tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-49041641505341934832024-03-14T16:04:07.559-07:00Deadly Duo Duh BlogDeadly Duo, Duh Bloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15279307709534348681noreply@blogger.comBlogger203125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4904164150534193483.post-1930103598471059372024-03-14T16:03:00.000-07:002024-03-14T16:03:32.327-07:00Just another sunny/rainy day in paradise<span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">If Hawaii was a bird, it would look something like this. </span><div><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><br /></span><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLcK_MTyyNEpEFNn38kvg3UgjSoKtxLnYajusUWwrR7DwT20wN6l6_89TcDyhZzrub_Z20cESxFg10EvWof5GRGpZyQbAQT9XqaIWuZLQQK6ZFbr_mDV-ME7zjpwjHc0CKccUz5vKgQ00TwGx93Aui-Ah0LwpvXYv1rpW25woKgyWUXK6OHXLZ0VJ_Gg/s1600/IMG_20240225_110935_burst_01.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLcK_MTyyNEpEFNn38kvg3UgjSoKtxLnYajusUWwrR7DwT20wN6l6_89TcDyhZzrub_Z20cESxFg10EvWof5GRGpZyQbAQT9XqaIWuZLQQK6ZFbr_mDV-ME7zjpwjHc0CKccUz5vKgQ00TwGx93Aui-Ah0LwpvXYv1rpW25woKgyWUXK6OHXLZ0VJ_Gg/w159-h212/IMG_20240225_110935_burst_01.jpg" width="159" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><br /><span>Shiny, colorful with a huge wingspan and a knowing look on its face. </span></span></div></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">Upon arrival in Hilo, Hawaii you find immediate confirmation that you've found yourself in an entirely different part of the world. </span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTDUJVviRBVbkjW7Ng1cs0jzPcnUd6KSuAdpxbFgK2_S9LdpmI9LcMRto6hxJQpj-jpW-ryqBs1XHOMet9vh3bt_UmeGhoXX4ckagHXIV9Rr4f0-1QZc25sDiRCEm-WpC-nb9llXQTzrkLYjSGVcaeD0Jb4H0oCtWiNk4xCbYbSZjpBT0Tn41yfeR0JQ/s4160/IMG_20240222_065743233_HDR.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4160" data-original-width="3120" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTDUJVviRBVbkjW7Ng1cs0jzPcnUd6KSuAdpxbFgK2_S9LdpmI9LcMRto6hxJQpj-jpW-ryqBs1XHOMet9vh3bt_UmeGhoXX4ckagHXIV9Rr4f0-1QZc25sDiRCEm-WpC-nb9llXQTzrkLYjSGVcaeD0Jb4H0oCtWiNk4xCbYbSZjpBT0Tn41yfeR0JQ/s320/IMG_20240222_065743233_HDR.jpg" width="240" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><br /><span><br /></span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">So, this blog is the E-version of gathering in our living room, eating semi-stale crunchy snacks, drinking discount wine and listening to the click of a slide projector as we narrate blurry photo’s of our trip to Hawaii. Except, with this version, you don’t have to drive across town to our place, you can drink much better wine and you’re on your own for the weeks-old Cheetos. (click) Here’s the view from our hotel room overlooking the Bay of Hilo. </span><p></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhWcNqsT2vAyY5ErZgQ95h1Gl4z1siHJcCwL40lpydFqzmsA3ia7SzX3H_gE6rPrY1FHd0KPbrPZ_ps4p1TICWc46daj8Ih1zW9gXfU_sz7ewtvxo77jblNoJSiJ6naVl9g0c6N4hLkms8W4Y2TGtuUj6OEtCwLhGB0wHCp5XQrU3WsxxJgEUitqtFdYA" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><img alt="" data-original-height="320" data-original-width="240" height="292" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhWcNqsT2vAyY5ErZgQ95h1Gl4z1siHJcCwL40lpydFqzmsA3ia7SzX3H_gE6rPrY1FHd0KPbrPZ_ps4p1TICWc46daj8Ih1zW9gXfU_sz7ewtvxo77jblNoJSiJ6naVl9g0c6N4hLkms8W4Y2TGtuUj6OEtCwLhGB0wHCp5XQrU3WsxxJgEUitqtFdYA=w219-h292" width="219" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">I'll share a little insider Hawaiian Island knowledge.
The big island earned its nickname name because . . . (anyone? Anyone? You, in the back
of the room Spamfamber.) It’s the biggest of the Hawaiian Islands? Mahalo! Good!You
win a free lifetime supply of poi. Somebody, at some point had a fit of
creativity. The only thing I wonder is why the other islands aren’t nicknamed “the second largest island,” “The possibly third or fourth largest
island” and “That little speck on the map nobody bothered to name." </span><p></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large; text-align: center;">It really was
a lovely spot. The hotel was located on Banyan Drive, named for the proliferation of
these unique (and dare I say spooky) trees.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDcMbvVUhk_KpAKyQB0QNfuas22Jpzny23_OCYllfJQ4VgoCjTE_hUiPEKerWjMCmEGrhb-4Y36jaUhYmr7SiNMNBbqV4k6Fg6rUEek_Px6WTjdfk_Y3E5MVTi_wRO3eld1-5XxhV4kGLUcVUCEewrkq05tGJ4mH_AK0UIWENGtdKaemNSIpEPsmMLqw/s4160/IMG_20240225_080259307.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4160" data-original-width="3120" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDcMbvVUhk_KpAKyQB0QNfuas22Jpzny23_OCYllfJQ4VgoCjTE_hUiPEKerWjMCmEGrhb-4Y36jaUhYmr7SiNMNBbqV4k6Fg6rUEek_Px6WTjdfk_Y3E5MVTi_wRO3eld1-5XxhV4kGLUcVUCEewrkq05tGJ4mH_AK0UIWENGtdKaemNSIpEPsmMLqw/s320/IMG_20240225_080259307.jpg" width="240" /></span></a></div><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">Farther along Banyan Drive was a lovely park.
