Susan's Scribblings the Blog

Category: Commentary

• Taking a Week Staycation

  Posted at 4:08 am by kayewer, on November 9, 2014

  My job lets me accrue time off every payday. The problem with me, like a large number of Americans, is that I don’t use it. Other countries get lots of time off and they don’t feel as if they have had enough: we keep our noses to the grindstone so long we don’t even have nasal cavities left.

  Once before I saved up a lot of time, when I was in the Navy. I had a whole month of time off on the books. They know you have to take it, but they don’t order you to go home and relax and not come back until your balance is down. Same thing in the civilian workplace.

  Until recently, accrual was the norm. Now they want you to keep only a maximum number of hours and, if you hit your cap, you earn no more until you take some off. This means either going home and relaxing or selling your time back at a 50 percent reduction. You know most folks, unless the bill collector is at the door, will take the time off.

  So I’ve used a bit of vacation lately, a day or week at a time. I don’t go anywhere. It can be nice to not try to cram housekeeping and shopping into two or three hours in the evening or wait until the weekend. I can stop staring at the chore list, because I have nine whole days to decide when I want to do things. I love food shopping when there are no lines and I can put paper in plastic at my own pace.

  Since I don’t go anywhere, I also don’t wind up needing another week of vacation to recover from the vacation. No suitcases to unpack and laundry to do, no bills that are going to pile up and bring the bill collector to the door.

  I do have a vacation bucket list I hope to get to before I get too old to enjoy going places. Home, however, can be just as nice as any pre-packaged tourist trap. Since I live close to Philadelphia, I could just play tourist and see the sights there if I want to.

  Have you ever worked in an office so near a shopping center or city shopping district you could hear your credit cards squealing with glee, but you couldn’t get there because your lunch was too short, or the rush hour traffic too messy to try to get there yourself? Go on vacation and hit that mall, honey. And just think: you don’t have to go back to cubicle hell after lunch.  You can eat lunch in the food court.

  But what am I posting this for? I’m on vacation. See you next time.

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  Posted in Commentary | 0 Comments | Tagged staycation, time off, vacation

• Cold Challenge

  Posted at 2:29 am by kayewer, on September 21, 2014

  It looks like the Ice Bucket Challenge–the concept of donating to support research for ALS or Lou Gehrig’s Disease by pouring ice water over your head and then calling out your friends to do the same–is running out of steam. Not everybody has done the challenge, of course, and some have found creative ways of doing it:  actor Verne Troyer used milk because of a water shortage, and even held a cookie in his mouth to repurpose the milk as it flowed over him. ALS has raised quite a lot of money, too, and are now working on how to distribute the funds.

  Now that the weather is turning colder and all the freedoms of summer are over, it’s tougher to get a few minutes together and douse oneself in water for a cause. Diseases like ALS, however, don’t stop their progression.

  I think it would be great if more life-altering conditions had such challenges to raise money. The question is how to do unique things for each one. There are plenty of 10K runs and bike rides and motorcycle rallies, and celebrities do whole shows to raise money to knock out cancer and MS. There has even been yarn bombing, which is a type of graffiti in the form of knit or crocheted items on statues or trees, to call attention to issues. What about other kinds of activities to raise money for causes, diseases and research?

  THAT’S IT!!!! I’ve got an idea!

  To raise awareness of colorectal cancer and support the CCAlliance (an organization researching such cancers), or the American Cancer Society, why not film yourself wearing a pair of underwear on your head or baking a cake with candles on it (to support the cancer society’s theme of saving birthdays), or donate $10. Call out your friends to do the same.

  For more information on both charities, go to http://www.ccalliance.org or http://www.cancer.org.

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  Posted in Commentary | 0 Comments | Tagged yarn bombing

• Black Big Screen of Doom

  Posted at 2:07 am by kayewer, on September 14, 2014

  I survived 85 hours without a television. I know; some of you may be thinking, “I can go 85 days without looking at a television.” You’re welcome to go back to getting your news on Facebook®, in miniature, on your small-screen phone. Television is a fully-fledged resource and no longer the “idiot box” loathed by so many critics (many of whom are also on Facebook® right now playing Candy Creamer Story or something). There is real news on television. And Jeopardy!

  Those of us who have grown up with depression-era parents know the value of something that still works, so the old television–square in height and breadth–gave us more than fifteen years of service, before dying of the infamous Black Screen of Death. It sat in state for 85 hours, then was ceremoniously carried out the door by me and Cletus the Cable Technician, and went to that great TV stand in the sky.

