Susan's Scribblings the Blog

Author Archives: kayewer

• Blue Pill Blatherings

  Posted at 2:57 am by kayewer, on May 31, 2015

  While watching an “On Demand” program, I was subjected to an ad for Viagra® about a dozen times. It’s amazing what you learn by visually dissecting a commercial. You can only go to the fridge or the bathroom so many times when inundated with the same three or four commercial breaks (when it’s a smaller network, it’s even worse).

  So a rather pleasant looking young lady (Kelly Hu) is perched on a bed in what looks like a couples retreat, and she begins by setting up a scenario about things being “just right.” Then she mentions that  over half of men have some form of erectile dysfunction. The source, revealed in smaller type at the bottom of the screen, says a Massachusetts male aging study found 52% of 1,290 respondents claimed it just wasn’t as easy to get their altar ego’s attention at that “just right” moment. If you’ve been with one of those poor men on the 52% side, hopefully cuddling on the couch or endearing pillow talk still works for you.

  As the usual barrage of medical disclaimers comes in voiceover, another little footnote says Viagra® takes a half- to a full hour to take effect. So encourage your partner to take it when he is about 35 minutes away. With any luck, he carries a water bottle with him. And nobody notices that trademark little shaped pill when he downs it in public.

  Also, one cannot be taking nitrates for chest pain, because your blood pressure may go down (and your altar ego will definitely stay down if that happens). You can also get other mood-blowing side effects such as a headache, vision problems, flushing and upset stomach. So you’re ready to roll, but you can’t see where you’re going and it’s you who has the headache.

  The most hilarious caveat comes next: if you want Mr. Happy to stay healthy, don’t walk around doing an impression of a coat rack for more than four hours. In medical terms, this is known as priapism, after a Greek god who was perpetually ready to go and probably had 1,290 women who either loved him (50%) or fled for their lives (52%) whenever he drew near.

  The next little footnote prompts viewers to “See our ad in Golf Digest.” I suppose if Viagra® is not for the man in your life, he can yell “Fore” on the greens and forego the foreplay.

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• Bloom and Grow Forever

  Posted at 12:50 am by kayewer, on May 24, 2015

  We don’t often stop to appreciate nature’s gifts of plants, flowers and trees. They’re all around us, and we don’t always notice them until they interfere with us or we with them. Some trees have grown for ages and have outlived generations. On my block only a few trees are left, but on a smaller scale there are smaller milestones right in the neighborhood. An old friend who lived on my block until 1980 had prized roses around the outside of the house. The new owner has kept them up since then, and the other day she brought some over for my mother.

  They are the most beautiful and fragrant roses, and their scent takes me back 35 years with every breath.

  Sometimes it’s not the best idea to rip out all the landscaping and start again; some things are best left to their own way of life, like roses and trees. They aren’t a roadblock to progress, but markers of where life has been and will go on.

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• Taking a Tech Vacation

  Posted at 2:54 am by kayewer, on May 17, 2015

  It looks like a virus or other boo-boo has caught up with my tablet, so my time online is limited to when I have my laptop available. My friend the tech maharajah is going to pull his hair out while he fixes my non-techie mistakes, and I’ll be back next week.

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• Wholly Mother

  Posted at 3:34 am by kayewer, on May 10, 2015

  On Mother’s Day we remember that we all have one. Somebody had to carry us around, at an increasingly uncomfortable weight, for nine months and then go through the process of getting us into the outside world. It’s a feat of nature that never loses its fascination.

  Normally a doctor is standing by to catch human babies at birth. Giraffe babies have to survive a drop of several feet to the hard ground, because their mothers give birth standing up. Kangaroo babies crawl into their mother’s pouch by themselves immediately after birth, and it’s like a half marathon to get there. Turtles come out of the sand and head for the water and never see who brought them into the world. Seahorse mothers let the father carry the pregnancy (all women in favor of this for us, give a “whoop!” right now).

