Susan's Scribblings the Blog

Author Archives: kayewer

• Sleepytime

  Posted at 4:11 pm by kayewer, on September 14, 2024

  Getting a good night’s sleep is one of the few things everybody agrees is essential to our wellbeing. Estimates, unfortunately, say that only about two-thirds of people surveyed claim to get at least seven hours of healthy sleep. The rest of us deal with the difficulties associated with unpredictable daily schedules, travel across time zones, stress, and other factors which can affect our ability to conk out.

  Disorders such as insomnia (inability to sleep), sleep apnea (sleep interrupted by poor breathing), or other causes such as restless legs, heart problems, lung disease and chronic pain can contribute to bad sleep. Needing to use the bathroom during the night wakes us up, while too much caffeine may keep us up. Medications can interfere with nodding off; sometimes the cause isn’t as obvious.

  My doctor knew I had sleep issues, so he ordered a sleep study for me. Insurance covers part of the expense, but I did write a check for some of the cost because my golden years will thank me for it later. The objective is to observe a normal evening and record what may interfere with healthy downtime. This meant that I went to a sleep center for observation overnight.

  The sleep center resembles a cross between a hospital ward and a hotel. My room contained a queen sized bed with two pillows of various resilience, a television, lamp, chair and locker. I was invited to bring my own pillow, but I had a brand new one at home, so I declined and opted for what was offered.

  My normal evening routine doesn’t include TV in bed or late night snacking. It was easy for me to go into my pre-sleep routine for the study. After changing into comfortable pajamas, a technician applied rubbing alcohol and an adhesive paste to parts of my scalp (which needed to be clean and free of any conditioner or hairspray: also known as bed head), then attached monitors to my skin, as well as on my legs, head, chin, by my eyes and, most notably, airway probes inside my nose and bands around my chest and abdomen. These would pick up brainwave activity, leg and mouth movement (including teeth grinding), disruptions in breathing and blinking.

  The tech doused the lights–it was around 11 PM–and had me remotely perform some breathing and movement tasks for her and the camera to pick up. I was recorded all night under special lighting, similar to those hidden camera themed horror movies like Paranormal Activity.

  No ghosts were mentioned as having appeared in my study.

  The first thought most people have is, “How the heck can anybody sleep with all those wires all over your head?” Amazingly, I fell asleep at, what I think was, rather close to my usual time. I was awakened once when my nostril rejected the probe, but the end of the study came quickly at 6:00 AM when the tech put me through some more tasks, then the lights came on like a lightning storm and I was allowed to dress and go home.

  The results won’t be in for about two weeks, but in the meantime I’m continuing to sleep in my usual bed at my usual time without any wires.

  And no TV.

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• It’s Curtains: The Fall of Drapes

  Posted at 3:05 pm by kayewer, on September 7, 2024

  I have been on a one-person campaign to update my sun porch and turn it into an office space. It may be the second most expensive thing I will do in my childhood home (the first will be electrical in nature). The room is not insulated; in fact, a doofus of a roof installer had an infamous argument with my father some three decades ago by calling it a “shed” so he didn’t need to put shingles on it. There are three other houses within eyesight built exactly the same way to refute that insult. But I digress. It means I may need to either put out for interior wall insulation or use a space regulating system (air in summer, heat in winter), but I think it will be wonderful to have that part of the house in a usable condition again.

  One of my most recent projects involved a handyman putting up new shades, which was step one of the window treatment process. Step two was putting up new curtains, which I did (and put a valance up wrong side in, but that’s another digression). Step three is in progress and involves taking down the old curtains, which have been up since we moved in. Yes, they were that good and that sturdy that we didn’t need to replace them. They’re a neutral color and were insulated themselves, so their replacements, if I go that route, would be the same.

  These drapes were hung with hooks which resemble an EKG readout, inserted into a series of metal tabs with holes and run with ropes to open and close. The new ones will likely be rings and poles and operated manually, if I elect to close them at all. The sun comes in much of the day in summer, so the area is toasty and perfect for plants. Winter will be a different story, which I will improve upon as I go.