  It had a false alarm one morning, in a blaze of muted colors. I had called the cable company at the first sign of the TV’s distress, and a nice telephone associate walked me through some resuscitation steps, and the TV rallied. I had set up an appointment and cancelled it because the danger seemed to be over, but just as suddenly, the next night the TV passed away. Cletus the Cable Technician couldn’t come sooner than four days from then, due to my idiotic cancellation of the original appointment, so we found other ways to amuse ourselves.

  Without the usual distractions of television, we returned to simpler but effective survival skills such as card playing. I ended up with one 9 card in my hand for three consecutive rounds of gin rummy. I did some crocheting, Mother did some reading (finished a book) and gardening. I even introduced her to the joys of Windows8 tablet games. She is a mean TapTiles® board clearer. We got the news from the radio: it’s like listening to the television network news while in the other room, and just as informative if you don’t miss the visual effects most networks use on their broadcasts (like banners saying “Weather Changing,” or crawls at the bottom of the screen listing stock prices).

  I did try to hook up another TV myself to save us time and sanity, but I’m not electronically adept. Though I followed the set’s instructions, I failed to see where the hookup directions left off the fact that one must attach the cable from the box in addition to the cable from the pole. Silly me. Silly directions. When the moment of rescue finally came, Cletus the Cable Technician spent about twenty minutes hooking us up.

  After 85 hours we were back up and running, and we still had found within us the power to stay engaged and amused when there was no TV. I could do 85 days, but I’ll wait until summer reruns come on next year to try that.

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• The Jeans Day Rebellion

  Posted at 2:54 am by kayewer, on August 31, 2014

  My company just changed the dress code, and my wardrobe is now out of style. Maybe it was all along anyway. Office environments usually banned jeans, but since we are in a call center and do not have contact with the general public, the company listened to the suggestions of the rank and file and decided that associates working in call centers could wear jeans all the time, starting the day after Labor Day. This means that Tuesday will be considered by many to be Delivery From Office Attire Day.

  But not for me. Deliver me from denim.

  I don’t really like jeans. I was in the sixth grade before I had my first pair (Levi’s, of course), and over the years I have only had one or two pair in my closet for when I worked in the yard. For one thing, they’re stiff, and by the time you wash them enough to be soft, they’re not wearable anymore. Don’t tell me about pre-washed and “distressed” jeans which have been crushed by rocks, discolored by acids or bleaching methods or mauled by zoo tigers (they really do sell them: look it up), because if they’re that way to begin with, how many more wears can you get from them before you have to throw them out?

  For another thing, jeans have seams so thick in the crotch that, if you are skinny like Twiggy, you can teeter totter from one buttock to another when you sit down. Also, the pockets are too tight at the openings, and made of flimsy material inside. If you got a hole in the pocket, it would take five minutes to force your hand inside to find out your change was missing. If you’re lucky, the pant legs would be tight enough that you might find a dime stuck to your thigh.

  The big debate about dress codes is whether worker productivity goes up or down depending upon what they wear. We are delving into a science based upon comfort and its effect on self esteem. I’m sure the corporate idea was to let the employees know that they listen to us. They want to see happier employees so they can get good work from us. If people are comfortable in jeans, they feel, so be it.

  It’s likely that a woman in a corset from days gone by would not produce much good work sitting in a cubicle. No ergonomic chair on earth could make that torso torture device feel any more comfortable. Today, though, we have a variety of clothing options to look professional. Even in a call center, without suits or business attire, one can be comfortable and stylish and not resort to jeans attire.

  So are we truly a nation of slouchy bums, and should corporate America feel as comfortable in Bruce Springsteen style working class duds, in an office environment, as in a suit or dress? Whether we want to believe it or not, we do judge our environment by what we see in its people, and jeans don’t come off as dressy, classy or smart. Nobody wears denim at an awards ceremony, and one would not approach a monarch in distressed boot cut jeans.

  Also, wearing jeans in my company used to be a treat and privilege: we handed out coupons for the right to wear jeans as rewards and incentives, and certain post-holidays were designated as “jeans days.” Now that is gone. What shall we do for incentives that won’t cost money? The entire clothing game has now changed, and I’m stuck with a closet full of clothes in which I will now look like a rebel.

