Susan's Scribblings the Blog

Tag: writing

• Stuffed and Spent

  Posted at 8:41 pm by kayewer, on October 10, 2026

  I spent today at a special place. Two friends and I hopped into my car, and we drove out to Amish country.

  We would have gotten there much faster, but traffic this past week has been unusually dense. On Wednesday I had a doctor appointment near my home, but I was coming home from work out of state and ran into three consecutive traffic jams. Still I managed to get to the appointment early, thank goodness (what can I say, except I’m a boomer and used to being prompt).

  Upon the suggestion of my passengers for today’s trip, we took a different bridge to get to our destination, and it turned out that the road was being detoured, so we ended up in a 45-minute crawl before we were routed to the way we would have taken in the first place. We all shook it off, me because I couldn’t have known, and them because they would never have guessed that it would be like that on a weekend. None of us had been on that particular excursion recently. Out of four bridges available to get from one state to the other, two of them had given us issues in the course of one week.

  What I did learn was that, when I decided to detour to get to my appointment earlier in the week, I had found that the bridge I chose to use had routed some car traffic to the westbound span of the bridge in one lane. I had considered taking that lane but at the last minute decided to stay on the eastbound side with the trucks and other drivers desperate to get home. It was fortunate I made that choice, because my passengers informed me that the single lane going east in the westbound lanes could not choose what exit they wanted, so I would have been rerouted to another highway I didn’t want to be on. Karma was with me that evening, even if today, while we crawled along with semis and bikers expecting smooth driving, it didn’t seem like anything would go right.

  So right, back to the trip today. We agreed that on the return we would take the bridge I normally used, and we did indeed get home at a reasonable hour. But I’m digressing again.

  We were headed to the Shady Maple Smorgasbord, a huge food emporium in East Eddy, PA. We still managed to arrive just after lunch and before the lines began to overflow out the door into the parking lot. Our wait in line was less than ten minutes. A pleasant lady found us a booth to sit in, we were given individually wrapped silverware and a ton of napkins, and we took turns perusing an immense lineup of foods to fill the soul.

  I started with seafood, because I had not had my usual Friday fare. I stopped at one of the hot tables where salmon was plated fresh off the flattop for me. There were also burger, pizza and carving stations, and then the row of constantly filled tubs overflowing with anything you can imagine in terms of comfort food. I added shrimp and cod to my plate of salmon, then a helping of mixed vegetables, doubled up on the broccoli, and some fried mushrooms completed the platter.

  When next I went up for round two, I got some carbs and more veggies. Baked potatoes had just been put out by a server, and one found its way to my plate, followed by a slice of sweet potato and some peas. There was some disappointment that brussels sprouts were not on the menu this time, but the salad bar and vegetables were still in abundance, and there was no problem finding substitutions. My companions were kind enough to grab some butter, because I had not gotten any the last time I had baked potato. Timing and availability sometimes figure into what you can grab at any moment. Popular items disappear in seconds.

  By the time I got to dessert, I needed to make two trips. One in our party of three wanted sugar free dessert, so one of us got her some pudding, and I brought over a slice of berry pie while serving myself a helping of a mousse-like dessert with chocolate and peanut topping, and I added a slice of chocolate silk pie and a glass of old fashioned root beer which managed to form an impressive head from the self-serve dispenser.

  We consumed, between us, a total of six plates of food and six dishes of dessert, along with beverages. Every trip we took a fresh plate, and our finished plates were dutifully cleared away by the attendants patrolling the floor every second. The place is pristine and efficient, and everybody is polite and orderly as we select our food and move through the crowds deciding between the undecidable among the myriad choices at hand. The great thing about smorgasbord is that you can sample for as long as your stomach doesn’t call it quits.

  My old tummy just isn’t up to the type of all-you-can-eat antics of my youth, but I still put some serious food away, and I feel I ate healthy up to dessert. I didn’t do red meat or go crazy on old favorites, but still enjoyed some variety on my plate.

