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 |  I've maxed out. Closed this blog. |
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This is a way of making myself write something coherent and grammatically correct almost every day. I'm opinionated and need an outlet. I'm also prone to flights of fancy. Thanks for stopping by. |
| I heard a new concept today. The new status symbol is exhaustion. If you're successful at anything, you should be exhausted. It's almost a competition. The upwardly mobile work hard, play hard, and never have time to do what they like, or to rest. The person quoting the psychologist-author went on to explain that it ties into self-worth. Feeling needed is part of feeling loved, and that quantifies worth. So if you're the only one who can do the job, whether it's at home, your employment, church, club, or school, you feel needed You have to put in extra time. You lie awake at night thinking about it.That makes you tired. The more tired you feel, the more needed you feel, the more needed you feel, the more loved you feel. Well, maybe. If you feel needed, but unappreciated, that just chips away at your self worth. Then again that might support the argument. The harder you work, the higher your hopes of achieving approval. So whether you get the approval and appreciation or not, the fact that you're trying so hard, and pushing yourself so much is a sign you're trying to win love ultimately. Who would have thunk exhaustion was a sign of success? I always thought it was being laid back and not working hard. But maybe that's for losers these days. Good thing that I don't care about status symbols. I'm ready for some iced tea and mellow time. |
| If you were to skim through my things on this website, you would find I have an obsession with this TV show from the 60's, The Virginian. I discovered it about October 2013, and I have watched the reruns faithfully each week. I think I have finally seen all episodes. The show ran for 9 years, but they run several reruns each weekend. So I have caught up. For the uninitiated, it's about a ranch called Shiloh outside a real town called Medicine Bow, Wyoming. It's named after the foreman on the ranch, but his top hand Trampas is a regular through the whole nine years. Others come and go. It's based on the book by the same name, written in 1892, but published in 1902. It was the first real western novel, following the dime novels or pulp fiction which built up fictitious western characters. The novel is great and worth a read. (The book is less about the ranch of a different name, and more about the man called The Virginian.) It's been made into a movie 4 times, each interpreted differently. The show featured many guest stars, whom we all know from other shows and movies, like Dick Sargent from Bewitched or Mel Torme (young and skinny), Bette Davis, Joan Crawford, Victor Jory, John Saxon, Robert Redford, Peter Fuller from Emergency, Cloris Leachman, Joan Collins, Angie Dickinson, Hugh Beaumont, and many more. There was one year I didn't like so much. The ranch owner was replaced by some new owner, Bart Starr. His character changed the nature of the story, and it wasn't enjoyable. Then the time with David Hartman wasn't top notch. (I didn't know he was ever an actor.) They made a comedy of the episodes that featured him, and they were just a waste. A 90 minute dumb TV comedy doesn't cut it. Some of my favorite comedy actors were in one episode, and it was just plain stupid. Tom Bosley, Yvonne DiCarlo, Ann Prentiss, and James Brolin are great in normal venues, but this episode took a lot of patience. It got better when David left, and Tim Mattheson came on. So it's taken me a year and a half almost, to see all of them. I must have started near the end of 1963, went through to 1969, seeing a few reruns of those, and back to 1962. Today they were all ones I've seen before. I'm kind of sad that there are no new ones left for me, nothing new to discover. But they're good the second time around. Today one of my favorite episodes, "Run Quiet", guest starring Clu Gulager, before he was a regular, played again. I had only seen it once. Funny, how your memory plays tricks. I recalled a few things, I thought vividly, but was wrong. It was still a great story, involving good writing, and great acting. I had so much sympathy for the two romantic characters, yet one of them never said a word or made a sound. It was communicated so well. And it ended differently from what I remembered, but it was still happy and romantic and clean. It was fun to watch. So, now I'll keep watching and see if the fascination wears off. |
| I check out Facebook a few times a week. I don't have that many people on there--some from church, my cousins, some distant relatives, and two TV sites. I get dozens of unsolicited ads every day. If I look at anything on the internet, it automatically goes to Facebook to haunt me. There are no secrets. "They" know everything we research, every question we ask, and connect us to merchants and tricksters. I look for recipes to use ingredients I have on hand, so all the sites I visit from a search, go to Facebook with ads or posts. I once checked out Ellen Degeneres wrinkle cream ad, and now am daily faced with ads from various companies for miracle wrinkle creams. I don't know enough to block them or if it's possible. I won't look at anything that requires me to register first. But I still get lots of junk mail as well as the Facebook stuff. I feel like we have no privacy. My dad does the grocery shopping, and the store knows his habits. He gets coupons for the same things in the mail all the time. He feels obligated to use the coupons. I tell him they're making a profit on things that are unhealthy for him. I finally have refused to touch the doughnuts that he brings home--the same kind all the time. He finally stopped after throwing out stale ones. Even our shopping is electronically monitored. Big brother is everywhere, especially if a dime can be made by somebody. |
