Susan's Scribblings the Blog

Author Archives: kayewer

• Dear Santa

  Posted at 4:58 pm by kayewer, on December 19, 2020

  Santa, we have to talk. I know you will be handling a Christmas like no other this year, so I’m not asking for any presents. Maybe I can bank my good girl points for next year. Meanwhile, maybe you can use your Santa Clout to work a few miracles for 2021, once you’ve recovered from your toy run.

  We are getting a new president in just a few more weeks. The one we have right now is eerily quiet, and after four years of daily grumbles by him, it worries me. Can you find something to keep him occupied outside the White House until the swearing in? That way the security detail can simply pack up his belongings and take them to wherever he plans to go after the swearing-in is done and/or he stops swearing, whichever comes first. Maybe he’d enjoy woodworking or bird watching or something.

  Can you talk to the ad agencies and composers and persuade them to stop using string ensembles–violins, cellos and such–for movies, drama series and commercials? I have heard strings used ever since it was tried in Avengers: Infinity War, and now it’s on the Hulu commercial so much, that I feel like it’s an endless litany of bad elevator music, and I’m trapped on a trip up to the 200th floor. I can even quote Chris Rock’s Fargo character Loy Cannon from that ad: “We’re on the ride now, and we can’t get off ’til the roller coaster stops.” I’m getting jaded and dizzy from that ride, Santa. Please make them stop with strings and move to some nice woodwinds or vocals instead.

  Could you change the laws in Nigeria so that every person who can legitimately claim they have inherited money, they can actually just go to the bank and get it? We have folks around here who have trouble getting their deposits back against helping out across the miles with such ventures, so we’d all do better if people just had to handle their own money within their own borders.

  I’ve been trying to recycle, but I’ve found that most of the plastics I come in contact with are not the kind my county processes (they do #1 and #2, and most of what I get in the store is #5). I’m thinking maybe the detergent manufacturers could come up with a way to refill those bottles and not have to put them into a landfill. Also, cardboard can be recycled, so we should go more with that. Also, food needs to be more sizable for one or two people. I ate spaghetti for five days straight once; it tasted good every time, but it loses some of the enjoyment after two in a row.

  I’d like Taco Bell to understand that, when I ask for one or two packets of sauce, I don’t mean twelve.

  I would like Microsoft to understand that games are supposed to be winnable without pulling one’s hair out. Facebook’s games should not require money to win or play better. When games stop being fun, I feel sad.

  Almost done, really. I swear.

  Sometime between now and the end of the year, I want to sit down and spend just a few hours doing arts and crafts. I’ve bought kits all year but haven’t had a chance to do anything with them.

  Overall, Santa, I’m hoping for a 2021 in which at least ninety percent of the world gets inoculated, so we will all be immune and maybe by spring we can start seeing a more normal universe. I want to take a vacation and not worry about social distancing or piling on hand sanitizer. Mask wearing may be a requirement for a few more months, but maybe it won’t seem to burdensome to people by then if we have hopes of an end.

  And by the way, I’m glad you and Mrs. Claus made it through 2020 without gaining 20 pounds. I gained one, but that’s because I can’t give up my favorite ice cream. If you feel guilty about not leaving something under my tree, pop a quart in the freezer for me. Thanks.

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• Taking a Shot

  Posted at 4:50 pm by kayewer, on December 12, 2020

  We are health ignorant. Considering how much accurate information is available, it’s surprising that so many people hold to long-disproved ideas. I actually have a friend who insists that taking an antibiotic makes her feel better when she has a cold. Her gut health is deplorable because the antibiotics kill her good bacteria. She hates having to replenish her gut bacteria with yogurt because she is lactose intolerant, but she feels compelled to take a pill for a cold. You’ve got to take something, right?

  In olden days, bloodletting was a common practice. Many people claimed they felt better, and doctors touted it as effective for all sorts of conditions. The key was that most of the conditions were related to “bad humors” in the body which were relieved by balancing the amount of blood, which they felt was too abundant, by letting some out, as if easing an overinflated tire. It probably worked well for hypertension, or to prevent folks from excessive partying. Without a full tank of blood, who feels like doing anything?