  Oh, and did I mention that Shady Maple has a huge gift shop the size of a WalMart?

  After linner (that period of food consumption between lunch and dinner), we hit the shop. There is an immense selection of merchandise, including specialty items, home goods, local products, toys and educational selections, and souvenirs.

  Being collectors, we each had an agenda to follow. We also knew instinctively where our main aisles were and a plan of attack. By the time we left for home, we had parcels galore and higher credit card bills, but there had been a special discount, and we each found something we had been looking for and paid less for it.

  The drive home was more relaxed, no big traffic delays, and we enjoyed each other’s company all day. We intend to keep this a regular event to anticipate and will probably do another venture next spring. And of course, we stay in touch in-between times and keep up with what’s going on in our lives.

  Also, we’ll make a note to check traffic a bit more closely from now on.

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• A Botch Job in Perspective

  Posted at 6:43 pm by kayewer, on October 3, 2026

  WARNING: the contents of this week’s post are disturbing. Discretion is advised.

  I usually write these blogs from the heart, because a week’s worth of life’s events is sure to have a profound effect on feelings, reactions, and resolve.

  The news media is overwhelmed by the events of this past week revolving around an execution gone wrong. In hindsight, I think that all signs pointed to a near certainty that something would go wrong, so I wanted to deconstruct some of the events here.

  I say “some” because this case has been reported exhaustively, and other sources can fill in what you may not know already. I want to get to the why of what happened and the why about what should have, and did not, happen on the day of execution.

  The story began back in January 1995, over thirty years ago. A group of Job Corps participants in Knoxville included a woman named Christa Pike, another named Colleen Slemmer, a man with whom Christa had a relationship, and a third woman. Christa was concerned that Colleen was taking an interest in the boyfriend, so she concocted a plan.

  The trio lured Colleen to a secluded area near the campus of the University of Tennessee, where Christa spent a half hour or more inflicting wounds while the other woman stood watch. The man participated in carving a pentagram on Colleen’s chest. Finally, Christa bludgeoned her supposed rival, then collected a bone fragment and left the area with it in her jacket pocket. Later she showed others the trophy and bragged about her accomplishment. Meanwhile, Colleen’s body was soon found, and the three were arrested quickly.

  In 1996, Christa was found guilty of first-degree murder. The man was jailed and may become eligible for parole, and the other woman participant turned state’s evidence and received parole, but Christa was sentenced to death by electrocution. By the time a death warrant was issued this year for Christa, after three decades of seclusion as the only female inmate in the condemned section of the all-male prison, the execution method had officially been changed to lethal injection.

  The Tennessee prison system has had the same difficulties with intravenous life-ending procedures as other states. In this as in other cases, a physician cannot set up the needle in a vein as an instrument of death, because the act violates the Hippocratic Oath to do no harm. Euthanasia is a slippery topic which we won’t go through here, but the error rate for poor IV placement for executions is imbalanced in the best situations, because ordinary prison staff are performing the procedure.

  Add to this the fact that one of the administrators responsible for handling prison death row inmates had apparently been transferred to Tennessee from another system in which lethal injections also were mishandled, and the errors compound to a level one would not believe possible in an advanced society.

  I can’t wrap my mind around how it’s possible that substance abusers can track down a tiny, untapped spot on their anatomy to inject whatever makes them feel good, but officials in a controlled environment can’t do the same.

  What happened here was that Christa Pike had more than one condition which would make intravenous access nearly impossible for none but the most qualified personnel, none of whom could be summoned to the task because of ethics. Therefore, why would anybody responsible for this execution delude themselves into thinking it would be a normal day in the death chamber?

  The ineptitude of the people involved has now caused a furor over the entire capital punishment environment. The methods of death handed out by homicidal persons are as varied as fish in the sea, but our execution methods are becoming fewer instead of more focused on the most effective way to achieve the result.

  We are better than this, and rather than leave our world to an anarchic system in which we don’t have a way of sending our most evil criminals to a greater judgment because we can’t get one good method that works, we need to set a system and keep to it.

