Susan's Scribblings the Blog

A writer from the Philadelphia area shares the week online.
Susan's Scribblings the Blog
  • Who the Heck is Kayewer?
  • Monthly Archives: February 2026

    • Comfort(unst)able

      Posted at 3:07 pm by kayewer, on February 21, 2026

      This week seems to be a repeat of a month ago, as we prepare for another winter weather assault which may be a record-setting blizzard. If you recall, at the end of January, we had a major storm event. The piles of snow lingered until just this past week, when temperatures climbed high enough to melt much (but not all) of it and reveal lawns for many residents. Today has been mild and quiet except in groceries throughout as the milk/bread/eggs/toilet paper crowd descends to stock up in case two or three days go by without the ability to go anywhere.

      Fortunately I had bread and milk, and being a member of a bulk buy club, I have TP enough to last until the spring. I did buy eggs and produce today. Now all that’s left is to hunker down all day Sunday and pray hard for no turbulence.

      Many people wonder if this wild weather is the result of climate change, and that idea is definitely not far-fetched. The more mess we make on our planet, the more Mother Nature needs to do to keep up with it. When we used to have grocery stores the size of the average CVS today, and packaging which degraded in a landfill, extreme weather didn’t seem to be as common. Now we are in an age of huge mega-stores with the most bizarre products sold in indestructible plastics, and landfills brimming with junk for whom nobody wants to take responsibility.

      It’s estimated that a little more than every 15 hours, we fill the AT&T Stadium in Arlington, TX (home to the Dallas Cowboys) with plastic trash. In my county, we only recycle type 1 and type 2 plastics. Sometimes there are no designations on the container, so the general guideline is “When in doubt, throw it out.” This means anything other than type 1 or 2 goes heaven knows where. This is why I have been conscious of takeout containers and how I dispose of them. Fortunately a few of my favorites are now composed of plant-based materials guaranteed to compost by itself, or paper which will turn to pulp.

      If we start counting on the bottomless oceans to accept what we don’t want to handle (as in repurpose or destroy), eventually we will run out of space, and it would take more than an episode of a show such as Hoarders to fix the problem.

      What this all means is that our waste generates a challenge to natural events. Gasses and runoff poison our planet, and precipitation is part of the way the Earth is cleansed. There must be a correlation somewhere. Our record-breaking storms have all seemed to come in the modern era. The biggest recorded storm was in 1888 with some 50 inches of white stuff burying everything, but we’ve had a few since the 1970s to be as inconvenient as that epic disaster.

      Anyway, this second part of the wrath of nature 2026 again threatens to affect millions of people, and so we must come together and hope for a reasonably good outcome and begin digging out from the snowdrifts come Monday into Tuesday. Again. Deja vu.

      Yet another storm front is being watched for the start of March.

      Those of you who love snow, better you than me. I’ll be staying inside where (I hope) I can stay warm.

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      Posted in Uncategorized | 0 Comments | Tagged nature, snow, travel, weather, winter
    • Hearts and Flowers

      Posted at 5:03 pm by kayewer, on February 14, 2026

      Today is Valentine’s Day. For me, it’s a Saturday like any other. I’m not going to complain about being single, because that got old a long time ago and accomplishes nothing. What I will do is be pragmatic about what this holiday means for not just me, but for a variety of people.

      In the good old days when I took a train to work, I would see men going home on the 5:00 express with balloons and roses in their hands. Sometimes they seemed happy about it. Sometimes it was difficult to read their emotions. They did make the effort, and I imagined the women they went home to and the joy that came with the simple act of remembering the love sparked between them.

      On the other hand, I just read earlier today about a man who, upon hearing a random stranger’s compliment about how pretty his girlfriend was, went home and argued with her about it, and ended up breaking her eye socket.

      Why this particular holiday has turned into such a polarizing event is unclear. One thing is certain, and it’s that love and interpersonal relationships are not what they used to be.

      Once upon a time, love was simple. One person found the presence of another to be a thrill beyond measure. They met, they dated, they possibly became close friends or even partners, leading to marriage and a future filled with all the things life is made of.

      For some people, there is no simplicity to love. Back when it was an elementary school tradition to decorate shoeboxes with colorful applications and cut a delivery slot in the top for the big day, there were always one or two students whose boxes were empty. It was accepted. No effort was made to fix it. It was a fact of life that some people were simply not eligible for the basics of human compassion.