Carolyn spent considerable time wandering its environs while the lazy lump that
is Mike lounged in bed, eating leftover Thai curry and listening to the ukulele
music on You Tube. </span></div><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><br /></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTzR7whbvE1jOdtBMylsxXaRW44oHzgj91OVn2ThomB09gBbIB3B4Jar7MG5yWeth87MLr7RQ0sh1uaymzxbrpETE-eoH0YCy10FrwiEp1AAFyucf2BTermGj3Qm_VqC1uxQnIGABvTxGdoZaLp57bUs_c1nq_FNqXzOGmn3YgfxjW7G5KveFnRinF0g/s4160/IMG_20240225_080015633.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4160" data-original-width="3120" height="272" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTzR7whbvE1jOdtBMylsxXaRW44oHzgj91OVn2ThomB09gBbIB3B4Jar7MG5yWeth87MLr7RQ0sh1uaymzxbrpETE-eoH0YCy10FrwiEp1AAFyucf2BTermGj3Qm_VqC1uxQnIGABvTxGdoZaLp57bUs_c1nq_FNqXzOGmn3YgfxjW7G5KveFnRinF0g/w204-h272/IMG_20240225_080015633.jpg" width="204" /></span></a></div><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">Another fascinating factoid about Hawaii. The
Hawaiian alphabet only had 13 letters. Five vowels, Seven consonants and an
okina. Those who thought the okina was a wind instrument often heard
accompanying the ukulele lose all the points you gained by your correct guess
about the Big Island. It’s a glottal stop. A glottal being a type of bus seen
only in Hawaii. (Sorry, I couldn’t resist.) This limited number of letters
explains many of the street names we encountered in Hilo, including Aalalani
Place, Ewaliko Avenue, Haaheo Road and Kamahao Way.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><span style="text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;">I wonder what a scrabble game among the locals would look
like. If it’s anything like ours, there is at least one player who will try to
bluff a word that doesn’t exist. “Nice try, Poona. Everybody knows there are only
4</span><span style="text-align: left;"> a’s in kakahiaka.”</span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2mZAHrfSFT4pQyboCWpPY29bkMafyLs8Odb6pTwXIil8eAEdmh5Tb0N28yKE2WAscQy9d-mlnTsjZpxseQzvFsajZEdmTgeK2naoxXpTDalY9y4kUtVP-fyo9ehJCr_M-wHGRHoPkafA2JhEp6R2zWKsk9NMVIPer2CQrhHFpd_PN1Po96YBG3txacw/s1600/IMG_20240225_082808_burst_01.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2mZAHrfSFT4pQyboCWpPY29bkMafyLs8Odb6pTwXIil8eAEdmh5Tb0N28yKE2WAscQy9d-mlnTsjZpxseQzvFsajZEdmTgeK2naoxXpTDalY9y4kUtVP-fyo9ehJCr_M-wHGRHoPkafA2JhEp6R2zWKsk9NMVIPer2CQrhHFpd_PN1Po96YBG3txacw/s320/IMG_20240225_082808_burst_01.jpg" width="240" /></a></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">Here's a random sculpture we saw on our way to another beautiful location. You can decide for yourself what it signifies. I'm leaning toward "A view of the inside of Marjorie Taylor Green's mind!" </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">On our return trip to Hilo, this time on the
much more scenic southern coastal route, we made a return visit to a place we’d
stumbled into on an earlier trip to The Big Island.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYKyjQ7det3Un1B2InePJDyUFhacnlmitA7QQqJOLGnJsRyjyQBUCDhhPIp8FxMSAmHj5pORatKH_Ug_VvJQTN76R36ckIOKtZXQp688JKf4fcQtRFYh9lgxhGjH00VuuFqbg4TOZj7N_1GP4agr3s6oz0OkGfGPmRXKy_4MLuLVdwDXnL6GS6Av1a3Q/s374/ljuh4ur7.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="325" data-original-width="374" height="204" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYKyjQ7det3Un1B2InePJDyUFhacnlmitA7QQqJOLGnJsRyjyQBUCDhhPIp8FxMSAmHj5pORatKH_Ug_VvJQTN76R36ckIOKtZXQp688JKf4fcQtRFYh9lgxhGjH00VuuFqbg4TOZj7N_1GP4agr3s6oz0OkGfGPmRXKy_4MLuLVdwDXnL6GS6Av1a3Q/w235-h204/ljuh4ur7.png" width="235" /></span></a></div><p></p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p><div><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">We ate the southernmost glazed donuts in the United States, burped the southernmost burp in the United States and went on down the road. Life is good. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">All-in-all it was a great trip (We'll overlook the 13 hours spent in airplanes.) But it was good to get home to a week's worth of junk mail and our little dog. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6nzElFZIJg9-gj_GEztK05VUFJYYlNGWGxPmyKzwKXJgb8jhkRTxKMyJ1HmKR4j1qy-vmGdL7yCJ5fU72V4B3Gk7B6ft6xJ9SFykuskjrxM3Od1NCAVIUqxkdYOe7N6Yo2jLqpP6qwj5v-oaEJDruZR7ydVaZHoCk5Zn_GXbW3nGlVq8-wNGTXNJAfA/s2048/Nikki%20(Merlene).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="297" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6nzElFZIJg9-gj_GEztK05VUFJYYlNGWGxPmyKzwKXJgb8jhkRTxKMyJ1HmKR4j1qy-vmGdL7yCJ5fU72V4B3Gk7B6ft6xJ9SFykuskjrxM3Od1NCAVIUqxkdYOe7N6Yo2jLqpP6qwj5v-oaEJDruZR7ydVaZHoCk5Zn_GXbW3nGlVq8-wNGTXNJAfA/w223-h297/Nikki%20(Merlene).jpg" width="223" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">"Where the hell have you people been? <br />You owe me multiple belly rubs!!!"</span></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><br /><span><br /></span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>Deadly Duo, Duh Bloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15279307709534348681noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4904164150534193483.post-48905607235585110552024-01-15T09:43:00.000-08:002024-01-15T09:43:34.460-08:00Coyotes<p> </p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">Carolyn
J. Rose</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">When I
was a kid, growing up in the <st1:place w:st="on">Catskill Mountains</st1:place>,
reading Zane Grey and watching TV westerns, I thought of coyotes as wild and elusive
creatures. I viewed them as skittish, flitting at twilight from rock to rock,
shadow to shadow.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">Confession:
I also thought of them as ordering an assortment of Acme products in the
endless pursuit of a roadrunner. But let’s put that aside.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">Years
passed, I lived in <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:state w:st="on">Arizona</st1:state></st1:place>,
and often spotted them. More often I heard them. And heard stories about them. I
began to think of them as clever, crafty, opportunistic, and, okay, even
sneaky.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">But I never
thought of them as panhandlers, hanging out beside a road, hoping for a
handout.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><o:p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span></o:p></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuKcKM7tS_iiokkFNEjG613QfUvaAgzjo0pYxQeH8WfCJLY20dcCLOe83lHt-s0ompSF5i0YPfzn1Jqs6WkqjqBQZoVYsol261nVSBOuvgnuAsagwxkuR6TsscvF00k3mWX8-Qryo1scth8ZGRQYHVMaX_yFiS92pJtjFKe7XenRhH37mp8uchG2LUiQ/s1600/IMG_20231020_122712.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="376" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuKcKM7tS_iiokkFNEjG613QfUvaAgzjo0pYxQeH8WfCJLY20dcCLOe83lHt-s0ompSF5i0YPfzn1Jqs6WkqjqBQZoVYsol261nVSBOuvgnuAsagwxkuR6TsscvF00k3mWX8-Qryo1scth8ZGRQYHVMaX_yFiS92pJtjFKe7XenRhH37mp8uchG2LUiQ/w282-h376/IMG_20231020_122712.jpg" width="282" /></a></span></span></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">And
then, back in November, I saw this guy beside a looping dirt road in the
Ridgefield Wildlife Refuge. He sat as if on command, wearing a hopeful
expression like a dog begging for a biscuit or perhaps hoping to be adopted.</span></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: medium;">We joked
that if we opened the car door the coyote would hop in. But we knew better than
to do that or to offer the crumbs that accumulate on the floor mat.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">But apparently, he and his buddies cadged a few goodies from others. On our next
visit we noted signs warning visitors not to feed coyotes.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">I
revised my thoughts again. Forget elusive. Forget skittish. And forget sneaky.