  Over last weekend I put together another bookshelf for that room and moved it in. A couple of days later, one of the window shades popped out and fell. Either the handyman didn’t click it into place properly, or my house is haunted. Both are possible. Last week a picture I hung, using those wonderful adhesive strips with three letters in their brand name, popped off the wall and landed on my head before settling in my lap. Fortunately the picture weighs nearly nothing. I remounted it with a hanger that takes up to eight pounds, so we’ll see if a poltergeist is behind the incidents or not.

  As I remounted the shade, I also took down another curtain. This involved popping each hook from the bracket while navigating nearly eighty inches of stiff fabric and standing precariously on a ladder. Some of you would say, “Stay off that ladder at your age,” but doing these little tasks are what will keep me going until I reach another “at your age.” One at a time is part of the key to success, and not pushing too hard past one’s limitations.

  The curtains must come down before shifting any more furniture, since some of it will go into the corners where the drapes are, well, draped. The project is half finished, and once completed, I can have the handyman measure and mount the new curtains if I get them. Move the other pieces around, assemble my L-shaped computer desk, have an electrician check for voltage safety, and I can then hook up my work and personal gear and move in.

  By that time, I also expect to be a little more broke, but when the curtain closes on one part of life, it opens on a new one.

  Hopefully well insulated.

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• Laborious Day Weekend

  Posted at 3:16 pm by kayewer, on August 31, 2024

  The first weekend in September is dedicated in the US to the workers, with Monday being designated as Labor Day and a federal holiday. It marks the unofficial end of sociological summer, as the beach or (if you’re from New Jersey) shore season transitions into autumn and the nation readies for the start of a new school year.

  How many of us actually relax on a holiday weekend?

  For those who adhere to the Sabbath, either Saturday or Sunday is a day off from working anyway, which pares the weekend down to its usual two days. Any projects you would normally undertake would be interrupted by one day in which you aren’t supposed to work. Monday is the official “last cookout day” of summer, when chicken, ribs, burgers and brats sing on the grill.

  The children and young adults have started or will start school on Tuesday, many for only a half day, making the first week of education a three-and-a-half-day “why bother” chain of events in which everybody finds their classrooms, review the upcoming semester and then go out to pick up all the things which one actually needs for their course load but were not mentioned anyplace in the preliminary notification processes.

  People will return home from vacation and realize that the cars they left in the garage–and delayed getting regular maintenance for–no longer function. The battery on one breathed its last after four years, and the tires on another were worn down until Lincoln on the penny would have the equivalent of two inches clearance in actual size. The auto dealerships and repair shops will have a mountain of work for themselves when they return from holiday.

  Then there is the after-vacation ritual of laundry (if nobody destroyed or outgrew what they took with them for the summer) and food shopping. Don’t forget that little Madysyn is now vegan, and your son whose bedroom was decorated in everything dinosaur now wants to focus on a game console nook.

  So the home is dusty, one car will be in the shop, the pets are out of necessities, and how are we going to pay for it all?

  Overtime. On Tuesday morning.

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• In Hot Water

  Posted at 3:24 pm by kayewer, on August 24, 2024

  This past week, I found out that using hot water isn’t as easy as it seems. My faucet produces a decent temperature of steamy H2O, but one doesn’t work on all, as I found out. Let me explain.

  In the mornings I eat oatmeal for heart health, and I’ve found the best deal in steel cut oats which take a few minutes to heat in the microwave. For my beverage I have been drinking hot tea, which is loose leaf and prepared with the aid of a Keurig (I recently posted about this in another blog entry).

  My morning oatmeal calls for 3/4 cup of water. As the average person would do, I added plain tap water at room temperature to start, since there were no indications of what temperature water to use. The combination produced soup with minimally moistened flakes. I learned by trial and error that using the hottest tap water resulted in a wonderfully creamy, fragrant bowl of joy. Using boiling water instead causes an oatmeal volcano. When I temporarily used oatmeal in a microwavable cup, the cups actually exploded. Lesson learned.

