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?
  • Author Archives: kayewer

    • I Like to Move It

      Posted at 3:36 pm by kayewer, on August 1, 2026

      To start, let’s make it clear that cheating is not, ever, the way to reach a goal. Depriving yourself of the entire experience of acquiring knowledge or ability also decreases that thing’s relevance as you have taken the cowardly way out of improving yourself and sharing your improved self with others.

      A college professor found out the extent of passive cheating when he presented the midterm exam to a class. Dr. Jason Gibson, the history professor at Alcorn State University in Lorman, Mississippi, was able to use a failsafe of his own design to catch 32 out of 35 students using AI to prepare their papers.

      He used white text on the white background most commonly used in word processing, so it would not be seen by the students. The simple sentence instructed any possible AI program to include the term Madagascar in the finished product, even if it made no logical sense. This meant that students who input the entire document into an AI program unknowingly instructed the bot to include the word Madagascar. Worse, none of them bothered to read through the final paper before turning it in.

      A fourth student (not one of the three in the class who actually did the work and did not receive a failing grade) had opted to use dark mode/black background with white text to do papers, so they saw the white text and, possibly believing it was a worth a bonus point, prepared their own sentence using Madagascar, and so was not penalized as their entry was original.

      So these are the future of our world; students stepping out of their caps and gowns without having actually received the gift of knowledge for which their parents paid hefty tuitions (not to mention which the job markets desperately need to continue to function).

      Now that the “Madagascar Trick” is out in the open, other methods of finding cheaters are still practiced, including identifying file creation and modification timelines. A file which took twenty minutes to prepare is suspect when a paper should take several hours of research and entry. Other programs can indicate how many keystrokes a student logged, providing physical proof of work done.

      That we must account for every dishonesty in our academic world is a sad fact of life. Nobody wants to spend the time pursuing the goal in a social atmosphere which promises instant gratification. Nobody waits for anything anymore. People trample each other with events offering open stadium seating and no assigned seats. People who have no handicapped placard or signs of pregnancy or offspring with them pull their vehicles into designated parking with impunity. It starts with cutting in line in elementary school and ends in the self-checkout with items smuggled out of the store unpaid for.

      Even the subject of daylight standard time contains an element of cheating (see my post from earlier this month). An entire hour out of the 24-hour clock which defines our days on Earth would simply disappear if saving time were made permanent, meaning we cheat ourselves out of how a true day and season should function. We can’t change basics of life to suit ourselves. This includes how time works and how academia is experienced.

      But then I could go into a tangent about how youngsters now “graduate” from preschool, Kindergarten, elementary and middle school. The completion of twelve years of education is one goal met, and college graduation is a bonus to be cherished and honorably earned. The process has been in place for ages, and within a few years it has become a lesser achievement because the students have gone through two or three faux milestones already. Why should they care about how they get to the next step if it isn’t as important?

      My biggest college final exam earned me a B, but I feel proud of it because I originated it, researched it, created it and worried over it. The best part of that experience was going to a museum to do the research for the paper and seeing ancient artwork and manuscripts. That opportunity never came around again, so I’m grateful for the challenge and the growth it brought to my life.

      I didn’t even need to go to Madagascar.

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    • It’s the Little Things

      Posted at 7:25 pm by kayewer, on July 25, 2026

      I took a chance this week and went to McDonald’s because they came out with a new snack wrap. Since an outbreak of a foodborne parasite has put a damper on any fast-food place that uses lettuce (thought to be the culprit), I questioned myself about how smart this decision was. The final determination of who was responsible for not keeping food free of contamination had reached a dead end after a suspected farm’s produce was tested and resulted in a false positive, so anything could still be the cause of the issue. However, I am a late generation Boomer who still has faith in the common sense of the CEOs in legacy restaurant chains such as McDonald’s, and I figured they would not be conducting business if their food was resulting in more illnesses, nor would they be dumb enough to not swap out their supplier if they were not sure of the cleanliness of the products.

      Since it was the first day with the new food item, naturally I was sent two windows forward to the “other” pick-up point. This is the midway point between driving away with your food and having to park to the side in a numbered spot to receive it from a server tasked with backorder running.

      I was waiting for the cooks to catch up and make sure they had the order right. They did and even designated the new item with a sticker (I wrote about the paper label issue once before). While I was in park by that dull window which offered a view of the staff’s safety gear hung on the far wall (another issue I brought up in a prior post), a woman exited the side door to run an order to a parked vehicle off to my right.