But clever and crafty? Sure. Opportunistic? You bet.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">And why
not? If I had a choice between chasing a mouse in a muddy field and sitting in
the grass waiting for a snack to be delivered, I wouldn’t go for the mouse.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;"> </span><span style="font-family: Bookman Old Style, serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>Deadly Duo, Duh Bloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15279307709534348681noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4904164150534193483.post-78870997747242263142023-12-13T07:48:00.000-08:002023-12-13T07:48:13.577-08:00Hermit For Hire<p><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: 14pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;"><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: large;">Michael A. Nettleton<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;"><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;"><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: large;"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhEL8yOYnDG5ZJki65Yij_pNFsTEpNYV74P4Vr_z9UftzHppiBi_O88HSCrv7EWvRPhCoWvOudyKtz1hCNWDI6uDy0d5UPokjE_hAdyacOLXpnuO8i8h8noOBGF8kyw3LpNijEpwkpsLf8PQAgBdq98KJM4KBmFHrVG6c-VhEDVG9rireNbQUZ2b7MdBg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="842" data-original-width="800" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhEL8yOYnDG5ZJki65Yij_pNFsTEpNYV74P4Vr_z9UftzHppiBi_O88HSCrv7EWvRPhCoWvOudyKtz1hCNWDI6uDy0d5UPokjE_hAdyacOLXpnuO8i8h8noOBGF8kyw3LpNijEpwkpsLf8PQAgBdq98KJM4KBmFHrVG6c-VhEDVG9rireNbQUZ2b7MdBg" width="228" /></a></span></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;"><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: large;">In ages past, wealthy
families might hire a man to live in a hovel on a vast estate. Apparently it was
a status symbol of the highest order to employ a hermit. I don’t know what
building a hovel involved. Perhaps an early version of IKEA. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;"><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: large;">I wondered how a Duke
or Lord or Viscount would find a suitable hermit. Did his estate manager grill
potential candidates? If a grilling took place today, would it look something
like this?<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;"><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: large;">(Door creaks open. Burly
wild-haired man shuffles in.)<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in;"><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: large;">HR: <i>Hello. Thank you
for applying to be Lord Bloviate’s Hermit. Do you mind if I use the Hermit to
English translation app on my phone?<o:p></o:p></i></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in;"><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: large;">Hermit:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sitting, nodding, and mumbling something indecipherable.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in;"><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: large;">HR: (Glancing at phone)
<i>I agree. The train service from Bumblegravy is atrocious. <o:p></o:p></i></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in;"><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: large;">Hermit:<i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>mbrgmbrsucks. <o:p></o:p></i></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in;"><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: large;">HR: <i>Let’s begin,
shall we? My name is Letitia Stiffgarter. And you are . . . ? </i>(She consults
a grimy resume scratched on tree bark.)<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in;"><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: large;">Hermit:<i> Mfrdfman<o:p></o:p></i></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in;"><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: large;">HR: <i>Morfor Dlorfman.
Right. And what qualifications do you bring? <o:p></o:p></i></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in;"><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: large;">Hermit: (animated) <i>Snorrrrrrrt.
</i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></i></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in;"><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: large;">HR:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i>I see. You</i> <i>lived in a cave in the
Cotswolds. I’m the first human being you’ve spoken with for the last 20 years.
So, you’re experienced at solitude. And what is your specific skill set?<o:p></o:p></i></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in;"><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: large;">Hermit:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i>(sounding like he’s listing things) Hng,
Ya ha, Ya ha, blnfoopung.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></i></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in;"><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: large;">HR: <i>You’re adept at hiding,
jumping out from behind bushes, speaking gibberish and mouth-breathing.
Excellent! </i>(She marks the bark.)<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in;"><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: large;">Hermit: <i>Schlorppp!<o:p></o:p></i></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in;"><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: large;">HR: <i>And drooling
You’re known for your drooling.<o:p></o:p></i></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in;"><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: large;">Hermit: (proudly) <i>Schlorppp!<o:p></o:p></i></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in;"><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: large;">HR: <i>Consistently top
5 worldwide for length of drool. Impressive. Now, if we hire you, the hovel, rudimentary
furniture, and scraps from the kitchen will be provided. Will that be adequate?
<o:p></o:p></i></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in;"><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: large;">Hermit: (shrugging) <i>Gooeygoop!!!<o:p></o:p></i></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in;"><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: large;">HR: <i>Mud. You mostly
eat mud.<o:p></o:p></i></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in;"><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: large;">Hermit:<i> </i>(nods
and performs finger pushups on the table.)<i><o:p></o:p></i></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in;"><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: large;">HR: <i>And the
occasional spider. Got it. When could you take up residence?<o:p></o:p></i></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in;"><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: large;">Hermit: (waggles a
finger) <i>Kaching! <o:p></o:p></i></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in;"><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: large;">HR: <i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What’s that? We haven’t discussed benefits?<o:p></o:p></i></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in;"><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: large;">Hermit:<i> (</i>Nods
and mimes using a channel changer<i>) Karrrrdashians. Instagram.<o:p></o:p></i></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in;"><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: large;">HR: <i>Cable television
and Wi-Fi?<o:p></o:p></i></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in;"><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: large;">Hermit: <i>Kaching!!!<o:p></o:p></i></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in;"><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: large;">HR: <i>And a salary? Why
do you need money? <o:p></o:p></i></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in;"><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: large;">Hermit:<i> </i>(hums
the graduation march) <i><o:p></o:p></i></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in;"><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: large;">HR: <i>Kids to put
through college. Seriously? I mean you’re a hermit. How did that happen? <o:p></o:p></i></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in;"><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: large;">Hermit:<i> (shrugs and
grins) Grmbgbr! Chick magnet. <o:p></o:p></i></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in;"><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: large;">HR: <i>Oooh-kay</i>. <i>Well,
what are your salary expectations?</i> <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in;"><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: large;">Hermit: (produces a
card)<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in;"><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: large;">HR: <i>You belong to a
union</i>? <i>Hermits, recluses and troglodytes local 452? <o:p></o:p></i></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in;"><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: large;">Hermit:<i> </i>(raises
a fist) <i>Schlorrrppp!!! Kaching!!!<o:p></o:p></i></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in;"><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: large;">HR: <i>Minimum pay is
$50 an hour? Double for holidays? </i>(She shakes her head.) <i>I don’t think so.</i><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in;"><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: large;">Hermit: <i>Snorrrrt.
