again, everyone knows exactly what word is meant, so what's the point of using the euphemism?  Now, before I get accused of being someone "...who wants to hear or see that kind of language," no, I'm not in search of it.  I simply don't care.  I don't let it bother me. I say it myself if the occasion demands (such as when striking the thumb with a hammer). There are more important things about which to get incensed.  I do not, in fact, enjoy a steady stream of so-called "f-bombs." 

Years back, I went to see a movie that was supposed to be a comedy, titled, White Men Can't Jump.  There was not much of a plot.  Instead, it seemed to be an exercise in how many times the writers could cram "the f-word" into a single sentence, almost every sentence, throughout the movie.  Was I offended?  No.  What I was, was bored.  It was stupid, and made the writers and characters appear stupid for having no more extensive vocabulary than that.

If the whole point of censoring content is to ‘protect’ overly-sensitive people from seeing/hearing ‘objectionable’ words, that goal is in vain, precisely because of all these well-known substitutes.

As far as ‘protecting’ children? Oh, please! Most kids hear and see far worse at school (yes, even at private schools), and could actually educate their parents as to new vulgarities!  My 13-year-old grandson let slip with one just recently. He referred to a world-traveling slut well known to all males by the name of “Palmula Handerson.” I’m sure you can figure it out!  And that was actually mild. Many people would be shocked to learn of what their kids actually know, and at what young ages they know! Those pro-censorship folks live in denial, (and I don't mean a river in Africa).

We need to wake people up, and learn to live and let live. Some people are going to say words others don’t like. Too bad! Get over it! They are just words, and can do no harm. Remember the antique saying, “sticks and stones may break my bones, but names will never hurt me?” It’s the same exact principle. If the dialogue in a TV show offends, we can change the channel ourselves. It’s easy--we have remote controls these days--we no longer have to get up and walk across the room to do so. If the website or chat room contains language we don’t like—it’s as easy as a mouse click to escape;  no need to hang around posting rants and raves about it--just leave!

Having rules and regulations and laws to “protect” people from things they can very well do for themselves is both cumbersome and counter-productive. It is a waste of energy, resources and money that could be far better put to use elsewhere.  This so-called "protection" is actually an erosion of our first amendment right to freedom of speech.

To expect the government, or any of its agencies (in the case of TV shows, the FCC is the guilty party), to prevent anyone from hearing already well-known words and phrases is not only dangerous, but the height of laziness. Remember what has been said: “A government big enough to give you everything is big enough to take it away.” Let’s not give up our freedom of speech to those who like to live in a bubble.

To sum up, in the end, any attempt at censorship of ‘bad language,’ ‘bad words,’ vulgarities, or what have you, is a ludicrous exercise in futility.

 I go into a bit more detail on the FCC role in my article on Hub Pages: (click here)

Parking Lots...Lots of Stupidity

PARKING LOT DESIGN

As we all know, in this day and age of the near impossibility of getting anywhere without a car, especially in 'the burbs,' parking lots are a fact of life and an expected facility at all shopping centers.  Many, if not most of these lots are "beautified" with trees and plants, making a pseudo-oasis in the middle of the asphalt desert.

The shopping centers that have multi-level parking structures are, in a sense, better, even though they may be more massive and it is easier to fall victim to the, "'Now, where did I park my car???" syndrome.  The single-level outdoor ones have a serious design flaw.  Think about your last visit to an outdoor shopping center with an outdoor lot.  Think hard.  Where did you park?  Was there any 'beautifucation' nearby?

BEAUTY?  REALLY?

Take a hard mental look at the design of these lots.  Almost down to the last one, the designers have failed to figure out that a nice strip of trees and plants down between the rows of parked cars would be just lovely.  They have missed the concept that cars Do not arrive on their own and do the shopping remotely.  No, real people must navigate their cars to these lots, and once there, must exit the vehicle, if they are to actually do any shopping.

Now, think again back to the design of the last lot you were in.  Where was the landscaping?  Yep.  At intervals throughout the lot, protruding into spaces between parking stalls.  What's up with that?  Sure, it looks pretty, but what of the poor drivers or passengers who find themselves in the spot right next door to one of these planting protrusions?  You open the door, and step--perhaps fall--right into the plants or bushes.  There has been not one inch of extra space alloted to those stalls!!