  On the other hand, loose leaf tea is best prepared with boiling water. My Keurig heats water to 192 degrees, just short of the ideal temperatures. Guidelines call for a maximum boil of either 185 or 212, depending on whether you are preparing green or black tea, making it slightly off both ways.

  So here I am needing two kinds of water every morning like some entitled bedridden dowager who keeps a thermometer by the bedside, ready to fire underperforming butlers and maids who can’t prepare water at the proper temperature for the task at hand.

  Instead of struggling, I broke out my electric tea kettle, and the full value of its worth in the kitchen has saved my sanity. I can prepare my tea water in the kettle while putting the hot tap water in my oatmeal. My utility bill will also reward me (my July bill just arrived, and it was the highest in the whole year).

  Now I’m faced with what to do with the Keurig. Place it in storage, perhaps, until it is needed for something else, or to fill in should my kettle whistle its last. Since it seems possessed, making noises even when unplugged, maybe I should put a cross on the box to prevent its escape. And yes, I keep the boxes for my appliances. Old Depression-era parenting ingrained that into my brain.

  Meanwhile, my countertop will be more open, and my hot water will be in keeping with directions. A hot bowl and a hot cup. Who could ask for more?

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• Cup of Plastic

  Posted at 3:23 pm by kayewer, on August 17, 2024

  I have been a tea drinker my entire life, and could never develop a taste for coffee. Becoming a coffee drinker is a rite of passage in the same category as one’s first date, first overnight camping trip without the family, or that first (legal, hopefully) sip of spirits. Kids look forward to sharing a cup of coffee with the adults, and once they are indoctrinated into the fold, it becomes as natural an act as brushing one’s teeth.

  Of course, after a while, the teeth also become needy of some extra dental care to remove those stubborn brown stains from drinking coffee. And yes, teeth do become affected by tea as well, but some inconveniences such as unexpected bathroom visits or a sour stomach are missing from the picture.

  My first tea was from Red Rose, and back in the day they used to include a bonus in every box; a small animal figurine designed by Wade Ceramics. People collected them from when they first appeared in the late 1960s. We eventually moved to Tetley. The boxes come with tea bags neatly arranged in rows kept in line by thin white cardboard dividers. In hard times, the folks at Tetley left out the dividers and, as long as people didn’t jostle the boxes around, they stayed relatively straight like the ranks and files of British soldiers. Most people seem to associate tea with Britain and India. A proper tea break is essential in the culture across the pond.

  Until a few years ago, I had tea at breakfast, lunch and dinner, but lately I’ve kept my indulgence to mornings because of the effects of caffeine on the aging body which can interfere with sleep. Recently I abandoned tea bags because research has shown that what we Americans are consuming from those neatly stacked boxes is actually dust from tea leaves, and in the process of collecting and packaging, we may be ingesting micro plastics along with our morning cup.

  Feeling downhearted at this revelation, I moved to ordering tea online; several marvelous websites show you how the tea leaves are picked and packaged in their natural state for brewing at home. I have become familiar with tea balls, infusers, bags and baskets and proper boiling and steeping times.

  Being an American, I also cheat a bit when making that perfect cup.

  I have a Keurig which is possessed by a mechanical demon; if I don’t measure my water carefully, the mechanism makes a mysterious sound as if a fuse is firing off. Unplugging it doesn’t make it go away. Since it has posed no harm to me, I simply ignore the noises, do my best to dry out the dispenser portion of the device, and continue as usual. Using an adapter, I can prepare hot water and steep real tea in my mug without sending K-pods into the environment. It’s a win-win for me, and I’m getting real tea.