Huh!<o:p></o:p></i></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in;"><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: large;">HR:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i>You’re in demand? Really?</i> <i>Let’s
review. No people skills. Poor communication. Total lack of grooming. Surly
attitude. Who’d hire you? <o:p></o:p></i></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in;"><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: large;">Hermit:<i> </i>(picking
up an imaginary telephone and lilts) <i>Ucken!!</i><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in;"><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: large;">HR: <i>Government help
line? <o:p></o:p></i></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in;"><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: large;">Hermit: (gruffly then
snorts) <i>Your call is very important to us . . . <o:p></o:p></i></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;"><span style="line-height: 107%;"><o:p><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 107%;"><o:p><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></span></p>Deadly Duo, Duh Bloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15279307709534348681noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4904164150534193483.post-28834493620711461072023-11-28T15:13:00.000-08:002023-11-28T15:13:42.142-08:00Dave's Still Not Here<p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">Michael A. Nettleton</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgifV6ncku2QR5Lw9q_f3zCZ1mn2wiFgMoXznl90vwq85o2nXzHud5mzT5O3n1m2gff7GdLzROhGQP9VjGLIsePD4FwX5AVktwBc6ElveN7A9ySRTiSGaB4zmPmxbffjiviNf6qSX7m48QmBIdhaAKGaGvJh8fPE3fUAQXD3gCsQGhbwyIs7hwepGbxdw" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgifV6ncku2QR5Lw9q_f3zCZ1mn2wiFgMoXznl90vwq85o2nXzHud5mzT5O3n1m2gff7GdLzROhGQP9VjGLIsePD4FwX5AVktwBc6ElveN7A9ySRTiSGaB4zmPmxbffjiviNf6qSX7m48QmBIdhaAKGaGvJh8fPE3fUAQXD3gCsQGhbwyIs7hwepGbxdw" width="240" /></a></span></div><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"> </span></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">You may see me tonight<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">With an illegal smile<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">It don’t cost very much<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">But it lasts a long
while<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">Won’t you please tell
the man<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">I didn’t kill anyone<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">I’m just tryin’ to have
me some fun.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"> <span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><span> <span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span></span></span></span><i><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">Illegal Smile</span></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span>John Prine<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><span style="line-height: 107%;"> <span> </span></span><span style="text-indent: 0.5in;">The
last time I smoked marijuana was the mid-eighties sometime. I didn’t give it up
out of any sense of moral indignation or fear of it being a gateway to
something harder. Instead, I decided I was tired of sitting in front of my
computer feverishly inspired by the thoughts pinballing through my brain, only
to find, later on, that what I’d written resembled a cross between medieval
Bratislavian and monkey drool.</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><span style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span> </span>Of
course, pot is legal now, so all I’d have to do is duck into the parking lot of
my nearest, highly respectable retail establishment, plunk down my debit card
for a bag of weed or package of chocolate-covered wacky tobacky, and pick up my
habit where I left off. Drive down any street in greater Vancouver, Washington
and you’ll see the beckoning signs. </span><i style="text-indent: 0.5in;">MAIN STREET MARIJUANA. THE HERBERY. HIGH
END MARKETPLACE. GREENHEAD CANNABIS. </i><span style="text-indent: 0.5in;">I’m sure new stores will proliferate
in the future. </span><i style="text-indent: 0.5in;">SPLIFF WORLD. MAUI WOWIE MART. BOGART R’ JOINTS. STONE ME
CITY. </i><span style="text-indent: 0.5in;">And so on.</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><span> </span>Rabid
anti-pot types will point out several problems with today’s state of affairs,
including a direct link between toking and Satan, but here's the problem with
legalization from my point of view. They’ve taken some of the fun out of
smoking pot by removing one key element: paranoia.</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><span> </span>Getting
high in the old days was a vibrant mix of THC, unhealthy snacks, vinyl mindless
guitar noodling, and fear. The idea that uniformed men in full battle gear
chanting “hut-hut-hut” might break down your door at any minute was part of the
adrenaline rush that accompanied passing a tightly-rolled joint around the
room. Who can forget the group giggling fit when someone heard an unfamiliar
clatter outside and rushed to flush a fully ounce of primo “stuff” down the toilet?
Who can remember the familiar note played out when you heard Cheech and Chong’s
“Dave’s not here” routine on one of their comedy records?</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><span> </span>And
now? Marijuana is just another item on users’ shopping lists. “Green onions,
pasta sauce, laundry detergent, and a six-ounce bag of THC infused gummy bears.