      The runner noted to the driver, as she handed over the order, that his gas cap was hanging and the hatch cover open. She then walked back and replaced the cap and closed the cover with the efficiency of an experienced service station attendant. Heck, maybe she did pump gas at some point in her life, this being New Jersey where self-service is forbidden, but women can run gas stations.

      The point is, that type of extra attention to detail is what makes this country run better. It may never be perfect, but that moment taken to secure a gas cap probably saved the driver a lot of wasted gas fumes disappearing into the atmosphere. Also, he got his food delivered fresh and hot.

      My food arrived shortly after that. And no, it did not cause me any health issues. The new wrap was, in fact, quite delightful.

      Now about that third drive-thru window.. . .

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    • Saving (the Wrong) Time

      Posted at 6:40 pm by kayewer, on July 18, 2026

      Those of you who have followed my posts know that I am a proponent of Daylight Standard Time instead of Daylight Saving Time (note there is actually no plural). Recently a bill was introduced–H.R. 139, the Sunshine Protection Act–which has made its way to the Senate floor for passage and signing by the president (who is in favor of the idea). If passed, the United States would reject a full hour on the normal 24-hour clock and remain at Daylight Saving Time hours permanently. The House passed the bill by a wide enough margin to warrant notice. The next step is for the Senate to approve it for presidential endorsement.

      On the other side of the issue is the move to revert permanently to Daylight Standard Time. The Sunshine for Our Kids Act (H.R. 9638) is a challenge enacted on July 8 to call attention to the flaws in the saving time bill.

      There is an abundance of information available about the disadvantages of keeping our clocks ahead by one hour. Rather than go into a long list of them, I invite you to look for yourself and be a little question-asker. Inquire in your favorite search engine or AI partner what effect keeping saving time will do to our health and environment. Read some information about the failed experiment of 1974 which tried to keep saving time in place but failed without lasting a year.

      A table available online which I will draw attention to provides some insight into what your new normal day will be like under permanent saving time. If you live on the East Coast, your sunrises will occur as early as 6:00 AM in June, but in December your sun would come up at almost 9:00 AM. Sunsets would be as early as 6:00 PM in December but as late as 9:00 PM in late June/early July. Under standard time, you would see sunlight between 5:00 AM and about 7:50 AM all year, and sunsets will vary from 5:00 PM until 8:00 PM. This means that the risk to school children of setting off from home in the dark (which did cause a problem during the 1974 experiment) would not be an issue. Waiting until after 9:00 for total darkness to view fireworks? Not a problem, because they can start sooner.

      The arguments seem to come from people who want to do more in the evenings with more daylight, but since when has sunset had a negative effect on evening activities before now? Schedules would not need to change for keeping standard time.

      However, the airlines have chimed in, because a permanent leap into skipping a whole hour will be permanently disruptive to pilots, staff and passengers. And to be brief, health-wise the change in circadian rhythms is detrimental to your health. There is an entire practice devoted to this aspect of human wellbeing known as chronobiology. Our bodies function on a 24-hour clock, because our planet runs on a 24-hour clock. This has been a fact since ancient times when great minds studied the heavens and recorded what they saw, turning their findings into what our daily lives depend upon for optimal living.

      The number of heart attacks and strokes which rise during the spring ahead/fall back weekends will decline. So will accidents related to the sudden one-hour difference in drivetime light or night.

      All of the evidence points to a simple logic. We are given 24 hours in a day, so we should use it as is. Our time zones make it easy to follow, and our bodies will sync naturally and forever if we keep to what nature intended.

      The best way to promote the new bill is to drop a quick email to your state senator. You can be brief: just say you want permanent daylight standard time. We have no better opportunity in our modern history to set things to the way they should have always been.

      It’s time to no longer mess with time.

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    • Justice in the Karen Era

      Posted at 2:17 pm by kayewer, on July 11, 2026

      Apparently Karens–those annoying folks nobody wants to be forced to deal with because of their unusual philosophies and sense of entitlement–have been around in some form or other for ages.

      I just read an article about the legacy department store Marshall Field, which was a major shopping destination when they began business in 1852 and ceased in 2006. They had experiences with disgruntled customers as well, but they had a method of handling them that is truly empowerment at its best. Since they also coined the popular phrase, “The customer is always right” in an age when people were wary of trickery in consumerism, we should pay attention.

      They actually hired what they called “fired men.” These were employees paid to be the scapegoat when somebody complained about poor results. Apparently, the manager would upbraid the person, designate them as responsible for the mess and terminate their employment in the presence of the customer. Satisfaction obtained, the angry customer would smugly go about their day and so would the gentleman who would still be picking up a paycheck at the end of the week.