  So our pharmaceutical companies have worked hard to produce a vaccine to purge our world of our current dreadful illness. They made an effort to test thoroughly while picking up the pace. They have tested and found the product to be effective for nine in ten people, with few side effects (discomfort where the shot is given, for example), and only the same kinds of problems for people with allergies, which leaves them out of the program anyway (people with some allergies take no vaccines at all).

  The plan is to roll out shots to healthcare workers first. They need that, so they can stay healthy enough to treat the sick. Next will be nursing homes, then the elderly (of which I am now a member), and finally the general adult public.

  Some of the general public, though, are having none of it. People don’t believe in the vaccine. But then some folks don’t believe there is a crisis, nor that face coverings are necessary. 2021 may be an even stranger year than 2020, if just for the videos of anti-vaccine zealots versus the pro-vaccine front.

  And what about “may we see your vaccination card?” Does anybody remember when we got our childhood “21 gun salute” vaccine which left a scar on the upper arm? It was symbolic of one’s crusade to stay healthy and protect the population. Today we don’t get scar-producing shots, but if the healthcare system keeps count and verifies that enough of us have taken the shot(s), life will start to get better, fewer people will get sick and/or die and the crisis will be nearly over.

  I feel confident enough to be first in line for the vaccine, with the hope of life returning to normal by spring. This is not something that can be treated with an antibiotic. I think I can stomach that.

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• He, Naturally

  Posted at 4:48 pm by kayewer, on December 5, 2020

  Sexual identity is static, but the definitions of gender are not, so when a popular performer announced that their former name of Ellen Page would now be Elliot Page after going public as transgender, confusion reigned and opinions were quite polarized. I’m confused as well.

  Lately it seems the noun is seen as an enemy of the people. One is not allowed to define anything of human nature lately (unless you are an obvious woman in a snit fit, in which case you are called a term I don’t particularly like because I know lots of nice people named Karen). Commercials for a certain prescription medication indicate it may not be for people “assigned female at birth.” The thinker in me went into overdrive at that note. Imagine a primary care physician having to ask a patient to reveal whether they have had gender reassignment surgery before writing a prescription; imagine if physicians are no longer allowed to find out if their patient is, in medical fact, male or female? Sometimes the most basic issues come down to dropping trou. Take that away, and you might be one of the only people in the crowd around you who knows who they are. Scary a bit, isn’t it?

  What are “man” and “woman?” Most human beings hold to the basic definition that a human being with, to put it family terms, a frank and beans, is male, and those with “everything under the hood” is female. The actions one takes during life to define themselves as male or female have changed dramatically over the years, and a skirt or suit no longer sets the tone. However, one thing is irrevocably clear:

  You can’t circumvent natural law.

  Sure, nature takes a U-turn on occasion, and some infants have challenges which may affect their gender identity from the start. Usually the physician and parents make a decision, and the baby becomes Bill or Belle. However, humans are the only sentient creatures on this planet who go into the realm of totally becoming the other sex. Don’t even let me go into people who think themselves extraterrestrials or whatnot.

  I have trouble imagining that it’s a one hundred percent changeover, though. Physically and biologically speaking, no matter which gender one tries to become, the original one started there, always will be there, and ends there. I wondered, upon reading about the “new guy” on the Hollywood roster, what will happen 70 or 80 years down the road, when this person leaves mortality and approaches the pearly gates; how will God greet this person? Of course it is the same person, and yet not; still, God will know whom He is addressing, but it would be interesting to be by the gate when it happens.

  So people don’t want to be themselves, or they want to be themselves and what they think is better, or who they feel they were meant to be. I look in the mirror and just sigh.

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• Back Porch Lunacy

  Posted at 5:00 pm by kayewer, on November 28, 2020

  Amazon scares me sometimes. They terrify me the most when I have to order something for the office on the corporate account, because it’s not the same as personal ordering. Some things cannot be ordered on the corporate account, which makes it tough to get prizes for the staff.