  So what do I do with my regular clothes? To play it safe when the new dress code takes effect on Tuesday, I hit up Kohl’s for two more pairs of jeans. I have a feeling that the jeans will come off when I get home. At my age, I don’t think denim will be my comfort clothes of choice. It’s an unofficial uniform I can accept, but come 5:00 I can rebel in my old standbys. And I don’t have to wear them to work in the yard.

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  Posted in Commentary | 0 Comments | Tagged jeans in the office, office dress code

• Women at Twerk

  Posted at 1:44 am by kayewer, on August 24, 2014

  I can’t twerk. I found that out today while trying to illustrate the content of a video on YouTube® to my mother:

  I had seen the video about an inflatable tube guy–the type designed to draw attention at car dealers and outdoor events featuring live disc jockeys–which had become kinked and it’s “head” stuck to a telephone pole. The resulting motion created by the fan at its bottom looked like the tubular dude was twerking, but my impression looked more like a bad yoga move, or maybe a bad “my pantyhose are in a bind” move.

  So is it a sign of my age, or of my flagging sexuality, when I can’t parlay the “boo-tay” like some other women? Probably not. There are still men out there (note I say “men,” not “guys”) who look for wit, intelligence or somebody who is fun to be with, and who don’t want to be Alan Thicke if I’m going to be Miley Cyrus. So my “boo-tay” has no beauty and the junk just lies in the trunk. Tyra Banks would say I can’t “tooch” either. She’s right. We older women may well have a middle-age gut that looks more shapely than what we sit upon.

  At the midlife point in women’s lives we all have those moments of thinking about how sexy we still are or are not. I’ve never been one to plug the sexual side, and my bumps and grinds have always been more like collisions and chainsaw hamburger. Sure the men look at the twerkers, and they marry some of them (and divorce them, too), but I will just concentrate on walking tall and in a straight line. And I’ll leave the twerking to the experts, like the tube guy.

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  Posted in Commentary | 0 Comments | Tagged twerking

• Sports Authorita

  Posted at 1:35 am by kayewer, on August 10, 2014

  Every time I go grocery shopping, I get a receipt and a coupon for Sports Authority®. They both go in the shredder. Mostly because my body is not shredded or ripped, so I shred the paper instead.

  I don’t feel comfortable enough to enter a sporting goods store. I had quite an experience when I went to a competitor–Dick’s–to get a supply of gift cards for one of my superiors last holiday season. The trek to the checkout aisle was like a hiking expedition and obstacle course wrapped up in one. I had to duck under canoes, avoid the groping sleeves of heavy duty outerwear and wriggle through bins of official sport gear just to buy stuff which fit into a bag the size of a CD case. I probably burned 200 calories without touching a single piece of fitness gear.

  Such things as gift card runs fall under related administrative assistant duties. Maybe, subliminally, somebody was also trying to tell me something, because stepping through the automated sliding doors of a sporting goods store when you are obviously out of shape (and out of your element) is like an alien’s first moments outside the mother ship on our planet. Take me to your litter, as I’m about to collapse from sensory overload. If there is an activity to do, it’s in your face in a sports store, so for those of us who are physically inept, it’s like a vacation in Hell: you wouldn’t normally want to go there, but it’s an experience you won’t likely forget if it’s not your thing in the first place.

  Throughout my school years the physical education crowd tried their darndest to get me to climb a rope, swing on uneven parallel bars, dunk a basket or thwack a golf ball, It never happened. Since I set my feet outside the boundaries of high school for the final time, not once have I needed to climb a rope, swing on uneven parallel bars or aim for anything beyond the living room wastebasket (and I miss that on many occasions). As for golf, I stick to miniature. But darn it, the supermarkets and Sports Authority® are determined to get me into their store.

  Maybe it’s something I’m buying, like the occasional bag of chips. It certainly couldn’t be my Greek yogurt, as that’s supposed to be good for you. “Gee, this customer is buying those chips again, so let’s try to scare some of that excess fat off her by luring her into Sports Authority® with twenty percent off anything but a gift card.”

  I respect the people who can do sports. They make up for those of us who can’t. They also deal with injuries better than most people. They shake it off and bounce back. I bruised myself the other week in my own kitchen, but if I wanted to look cool I could always lie and say I got hit by a mini golf ball.

  Anyway, there is no way I am going to take up a sport at this stage in my life. Unless it involves competitive potato chip eating.