      The general purpose of a Karen’s outrage is a sense of having no control over their lives at a given moment. The truth is that none of us are really controlling anything, but these individuals are emotionally crippled without feeling as if they can pilot somebody else’s ship even if it is to the detriment of others.

      The videos we’re subjected to on social media seem to follow a pattern. We often are coming into the action moments after the original dispute which set the Karen off. In a restaurant it’s often a problem with a takeout order, and in a public place an argument over personal space, privileges or restrictions, or misbehavior not conducive to everybody enjoying their good time.

      The first thing a Karen will normally do is raise their voice and vocalize a fraction of an octave higher. They may lean over a counter and yell at the other individual at uncomfortably close quarters. They may begin repeating short phrases of reprimand or include a few choice negative names for the other person and say it over and over as if the momentum of the speech validates its truth (in their mind). They sometimes clap their hands loudly in a violent manner to indicate that they really want to slap the person on whom they are directing their anger. They pound on the counter. They escalate to hurling furniture and accessories around. They leap over the counter to start a fistfight.

      All for a missed order of fries.

      What these actions tell us is that some people have graduated from high school without having learned patience, manners, or honor. They don’t wish to handle mishaps in a civil manner and prefer venting to a calm discussion which may produce a better feeling outcome. These overreacting public terrors have a tendency to exhibit poor health symptoms such as anxiety, high blood pressure and low anger management skills. They end up in the hospital (and sometimes their victims with them), and the behavior certainly carries over into their home and personal lives to the dismay of their families.

      The customer is not always right, but employees dealing with customers are just as human. As soon as these hotheads have the realization that their rage avails nothing of value, we will no longer need to deal with watching human tornadoes trashing the taco place. We should not need to offer “satisfaction” to such people. We don’t need “fired men” to play a role, nor is it helpful to say a person is infallible in a merchant driven world if they’re on the paying side of the counter. Whatever happened to “I don’t see my fries in the bag?” The worker can then say they’re sorry and produce the missing part. No harm on either side.

      It would make social media less interesting, but we’d all be healthier for it.

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    • What a Hoser

      Posted at 6:12 pm by kayewer, on July 4, 2026

      Everybody has little quirks that can be annoyingly difficult or impossible to overcome. People can’t figure out how to peel hard boiled eggs without wrecking the surface (hint: get under the membrane by starting at the blunt end). Folks chronically forget to fill the gas tank until their vehicle sputters to a halt (and it’s usually on a holiday when prices are jacked up). Others misplace their car keys. We get it, and we sigh and muddle our way through such obstacles.

      Another such roadblock to a smooth life is inanimate objects, whether it’s never being able to flick a lighter to life, keep a shoelace tied, or getting your electronic pass read at the bridge or parking garage. Daily progress comes to a complete stop when something doesn’t work the way it should. Hollywood even wastes footage because of malfunctioning props, so we’re all subject to it.

      Lately I have been having a war of epic stature with garden hoses.

      The hoses my parents had did finally surrender to old age, and I needed to replace them, but luck is not on my side. I have gone through about a dozen of these outdoor must-have contraptions, and for the life of me I cannot get them to function.

      When I saw an ad for a convenient hose which weighed next to nothing and expanded and shrank on its own, I thought it must be the holy (or hosey) grail of water delivery devices. The legacy variety kinks up, never stores easily, handles in the most unwieldy fashion, picks up dirt and debris as it’s dragged from the faucet to whatever you will be watering, and is never the right size for the yard in which it’s being used.

      Something light in weight that wouldn’t kink seemed a godsend. So I bought one.

      Turns out the thing is really an elongated bladder wrapped by a woven cover. Sure, it carries easily and can drape around its holder in half the time of the stiff and stubborn original. However, while it’s expanding it can ruin your landscaping and mow down your shrubbery and flowers. It requires some finagling to figure out how many washers the female coupling needs inside the screw to avoid getting showered with water. No matter what I’ve done, they always leaked. I always got wet.

      They are also sensitive and prone to bursting internally, which effectively ends their lifespan. One lasted eight months, and the other about three. I moved to a new-fangled flat product still guaranteed not to kink, but it didn’t make it through two seasons. So, back to the permanently curled old standby for my next attempt.

      I managed to hook up the hose (righty loosey, lefty tighty), turned it on, and got a free shower.