  Lately we have had a few prizes to order, because a month-long contest was in progress. This is how we learned not to order gift cards, always put special instructions anyplace there is a memo field online, and remember to pray really hard every night until each delivery is accounted for.

  A few weeks ago I had to order a Grand Prize for somebody; a flat screen TV. This involved a precisely-worded Amazon search to get exactly what the contest called for, followed by redirecting the delivery to the individual, a lengthy approval process and the services of a witch doctor, all of which took long enough that I went on vacation before the prize was actually shipped. Also, I had to order a handful of additional prizes, so I did take the time to notify the lucky recipients that they should expect delivery on the select days I had received from Amazon; the TV was part of the group scheduled for the following Monday.

  At home on the first day of my vacation, my growing sense of relaxation was interrupted by a cell phone call from Amazon: they announced that they were right outside my house with my package. First of all, I said to the operator, the package wasn’t mine; second, it’s not coming to my house; third, the person might not be at the front of the house to receive the package. After having gone to the trouble of specifying that the recipient’s name was not mine, I couldn’t imagine why they were calling me, so when I asked which delivery it was, they refused to reveal where they were going or to whom. They were, however, calling me as if I were the recipient. I told them that, if no response was coming, they may want to try again later. They hung up on me, but I did not hear back, which normally indicates the delivery was successful.

  Last week went without a hitch. Then came this week, and I got an email from the intended TV recipient, saying they never got the set! Thank goodness I lived through the potential coronary that followed. Administrative prize ordering is not for the faint-hearted.

  As I started playing Shirley Holmes (hey, folks, I’m no detective dude), I managed to come across a photo of the delivery; there was the television, propped up against a porch window. I dutifully sent a copy of the photo to the recipient. She replied that it was indeed her back porch and, after taking a few minutes to actually go out back and look, the package, mercifully, was there.

  Is it me, or is it unusual for a person to not venture into the back of their property for nearly a week and a half, especially when they are expecting a major award?

  At least her neighborhood doesn’t seem to have back porch pirates.

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• Gee, Thanks!

  Posted at 4:42 pm by kayewer, on November 21, 2020

  Yes, I’m thankful this year. Nobody seems to think much of 2020, but when you look back, even during terrible times, we got some good things out of them. We can’t stop bad things from happening, but we have taken the time to learn from the experiences.

  When somebody is being cruel or criminal, people stand up to them and for the victim. I’m glad I’ve lived to see attention paid to bullying and racism, so it may be less problematic soon. I was glad to see countless protesters on the streets for the Black Lives Matter movement, because sometimes it seems that whenever the sort of things that have always been happening to black people happened to white people, nobody said anything. That somehow meant that nobody’s lives mattered before now. It had to start somewhere, and it’s good that it is happening with one of our most repressed citizens (our indigenous tribes should soon follow).

  We remembered the chaos of 2016, fought against countless hordes and elected somebody else as president this month. That was not an easy thing to do, considering all the planning for mail-in ballots, but we hung onto our hopes and became a truly dedicated voting country with staggering turnout.

  Overall we have been dedicated to listening to experts and trying hard to get ahead of the record-breaking pestilence bringing the world down this year. Considering we are a close contact species, it’s hard to resist the urge to gather and hug and see each others’ lips move, but a majority of us are considering the consequences of not wearing masks and staying distant, and that means fewer people may get sick. That’s a good thing.

  In spite of toilet paper shortages (more on that in a moment), and problems with some supplies and demand issues with soaps and such, supermarkets have plenty of turkeys this year, and it looks like the department stores will be ready for Christmas as usual. We kind of need that right now.

  I’m glad to see that toilet paper is still being supplied, but wonder why, when other countries use bidets, we can’t do the same. Instead of runs on the paper products aisles in times of crisis, we could be relieved to know that our bottoms will still be clean. And we’d save trees.

  At least we only have 41 days to go before a new year comes.

  And if you are reading this, be thankful because you are still alive to read something about what’s coming.