Oh, and Oreos and a gigundo bag of cheezy-snacks of course.</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><span> </span>Am I arguing that marijuana use
is harmless and healthy? Of course not. Every time I observe some kaleidoscope-eyed
driver cross three lanes of traffic to careen onto a freeway exit ramp, I fear
for the bedlam the high and drunken may cause. As someone who’s worked in the schools
(my wife was a substitute teacher for many years) I worry about the impact
marijuana can have on young people. It can make learning difficult, destroy
incentive, and cause a budding writer to believe typewritten garble is profound
prose. But I also believe that turning a personal vice (however unhealthy) into
a criminal offense is profoundly wrong-headed.</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><span> </span>What’s
the bottom line? Unless the religious right has their way and forces everyone
at gunpoint to live pure and God-fearing lives, marijuana stores are here to
stay. The best we can hope for is to avoid hysteria and have honest and factual
conversations about the harm drugs and alcohol can cause.</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><span> `</span> But, I profess a certain level of
nostalgia for the “high old days.” Now if you’ll excuse me, I think I heard
someone rattling at my door. Time to flush a bag of oregano down the john just
to be safe.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"> </span></span></p>
<p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"> </span></p>Deadly Duo, Duh Bloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15279307709534348681noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4904164150534193483.post-32977979574370205262023-11-22T09:11:00.000-08:002023-11-22T09:11:53.937-08:00Closing the Book on Writing?<p><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: large;"> Carolyn
J. Rose</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvKSOGZpBINWWFNz2n4reB1aa9SBKpFyJghiIG28XEyttq7W-xtMGcuWMExnDuOrhHFg9jS76GQEYTlX8BUHLr-ZJiwswThEtMZ79pBGOpLi91W2PMS9rseLO1JQK_3ihFWVjdTX-WzxmqP_mgjAz5edyXpaofQ3xpygc2puV9PYaJN5TH89fu1bhwMw/s2500/Three%20Shades%20cover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2500" data-original-width="1650" height="488" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvKSOGZpBINWWFNz2n4reB1aa9SBKpFyJghiIG28XEyttq7W-xtMGcuWMExnDuOrhHFg9jS76GQEYTlX8BUHLr-ZJiwswThEtMZ79pBGOpLi91W2PMS9rseLO1JQK_3ihFWVjdTX-WzxmqP_mgjAz5edyXpaofQ3xpygc2puV9PYaJN5TH89fu1bhwMw/w322-h488/Three%20Shades%20cover.jpg" width="322" /></a></span></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">Much
as I’ve enjoyed creating and spending decades with characters of all
sorts—killers, clairvoyants, ghosts, teens, seniors, substitute teachers,
wealthy widows, and orphaned children—I find myself wanting to hang out with
those who populate books by other writers.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><o:p><span> </span></o:p>Translation:
I want to write less and read more.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;">I
was the kid who fell in love with books as soon as I could sound out words, the
kid who read with a flashlight under the covers, who wrote stories for cousins
and classmates. I was the teen who penned anguished poetry. I was the young
adult who spilled details of every relationship onto the tear-smudged pages of
a journal. I was the older adult taking writing classes and going to
conferences and seeking agents and publishers, then taking the independent road
and uploading manuscripts and dreaming up promotional ideas.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">Now
I’m the gray-haired even older adult with carpal tunnel syndrome, sciatic nerve
issues, and holes in my memory where character details used to be. Sure there
are notebooks and file cards and character sketches in the computer. With the
aid of those I could keep going. But B.B. King’s song about the thrill being
gone echoes in my mind.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">So
I’ve been saying that <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Three Shades of
Justice: In the Grip of Obsession</i>, will be the last I’ll write. I’ve been
telling myself that I followed my dream, that two dozen books is an
accomplishment I can be proud of.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">And
I’ve also been reminding myself to never say “Never.” Tomorrow or next week a
compelling character could take up residence in my busy brain, start tugging at
the synapses, and insist I return to the keyboard.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">Until
then, I’ll enjoy engaging with characters created by other writers.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></p>Deadly Duo, Duh Bloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15279307709534348681noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4904164150534193483.post-1375120670321984422023-10-04T14:23:00.000-07:002023-10-04T14:23:07.846-07:00The Perils of Getting Out and About <p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Carolyn
J. Rose<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">From the
earliest days of wandering tribes, travel has been perilous. Wild beasts. Lack
of water. Bad water. Lack of food. Harsh terrain. Raiders. Storms. War.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: large;">Many of
those perils, unfortunately, remain. And new elements have been added. An
occasional chain motel sadly in need of a good scrubbing and a staff overhaul. Outrageously
incorrect rental car charges. And that damn virus.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: large;">I’ll get
to some of that later, but first a few positive reflections on our trip to
Upstate New York.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: large;">The
flight was tiresome but smooth and the deep-dish pizza at the </span><st1:place style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: large;" w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Chicago</st1:city></st1:place><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: large;"> airport made the long hike to our
gate worth it. The dining choices in </span><st1:place style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: large;" w:st="on"><st1:state w:st="on">Washington</st1:state></st1:place><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: large;">
were, for someone who can’t digest red meat, not choices at all.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: large;">But
anyway, the next morning we headed to Herkimer (The sound of the word makes Mike grin) to meet friends and cruise on the </span><st1:place style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: large;" w:st="on">Erie Canal</st1:place><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: large;">. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_6lJ-pyPPpLVlcyHxlff9R_8KC_BOcU6wh7CzgOcLvTM6v3rcE_VxxGObwkedH-kkZFkQCxLWNsAoh3XGjgE4J8WbjSmIoQSADMuvXqLd9yH6zEqAysrpoGIAACFKOEmDGt9WG3kjzXsl_tvblhxXk4y22M2lfQN5YVYKZXIAbl-3RA4PtwLt89P4Qw/s1600/Erie%20Canal%20Boat.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="413" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_6lJ-pyPPpLVlcyHxlff9R_8KC_BOcU6wh7CzgOcLvTM6v3rcE_VxxGObwkedH-kkZFkQCxLWNsAoh3XGjgE4J8WbjSmIoQSADMuvXqLd9yH6zEqAysrpoGIAACFKOEmDGt9WG3kjzXsl_tvblhxXk4y22M2lfQN5YVYKZXIAbl-3RA4PtwLt89P4Qw/w310-h413/Erie%20Canal%20Boat.jpg" width="310" /></a></div><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: large;">No mules were harnessed for our journey; a motor on the boat did the work. And
we weren’t required to get out and open or close the locks.</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTWR0uE6CdcDoko2AoTd8VSditgOZIVvpjVUbe0NeMu7C-sKmi5Nvs2tf7heKLv_yuawrERNdJisIZx0hHklJ6UASlsZSNWNYDCsrrGfjTUEsvJ0p44cNtk5PieH1EVFbaNReQoEpfeTVb_R931uqGTfWN-98ks-GcV3gol9MVrtMZeCb7hlFWfQDJpg/s1600/Erie%20Canal%20Lock.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="441" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTWR0uE6CdcDoko2AoTd8VSditgOZIVvpjVUbe0NeMu7C-sKmi5Nvs2tf7heKLv_yuawrERNdJisIZx0hHklJ6UASlsZSNWNYDCsrrGfjTUEsvJ0p44cNtk5PieH1EVFbaNReQoEpfeTVb_R931uqGTfWN-98ks-GcV3gol9MVrtMZeCb7hlFWfQDJpg/w331-h441/Erie%20Canal%20Lock.jpg" width="331" /></a></div><br /><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> <br /></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: large;">After a