  I have blogged before about execution methods, and the three which seem to have the most sensible methodology are firing squad, the electric chair, and hanging.

  The electric chair sends voltage through the body to cause nearly instantaneous cessation of function. It can go wrong if there is something amiss with the electricity source.

  Hanging sends the condemned plummeting through a trap door while restrained, with a rope around the neck designed to cause an instant break under the body’s own weight during the descent, with strangulation assured as a backup measure. This has gone wrong when the rope was not properly applied. A broken neck also does not guarantee instant death.

  Which leaves the firing squad. Several markspersons aiming rifles containing lethal bullets at the condemned from a short distance. No electricity or ropes to get wrong, and short of hiring persons with poor aim or eyesight, the likelihood of error is limited to poor care of the firearms.

  There is also speculation about the drug used in the execution, which may have been of questionable efficacy. A bullet has no such issue. No veins to find, no prolonged fumbling with medical equipment nobody was trained to handle. Three words which put an end to what some feel is too long a stay on the planet after taking another life so abruptly.

  Ready. Aim. Fire.

  What will happen to Christa is still uncertain. An insufficient dose of lethal drugs which seem to have been delivered under the skin rather than into an impossible to find vein, has left her unconscious in a hospital. The victim, Colleen Slemmer’s, family received public funding to attend the execution and left for home with nothing. The world on both sides of the death penalty issue sits and waits.

  The commissioner running the corrections department resigned just days after the failed execution and will step down to allow an interim person to take over. Tennessee has two failed prisoner death sentences on record for this year, and the ethics of what to do in Christa Pike’s case is going to be a polarizing chapter in how we handle those who take innocent lives and are sentenced by our justice system to forfeit their own.

  However you feel about homicide, prisons, executions or the human condition, this is something we should all watch closely.

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  Posted in Uncategorized | 0 Comments | Tagged capital-punishment, christa-pike, news, politics, writing

• A New Location

  Posted at 7:33 pm by kayewer, on September 26, 2026

  The United States has 48 contiguous (meaning they share the borders) states and two problem states, which are Alaska and Hawai’i. They haven’t done anything wrong, but they are the last two added to the union because they are outside where the rest of us are located. Alaska is separated from us by British Columbia, and Hawai’i is out in the Pacific Ocean.

  These are two, dare we say, polar opposite states. Alaska is considered a frigid place, whereas Hawai’i is a tropical paradise. Either way, they are both ours, and when one looks at a map of our nation, we do our best to get the two problem children into the picture in the best way we can. Sort of like getting the wild toddlers to stand still for the family photo. We do that cartographically by inserting both states in a comfortable position in the southwest corner of the Pacific close enough to the rest of the continent to continue the concept of a nicely squared-off cluster of landmasses.

  Unfortunately, some folks think it is possible to drive to Hawai’i via a superhighway of some kind. You can’t. Hawai’i is about 2500 miles from California. A method has not been developed to make a bridge that far.

  Sometimes rearranging things can cause confusion like this, but honestly there is no point in having a map with endless blue space representing the Pacific just so Hawai’i can be seen in its usual location on a flat map. We would also have Canada in every map if we did so, so as to reveal Alaska’s actual location. So, we fudge a bit.

  I mention this because I have been looking at ads for backup power generators, and if you have seen one, you know that they all feature a sleek, comfortably sized piece of equipment sitting near the wall of your home and ready to provide power in an emergency. When I had an estimate crew come by, however, they could not put the unit next to the house. The location they had in mind would require breaking up the concrete patio to place the device several feet away, running connections across the entire axis of the basement to the other corner. No neat little gizmo sitting pretty next to the spotless siding here. I would have Alaska staring me in the face as I looked out the window of San Diego, and its power source would come from Maine.