  And then there are human babies, who get caught in somebody’s hands and. . .well, are just there. We don’t do any amazing feats like crawl into a pouch or stand up after a great fall. Some babies are born in water if their mothers prefer that unique birthing method, but they don’t cross sandy beaches to get there; we lift them right out of the pool and swaddle them. Some babies’ first word is “daddy,” but not because dad was a seahorse and lost his six-pack during pregnancy.

  It just seems that the wrong parent gets the credit at strange moments in our lives.

  Mothers should have our thanks for just doing the nine month thing if nothing else. Sure they may be the best on earth or not so hot at parenting, but they did do the first step in motherhood. Here is a shout out to mothers. All of them.

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• Watered Up

  Posted at 2:37 am by kayewer, on May 3, 2015

  It was tough, but I finally got my hands on some Rosati’s Italian Ice. Every season, as soon as it feels even close to warm, the quest begins for seasonal water ice in the grocer’s. Some folks get their fill at Rita’s, as do I, but to me and mine the good stuff comes from a well established company out of Clifton Heights, PA. They’ve been around since 1912, and you have to have something on the ball to produce a product of this quality for 103 years. It’s classic. Yeah, it’s sugary, too. You know you want some.

  The first week the ice was in stock at the Acme (or as some locals call it, the “ack-a-me”), shelves were barren. It took until Thursday for some stores to restock, and then I was able to find lemon and cherry, my second and third choices.

  I go for the watermelon. And today it finally became mine.

  It comes in a tall, foil sealed cup, and it provides spoons full of heaven. Sure beats frozen custard, especially if on your weekends you have been caught short and missed the Mister Softee truck for the billionth time (Eddie Murphy was right: I think they do speed up on some blocks), or they show up when you’ve just started cooking dinner.

  Watermelon water ice. The ice in antiquity was snow retrieved from mountainous terrain and laced with honey to appease the rulers (the guys who fetched the stuff got to live to do it again). We get cups conveniently stored in freezer compartments in the “ack-a-me.” Little matter: it’s still one of life’s simple pleasures and worth waiting for all winter.

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• Criminal Recruits

  Posted at 12:38 am by kayewer, on April 27, 2015

  Of two things I am certain when it comes to criminals and police officers: nobody says one day, “I’m going to become a cop so I can kill bad guys,” or “I want to break the law and take a chance that nothing bad can happen to me.” Considering what has happened lately between cops and suspects, that might be important to note.

  Cops don’t want to kill bad guys or any guys: they just want potentially dangerous people off the streets so the rest of us can lead civil lives. It’s sad when somebody dies because of a circumstance related to crime, and I’m certainly not trying to downplay what has happened recently to a few people who died on camera during police interactions. Death is tragic however it happens.

  Not all bad guys want to live fast and die hard; the smaller scale criminals are about as similar to Public Enemy Number One as Casper Milquetoast. The little criminal, unfortunately, is the one most likely to get panicked and run, or they may have health problems or family problems (and that’s just the tip of the iceberg when it comes to a personal backstory). The cops will still chase a runner down with everything they have.

  It doesn’t matter if you habitually knock off jewelry stores, rob convenience store checkers at gunpoint, or just commit insurance fraud or miss an alimony payment or two; when you join the ranks of the law-breaking establishment, you’re signing a contract with no guarantees or assurances of a good, happy or long life. Handcuffs don’t come color coded to suit the level of your misbehavior, but if you’re hard to detain, the shackles may come out.

  Your fellow criminals may not have half your conscience or an iota of common sense, and these guys have worn the police departments of our country down to a nub of sanity. These are the guys who sneer, “You can’t get me, copper; I know my rights” and get off on technicalities because they have well-seasoned lawyers in their corners. Your career hardened criminal knows his trade chapter and verse and can recite policy and procedure in his sleep (when he gets it).

  When you, the little guy criminal, comes up against a police officer, they don’t know you from Adam; they’re not sure if it will take six men at 200 pounds each to subdue you when you try to run (you might be on some heavy drugs and go psychotic when restrained), and they’re not sure if a Taser will even break your stride. They don’t know that you would simply go home and try to catch some sleep, should you escape their grasp; they assume you’re going to head straight to your arsenal and go on a civilian shooting spree. Your more knowledgeable crime savvy friends have put the cops in this frame of mind, and officers don’t have the time or luxury of asking questions first.