  And as times goes, so new things will come. That’s something to be thankful for, isn’t it?

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• The Special

  Posted at 4:18 pm by kayewer, on November 14, 2020

  Mister Rogers was right. Each of us is special, because we are unique. In the wonderfully individual act of human construction, milliseconds or minutes can determine exactly how we will come to be. One cell steps out of line, and something changes. Something from Mom or Dad–or both–sometimes gets the address mixed up and shows up at the wrong party or at the wrong time, and again things change.

  Once we are born, what we are is stamped upon us in invisible ink.

  We have learned to be selective among our own kind, judging and misjudging equally, which is part of what makes many of us feel unequal. And yet we all go through a similar journey (similar, rather than the same, because as I said, each human is unique), so why do we become selective?

  Fear and uncertainty have a lot to do with that.

  What we don’t know or understand tends to make us defensive. The problem is what we do with that lack of knowledge. Often we ignore the call to understanding. So much factual information is available to help us discover how not to be selective about acceptance and judgment.

  Our libraries, news media and the Internet are the water, and some of us are the horses, balking at taking a drink from the fountain of knowledge.

  The reason the phrase “knowledge is power” is such an important message, may well be because lack of knowledge is so weakening. Ignorance should no longer be an excuse, when the world is open to discovery.

  By now, you are probably wondering why I’ve compiled this lecture. After six decades of life on this planet, I am overjoyed to see so much attention devoted to inclusion, recognizing the uniqueness of each individual and discouraging bullying.

  There are still problems, of course. We’ve probably all seen the “Karens in the Wild” and others who feel that nobody’s life matters but their own in the moment. However, we are doing something about it today.

  I’m glad to have lived to see it, and that I am able to write about it in my own, unique way.

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• Set Up for Disaster

  Posted at 4:51 pm by kayewer, on November 7, 2020

  Computer equipment irks me. The various gizmos I need to work every day are becoming too numerous. When I was in the office, my laptop was tethered to a docking station beneath a dual monitor arm holding two screens, and my keyboard and mouse were hooked up to the dock instead of the USB ports on the laptop. It was a perfect setup.

  Once I packed up to work from home back in March, I took the laptop and power cord with me, because I already had a wireless keyboard and mouse to go with them (I use them for meetings away from the office), and I figured that, for a couple of months, I could make do with one monitor screen.

  So much for that idea. We are now if our eighth month of home office Hades, and the management felt it was time to set me and my other crew mates up for remote phone access. Since the laptop has only two USB ports, and one of them will be for the headphones, that causes a problem.

  Today I traveled to the office, for only the second time since March, to pick up my docking station. I’m not an IT person, but I figured there had to be a logic to taking down and assembling a workstation, so I was determined to figure it out.

  There is nothing more daunting than looking at a mess of power cords, especially when they’re out of reach, and these were delicately woven into the arm of the dual monitor stand in such a way as to make them obscured from view for aesthetics and, therefore, impossible to disassemble without prior knowledge of the equipment or the owners manual. I ended up unplugging everything and then checking out the layout on another station that I could actually look at (with a flashlight, because the department lights were out).

  I never knew I could still contort myself at my age.

  After figuring out what plugged into where, I packed up the docking station. I then had to also pack up a pile of catalogs which had come in the mail. I had ordered one or two things to ship to the office, and that mistake caused every catalog in the country to catch onto where I was. Those will be examined for address labels and then discarded for recycling, plus I’ll have to contact them to say I’m not there right now. You’d think they could have figured that out.

  Lastly, I checked out the boss’ tree. It was a sad and drooping thing, because it doesn’t get the benefits of interior lighting and the maintenance crew was apparently over-watering it. I drained its pot, and part of the liquid landed on my trouser leg.

  I drove home with a smelly pant leg reeking of brackish old plant water, a bag with my docking station and a bunch of old catalogs, and the feeling that I’ll be doing more contortions putting my expanded workstation together in the days to come than I could ever want.

  By the end of this, I may have a degree in IT.