  The tea comes in temperature controlled bags which I can pop open and fill up my tea ball–a spring loaded device requiring concentration to avoid injuring fingers–with fragrant leaves from a measuring spoon, which will yield a tasty cup of joy. This time around, I’m brewing a green tea from a sampler collection I received.

  Earlier this week I noticed that my acuity was slightly off. Hoping it was simply a byproduct of working off schedule one day, I tried to get plenty of sleep and refocus. Still some of my usual spot-on behaviors were not up to par. Had old age started to dull my mind?

  Turns out my new tea was decaf.

  When you’ve had caffeine for most of your life, withdrawal can creep up on you without your even knowing it. That goes for coffee drinkers, too. I recently read a joke about a barista who read back a customer’s order of a decaf with no sugar and diet creamer as a “why bother.” One drinks these beverages for the kick. In fact, entertainment sources such as television and movies depend on how the performers react to that cup of coffee. Clint Eastwood, in his Dirty Harry Callahan persona, famously returned to his favorite diner while a holdup was in progress, telling the invading robbers that he needed to complain that his server put sugar in his coffee. Indeed she did: we as the audience watched her consciously pour about a mug’s worth of sugar into the coffee with the intent of alerting him to what was going down.

  Turned out what went down wasn’t a good cup of coffee.

  My biggest memory of coffee was during a Girl Scout cookie sale in the lobby of what was then our town’s most famous bank. The mayor had his own desk in the front. The entryway had a table with a coffeemaker and all that could possibly go with it, so being a teen with a sense of adventure, I broke out a Styrofoam cup and began creating what I hoped would be a decent cup of coffee.

  I added about a two-thirds helping, then added powdered creamer and sugar. The taste was horrendous. I felt like I was drinking liquid floorboard. Adding more sugar didn’t help, and the hot coffee was melting it as fast as I could add it. I would not have been able to stop a burglary with this cup. I had to surrender and admit to my peers that creating coffee was not my thing. Oh, the horrors!

  It looks like I am in need of caffeinated green tea to get my edge back. Or else I should break out the English Breakfast that’s next in line to try. I’m sure I’ll finish off the decaf, and I won’t run out of varieties to try since tea shops are making a comeback. My Keurig cranks out a decent cup of hot water, even if it is possessed, so I’m not worried.

  And before anybody steps up to defend coffee drinkers or complain that a coffee maker should not be used for tea, remember I have a mug and a hard metal tea ball, and I know how to use them.

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• The Clack is Back

  Posted at 3:20 pm by kayewer, on August 10, 2024

  We are all familiar with the sound of a computer keyboard. It’s become as commonplace in everyday life as ring tones, car alarms and Mister Softee. We have been raised to enjoy the soft clicks of keys being tapped and spacebars being given the sides of our thumbs in salute, and people under 50 are not as familiar with any other way to record letters and words for reading.

  For those of us over 50, we remember typewriters. The old-fashioned keys were metal arms tipped with a smooth circular resting place for our fingers with each letter proudly displayed on top. They also weighed two tons and were made mostly of metal. Later we began using electric typewriters with tapered block keys. Those were also heavier than a toddler and unwieldy to carry. The most famous was the IBM Selectric, which relied on balls for printing the characters in various fonts.

  The sounds coming from a high school typing class were a cacophony of clacking and dinging. Each line ended with the need for a carriage return, signaled by a bell in the machine. You can look up “The Typewriter Song” on social media for more. We then moved up to data entry on a computer, with no loud clicks or dings and no bell, because word processing does its own returns and can practice “widow and orphan” control to make each line of print a marvel of efficiency, perfectly placed.

  In the olden days, students could center typing line by line on the typewriter and create art: the most common task would be Christmas trees made with one letter centered on line one, three letters on line two, and so forth. The end result was always in black.

  The problem with computers is that they are connected to the entire cyber world. Unlike the task of typing which demands your full attention (you are in charge of actual paper, ink ribbons, and carbon paper sheets for copies, not to mention bottles of correction fluid for mistakes), one is often beckoned away from the task of typing by emails, social media engagement or shopping alerts. It’s hard sometimes to reach a word count goal when pop-ups from your favorite family members or local binge spending mecca demand your attention.