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  Posted in Commentary | 0 Comments | Tagged dick's sporting goods, sports authority

• Demonic Possessions

  Posted at 1:54 am by kayewer, on August 3, 2014

  A thought came to  me while at Wal-Mart today: another junk season is here. The summer junk is half price and the new junk is ready to roll. I saw racks of summer clothing, brightly colored plastic tumblers, pool noodles, iced tea mixes and flip flops, interspersed with back-to-school notebooks, multi-packs of dorm supplies and the first of the long sleeved tops.

  We are a society obsessed with our seasonal collections and purges, when we throw out the notebook with thirty good pages in it into the trash because the new one at the store is only fifty cents and a bargain. That is, if you find the old notebook. It may be in a pile with some old comic books or hiding under the old model I-Pad. When you have too many of these things–clothes the kids may have outgrown, but you can’t get them to sit still long enough to try them on, the remaining books on the “to read list” from last year, the six cosmetics you tried before you found one that worked–you wind up with clutter.

  Whole reality programs are devoted to clutter. It seems some of us can lose control of our homes’ cleanliness because of clutter. A need to keep things ready for use someday can become an obsession which is bad for one’s mental health and can grow into a health hazard. Yet I have seen a strange phenomenon in our public spaces in which a container or wrapper, the second after the product within is consumed, becomes untouchable and gets dropped to the ground instantly, whether a trashcan is within reach or not. When you see a bag from a fast food place sitting in the middle of a parking lot, you know what I mean. If we could apply that philosophy to our indoor lives, life would be simpler and less likely to become a hoarder’s paradise.

  There is something sad about hoarders. They can often be forgotten individuals with no human contact outside their homes and/or enabling family members or a few close friends who overlook the problem. The hoarder wants to still be useful, and thus so does their clutter. The hoarder won’t throw out the notebook with thirty good pages in it, because somebody could use it. Somebody who can’t afford fifty cents would love to have that used notebook for free, and the hoarder would be able to serve a purpose by having it available for them.

  The middle ground between the throwaway society and the hoarding society is such a tenuous expanse, and our earth is filled with more clutter than a million hoarder’s houses, yet we still want the new thing and still want to get the empty soda cup out of our hands at once.

  A great family project would be to do an annual purge party, in which the old stuff is donated or thrown out if it really can’t be used, the useful can be refurbished (that notebook might look great with some craft tape or some pictures and glue) and you can save money you don’t need to spend on new stuff.

  As for hoarders, they need to feel important and useful. They are, after all, taking charge of all the junk others might throw away. Clean-out crews often just throw everything into a truck and take it away, and hoarders tend to get upset because they feel their collections are being wasted. We need to take a better look at how we deal with our stuff, not throw it out haphazardly, not waste it  nor let it collect and draw dust, bugs or worse. Things do have a purpose, so donate, recycle or buy new with that in mind. Don’t be ruled by the trendy, and don’t take the old for granted.

  And take that soft drink cup those ten steps to the trashcan.

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  Posted in Commentary | 0 Comments | Tagged clutter, decluttering, hoarding, possessions, shopaholics

• Movie Blues

  Posted at 2:51 am by kayewer, on July 27, 2014

  After four decades of watching movies, I finally saw one that I can honestly say was the most disappointing ever. If it’s taken this long to see a movie that bad, I feel either truly blessed or amazingly tolerant of cinematic garbage, because the best movie critics have lists of bad movies miles long, and I have only two. Sure, there are bad movies on the list, but only the worst of the worst deserve to be on a list of two.

  The only movie I ever walked out of was “Altered States,” the William Hurt movie about isolation tanks and strange otherworldly dreams and such. I did see it through years later, but it still didn’t impress me.

  Last week I went with a friend to see “Snowpiercer,” the Joon-ho Bong directed thriller set aboard a train travelling through a post-apocalyptic sub-zero world, with a rear car filled with rebellious lower class survivors attempting to win access to the privileges of the rich at the engine. The Asian inspired imagery and dark theme were interesting, but I didn’t grip my seat rest. In today’s vernacular, I’d rate it a “meh.”

  Out of curiosity, I rented and watched “Argento’s Dracula” (“Dracula 3D”), a project by a well-known director of horror films. It was done so horribly that it will take me days to construct a review, and has prompted me to return to an old website of mine and post the said review when completed. I guess you know I really feel strongly about this project.

  The difficulties of being a movie reviewer become apparent when one is compelled to sit through an entire bad film to find out if there is anything–maybe a decent ending–to add some positivity to the process of discussing it. I’m sure critics like the blessed, late Roger Ebert would have liked to spend their time watching better films than some of the celluloid denizens from the seventh sub-basement of hell they had to endure for the sake of warning others away.