  The concept of truth in advertising has some loopholes, and maybe some places do allow the generators to stand side by side with the homes they protect, but not with the ordinances here, it seems. So, the ads fudged a bit. Because weather has been a major topic lately, with talk of an extreme winter coming, I offer this warning as a public service so nobody thinks it’s possible to drive to Hawai’i or have your generator sitting cozily next to your abode.

  Maybe I need a vacation to Hawai’i.

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  Posted in Uncategorized | 0 Comments | Tagged adventure, generators, hawaii, life, maps, travel, writing

• Damp Dry

  Posted at 4:29 pm by kayewer, on September 19, 2026

  We value the reliability of our appliances. Boomers in particular are proud of the gadgets they own which endure years of use while the newest versions cop out after five years. I am fortunate to have a simple but powerful clothes dryer that is still going strong. Not many people can say their major appliances were built in a year starting with nineteen.

  Like any machine, however, a time comes when something is bound to go wrong.

  My dryer picked now to suddenly stop drying clothes. The routine was the same: wash the clothes, put them in the dryer, set the timer and let her rip. Only I had put the clothes in at about noon, and by 2:00 PM they were still damp. The timer never moved, as if the afternoon were frozen in place because nothing was happening as it should.

  I am also one of those people who keeps up with maintenance on the major appliances. I have one of the cleanest lint traps you’ll ever see, because I clean it after every load. The trap was still clean when I checked it.

  The drum inside was piping hot, and the clothes were hot, but they were not drying. The edges of the machine held wet lint when I opened the door. And yes, they were tumbling beautifully. I had the belt replaced some time ago, the only part I had needed in a long while, which made the current situation so inconvenient and vexing.

  So, the call went out to a repair shop who could not come until the following day. Same-day service usually means you’ve caught the problem early, but my laundry schedule is in the afternoon. Which meant I had to find a place to dry my two loads of damp clothes and linens.

  Laundromats are used to seeing folks like me, sheepishly hefting a clothes basket full of damp clothes bouncing off one hip while cautiously stepping into the place and looking for a dryer. The neatly stacked boxes took up an entire wall, were numbered and, amazingly, still took quarters. I had a ton of quarters, because all the change I’ve gotten lately is quarters and nickels.

  I loaded my basket full of woven droopiness into one of the metal maws, added some quarters, and watched as the damp pile tumbled away to a timer reading out how long my stay in laundry purgatory would be in LED numbers. It was a quiet evening, and apparently my laundry schedule doesn’t match that of a lot of folks. Two other people were there, not counting the owner and a lady mopping the floors and cleaning the lint traps (including mine).

  The process took about half an hour, and the items came out fluffy and toasty. I took them home and set them aside without folding and stowing because, well, it’s the laundromat. My clothes just shared dryer space with countless other folks’ clothes, and who knows what their lint traps were like? Also, it was late and I was tired and hungry, having chosen dry clothes over dinner at my usual time. They could wait.

  The repair tech arrived the next day and took a look inside the workings of the dryer. A coil was not staying on, so it was replaced. I paid the bill and decided to wash another load.

  The items went into the dryer, and ninety minutes later, the same problem happened. Hot and soggy clothes.

  Back to the laundromat. More confidently, but still feeling slightly out of sorts. I also used up my quarters.

  Before the return visit from the shop to review the problem (which was now covered under a warranty), I did what most folks do today. I checked in Google for what could cause the problem.

  When the repair tech returned, I mentioned that maybe there was lint in the vent leading outside. Sure, I have a clean lint trap, but lint can also drift serenely downward and collect in that flimsy pipe behind the machine. There was no argument to that logic, and it was something which had not been considered on the first trip.

  Lo and behold, the moment the part was detached, a circular pile of non-descript color lint tumbled to the floor. After a quick sweep of the inside and the reassembly of the part, we both learned that it’s a good idea to do a check of that collection point when the issue is hot but not dry laundry. Lesson learned on both sides.

  I’m pleased to say that the dryer is up and running again. I’m sure this ancient box of hot air may grow old with me.

  And it will stay lint free if I have any say in the matter.