| I know it was days ago, but people are still wondering about whether he saw his shadow. It's amazing that one little town made up this story and its holiday to increase business and help the tourist industry. Now it's on all the calendars. School children everywhere treat it like Santa or the Easter bunny, which at least have other significance. It is a fun day, a good joke, but it seems like too many people take it seriously. I think Bill Murray's Groundhog Day is better. What if we could relive one day, over and over without getting older, until we got it right? What if we refined it a little each time, or made dramatic, changes, so that the outcome would be different? Our lives, our fortunes could be better at the start of the next day. Maybe we'd be better in the process. I don't know about other folks, but I can think of a few days I'd like to play differently. I can think of a lot of days where I'd do just one hour or even 5 minutes differently, Yes, I think that would be a good groundhog day. Let the groundhog be a symbol of new chances, instead of a false prophet of spring or winter. The down side would be playing a part in someone else's Groundhog Day. They might get it better; maybe I wouldn't. I guess we'll just have to get it right the first time. |
| I joined a choir tonight. It was good to sing with a group, to try to blend in, to follow a director who has his own interpretation. Of course, all the music was new to me, so I didn't hit all the notes or even most of them. One song had tricky rhythms; I worried more about not singing in the wrong place or missing the beat than I did the notes. I brought all the music with me, so I can figure it out on my own.Maybe by the next rehearsal I can sound a little more sure without mistakes. There are so many pianists in this group, who know what the notes are. I never claimed to have a good voice. We didn't try out. The leader just assumed I could sing the part I claimed. I actually have a limited range. But as long as the director will tolerate me, I will sing, because I like singing. I like being a part of a group that works together for a common purpose, takes its cues, and is disciplined enough to produce something worthwhile and enjoyable. Teamwork feels good. So working on the music will take time away from other things. I'll figure out something. |
| I heard about it for the first time today. Someone I work with knows a relative with an illness and her doctor has put her on the blood type diet. We all asked about it. She said her relative is on it for mood control; however, she has read about if for herself for reducing a few pounds. She has discovered she can't have anything she likes, the fruits, beans, and things usually considered healthy. She can eat sardines, but not shellfish, or her favorite fish. So I looked it up for myself. First thing I noticed is the man who wrote the book and developed this system is selling supplements for each blood type. He's a merchant who's out for a profit. Then I read about my blood type, the most common, and the first thing the article discussed was a blood clotting aid for my "kind". I take prescription blood thinner, so I don't want anything that counteracts that. I read nothing out of the ordinary for my blood type for healthy people. Then I found the articles on why not to indulge in this diet. It's not scientific. There were not enough thorough studies and comparison groups. Nothing is individualized, as in my case. Something I hadn't come across were ethnic food selections. These apparently are not to accommodate different tastes or traditions, but are assumptions based on race or ethnicity that have not been scientifically proved. The bottom line is to stay away from this diet. If your doctor advises you to try it, ask him to individualize it for you, and explain how it will work in your case. Ask about side effects. It's doubtful that one will recommend it to you. |
| My cousin's 14 year old daughter, who is very into sports, was walking across the street with three other girls last Friday, when they were struck by a white truck with ladders on the side. The truck didn't stop, but four girls fell to the ground. They still haven't found the driver or truck. This driver apparently thought he had killed somebody and was too scared to stop, or he had been drinking and didn't want to get caught again under the influence. One girl broke a bone and needed surgery. My cousin's child had a concussion and still has a headache today (Monday). The other two got off with minor bumps and falls. So when is it okay to hit kids and not stop? Even if your license is in jeopardy? He may have been sick or blinded by a something in his eye. He might have had an excuse. If it was his employer's truck, he might have been afraid of getting fired. Why hasn't the employer been checking his vehicles since it was described on local news. We had a hit and run which killed a man in my own area. That driver hasn't been found either, but there were no witnesses in that case. Unfortunately, in the dark several other drivers also struck him on the road and didn't stop either. Maybe they thought it was an animal, but where were the headlights? They had to have seen him at the last second. Are people really that heartless? We are seriously lacking in moral conscience these days. Self-interest prevails over the concern for others, and that is devastating. |
| No doubt we all have heard a number of superstitions in our lives, most of them just foolishness. We know they are foolishness, but do we heed them anyway? I have known grown men to turn around if a black cat crossed their path. I've told myself that black cats are God's creatures and they aren't intended to be omens of anything evil. Some superstitions have some basis, like knocking on wood. The Druids believed that gods lived in the trees. So if they wanted to summon the spirit of a god to bless them or keep them safe, they knocked on wood to arouse a god. We know this is a false belief, but we understand how the superstition arose. How it continues in modern society is another puzzle. On the other hand, there are superstitions that seem to have no sense. Seamstresses used to say, "Never cut out a pattern on a Friday or you will never finish it." Maybe they didn't work weekends, but I never would start a sewing project or cut any material on a Friday just to be on the safe side. That's back when I still sewed. Another one was "Sing before breakfast, and you'll cry before night." Now where did that come from? Was it just some grumpy morning person who wanted to remind the