  Don’t bother renting “Argento’s Dracula” unless you are a fan of the director or its stars and want them to get some coffee and donut money from the distributor. As for me, I’ll rent something with a bit more bite for my buck and hope it gets better from here.

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  Posted in Commentary, Theatre/Movies/Entertainment | 2 Comments | Tagged Altered States, Argento's Dracula, Snowpiercer movie

• What’s Ahead for My Eye

  Posted at 1:52 am by kayewer, on July 20, 2014

  I had a little accident last week. I tripped up some steps into my kitchen, bopped my head on the edge of the dry sink and cut my arm. Amazingly there was practically no pain, but my forehead did begin to swell, so I applied ice, popped an Aleve® (only needed one) and my life went on.

  Over the next three days, my arm put on a dazzling display of colors, from blues and greens to yellows and purples (one patch was a particularly pleasant lavender I would like to repaint a room in), and whatever discoloration I could have had on my forehead dispersed and took a journey in a southeasterly direction down the bridge of my nose, below my eye and across my cheek. The bruising is a perfect half-diamond on my face, with my forehead looking as if nothing happened.

  I look like somebody punched me, but only one person has actually come out and said anything about it. Of course they knew that I am single and not in a volatile relationship or prone to picking fights in bars, so they felt comfortable showing genuine concern. It seems the rest of the world has become so jaded by body piercings, O-rings the size of soda cans in earlobes and tattoos in unlikely places, my bruised eye is tame by comparison.

  I wonder, however, if I were in a relationship in which my partner used violence, somebody reaching out to ask about my eye might make a difference if I were the kind of person who didn’t know where to turn for help. Would it be so improper to say, “Gee, may I ask about your eye?”

  Anyway, I know the discoloration will go away in a few more days, and thank goodness there are makeup products out there to help hide the worst of it. And I didn’t dent the dry sink.

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  Posted in Commentary | 0 Comments | Tagged bruising, head injury

• Pastry Mondays

  Posted at 1:39 am by kayewer, on July 6, 2014

  After a holiday weekend, the managing directors often request that somebody (that’s me and my compatriots) get coffee and donuts for the department for the first morning back. They know that everybody will function better when jacked up on sugar and caffeine after spending a weekend mucked up on beer and charbroiled grease.

  We have a Dunkin’ Donuts less than a mile away, and they set us up nicely with dozens of donuts and ten-serving boxes of java whenever the need arises. They don’t close for blizzards, and the owners’ holidays never seem to affect or clash with ours (I used to know a place that actually closed for Chinese New Year and Tet). Bless the poor schlub who invented the box with the disposable bladder inside to fill with hot beverages: the famous “Box O’ Joe” is the most popular portable outside food an office full of grumpy co-workers ever had.

  Of course, I’m the weirdo who drinks tea, and DD doesn’t do Boxes O’ Tea. I never have figured out what it is about coffee I don’t like, but over the years I have tried, unsuccessfully, to develop a taste for it. It’s as much a part of the human population as IPhones(R) (which I don’t have, either). I do remember the first big step I took to try and enjoy coffee. I was at the local bank with my fellow Girl Scout troop, selling cookies in the lobby next to a complimentary coffee dispenser. I poured a cup, added some sugar and creamer, took a sip and made a face: it tasted like cardboard. I added more sugar, more creamer, back and forth, to no avail. It didn’t taste one bit better.

  Fortunately I do like donuts. Every variety. When you get a few dozen to feed a hungry horde of employees, you get to sample anything the folks at DD invent for the donut lover in the office. I have downed candy autumn leaves and Valentine pink hearts on orange or pink icing, sucked up gobs of Boston or whipped cream or fruit jelly from overly injected centers, licked gritty sugars from the perimeter of my now ruined lipstick, sneezed at powdered sugar, played tug-o-war with twists and desegmented crullers, sat like Cleopatra while savoring sour cream perfections and puckered until my lips met the back of my head when confronting a lemon lovely. This is the way of the office donut ritual.

  The thing is, I’ve wanted to bake cupcakes for the office for the past two Sundays, and now that I have the time and ingredients, I won’t do it since we’ll all be bursting at the seams with donuts. I have carrot cake, chocolate, vanilla and blueberry cupcakes waiting for my creative hands to breathe life into them. They’ll have to wait behind the donuts and coffee.

  No wonder the bakeries close on Mondays.

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  Posted in Commentary | 0 Comments

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