      Dragged the curly little darling out of the leaking firing line, along the length of the driveway to straighten it out, then moved toward my target for the morning: the birdbath, to give the poor avian world some fresh cool water during a heatwave with temperatures over 100 degrees. I turned on the nozzle and got nothing.

      The gosh-darned thing had kinked (and I didn’t actually say gosh-darned).

      Went back to unkink the hose, which usually looks something like that rope exercise one does in the gym to strengthen the upper arms and turn them into biceps which could feed a family of four zombies. Only this model of hose doesn’t undulate at all. I had to unwind it like an anaconda fresh out of the permafrost.

      Finally, I managed to turn on the nozzle and get a genuine jet of water to wash out the birdbath and fill it with fresh water. Mission accomplished. Sort of. Still needed to put the hose back to someplace it had never been before.

      A fifty-foot hose with the attitude of a snake is a son of a gun to wrestle into any semblance of order. My hose caddy is an F-shaped device on which one supposedly can wind the entire length of hose around and have the end result look like it did when purchased from the hardware store. Truth is it looks more like the cat got to the anaconda. Each coil is a different size, but when you’ve had this experience with hoses you know, like Kenny Rogers said, when to fold. The thing is on one place, and that’s that.

      This may be my cross to bear for a few years, having bought the gold standard of a product which has “always worked” just the way it is. Or rather we have grown to accept its flaws and go into battle knowing the outcome won’t be pretty.

      Just pretty wet.

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      Posted in Uncategorized | 0 Comments | Tagged adventure, gardening, humor, life, writing
    • Diplomacy Kicks Butt

      Posted at 6:35 pm by kayewer, on June 27, 2026

      With international soccer now having their elimination rounds being played here in the United States, on the brink of our 250th birthday on July 4th, many questions are being answered that we didn’t expect.

      First, visitors from a variety of countries are finding that Americans make great hosts. We are conversationalists when some countries don’t normally engage in casual talk with strangers. We have national parks filled with trees, navigable roadways also surrounded by trees, canyons and mountains and vast oceans. We have Buc-ees and Targets and Walmarts. Footballers from Ecuador visited the Rocky Statue, and the Scottish were so happy in New England at our bars that beer supplies ran out (apparently, they happily guzzled it like water at a 5K), and for the non-alcohol crowd, 7-Eleven’s Big Gulp drinks are also famous (not to mention free beverage refills).

      The biggest thing visitors have discovered in America?

      Ranch dressing.

      The Holy Grail of toppings for veggies and a dip for anything on which you want to experiment (please, no ice cream or adding it to Everclear or something) is not available overseas, so Kraft set to work and is supplying 3.4-ounce TSA compliant kits so visitors can take the experience home. Whether they will set up permanent manufacturing in some overseas destinations is still an unanswered question, but they would be foolish not to cash in. If they don’t, Hidden Valley will likely jump on this opportunity.

      The overall experience has been positive. Visitors are discovering that America is not just the tourist attractions in photos. The Grand Canyon, Times Square and other destinations are being given a new appreciation by soccer fans. They’re enjoying our roads and roadside stops, our grocers and specialty shops (one visitor to The Container Store was amazed that such a concept exists). They had the chance to see our yellow school busses, and in extreme heat they relaxed in air conditioning.

      Once they leave after the July 19 finals, all the hullaballoo pre- and post-Independence Day may well go with them, but they will take with them memories more valuable than any expensive ticket event. They will see that America is a collection of places and people grown over 250 years to be what they have seen in us. We should continue to see those positive aspects of ourselves as we move into year 251 and beyond. We’re part of a big and wonderful world, and it doesn’t take much to bring us together.

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    • All I Ever Wanted

      Posted at 8:01 pm by kayewer, on June 20, 2026

      I just returned from a week’s vacation, and I can honestly say that it is the first one in which I have truly been able to relax.

      The average vacation is not one hundred percent leisure and endless carefree hours (especially for parents), but planning and common sense can make the process easier whether you are a single traveler or a family of four. I started the process early, and from prior experience was able to keep my packing to a minimum (and the return trip even less). My goal was to eat out for dinner, so with my brunch schedule already accounted for, my provisions took up one bag.

      I brought my journal and a crochet project, along with my writing tools. My amusement came mostly from where I was staying, walking and enjoying the various joys of a different place after a winter of unmelting piles of snow.

      I had towels and sheets I keep for just the vacation, which took up one bag. My carry-on bag was already outfitted with my basic flip-flops, sun hat, and various swim gear, and I added daily clothes on top. In the end I only needed to make three trips from the car, and it took me about twenty minutes to unpack and set up.