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• What I’ve Learned

  Posted at 3:36 pm by kayewer, on September 12, 2026

  Some of our best philosophies are rooted in the words of wisdom spoken by persons of note or the elderly. Those individuals who have earned a position of respect often provide simple but effective quotes which live long after they have departed this world. The elderly are heard by virtue of their having been through life’s journey and, thus, have “seen things.”

  At my age, I have come to that latter category, and I hope that things I have shared with people have been helpful. They will do no good once I have gone, which in this world and at my age can happen at any time. So now is the best moment to share a handful of things I have made note of. Here are a few tidbits for your consideration.

  The way to tell the difference between the defamatory terms libel and slander is this: libel would be found in a library, as it is written, while slander is spoken.

  A watched pot boils at the same rate as the one you walk away from, but you avoid disaster by waiting for it to agitate rather than walking away from it. Always tend food on an active stovetop.

  Archie Bunker and Mike Stivic argued over this in All in the Family, but it’s logical to put on both of any kind of hosiery first, then the outer footwear. You can run for your life in stockinged feet (and take the shoes with you), but one bare foot is bound to find a sharp object before the clad one. Also, if your feet get dirty, you can put the socks in the wash and put on new ones, rather than wash your feet. Or you can put bare feet in the shoes. Sorry, Mike.

  If the ice cream truck arrives at dinnertime, put the dessert course first. In my area, Mister Softee always seems to come at 6:00.

  Let the other guy go first. If something happens, you have extra time to avoid it, but they will be in the firing line. This is especially true in traffic.

  If you find your own saliva disgusting and tend to spit frequently, consider changing what goes into your mouth.

  If you woke up wearing it, don’t go out the front door wearing it.

  People who are opposed to vaccines for whatever reason still do hypocritical things like carry umbrellas and insurance policies. I can’t explain why they are like this, but since I am innoculated, I find them mildly annoying and perhaps shortsighted, but not worth the argument.

  The difference between some of the speeches from our top elected official and those of the character Commander McBragg in the Tennessee Tuxedo and his Tales cartoon series is. . . .wait, is there a difference? Honestly, though, is it possible to get through an elected term without being caught with one’s foot in their mouth at least once?

  At the start of every school year, if all the students got to hear Fred Rogers’ affirmation that they are each special in their own way, I think the year would get off to a good start. There is also the episode of Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood in which he shared a foot soak in a kiddie pool with Officer Clemmons, who was a Black character at a time (among many, past and present) when race was a hot topic. Finally, there was the inclusive episode with a paralyzed ten-year-old named Jeff Erlanger, who appeared on the show in his electric powered wheelchair, and they sang a song together. Kids who understand uniqueness may not be as inclined to bully or doubt their own abilities and shortcomings. Understand others, and you understand yourself.

  That’s enough for one sitting. If you read through all of these, you may be my age and still have the patience to spend a few minutes reading something long without a TLDR reduction. You may also be a sensible person who has discipline and likes to experience what other people have to say about life. It’s a talent that is fading with the generations. Thank goodness we have the old books from the greats to fall back upon.

  AI can’t give you these tips as effectively. No matter how old it gets.

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  Posted in Uncategorized | 0 Comments | Tagged fiction, inclusion, philosophy, writing

• September Tsunami

  Posted at 7:10 pm by kayewer, on September 5, 2026

  The first week of September came with some baggage. Normally this is the month that starts with Labor Day a few days in and then turns into chaos after that. This time we had a few days to get started without the holiday, which falls seven days afterward. This gave me an entire week to have everything happen before the holiday arrives.

  Back when I graduated high school, on graduation day I had my braces removed and a nearly invisible metal bridge put in. That three-piece set of hardware stayed with me for 48 years and chose now to come apart. As I was doing my nightly flossing, the wire detached and performed a perfect dive into the sink. Fortunately, it left no rough pieces behind, so this week I went to the dentist and had the bands removed, making me metal free and having to adjust to my teeth’s new normal. What surprised me is how different flossing is now that I don’t need to navigate an orthodontic piece after nearly five decades of routine.