DANGER WILL ROBINSON, DANGER!

Not only is this annoying, it is dangerous!  Especially stupid is that these planting strips are also frequently found right next to handicapped-access parking spots.  Doubly idiotic and doubly dangerous!

Either all the landscaping should remain between the lengthwise rows of cars, or, if  the designers insist on 'breaking up' the monotony of row upon row of stalls, then the protrusions between should be simply sidewalks, with a decorative pattern, if  'beauty' is truly the aim.  I have seen at least one person stumble, another fall, and I've nearly landed in the bushes myself a couple of times.  (Granted, I do have something of a predisposition to klutziness, but that is not the point.)

HANDICAPPED ACCESS

Once, the spot was so tight (I drive a truck) that I had to slide across and exit the passenger side.  Really??!!  I could not even open my driver's side door because of the bushes!  I have a bum knee, and if I'm having a bad day and need my cane, I now and then make use of my handicapped parking permit. Truly, it is hard enough to navigate--what would a person confined to a wheelchair do?  Planting strips should certainly not be located next to handicapped parking stalls--this, on top the fact that there are rarely enough 'blue' spaces to serve the need, especially in very busy areas. 

How about a letter-writing campaign?  Phone calls to the shopping center management?  Pickets?  I know!  Let's hire a group of actors to stage trip-and-fall scenes to scare the designers into some sense!

Letter to Myself at Age 22--Would I Have Listened??

Dear Younger Self:


     At this point, I know it is already too late to caution you to postpone your childbearing until you gain further education as to what makes small children tick. Since you saw fit to get married and have your first child just shy of age 21, now, a year later, you are already stuck in the ‘mommy’ role for which you are so woefully unprepared.

     Let me give you some advice. Go back to school. Take some college classes in early childhood education and development. You were raised as such a miniature adult, and had no real friends in your own peer group, that you are sorely lacking in this vital bit of knowledge. You didn’t even do any real babysitting, for pity’s sakes! How do you expect to raise a child without knowing these things?

     Your own upbringing as an only child, the daughter of a much older father, left you unable to relate to children. Bear this in mind, however: your mother allowed friends in to play, both in the house and in the yard. True, things might not always have gone as you would have liked, but at least you were at home, and if things got out of hand, the friends could be sent home.

     Be the mom at whose house the kids want to hang out. It is better this way, trust me. I’ve been there—on the wrong/opposite side of that bit of advice. With the kids at your house, you can hear their conversations, keep an eye on what they are up to, and generally supervise their activities. Get to know the parents of their friends, also: be sure they are on the same parenting-wavelength as you are. If not, then your kids don’t need to be ‘best buds’ with their kids. That’s how you keep them on the straight and narrow track.

     Taking them on trips is good—that is education in itself—don’t stop doing that, as I know you plan to do when they are older. But take a few more trips to kid-fun places. They may bore you to tears, but the kids will enjoy the chance to be kids, and be silly, and run and jump and climb and explore on structures made just for them. Let them see the silly clown shows. Yes, they are stupid, but kids like stupid humor. It is your job to humor them, so as not to stunt their imaginations and creativity. If they learn to be silly, they will be more outgoing, and less self-conscious. Encourage dramatic studies.


     But above all, take on more education for yourself, and learn to teach at home. Home-school your children, so they will always be able to find the fun in learning, and not have it become a drudge as it does in the formal public school system. That system is badly broken, and can’t be easily fixed. By home schooling, you keep your values front and center, and they learn lessons at their own pace, and the lessons can all be integrated with each other, so that less-enjoyable subjects get slid in almost unnoticed while the kids think they are having fun!


     By all means, enroll them in Girl Scouts, or any other extra-curricular clubs and activities for their social development. And learn patience much earlier! Let them do it! Don’t take a task away because it is faster or easier for you to do it yourself. This is counter-productive in the long run: it undermines their self-confidence.

     You are still a very young mother, and I hope you will listen to and heed this older, sadder, wiser, now a grandmother--speaking to you through the tunnels of time.