      What truly surprised me was how well I slept. Without the pending knell of the alarm to answer to, I found restorative rest every morning, which was a prescription no doctor can truly offer if the mind and body are unwilling. Even though the room was as light as mine at home is dark, and sounds unfamiliar to me were easily heard, I found that this past week was helpful beyond the cost of the week. I hadn’t truly realized how the weeks of work and driving (which increased when I was asked to return to the office in February at the height of the brutal winter) had enervated my spirit.

      Now that I’m back home and anticipating the catching up I will need to do (including an amazing amount of laundry in spite of the little I took with me), I realize that such respites are even more necessary at my age, and I will be sure to find another week of rest this year. Whether I stay home or go elsewhere, I know that I owe myself a break from the ordinary.

      Happy summer everybody.

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    • The Graduation Ladder

      Posted at 9:49 pm by kayewer, on June 13, 2026

      As a late generation Boomer, my education milestones were measured the old-fashioned way. You went through kindergarten and twelve years of elementary school and high school, and then you received a diploma. Afterwards, you went to college and received a two- or four-year degree, so depending on when you stopped your secondary education, you received one or two more diplomas.

      Today children graduate pre-school, Kindergarten, elementary school, possibly middle school, high school, and finally college.

      The youngsters under the age of five or six have no real idea what is going on. The pomp and circumstance mostly satisfies the adults, who aim their cameras and cell phones at the little darlings with pride. The kids are going to all-day schooling at last, but the relieved parents don’t get any reward for their hard work.

      I’m not certain who invented the concept of middle school, but it seems to be a variety of purgatory meant to show the sixth through eighth graders that they are not young children anymore, but neither are they full-fledged teenagers. My school system adapted a middle school well after I had left. Apparently, they have a full ritual introducing the incoming ninth graders to the rest of the building when they are ready to leave the middle school behind. How do the fifth and ninth grade students perceive these transitional folks? Are they in a–dare I say it–class of their own? Are they the subject of awe or disdain?

      I remember our junior high school choir visited my old elementary school for an event of some kind, and when we walked through the doors leading to the auditorium, I felt like a giant entering Lilliput. When did the hallways, chairs and common room shrink? Or maybe when did I sprout so tall? The walls closed around me as if to say I should not have returned, that I no longer belonged.

      Graduation means more than just a commencement and diploma. In each phase of our younger lives, we are transitioning from one incarnation into a new one. We may not look the same in one 24-hour period. Or act the same. We are constantly entering a new room with new people and learning different things about the world and about ourselves. So, is it vital to offer a ceremony for each of those milestones? Are we overindulging the reward over the patience needed to earn it?

      I waited thirteen years to get my high school diploma (counting kindergarten). I got the cap and gown and “Pomp and Circumstance” and a baccalaureate just one time. After the hoopla was over and I went home with my family, the next day I started a job and have been working ever since. I did complete my bachelor’s degree but didn’t attend commencement except online. The diploma came in the mail.

      So much for tradition.

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    • And I As Well

      Posted at 3:29 pm by kayewer, on June 6, 2026

      June is Pride Month, meaning that like any other period of the calendar year devoted to awareness, time is taken for 30 days to recognize the existence of those human beings we see every day who are part of a more diverse (and before present day, unacknowledged) population.

      These are people who take public transit, or a bike or motorized scooter, to a job every day, or they drive a vehicle on our roads. They work several hours providing their talents and services, whether it’s in the labor, retail, executive or medical fields. They then collect a paycheck, and return to wherever they call home.

      Some of them walk through the door to a partner of the same gender as they, and get a kiss and hug and a “How was your day?”

      No different, really. Don’t we all deserve somebody to go home to, and what difference should it make to anybody else?

      But even among the many religious groups in the world who stress honoring each human being for who they are individually, there are those who would rather wag their fingers and invoke shameful words to members of the LGBTQ+ group.

      Our town held a parade this past week, and a group of Christian adherents with an extreme conservative lean were there to make their voices heard. Words about committing sin were sent into the air over a private microphone as parade participants marched down the main street and celebrated just being alive.

      There was, however, another noise being heard. Several musicians provided a counterpoint of equal volume or louder to take some of the negativity out of the protestors’ hi-fi rhetoric. Large Pride rainbow flags were hoisted nearby. Nobody got angry and told the protestors to take a hike. They were allowed to remain, though it’s doubtful anybody was truly paying attention to anything but the music from the small instrumental group and the applause from the appreciative crowd at the fun being displayed in the center of town on an early pre-Summer night. It was an evening for inclusion, and include they did.