stop at Constable Hall where we touched a piece of history—a paperweight gifted
to the first owner by Alexander Hamilton, it was on to </span><st1:place style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: large;" w:st="on"><st1:placename w:st="on">Alexandria</st1:placename> <st1:placetype w:st="on">Bay</st1:placetype></st1:place><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: large;">. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid6Lgj8MHv5v_W73wnurOEofvWQPI-ua6sJQ4V1G43QfjANVTFnPY6_He0xsoTe11xwe7FWcBlcSITHecJY_MwIl8ixzNgmFcwiVmtbeISkq0x-dd4E1ek7wvNGLHJhLToNJzTgfAoX4eMrxe1yAnfKxkcqHmmhMAsKImnTTLDx-vK7chLHEOvw8qFWg/s1600/Thousand%20Islands%20boat.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid6Lgj8MHv5v_W73wnurOEofvWQPI-ua6sJQ4V1G43QfjANVTFnPY6_He0xsoTe11xwe7FWcBlcSITHecJY_MwIl8ixzNgmFcwiVmtbeISkq0x-dd4E1ek7wvNGLHJhLToNJzTgfAoX4eMrxe1yAnfKxkcqHmmhMAsKImnTTLDx-vK7chLHEOvw8qFWg/s320/Thousand%20Islands%20boat.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: large;"><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p>There we boarded a ship bound out through The Thousand Islands to </span><st1:place style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: large;" w:st="on"><st1:placename w:st="on">Singer</st1:placename> <st1:placetype w:st="on">Island</st1:placetype></st1:place><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: large;">
and a mansion/castle. 87 steps up to the top floor. I was powered by feelings
of relief that I didn’t have to clean the place or pay for repairs. (Think
millions. And then add millions.)</span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1CsOCtwBhZSzJQEHaNBk8dDaxXmx_t0L4OrDX-SKFE9-WSNGeuwARCAckrrf1k8y0ntiThMA4yURdnwEXi2MEn-4e1lqAIsy_t0nuuekb8SR5zelWJa64sU0xHXTm9pmWoiDGQeUxEIpDWjwM4n6nBUbgOBhEjFx8nFCJc7fPJ9dX1Gi0MOZwSAYG7A/s1600/Singer%20Castle.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1CsOCtwBhZSzJQEHaNBk8dDaxXmx_t0L4OrDX-SKFE9-WSNGeuwARCAckrrf1k8y0ntiThMA4yURdnwEXi2MEn-4e1lqAIsy_t0nuuekb8SR5zelWJa64sU0xHXTm9pmWoiDGQeUxEIpDWjwM4n6nBUbgOBhEjFx8nFCJc7fPJ9dX1Gi0MOZwSAYG7A/w329-h320/Singer%20Castle.jpg" width="329" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLi9Rd-ewlbRdz-tquEfAaFYK1_I12YQNGu0oQQo7HlvabmBEoUdWT0YZv1CHIOnqzXTwe8rRswMJpkWHSkSky10wRJnFzF2KXqOfTIstVvagc_vsIxsO57yNvl-tfRAEnbplCbCwUaYxJ0ugFnF3EkuvmxXWOknU9HLplBVGNqyMnvssCCsTB2vnAjw/s1600/Singer%20Castle%202.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="417" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLi9Rd-ewlbRdz-tquEfAaFYK1_I12YQNGu0oQQo7HlvabmBEoUdWT0YZv1CHIOnqzXTwe8rRswMJpkWHSkSky10wRJnFzF2KXqOfTIstVvagc_vsIxsO57yNvl-tfRAEnbplCbCwUaYxJ0ugFnF3EkuvmxXWOknU9HLplBVGNqyMnvssCCsTB2vnAjw/w313-h417/Singer%20Castle%202.jpg" width="313" /></a></div><br /><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Still
enjoying great weather, we drove through the Adirondacks to <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Woodstock</st1:city></st1:place> where we visited friends and family
and where the rain caught us. </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Bookman Old Style, serif; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKLn_xoUudS5UVQ1Z_ogRnbAaxA40oJ7js347aeVinHHb7Q-0Fxx97kmdmkKTt0oPhA0bsQ-8xEUzQy4abX-THcbY3Bbpf5lP-bbd4Igl7RDHLrR_GRojpAPrfq4tqSPgk-uwkIfhHP3wvRzWfe57cRsCiOseiSFeG1owjj_LKmGSXhtgnet-1cs2y5w/s1600/Back%20in%20Woodstock.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKLn_xoUudS5UVQ1Z_ogRnbAaxA40oJ7js347aeVinHHb7Q-0Fxx97kmdmkKTt0oPhA0bsQ-8xEUzQy4abX-THcbY3Bbpf5lP-bbd4Igl7RDHLrR_GRojpAPrfq4tqSPgk-uwkIfhHP3wvRzWfe57cRsCiOseiSFeG1owjj_LKmGSXhtgnet-1cs2y5w/s320/Back%20in%20Woodstock.jpg" width="240" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIVhs8TwKeCz6hMxGKjTabPXRU-YX0fpbFBuzXfQbyMYTUkNSJmf7EPnCC06m-t5AAoFEyh43dgpK00QhPUkzZZLYBqkYozoG4UYbzgXsRrSnZEYlce4rohqcd6Hg9m97CiXjHiExCWwXYJAffH7weDe4V-UDNN3KOLzBRgg7w9gkLJ3vuPWW94qQVvw/s1600/3rd%20largest%20garden%20gnome.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIVhs8TwKeCz6hMxGKjTabPXRU-YX0fpbFBuzXfQbyMYTUkNSJmf7EPnCC06m-t5AAoFEyh43dgpK00QhPUkzZZLYBqkYozoG4UYbzgXsRrSnZEYlce4rohqcd6Hg9m97CiXjHiExCWwXYJAffH7weDe4V-UDNN3KOLzBRgg7w9gkLJ3vuPWW94qQVvw/s320/3rd%20largest%20garden%20gnome.jpg" width="240" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: medium;">Still, we forged on through the storm to see what
was once, but is no longer, the world’s largest garden gnome—a gnome
outstanding in his field.<br /><o:p></o:p></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">And then
we returned to find we’d been billed for turning our car in 150 miles from
where we actually handed off and a day later. I expect we’ll be contesting that
for weeks.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif;"><br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif;"><br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif;">And,
when the fever and sneezing kicked in, we discovered I had a souvenir of the
trip I didn’t want—covid. I’m better now. Not 100%, but strong enough to take
on that rental car company if I need to. And, in a few weeks, I expect I’ll be
ready to start planning another trip.</span> </span></p>Deadly Duo, Duh Bloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15279307709534348681noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4904164150534193483.post-80652972982200173592023-07-17T15:13:00.002-07:002023-07-17T15:13:44.292-07:00Trading Cards I'd Like to See<p><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span><span style="font-size: x-large;">Carolyn
J. Rose</span><span style="font-size: large;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjOoPa4UP6z8YWPFeWW4YVzWi9zPNW-4yjiYH3cPp00rY1aXwQKwDynIywDjKerGNW2szJDDxqmhQMPTv6WHmK9QuJ1rApv2yah9L1Hq9eZ9Jq8XhJiKddcRH5UVVCK7yfZfuHx0IJSbFyCgQ7XnOMDSoWx3ED7kg5p98o9oT4k-XwOo2R0QKVa-efOdw" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="357" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjOoPa4UP6z8YWPFeWW4YVzWi9zPNW-4yjiYH3cPp00rY1aXwQKwDynIywDjKerGNW2szJDDxqmhQMPTv6WHmK9QuJ1rApv2yah9L1Hq9eZ9Jq8XhJiKddcRH5UVVCK7yfZfuHx0IJSbFyCgQ7XnOMDSoWx3ED7kg5p98o9oT4k-XwOo2R0QKVa-efOdw" width="171" /></a></span></div></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: large;">Forget trading cards touted by a former president. Forget game cards and those featuring baseball heroes. Forget cards promoting movies and T.V. shows. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: large;">Here are
a few I’d pay or trade for.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: large;">Phone
numbers to bypass automated systems. If you’ve ever wasted hours trying to
break out of an endless loop, been shuttled to the wrong department, cut off
while explaining your problem, or transferred so fast you get whiplash, these are
a must. Bypass numbers allow access to actual humans with listening skills, no
mandated scripts, and expertise to resolve your issue.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><o:p><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: large;">Plumbers,
electricians, HVAC repair personnel, and others willing to work evenings and
holidays. Even if you never find yourself in desperate need of someone to fix a
leak or get your furnace running again, a friend or relative will. The trading
value of these cards never diminishes and spikes in cold and hot weather.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><o:p><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: large;">Used car
lots where you’ll actually get a fair deal. In addition to photos and
directions, these cards include translations of used-car-speak terms such as
“low mileage” and “pre-loved.” Cards also advise what not to say when shopping.