  In order to avoid some of these distractions, I made an investment on a hybrid method of typing which combines a bare bones computer with the missing joys of using a typewriter. The device is for drafting only. Text appears a few lines at a time on a small screen, and you can correct or delete and then send your creation to an email destination for storage. The best part is the return of the clack of keys as you type. Who’d have thought that one could bring nostalgia back to one’s hands after all these years? It’s a lightweight, portable, simple gizmo with just a USB-C port. Nothing fancy.

  So far I have set up the Wi-Fi connection and sent a test draft to my drop box, successfully and quickly. It’s encouraging to see that I can now back away from the many alluring detours of computers without dealing with paper, ink ribbons and carbon sheets. My plan is to spend more time with this device during the week for at least a seven-day trial, and see how much bigger my word count can be.

  The only thing missing is the bell for carriage return. Maybe I can get one on Amazon and use it like the guy in the Typewriter Song. Would that make me a crazy typing lady? Ding ding ding.

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• Top of the Tops

  Posted at 3:07 pm by kayewer, on August 3, 2024

  The issue of what to wear this morning involved more than just swapping out yesterday’s outfit. I was going to an event, so I wanted to present a low-key vibe. A horror convention came to town for the second of their yearly visits, and a friend and I, both fans in our golden years, would be mingling with people of all ages, with a lean toward the younger folks. She decided on a tank that I had gifted for her birthday, depicting one of the latest gross horror movie icons. I could have worn a shirt from a prior convention, or selected a movie themed tee, but instead I opted for a generic souvenir tee.

  Off we went to the local hotel venue, credit cards at the ready. We were QR code scanned, given security wristbands and sent off to await the opening of the vendors’ areas some ninety minutes later (arriving early ensured a safer parking spot and avoided needing to shuttle from a nearby overflow designated school parking lot). While we waited, we chatted about some of our misguided plans from past conventions. My friend delayed in replying to me about a past spring edition which she would have enjoyed attending, and the tickets sold out rapidly. These conventions promise a fine list of celebrity guests who either sign autographs, pose for professional photos with (extra) paying fans, or both. We have witnessed the queues for these fan events snake out the hotel lobby, past the pool and nearly to the street. Excited attendees have brought full-size mounted posters, artistically recreated busts of characters and other items for signing. The lines for the vendors’ rooms are also lengthy, but once the time arrives, they move rapidly and offer merciful relief from times like now, in August, when waiting in oppressive heat is unbearable.

  We stopped at a favorite tee shirt vendor first to grab the newest collectibles, then on to the various pins, action figures, videos, household items and decorations, all with a frightening theme to match. If you wanted a Nightmare on Ordinary Avenue, this is where you would make it happen. I approached at least two authors selling their books. As we began to tire, my friend’s shirt themed character appeared, and she got a few selfies. Proof that one doesn’t need celebrities to have fun at a horror convention.

  As I moved from vendor table to displays and racks of merchandise, something unusual happened. People were paying attention to my tee shirt, which was an impulse item I had bought at an Amish retail mecca in Pennsylvania. “Oh, I miss being in Lancaster,” one gothic-clad woman remarked. “Oh honey, we need to visit this place,” a vendor husband said to his wife after calling up the location on his cell. A third struggled to communicate her excitement through prosthetic vampire fangs. My friend was gobsmacked.

  Once a year I have made it a point to visit the location of the shirt’s origins, a place known as Shady Maple in the quaint East Earl area of PA. There is a humungous smorgasbord, touted as the largest in America, as well as a farm market and gift shop with a variety of local items as well as collectibles. I go for the collectibles, and have blown through my funds there every time, preventing me stopping in for the food. I promised my friend that we would go together and eat whatever we want. They offer everything from comfort food to vegan menu items; certainly we could indulge in a treat or three for one day.