      The definition of “pride” is twofold. There is being arrogant about who you are, or there is being humble and self-respecting. Many faiths stress that one should not be boastful, and that we should regard each person by their individual worth while also honoring that within us.

      If we were to remove every person who was LGBTQ+ in our history out of memory, we would lose classic movies from actors such as Rock Hudson, Marlene Dietrich, Greta Garbo and Cary Grant. We would also not have inventors such as Leonardo da Vinci and Sir Francis Bacon (the “Father of Modern Science” without whom our observational methods would not exist), not to mention Florence Nightingale and George Washington Carver.

      Yet we only want our talent to come from what we consider “normal” or “safe.”

      News flash. None is us is completely normal or safe, yet we contribute.

      Pride Month is not so much about what is unusual about human behavior as it is about realizing that the behavior comes from a variety of souls with stories enough to fill Earth with a library in which no two books are the same.

      Would we reject a cure for cancer if it came from an LGBTQ+ person, just because somebody who is not an opposite gender companion is waiting at home for them after their research is done?

      I’m glad our town’s parade was a success, and that everybody got a chance to say their piece in their own way. And I hope the protestors came away with some well-grounded afterthoughts about what happened to them. Which was nothing. Because “Pride Month” is not a threat to them or anybody, but a call to reason and a reminder that we all have something to offer in life.

      Let us all live to the fullest.

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    • Pop Goes the Wallet

      Posted at 3:43 pm by kayewer, on May 30, 2026

      Before beginning, let’s talk about the concept of “collecting.”

      The term “collectible” is easily used in many types of non-essential purchases, with decorative items and toys being the most common to receive the moniker. You could take two autumn leaves home, press them into a book and call them a collection. The term “collectible” on a product means you can buy one or more than one, and the value is left to chance either way. Our older generations found fun in collecting plates, or if they traveled they might stop at the gift shop and buy a thimble or a set of salt and pepper shakers with the name of the tourist attraction printed on them.

      Many people indulge in collections for the fun of having interesting visual displays. These collections can range from rocks and minerals (or leaves in autumn) to expensive purses or a closet filled with shoes. Figurines are also among the most well-known indulgences.

      In the past, a common collectible was Precious Moments(R), which today can cost upward of $40. The production numbers and interest may have diminished slightly over the years. Today the toy collectible many have heard about is Labubu, which is a plush monster that overtook stores and children’s demands, and is still a popular item.

      I have come to enjoy the challenge of what is called blind box collecting. If you ever bought bubblegum cards and sifted through countless doubles to find those few numbers lacking in your stack, you know how this concept operates. There is no guarantee you will obtain a complete set unless you buy a guaranteed curated collection at one time. People will shake and attempt to judge the weight of blind boxes to determine the figure inside. It isn’t an exact science. The thrill is of getting one of each–finally–and possibly obtaining a rare mystery or “chaser” item.

      My concentration has been on Chinese collectible series from Pop Mart. These are priced in the $20 range, which is much more wallet-friendly than those $40 and up porcelain versions (and less likely to break). The figurines are beautifully crafted, with quality detailing, and more multi-dimensional or gravity-defying than figures of old, which were usually relegated to people depicted sitting or standing on a base of natural spaces such as a lawn or beach. The colors are vivid, and the themes are intriguing. One set features a flower theme based on Shakespeare, and the figures are posed with vivid red flocked rose outfits or reclining among broad petals. I have not yet bought a full boxed set, but that is my next goal, to ensure I get one dozen separate figures (and possibly a mystery 1:144 find). The odds of not getting two of one type are not always in my favor, but neither is finding just one four-leaf clover.

      Also, a small collectible is easier to display or store, and you don’t need to put shelves in your closet for them. Naturally the figures are not the same as a designer handbag, but you would use neither of them. The purse must remain in pristine condition, after all. You can take a figurine out and admire it, but hands off the Prada bag at $6700 (yes, there is one: I looked it up).

      The figures were designed by an artist wishing to create an atmosphere of wonder, joy, and relaxation. These seem to fill that expectation. They provide a pleasant distraction on display, and a fun experience finding the full set.

      So this is what I’ve been doing with my spare change when I visit the coin counter. It isn’t expensive or fattening, and that makes it harmless fun. How many things can you say that about these days?

      Few that I can recollect.

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