  Don’t become a criminal in the first place. If you obey the law, you have nothing to fear. The cops won’t know you from Adam, and that will ensure you (and the officers who risk–and regret–the actions they take in their lives daily) a better outcome.

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• Suda Fed Up

  Posted at 1:41 am by kayewer, on April 19, 2015

  I know it’s been ages since I’ve dealt with a cold, because getting an antihistamine wasn’t so time-consuming the last time I needed it. The box in my medicine cabinet had expired years ago; at first I thought the date said 2017, but after putting my glasses on, I realized the “7” was a “1.”

  That’s how I racked up so much time off at work: I couldn’t even call out with a cold, because I didn’t get one.

  So this morning I was at the local Rite-Aid, looking for my familiar red and white box of Sudafed®. Plenty of over the counter medications were around, but all of them treated not only congestion, but body aches (didn’t have any), sinus pressure (nope, just a lot of gushing), fever (nope), muscle spasms and chronic flatulence. I just wanted to dry up my nostrils. Not so easy.

  The boxes on the shelves have been replaced with “calling cards” one must take to the pharmacy counter. It seems that kids who can’t formulate a proper sentence or make change from a twenty dollar bill can make methamphetamine from ingredients found in my drip fix of choice.

  So I took a card–thinking that I had just contaminated it, if somebody before me had not done so already–and went to the pharmacy counter, where I waited in line behind customers with real medication needs to do things such as saving their lives. I presented my card, and the pharmacist had to ask me for ID and to sign a waiver that I’m legal and not a meth concocter.

  I wonder if, when I go to CVS or Walgreens five years down the road, they’ll pull up my name and flag me for too much Sudafed®?

  Anyway, the stuff works, and I will probably need only two or three to take me through the weekend while my symptoms continue (the box has 20). And this box will probably expire before I get another cold. I guess this is one of the bad things about good health; it keeps you out of the loop when it comes to what you try to buy over the counter. Next time I may need to get a federal permit.

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• Behind the Big Head

  Posted at 1:43 am by kayewer, on April 13, 2015

  Hello Kitty scoped me out and pounced on me in Times Square yesterday, and it kind of creeped me out. Some people have a fear of clowns (coulrophobia); I don’t fear people in character costumes, but it’s tough to figure out what to do when accosted by one, and lately Times Square has a ton of them.

  The main drag of the most recognized city landmark in the world has been closed off to traffic, and it has become populated by tables for al fresco snacking, prime spots for photo ops, and every possible character in costume you can name. I saw Buzz Lightyear, Mickey and Minnie, Spiderman and SpongeBob Squarepants. The characters pose for pictures with tourists, but I’m really not that type of visitor. I go to New York a few times a year to check out a show or opera. That’s it.

  But Hello Kitty was sure I was the big catch of the day.

  I told the truth: I was on my way to an appointment (with a nice seat in Lincoln Center), and I was running behind schedule, and I made my escape. This requires dodging tour bus operators on every corner and comedy club barkers carefully positioned halfway on every block. The Rockettes were even out in force to promote their current show. The whole area was an obstacle course through which I had to weave and duck.

  I admit, most Saturday shows in NYC start at 2:00, and mine was at noon, so I was fair game as far as the income seeking crowd was concerned. Still I don’t go to the Big Apple considering myself a tourist after all these years

  So I guess the best thing to do is steer clear of that area and make my way down another street to get to my destination. Fortunately there are quiet streets away from the hubbub, where real folks try to get through the weekend. I passed one woman who had made her way to a local Subway for a hoagie on a motorized scooter; she left the gizmo outside and painfully took the steps from the front door down into the restaurant just below street level, where a quiet bunch of franchise employees served subs in the shadow of Columbus Circle. I enjoyed a peaceful lunch there as well, while she slowly made her way back up the steps with her foot long and putted her way home, which I assume is one of the many high rises nearby.