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• Among the Elect

  Posted at 4:57 pm by kayewer, on October 31, 2020

  The year ends in 61 days. Election Day is also upon us, so this year has a curtain of doom over it like no other year past. Many people await the end of one or more ill-received things by December 31, such as 2020 or the current presidential administration or the pestilence. There has certainly been a thing or two to not like about this year, and the depression has grown month to month like a creeping terror threatening to devour us all. The Blob that is 2020 creeps along, unstoppable except by time. And unlike the one Steve McQueen battled, we have not come up with a secret weapon.

  December 31 will arrive whether we notice or not. Also, January 20 will arrive whether we’re happy about it or not. Whomever’s hand is on that Bible on inauguration day, 2021 will plod along, and we’re in for the ride.

  I was glad to see Halloween come. I put out pre-packaged bags of treats (with and without chocolate for diet diverse kids), and they disappeared promptly. I didn’t hover to watch who took what, but I hope that everybody was honest and took one bag each. It seems people have not been so honest lately, probably because we have seen so much dishonesty from places where we expect to see integrity and decency. However, we know better than to follow bad examples, but some folks choose to take the bad way.

  The disease which is devouring the population of the world will come to an eventual end, whether it’s because our scientists finally find a vaccine or it simply runs its natural course and finds nobody else to infect. Meanwhile, we are exposed to everyday people having public meltdowns over being asked to cover their mouths and noses with a mask. If you watch these wildly gesticulating numbskulls in action, it’s obvious they’re afraid beyond reason, making them desperate to be right about there not being a medical emergency at all. I’m sure psychologists are having a field day about this.

  If Heaven has a bar, I’m sure God sidles up and belts down a few at least once a day, and the angels sing tons of inspiring shanties to try to cheer Him up. It can’t be joyous up there watching us all going through what we have down here.

  And it is our doing, after all.

  We picked who is in the big seat in the big building in our nation’s capital. And we became lax about keeping our planet cleaned up. We’re paying for it now; the high and the low, black and white, guilty and innocent.

  Whatever caused this disease, it will see an end. Whomever we vote into office, we must deal with the future their way.

  When 2021 comes, whatever happens, we’re all going to be part of it.

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• The Weight of It All

  Posted at 4:56 pm by kayewer, on October 24, 2020

  Defining a blanket is harder these days, because somebody came out with a weighted blanket, so that changes things. In the realm of bedding we have comforters, coverlets, bedspreads, quilts, throws and blankets. All of them are designed to go on top of you when you’re sleeping, and try to decorate the bed neatly when you’re away, just in case a lifestyle magazine photographer stops by.

  I originally bought the weighted blanket for my mother, but it wasn’t the right fit for her. After keeping it stored away for a while, I finally took it out and put it on my new bed, which just arrived after over a month of waiting (you may remember I ordered it on Labor Day weekend).

  The new bed is an adventure, because it’s much higher than my old mattress set. It seems the manufacturers decided to make beds the height of a small hill, and for the average human it requires climbing into. My feet don’t touch the floor anymore! The old sheets are too shallow to fit, so my collection of nice bedding is obsolete. But I have handled these issues, with new sheets, and a foot stool on order from Amazon. So getting into and out of bed will become akin to mounting and dismounting from the examining table in the doctor’s office.

  This new innovative blanket is weighted with glass beads which add (in my case) fifteen pounds to it, but some weigh less or slightly more; the idea is that a blanket which weighs about ten percent of your body weight provides comfortable pressure which aids in sleep. Studies seem to indicate that feeling the heft of the blanket can reduce anxiety and help produce natural chemical reactions which speed getting to sleep.

  The first night I put it on, I felt its pressure on me and wasn’t sure if it would be comfortable, but I did fall asleep and stay asleep for hours. That’s a good point in its favor.

  The bad point is that it slides. All my sheets seem to slide now. And I know it isn’t an overuse of moisturizer because no matter how much I put on, my skin slurps it up. There is a unique sound when a weighted blanket plummets to the floor, rather like a small thud. Though not so loud as if I fell out of bed. Which I may do at least once on this new bed, because it’s so darned high. The house might shake with that thud.