  My social media feed kept throwing negativity my way, mentioning anti-vaccine items alongside news of the first new cases of measles taking the lives of infants among other things. A new series of posts honoring children whose lives were taken either by their own hands after bullying or at the hands of others, were interspersed with recollections of 9/11, which is less than a week away. Children died both in the towers and aboard the flights. For all the deaths mentioned this week, it could fill a stadium.

  The weather has been chaotic as well, and I sat in the office munching on lunch while tempests swirled outside. Inside the office it was 68 degrees, and everybody (meaning about a quarter full floor of humanity for reasons I still can’t fathom) wears sweaters. I was ready to bring in a pair of mittens, for my hands were getting borderline chapped from the chilly air blasting from the overhead ducts. Maintenance is trying to fix it, but I think they need to bring a Boomer out of retirement to really figure it out. These new folks don’t have the same training or seasoned experience. Sorry guys.

  On the days I work from home, my laptop and external monitors have been rebelling and shutting off at unpredictable times. Strangely, the work issued monitor is the one that shuts off, while my second personal monitor stays reliable. I had fun with the IT department while we tried to remotely figure out what magic routine would restore me to side-by-side production.

  Finally, I have been reading physical newspapers all my life, and the process of weaning myself from this has been difficult. Some people may think that the days of doing crossword puzzles in ink on actual paper are fading away, but since I began doing online puzzles my interest in the physical media has been mostly for headlines, comics and “Dear Abby.” Since Jeanne Phillips no longer does the column herself and has retired to let the staffers handle the incoming requests for advice, that was the signal for me to separate further from the monthly expense. I called the local paper and found out that I had a balance, so by downgrading I wouldn’t need to pay a bill for some time. Reminds me of the time, when I was much younger, that I lost track of a magazine subscription and was paid in advance for over two years. Thank goodness advance pay can give the budget a break for a while.

  When I came up for air, the weekend had arrived, so I’ve been using these three days to do some work around the house before the day after Labor Day comes and school starts. Everybody who was off the grid for June, July and August and who got a bonus week in September will be trying to wade through the deluge of real life.

  I feel like I’ve gotten a head start.

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• Storm’s A’comin’

  Posted at 3:22 pm by kayewer, on August 29, 2026

  On a classic episode of The Golden Girls (but really, which episodes are not classics on that show), preparations were underway for a hurricane a’comin’. They noted that it’s a given for a major storm to be designated as “a’comin’,” and in fact is the only time you hear the phrase.

  I saw a nasty frontal system approaching one evening this past week while on my commute home. Sometimes the major activity naturally draws your attention, and though we have been getting our share of them this year, this one stood out. The clouds in this approaching menace were gigantic, low-slung and ominous, and we had already experienced a deluge of a downpour earlier in the day, punctuated by sheets of heavy rain. Our office building even had a power fluctuation which rattled our nerves. By the time I had left, I was walking on amazingly dry streets and sidewalks. The heat had cooked the entirety of the rainwater away.

  Flash flooding from the coming storm was a near certainty with such a powerful meteorological battlefront on the march. All of the weather experts were pinging cellphones like a symphony all afternoon. I had hoped to stop for fuel and to pick up something from the pharmacy, but decided to head straight home.

  The area became preternaturally dark shortly after I got inside and locked the doors. Fortunately the downpour was not too intense, and a few other spots received the brunt of the activity. Some college freshmen who had just moved into their dorms found floodwaters creeping into their spaces, and a town’s vehicles in low areas ended up under a few feet of water. We were unscathed.

  The accuracy of weather predictions these days is amazing, but it can’t account for the movements nature randomly sends our way. This is why it’s better to not take a risk when unpredictable weather comes and to stay put when its arrival is imminent. Or seek higher ground as appropriate.