  In all I received four comments from total strangers about my shirt. So much for being low-key.

  My credit card is a bit heavy from the haul, but I made wise choices and will use what I bought. Our next visit may be in the spring, if we plan ahead better. But first, let’s look at that luncheon menu.

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• Ring It Up

  Posted at 3:21 pm by kayewer, on July 27, 2024

  Earlier today I went grocery shopping. Being a Saturday, I was hoping that my bad luck streak from the rest of the week (read work-related blues) would have abated, but I was wrong.

  The Saturday before the first of every month can be easier on the nerves at a supermarket, because people who are paid once a month have exhausted their funds stocking up on things weeks ago. I chose the late morning to go as my last stop before home, since I planned to buy mostly frozen food.

  I managed to stock up on vegetables, which are supposedly better for me than canned. Besides the brick varieties, I also got microwave steam choices in bags. Eighteen items in all.

  Then I grabbed a small box of Yodels.

  Off to the self-checkout I went, confidently drawing out my generic shopping bag (my state being a plastic bag ban participant) and beginning my purchase experience. First, I scanned my savings card from my keychain (yes, I keep those instead of an app), then began scanning my bricks of frozen veggies, as a friendly female voice announced the financial damages. The bar codes are in the same place on all the boxes, so I took two boxes in hand, scanned one and bagged it while holding the other.

  That’s where my trouble began. The cameras stationed at every kiosk are programmed to watch what is placed in the bags, and my camera was ready to train its full attention on me because I had a box of frozen veggies in my right hand near the bag, which I had not yet scanned, while bagging the one I just scanned with my left hand.

  The kiosk shut down. Moments later, a helpful monitor came by and overrode the error with a crooked smile that says she has been through this more than she’d care to mention. I continued, but kept my other hand free so as not to look like a potential miscreant.

  Finally I reached the moment in which I was ready to pay for my purchases. Breaking out my credit card, I followed the prompt to slide the magnetic strip through the device. An error message then appeared, saying I needed to insert the card to scan the chip. With the resignation of “how much more wrong can this transaction go” in my head, I chipped, received the confirmation, removed my card. . . .and the kiosk produced another error message.

  Note to self and everybody: never, EVER, ask what more can go wrong, because Murphy (the angel whose law has become his to oversee in the afterlife) will hear you and make something else happen to wreck your day.

  A nice fellow came by this time and attempted to fix the problem by scanning his all-access-I’m-somebody card, and the kiosk came back to life as if I hadn’t paid. He asked if a receipt printed out, and I said no. It hadn’t. He then brings over the floor manager, and we have a chat about how much the bill was and what I had used to pay. Thank goodness I didn’t use cash! The lady manager sets off to review the activity at my kiosk, and returns to verify my personal information which was accessible to her–my phone numbers, name of my first grade teacher, blood type–and she reveals that no activity was posted since I last visited after the holiday earlier in the month. She suggested we go to another kiosk and repeat the entire transaction again.

  Now the resignation in my soul is telling me that I will have defrosted vegetables by the time I get home, but being a good citizen, we go to another kiosk and begin the process of scanning everything again. The floor manager helps, even pausing my scanning to remind me not to accidentally cover up the bar code when I hold the items. I suddenly feel like I should be in the tight quarters of the store’s security interrogation room, explaining myself to some business suited investigators who hold the power to put me in the slammer over a $1.99 box of frozen spinach. And I’ve done nothing wrong, nor have they implied that I have. It’s the inconvenience and the spotlight being on me that makes it such an issue.

  The total comes out exactly the same. I chip, the receipt prints out, and the manager says they will double check everything, but I should also see if two charges come up on the credit card when I get home.

  Sure enough, after I quickly stored my freezer full of properly double-scanned and paid for veggies, I found two pending charges for the same amount on my credit card.