happy riser that life has a way of evening things out? In high school, my choir sang at an Easter sunrise service on the mountain top, so we had to do it early, before the sun hit. Sure enough, I did cry before night, but, hey, I was a teenager. I might have cried anyway. Yet, still today, if I find myself in the morning about to hum or sing a few words, I stop. I force myself to wait until I get my granola bar and coffee at work. I know it's stupid, but I can't break the habit. Then there's the one about a bird flying into the window. It really means your windows are very clean (invisible) or reflected the outside. But the old saying is that someone inside will die. That's never happened, so I can't stand up for that one. And what if it flies into a car window? Does the rule still apply? Or only residences? I've had a bird fly into the car windshield, but no one inside died within a few years. How would a bird get a message about someone about to die? And we all know about the itchy hand or foot. One hand means you're going to shake hands with a stranger, the other means you're coming into some money. If one foot itches, you'll get new shoes; it the other itches, you're going to travel. Chances are you know whether you plan to travel or buy new shoes. I think the money part is wishful thinking. What fate would be controlling these itches? Where did that common superstition come from? Let's not forget picking up a penny. Why pass up a little penny? They add up. Maybe it started as a way to get children to treasure all the money they could find. Then there's the bad luck part, it it's tails up. Would you waste it and let it lie there? Not if it's on the counter or someone put it in your hand tails up. I've also heard that if you find a penny, you have to give it away to get good luck. Is that some kind of karma? There are others, things that just don't go away, and we feel obligated to teach them to our children and grandchildren. These superstitions that have no basis in reality, yet they survive from generation to generation, and maybe get amplified. We just have to remember to teach common sense, that these are just legends, not truths. |
| No, that's not a spelling error. Super Bowl Sunday is the annual Souper Bowl Day as well. Area Food Banks need canned food and volunteers. Donations of cans of food, or cases of canned food, or money to buy food from bulk stores are collected every Souper Bowl Day. We like to think of America as the land of plenty. Yet, there are still plenty of people who don't get enough to eat each day. Those who don't qualify for welfare or food stamps still need to eat. That includes the temporarily unemployed, the elderly, the homeless or people who are under employed but have special needs. They fall above the poverty line but don't have enough money for medicine, utilities, and food. Many people have too much pride to ask for help. They don't want to admit they can't make ends meet, or that the retirement funds have run out. It takes other people to ask for them. Teachers and school workers become aware that children aren't eating enough. Employers, church workers, neighbors have to urge people to go for help. The Food Bank is an excellent source for people to pick things they know how to cook. So if you're out and about this weekend, at the store, your club, or your church, be sure to make a donation to the Food Bank. Or you can mail a check to them. Support your own community so that no one goes hungry. |
| A guy at work retired early. Today was his last day. Nine of us from the office took him and his wife to a nice restaurant Wednesday night and gave him a gift that we purchased ourselves. We made some jokes at his expense, nothing too tasteless with his wife there. He's been treated all week to parties, lunches, and small gifts.He's very knowledgeable, and he will be missed. One area he's supervised for years gave him their own party yesterday, and one lower supervisor broke down sobbing. When he hugged people today, he asked them not to cry. Today I presided over an official party, paid by the company for another 25 people or so that he supervised in another area. The food was great, the cake was pretty, and the employees were all positive. It's amazing that the usual whiners and complainers were off, He pointed out that the people in that room were the ones who always showed up for work, rain or shine, ice or flood. Many of them are a great deal older than he, but still work. After eating the first round, one of the other directors asked if anyone would like to say anything nice about him. I was surprised how many stood up to talk about his honesty, his respect for them, his openness and acceptance. One of the rough and tough guys from the trash dock told how much he had learned from him and that he would really miss him. Then when they seemed done, I asked them if we were going to hear a speech from the retiree. They started calling on him, so he obliged. He sat on an empty table and said, to vaguely summarize, that in a week or two, all the hours he had put in wouldn't matter. Being on call 24/7 wouldn't count; his knowledge, skills, or memory would make no difference. The people he had worked with and made relationships with was all that counted. I took lots of good photos, and sent leftovers back with them. I even got a lot of hugs and sweet remarks myself from these employees.It was a warm and positive experience.I walked away feeling like something good for morale had just happened, even though it was a sad occasion. I had a new respect for that group of tender-hearted employees, He turned in his keys and his phone early afternoon, and said good-bye to each one in my office (one of many buildings). He asked if I had my hug yet, and I said no. I had been avoiding it; I know I'm emotional. So I got one then, and told him I was trying not to cry. So he said he better go. He can't handle tears; he's afraid he'll do it, too. I've always hated saying good-bye to people. Someday I will retire, unless I become disabled suddenly and just disappear from the work scene.I hope that I will missed at least a portion of how he'll be missed. Will people respect me and feel like I was always fair with them? Will even one person be sentimental? |
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