  She doesn’t get a pickup line for a photo from Hello Kitty. She just lives there.

  I suppose the person inside Hello Kitty lives in the city, too, and is trying to make a living. More power to all those folks, because that can’t be an easy job, especially when folks like me aren’t cooperating. The tourists make up for me, I’m sure, the city gets my meal money, and I enjoy the entertainment for the day. For me, it was a longer ride home than a high rise off Columbus Circle, and I didn’t have to find a place to stow a big cat head and costume.

  I travel light, because I’m no tourist.

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• Host Less

  Posted at 2:08 am by kayewer, on April 5, 2015

  The head of any church would probably not knowingly prevent somebody from the comfort of spiritual matters during Holy Week, but I heard a story recently in which that apparently did happen.

  All of the persons involved probably feel bad enough, so I won’t go into detail and make it worse. However, let’s settle one thing. If a person is visiting another church because they are away from home or in a circumstance in which they can’t get to their regular church, there is no reason (at least in my mind) for a cleric of any rank to be short-tempered or otherwise unaccommodating. If there is an issue, take a moment to ask.

  I don’t know what happened to open arms or the “Welcome to All” sign. Maybe too many people crowd into churches and other places of worship around holy events and not enough the other weeks of the year, but in this case the circumstances were different. A layperson was trying to carry out a duty that was done every Sunday after going to church. Caught out of town, they came to the nearest church hoping to get communion and prepare to go home for a faith related visit. This was a person trying to keep a routine appointment with God in His house, and do good deeds.

  Had things gone the way they should, the visitor would have left services with an authorized supply of the sacrament, and it would have gone to a homebound blind person who counts on this person’s visits weekly. Instead, though the visitor did provide the credentials needed to leave with the necessary materials, they got a refusal and a short-tempered send-off.

  For all of us–the big and the small, clerics and laypersons and visitors alike–we should take this time to remember Who is truly in charge and make allowances for who we are as human beings. Not to mention the amount of effort it takes to curb our initial reactions to the unusual and step back from rank and privilege and see what life is. The blind housebound person can probably see that better than we can, and they missed out on a weekly holy experience because somebody said no on impulse.

  If I counted how many things might have gone differently for me if somebody had stepped back for a second before saying no, then multiply that by all the people who have had the same happen to them, it makes a miserable world indeed.

  Nothing good happens by withholding with a “no” said on impulse when all the facts aren’t known. At least we can learn from mistakes and hope next time will be better.

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• Holy Holiday! It Must Be Easter!

  Posted at 3:22 am by kayewer, on March 29, 2015

  Every year I watch “The Ten Commandments” on ABC, which has been a tradition every Easter weekend (this year it airs Easter Sunday night). This year, there are a bunch of other religious themed movies coming out at about the same time, including “The Dove Keepers,” “Killing Jesus” and “A.D.”

  If you watch television religiously, this is the year to do so.

  Religious television and movies involve a lot of guesswork, close attention to political correctness and biblical accuracy, and a good cast of well-known actors. Producers Mark Burnett and Roma Downey have pretty much cornered the prime time holy programming on other networks. For the Big Three network crowd, ABC keeps Charlton Heston on the air once a year (mostly because the one year they tried to take the movie out of play, the uprising from the people was so loud, they had to comply). People who watch these productions are more nit-picky than Harry Potter fans, so they have to do it in a timely manner and get it right. The Bible provides the script, and a few nervous screenwriters try their best to modernize the adaptations to suit the current viewing audience.

  So far I’ve not seen Roma Downey in anything since “Touched By an Angel,” but I’m sure her performance in “The Dove Keepers” will be right up there and true to form. She is a great actor and knows her genre.

  Unfortunately I’m not into all the epics and serial shows, so I’ll stick to watching Yul Brynner get his comeuppance for a few hours. Sure, it ends the same: as do they all. But once a year, it’s nice to have one thing that is true and trustworthy and is older than I am, like a good movie or holy traditions which allowed me to walk this earth in the first place.

  Bring on the spectacle.

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