  As to why I brought up this subject, shortly after this storm passed I saw video of the mudslides and flash flooding in Nepal which has claimed structures and lives (at last count, about 670, with thousands of locals and visitors missing). There was no time in this instance to plan ahead, as glacial calving (immense melted ice pieces separating from the main structure) are to blame, happened in an instant and with no warning. Climate change may play a role, as it can with many of our abnormal weather patterns.

  When I was heading home, I was driving seemingly toward what I should have been trying to escape. The horizon was boiling with clouds seeming to emerge from midnight itself (at six in the evening), with sunlight nowhere in sight. A force of nature not to be messed with.

  Winter is approaching, and with a predicted super El Nino this year, we will need to be vigilant when weather forecasts appear. It doesn’t appear to be getting any easier, and extreme weather will become part of our lives more and more. As we stand in its path, all we can do is prepare for what’s a’comin’ and hope for the best.

  Next weekend is a holiday with three days off. I hope to have a great story to tell that’s not about the weather.

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• What a Hoser

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  Just pretty wet.

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• All I Ever Wanted

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  Happy summer everybody.

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  Posted in Uncategorized | 0 Comments | Tagged family, life, travel, vacation, writing

• Hybridized

  Posted at 3:05 pm by kayewer, on April 25, 2026

  Just when I was starting to truly feel comfortable working from home and had figured that, after nearly six years of it, I would not be going back to the office, I was called back to the office. We are working under a hybrid schedule a few days a week, and then we also work from home.

  This meant much more than just readjusting to the workplace environment. There was now the issue of resuming expenses for transportation in terms of bridge tolls, gas and parking. Meal planning is another animal altogether, and a topic for another time.

  I’m using a different bridge to get to work now, and I fill my tank more frequently. The mileage didn’t change much (about 11 miles), but now I know my car won’t last me as far into retirement. The major highways are brutal proving grounds for motorists, where speed limits are posted but are actually based on a mass-approved code of conduct which is considerably higher. In this world, everybody stays in their space. One doesn’t tailgate too close or lag too far behind. Somebody zooming past and crossing three lanes at 90 is speeding, and nobody likes that.

  At least the parking is subsidized, and of my three location choices I may have made the wisest one. First, it’s a covered garage and not an open parking lot (I avoid needing to scrape ice or remove snow, which was a plus during the extreme weather). Second, it’s a short but much-needed walk. Third, it’s well-tended and feels safe.

  Over the years, my memories of work and my life (which, let’s face it, are interchangeable) have been based upon where my workspace was located. Let me explain.

  In the early years, I worked in the windowless basement, where our small contact center was among three dark central call-taking departments. We shared space with IT and the mailroom, which still had a huge shredder the size of an industrial washing machine. My next big leap was when call processing was moved to an upper floor, and we received cubicles with orange burlap walls. The nearest window for me was yards away.

  We then moved to a secondary building, and I could push my chair away from my desk, look around the cubicle wall (which was now a neutral grey) and see a window. After that, I transferred to a different building, and the cubicle walls partially hid the windows, but I was against those walls and saw the outside world readily.

  At last, I was sent to an office in which I had a large cubicle with several windows directly behind me. I saw sunlight and approaching rain with equal joy. Then that building was shut down in 2020, and we began remote work from home.

  Now I have a large cubicle again, but the windows are steps away for those of us in the inner circle. The managers have the window offices, which is fair.

  However, the building isn’t filled with the activity of six years ago. In fact, if there are 30 people on my floor, I think we have a crowd. The last day in the building each week can almost always be mistaken for a Friday, yet there is still work from home to do. It’s an effort to reach what will be the new normal, but it’s good to have other human beings nearby again. When working at home feels like being a caretaker in a graveyard, with the other empty homes on the block silent as tombstones, it helps to know there is a journey which will end with something resembling what we used to know.

  I don’t speed to get there, but I anticipate it every time.

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  Posted in Uncategorized | 0 Comments | Tagged fiction, life, mental-health, travel, writing

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