  Dutifully I called up the issuer. Since the charges are pending, it may be five days before the transaction is finalized. By then the store will have found it and fixed it, or I can dispute the charge. This means a few days of the stress meter in my life on a slight upward tilt as I wait for the results of this debacle.

  Oh, and my Yodels were melted together when I got them home.

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• Wrong Way

  Posted at 4:05 pm by kayewer, on July 20, 2024

  Over the past few decades, we seem to have forgotten that life works well when we keep certain things to a prescribed plan which has been tested and proven. All of the “fail” videos we watch with amusement are testaments to what happens when we go about life as if everything we do requires no responsibility. Let me explain.

  Let’s say you decide to go to 7-Eleven and buy a Slurpee(R). This sounds like a simple thing, but it has several components to the experience. For the purposes of this example, we’re placing you in front of the dispenser for your purchase. First, you choose the size cup, then you have the initial task of selecting the lid to fit onto that cup. Your next responsibility is to fit the lid onto the cup securely so that your cup won’t pop the lid off when you fill it. You will also hold the cup firmly but not squeeze it. Then, you place the nozzle for the flavor you’ve selected over the hole in the lid and operate the lever to begin filling the cup. You are responsible for watching the process to stop the dispenser before you overflow the cup. Finally, you select a straw, remove its paper cover and deposit it in the provided trash container, and place the straw into your drink and proceed to the register.

  Any deviation from this task list can result in a problem, in the form of a spill or explosion of the cup or, in the case of a conscious choice, leaving loose straw papers about which are “somebody else’s job” to clear.

  The key to life, folks, is that we are all “somebody else.” That means if you take on a task, you should complete every aspect of it. It is your job to perform from step one until the last step. Many people are not taking on that responsibility. It shows in everything we are doing today.

  We are sharing the road with drivers who have never changed the oil on their vehicles. Worse, they let their tires go bald, and when rust develops, hold the undercarriage of their vehicle together with everything from rope to duct tape to spray foam. Buying a vehicle carries with it the responsibility to keep it maintained so it’s safe on the road. Ignoring the processes which keep a vehicle safe causes accidents and fatalities. People who buy a vehicle and do nothing except put gas in the tank are examples of folks not following the responsibilities which come with vehicle ownership. Shops can’t do anything except record what they see (for a look at some examples, look for “Just Rolled In” on social media).

  People who have children sometimes don’t do so responsibly. Their parents’ methods don’t always work raising today’s children. Occasionally the methods wouldn’t work with anybody, and the excuse “well, they didn’t do it right, but I turned out okay” is a copout. Some concepts of good parenting are well-proven and appear in online tutorials as well as self-help books. The duty of a parent is to take on the responsibility of guiding children through those years when they learn the basics, explore and test their environment and begin the quest for independence. This requires interaction from changing their diapers to picking them up at two in the morning wherever they find themselves. Too many parents can be found not engaging their children in anything resembling basic life skill learning.

  Your pets should be spayed or neutered before they hit puberty. Your kids can witness the miracle of birth on one of a jillion videos online without bringing more mutts or alley cats into the world. Besides, the old rumor that “giving birth calms a mother dog/cat down” refers only to the short span of nursing time when females are happily jacked up on oxytocin, the hormone that helps the nursing parent endure the rigors of being a 24-hour feeding machine for a growing family. As it does with humans, it goes away and the original demeanor restored. It’s not an excuse to add to the population, for animals or people.

  Back in the “good old days,” if you look at old photographs and advertisements, you will see that people followed a general ideal for daily living. People dressed neatly, children were well-mannered, nobody wore a logo on their clothing, carried around a support animal sporting multiple DNA backgrounds or drove a “clunker.” The results of mutual cooperation were peaceful and safe lives for everybody. We could have that again, but it would require a different mindset for the population, and some others would complain about it. The more we deviate from what works, however, the worse our world becomes.

  Remember that next time you get ready to dispense that beverage.