A subset includes photos of salespeople who don’t withhold added charges until your
pen touches the contract signature line.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><o:p><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: large;">Stylists
who should never cut your hair. If you’ve ever paid way too much for a haircut
that made you look like a pair of eagles decided your head was prime
nest-building territory, you’ll want these cards. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><o:p><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: large;">Door-to-door
scam artists. You know the ones, the guys who claim they’re with a crew working
nearby and have tools and extra time to give you a great deal. Cards also
include teams selling magazines you’ve never heard of, folks who claim they
install solar panels overnight, and those collecting for refugees in a country
that isn’t on any map.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><o:p><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: large;">Teen
body language. A face-to-face conversation with a teenager may involve more
physical expressions than verbal. These cards, with full-color photographs,
interpret twitches, eye rolls, shrugs, and more. They also offer translations
of some of the latest teen-speak words and phrases.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><o:p><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: large;">Bad
bosses. Cards would depict the nitpicker, the clock watcher, the insecure and
paranoid, the endless-meeting manager, the guy who disappears in a crisis, and the
supervisor who expects you to sacrifice weekends and cancel vacations. Cards
would also offer tips on how to spot bad bosses during the interview process.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><o:p><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: large;">Clothing
outlets with true sizes and realistic fashions. These outlets cater to those
who aren’t actors or models. Their sizes actually conform to your measurements instead
of being too large or too small, and their styles are for those who want jeans
with more fabric than holes.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><o:p><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: large;">I don’t
get it cards. If you’ve ever puzzled over a cartoon, or wondered about a
reference on a TV show that set off the laugh track, these cards are for you.
Not only would they explain a drawing or an actor’s comment, they would also
explain why you might find it amusing or relevant.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><o:p><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: large;">As a
bonus, cards would be laminated. This would extend their life and allow them to
be used for household projects such as leveling tables or loiding locked doors.</span><span style="font-family: Bookman Old Style, serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>Deadly Duo, Duh Bloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15279307709534348681noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4904164150534193483.post-15224136656668789252023-05-27T15:25:00.001-07:002023-05-27T15:25:47.237-07:00The Sleep Comfort Adventure<p> </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFf8KG6YfryK_GG-hRCY46ZSMd2yKHJA0_vgznG2F5McJ51XuMQUIbyZ_4FvsXGYgiQm0Cy3WbwkqvhJNJy113LMtiRX96CQ7FC7BCQ0stcZYW1a42u6VKPPQsgbD3eoiGlQoICLm99hbeDLAd8VWrg1u8qnLL5afxj205toFjfakV22jrgNxT9Fo/s728/snooze.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="639" data-original-width="728" height="281" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFf8KG6YfryK_GG-hRCY46ZSMd2yKHJA0_vgznG2F5McJ51XuMQUIbyZ_4FvsXGYgiQm0Cy3WbwkqvhJNJy113LMtiRX96CQ7FC7BCQ0stcZYW1a42u6VKPPQsgbD3eoiGlQoICLm99hbeDLAd8VWrg1u8qnLL5afxj205toFjfakV22jrgNxT9Fo/s320/snooze.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">My beautiful, talented, supernaturally perceptive lady-liege and I went mattress shopping this morning over in Jantzen Beach, the
big-box store capital of the universe. We spent a considerable amount of time
in Bed World and Mattress Mart. Or was it Mattress World and Bed Mart? I
disremember. </span><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"> <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">Carolyn was adamant that we needed new
mattresses. She told one of the salesmen that I kamikaze onto mine from a great
altitude, splashing down on it and creating a thunderous sound that can be
heard by our neighbors a block away. This, she claims has caused my mattress to
sag considerably. This may well be. The fact that I hadn’t noticed and sleep
just fine on it doesn’t seem to be a part of the equation. I credit her for not
using the word “oaf” at any point in her narrative.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Like everything else, mattress shopping
has gotten very high tech. At one place (either World or Mart, I disremember)
they have you lie down on a mattress hooked to a space-age looking device. It
creates a cartoonish green mock-up of your body, which shows the salesman what
you need in the way of firmness, lumbar support, leg room and muscle adjustment.
It’s possible it also indicates nutritional deficiencies and need for personal
counseling. Again, I disremember. ( Disrememberization, by the way is a handy
device for avoiding marital disputes, ignoring medical advice and chore
avoidance.) <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">I’m convinced the mattress technology
also provides the salesperson the talking points to sell the customer up into
the $3000 super-deluxe hyper-double-frammis, air-cooled, internet-ready dual-exhaust
model from the basic $200 “flat place to sleep” model he or she came into the
store to buy. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Next, Carolyn insisted we lie down on a
number of mattresses to see how comfortable they are. Very honestly, I couldn’t
tell one from another. Keep in mind that if I went out drinking during my
college days, my roommates would ferry me home and stand me up in the corner.