  The blanket is really dead weight, too. Sort of like a dog when they don’t want to go to the vet, and they get so rigid they seem to gain ten pounds, or that they seem to be glued to the ground.

  Picking up a weighted blanket is a different experience, too. Any other bed cover is just fluff and bulk; this thing oozes out of your arms and doesn’t take well to containment. I’m reluctant to try laundering it yet, because I think my washer will not like it. My washer is ancient, but sturdy, and hearkens back to the days of shallow beds and sheets. I suppose I should throw it in and stand by in case I experience the uneven load dance my washer may do if things don’t go well.

  So I’ve upgraded and adapted with a new bed and new accessories, and my sleep seems to have benefited from it. Small price to pay for staying healthy. If I don’t plummet to the ground.

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• How Many Hundred Channels?

  Posted at 5:18 pm by kayewer, on October 17, 2020

  My TV is eight years old, but it’s been reliable through staying at home in a quiet house on a quiet block while working every day. Recently I had the warranty folks come by and look at it because it had an issue, and they replaced the motherboard. This means I’ll have the TV for another few years at least. By the time I replace it, two hundred models will have become obsolete.

  Lately, however, I’ve only watched a half dozen networks out of the hundreds on my cable. Sure I get the standard channels, but somehow they have even managed to resume sports broadcasting on at least ten of them. Sorry, I don’t watch college football, and by avoiding pro sports I hope to give our home teams a shot at winning a few games (or at least they might lose by fewer points).

  Some networks just don’t suit me. I wouldn’t watch true crime, and I can’t process spreadsheets and learn to cook at the same time (my Food Network viewing is nights only). Hallmark has a few networks, but I can’t do an emotional workout and type at the same time.

  In the afternoons, once the music networks become a bit much, I try to tune in animal shows, so then my favorite networks are Animal Planet and Nat Geo Wild. The wildlife and vet shows don’t command my attention while I’m working. In the afternoons I listen, more than watch, The Incredible Dr. Pol, and the show’s narrator, Ari Rubin, manages to make the programs seem like I’m listening to radio. Of course it’s unlikely that anybody could obtain a veterinarian’s license just by watching multiple seasons of a vet show, but in these past several months of isolation I have seen Dr. Jan Pol do some amazing things with animals of all kinds, and on occasion I find I can accurately “diagnose” the problem.

  Naturally the layout of the show is such that a regular viewer would likely predict a type of case within a minute or two anyway, but it’s interesting to play an occasional round of “Guess the Ailment.” Cows in particular are a fun challenge. Apparently their anatomy can do strange things like one of their stomachs twisting itself over, necessitating a procedure called a “flip and stitch.” It is what it sounds like: the vet and a few strong hands lay the cow down, turn them over to un-kink the stomach, then put a needle through the hide into the stomach so it’s anchored to the skin and won’t overturn a second time.

  And don’t get me started on prolapses or using a weird device to ratchet a calf out of a mother cow having labor issues, not to mention pet emergencies in the aftermath of fights or tangles with porcupines, and occasional abscesses. My after-work evening fare has included Dr. Pimple Popper on TLC, so if a horse has a lump filled with pus, it’s just like Dr. Sandra Lee working on a human with a skin disorder. Bring on the gross footage! I’ve got a few hours until dinner.

  Some people may wonder why these shows are so popular. Probably due to the aspects of life we don’t get to see. Sure it’s edited and carefully packaged for television viewers, but we don’t have what our grandparents had: documentary short films in the cinema such as “The March of Time,” or looks into everyday suburban life imparting life lessons. That was then: now we have vets on camera.

  I’ve also listened in on Game Show Network, enjoyed the narration of Mike Rowe as he performs another Dirty Job and tried to not raise my blood pressure with the news. The sounds coming from my television help mark the hours and half hours, and I learn things while getting my work done.

  I’m glad my reliable old TV will teach me about pets and livestock. Not that I’m planning to put on a glove and explore the inside of a cow after dinner.

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