      Somehow the evolution of women also meant that men grew to resent us somewhat. We went from Rosie the Riveter who stepped up to do abandoned jobs when the men went to war in Europe and the Pacific in World War II, to the perfectly put-together housewife in a dress and apron with dinner, alcohol and a smoke ready for the hard-working man of the house upon his return. Then came the era of “free love” and rebellion, but human sexuality was still mentioned with restraint, followed by the evolution of openness about everything. It seems now that both genders have access to more information (and misinformation) than before.

      And we get stories about the father-to-be playing video games while the mother is in active labor or passing out when they show an interest in the process and realize how much actually comes out from something they, um, put in, nine months ago. And they get annoyed about it and lose respect for women. On the flipside, new mothers dealing with gaming addicts for fathers are not in any better situation.

      So, once a year we turn all the craziness into a box of candy (which is infuriatingly artificial and overpriced) and a bunch of roses forced in greenhouses and wrapped in pink and red for presentation’s sake. And this is supposed to be an expression of love.

      Whatever happened to human values? Respect and dignity are a part of love as much as that frisson coming from being struck by Cupid’s arrow. The poor woman who had her eye rearranged just because somebody said she was pretty is spending the day recovering. Some will endure abusive relationships, while others may be lucky enough to receive an affirmation of what should be true love.

      Why everybody doesn’t deserve such luck is one reason why I’m spending yet another Valentine’s Day alone. Whatever you’re doing, here’s hoping it at least doesn’t leave anything (including a heart) broken.

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      Posted in Uncategorized | 0 Comments | Tagged holidays, love, valentine's day, valentines, writing
    • Free Secretary

      Posted at 3:24 pm by kayewer, on February 7, 2026

      I’m old enough to remember when high schools held typing classes. The business education room consisted of row after row of desks with huge and heavy IBM Selectric (R) typewriters perched on top. They were metal and weighed between 30 and 50 pounds, which was a task suited more to the maintenance workers (no IT back then) than the young women like me to try and move around. Even sliding one on the desk was a challenge.

      The machines came in colors such as blue, black and red, with stationary keys embedded in the top and a “golf ball” style interchangeable font device which snapped in place. The design meant no sideways moving parts, which was a miracle of modern technology then. Other typewriters had a platen or cylinder which moved from right to left as the typist completed each line and required a manual shift up to the next line of type and a return to the right. The type ball/golf ball instead moved internally from left to right and positioned itself to imprint the characters on the page as the keys were pressed, striking the inked ribbon in front of the paper inside.

      Anybody from GenX or younger is probably aware that their mouths are stuck open right about now.

      Young high school women trained in basic typing skills, and we had contests for speed and accuracy. Our grade system gave an A to speeds of 60 words per minute or better. Rumor had it that a nearby high school only required 50 words per minute. By the time I was 20, I had graduated to over 90, thanks in no small part to my high school typing class, and the high bar they set.

      So why did we take typing classes? We were anticipating working in administrative roles such as secretaries or clerks, which required typing letters, meeting notes and corporate materials. IBM had cornered three quarters of the business market by the 1980s, so we were graduating with an almost guaranteed skill we could use right away.

      Of course, clerical and secretarial positions in the workplace are not what they used to be. 96 percent of administrative assistants (the modern job title) are still women, but typing has moved from navigating those toddler-weight behemoths to computers one can carry in a hand. Children in elementary school learn basic keyboarding. The role of the woman professionally dressed in a blouse and skirt clicking away is nearly gone.

      Why do I bring this up?

      I was recently tasked at work with taking customer calls to back up a growing queue during severe weather. One of the incoming call options enabled the customer to receive a callback based on their place in the queue, so they wouldn’t need to hold. In the time many people spend what they consider an annoying amount of time on hold, they might have typed 90 words per minute. Or won a round of the latest video game.

      As I was taking one of these incoming callbacks, I received a voice message asking me to identify myself for the person whom I was calling.

      The person’s phone was the secretary, without the front desk, typewriter or keyboard. The device was screening its user’s calls so they could accept or reject me. A few calls came through like that. One even acknowledged my name when relaying the message, which I found slightly creepy.

      All those years of perfecting my typing skills so I could sit at a desk and interact with people, replaced by a digital entity.

      Makes me regret never having bought an IBM typewriter.

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      Posted in Uncategorized | 1 Comment | Tagged Books, computers, ibm-selectric, life, technology, typing-classes, writing
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