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• Number 8

  Posted at 3:30 pm by kayewer, on July 13, 2024

  Over the summer I have had a few experiences with people who don’t follow the basic rules in life. Oftentimes I read about them in social media, but I have stories of my own about integrity and honesty which I feel are worth sharing.

  The other week I was at a coffee shop with some fellow writers. Naturally the shop had a merchandise table, so I added a tee shirt to my purchases for the afternoon (along with my pastry and parfait). I dutifully brought the items to the cashier, and tapped my credit card. When I got home later, however, I realized that, even though I had placed the tee shirt on the counter, it wasn’t rung up with my purchases.

  Some folks might be thinking, “It’s their loss if they weren’t paying attention.” To me, though, this tee shirt still does not belong to me. This means a trip of some 20 miles to go back and pay for it. My conscience will thank me later.

  My most recent big shocker about integrity came when I went to buy some supplies at a major chain whose name I won’t divulge for reasons you will see in a moment. I came out of the store with a little bag for an upcoming project, and the total bill came to over $100. The cashier told me I could become a rewards member and get this discount and that offer to offset my purchase, and while we were discussing it, I was told the story of how certain people make a regular visit to the store with the sole purpose of robbery, to the tune of thousands of dollars. The store personnel are advised by corporate–as they are in many stores and chains–to not engage.

  This means that the money you spend honestly is being thwarted by those who steal. The stores may end up in bankruptcy and shutting down because of these dishonest johns making a mockery of the process of earning and spending for their own greed and eventual doom.

  Stay with me now, because we are going to go to the lectern in front of the church for a few minutes to make a point.

  One of the Ten Commandments specifies not to steal. Okay, you think, this means that the folks who rob the store are in big trouble from On High. It’s worse than that. Because these people are absconding with large value items not for their own use, but to pad their pockets with tax-free income. They will put their pilfered products on the market in back-alley thrifty retailers, street corner vendors or through private commerce. Every cent they make will be profit because they only used gas funds on the getaway car to get the stuff.

  So what, you ask?

  Using an example made famous by late comedian George Carlin, let’s dig deep here and see where this path goes. First, the ringleader decides, “I’m going to go to (store) and nab some stuff.” They then employ assistants to help them with the heist, so now you have the ringleader who has concocted a sin, and a few others committing the same sin. They plan out the heist, which is a sin. They go to the place and bring paraphernalia to commit the actual sin. They make it out of the store, unhindered, with their ill-gotten merchandise, and the sins keep piling up. They now divide the spoils among themselves (another sin), send it off for resale (another sin) and collect their cuts (ad nauseum).

  But wait, there’s more.

  The people stocking and repricing it are sinning. The so-called innocent consumers buying the stuff are also sinning. If you’re buying a $200 item on a street corner for $80, you must know something is wrong with how that item is sitting in front of you; if you do it anyway, you’re contributing to that wrong.

  If these thieves can concoct such elaborate processes, they could have a legitimate job that did not have police battering down their doors. Instead, they are bringing the entire system of commerce down, and us with it.
  
  There is a reason why there are products labeled Good, Better and Best. Your income can determine which you can afford, or your determination can earn you something in a higher price range by saving for it. All products are supposedly monitored for quality, so the lowest-priced version should work well, and the higher- with some minor differences. What’s important is that the product does its job.

  My mother always looked at how car dealers tout the beauty of what their newest model looks like on the outside, but when you’re driving it you can’t see how it looks. You’re more concerned that it will consistently get you where you need to be. With your needs and your wallet in mind, you should find something in a price range for you without resorting to fibbing about how thick your wallet is.

  I don’t feel guilty buying off-label, but I allow for some nice things in my budget, which was why I was in this particular store willing to buy a handful of things for $100. They will last me for months, so the breakdown in actual cost is small.

  The folks who take stuff while I’m buying them will deal with the fallout at some point in their lives. Meanwhile, I do my best to be honest and proud to say I have a receipt.

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  Posted in Commentary | 0 Comments | Tagged george carlin, retail theft, Ten Commandments

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