8-16 hours later I would awaken, fully refreshed.</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">She had exchanges with the sales guy
using terms like “too soft,” “the memory foam feels like I’m sinking in quicksand”
and “firm but with a nice bouquet and a hint of elderberries.” My feedback was
pretty much limited to “oof” and “pretty nice flat place to lie down.” (On this
one, my wife and I exchanged marital eye-rolls. Mine was far superior, making a
ka-ching sound on the upper end.)</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">In the end, we bought two twin
mattresses. They weren’t as expensive as I thought they might be and delivery,
setup and disposal of the old mattresses was included in the price. (I’m not
sure how challenging set-up will be, amounting to setting the mattress on the wooden
bed frame). <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">It was explained to us that they donate
the old mattresses to charity, which I think is a worthwhile thing. Carolyn wonders
where they’ll find a recipient for mine, muttering something about she hoped
some poor schlep doesn’t mind crashing on a U-shaped mattress. Hey, not
everyone requires a flat place to sleep.</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Ultimately, I think the mattress
shopping excursion was a positive experience. I learned some important science
involving lumbar support and reclining body imaging. Shopping together made our
long-lasting marriage even more fulfilling. And the series of eye-roll
exchanges strengthened the muscles of our foreheads and upper cheeks. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">I was so inspired by the process, I’m exploring the concept
of opening my own big-box sleep comfort outlet. The sign out front will read “FLAT
PLACE TO SLEEP MART.” (or possibly “FLAT PLACE TO SLEEP WORLD.”)</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;"><o:p><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="line-height: 150%;"><o:p><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></span></p>Deadly Duo, Duh Bloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15279307709534348681noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4904164150534193483.post-73883720587836555922023-05-09T11:43:00.001-07:002023-05-09T11:45:03.170-07:00Thank God it's over!!!<p> </p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I recently underwent the second most unpleasant
procedure known to mankind. The first, of course, having your nose eaten off
your face by a family of voracious weasels. But at least with the weasels you
don’t have to drink the vile slurry they give you to clean out your nether
regions prior to a…<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 107%;">COLONOSCOPY
!!!<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I could actually feel a group shudder as you read
that word. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwGZYFV-_R1_-mk1Rd4GgA72RDr7cE1yjn8t1B27hkFgCYFnB1A5ynMQeA1lNmZh5K0YX1p0u5VTENaTXsjv5qoagMSM3UoE8UlyJ5GixyTNom3OvrwJhZtxW9SxBGQnCXF8cuZatRZwu_gpxE3Cm2EvfmL6YHbrWSiYcn9U-fyiXba4k8OUbfc0A/s252/doctor.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="252" data-original-width="180" height="252" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwGZYFV-_R1_-mk1Rd4GgA72RDr7cE1yjn8t1B27hkFgCYFnB1A5ynMQeA1lNmZh5K0YX1p0u5VTENaTXsjv5qoagMSM3UoE8UlyJ5GixyTNom3OvrwJhZtxW9SxBGQnCXF8cuZatRZwu_gpxE3Cm2EvfmL6YHbrWSiYcn9U-fyiXba4k8OUbfc0A/s1600/doctor.jpg" width="180" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: 14pt;">First of all, let me say that the staff at the Oregon
Clinic Endoscopy Center (east) could not have been nicer or more helpful and
compassionate than they were. They made the experience slightly less gruesome.
That being said . . .</span><p></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 107%;">UGH!!!<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">As anyone who
has undergone one or more of these procedures knows, the prep is far worse than
the actual event. After all, they give you some great drugs and you snooze
while they’re reaming.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">But three days
without solid food, (when lime jello becomes a highlight of your lunch hour)
and swilling a full gallon of what had to have started its life as tailings
from a toxic mining operation, seems much longer than what the clock is telling
you. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: 14pt;">My older brother
Ray, when I told him what I was facing commented; “You know, I’ve gone 96 years
without having anyone put a camera up my keester. I think I’ll hold out a bit
longer.” You know, if you’ve lived that long, you’ve probably done something
right.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: 14pt;">Alright,
alright, I know I’m being a bit of a gloomy Gus here. Colonoscopies are useful medical
tools for discovering and treating a whole family of ailments. Unpleasant but necessary.
But only once every 5 years, thank God. I won’t know until the biopsy results
come in, but hopefully I’ve got nothing happening up there.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: 14pt;">There were a
couple of upsides to the whole process. Dr. Ken Flora was upbeat and thoroughly
professional. As were the various and sundry nurses. After I woke up, one them,
I think maybe Staci, was telling me all the things I shouldn’t do right away
because of the anesthesia. “Don’t operate any heavy machinery” she told me. Check.
I’d have to put my afternoon manipulating a front-end loader on hold. “Don’t drink
any alcoholic beverages.” Okay, happy hour is postponed till Wednesday. She
continued with a serious look on her face. “And don’t make any significant life
altering decisions.” I thought about it. “So, I should postpone starting my
late-in-life career as a nude pole dancer?” I asked. This made her grin. Which
made the whole pre, during and post procedure worth it.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Bottom line. Don’t postpone getting your
colon checked out. It’s not really that bad and could save your life. Plus, you’ll
get some dandy photos of a part of your body you’d never see otherwise. I’m
thinking about getting some wallet-sized prints made. Then, the next time I’m
asked to show ID somewhere, I’ll just whip one of them out. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="font-family: Bookman Old Style, serif;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">On the way home
we found ourselves in gridlock on I-205 out of Portland. In what had to be a masterstroke
of cosmic irony we were stuck behind a panel truck bearing the logo of MR. ROOTER.
Wait! I thought. You mean they’ll come right to your home? Is there a clown-festooned
Mc-oscopy outlet with a drive-up? You just stick your fandango out the </span><span style="font-size: 18.6667px;">passenger's</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> side window and they take care of it right there. I can almost hear the
attendant/nurse’s voice now:</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: 14pt;">“You want fries
with that?”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>Deadly Duo, Duh Bloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15279307709534348681noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4904164150534193483.post-78915704387155010862023-05-02T15:06:00.000-07:002023-05-02T15:06:59.846-07:00Lilacs and Memories<p> </p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">Carolyn
J. Rose</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSbyzRQtmeLAt3zsMuuyVjXv_gVvqkq2RX-jKQe_SiojKQghCBUr-dZ3U8hA3LWZxWvK7VOpStdhSCkn__BVqxotPy7TDnv68A5UwFcncgQ7BvWV1CROQ8L9BaFsVsiUha53i0pq1oj1hNc2ppG9vNHOP0M-R_6XOqoOEsFB-I-Sab54TPq2IBFB0/s569/lilacs.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="569" data-original-width="569" height="395" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSbyzRQtmeLAt3zsMuuyVjXv_gVvqkq2RX-jKQe_SiojKQghCBUr-dZ3U8hA3LWZxWvK7VOpStdhSCkn__BVqxotPy7TDnv68A5UwFcncgQ7BvWV1CROQ8L9BaFsVsiUha53i0pq1oj1hNc2ppG9vNHOP0M-R_6XOqoOEsFB-I-Sab54TPq2IBFB0/w395-h395/lilacs.jpg" width="395" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">I seldom
pass a lilac bush in bloom without thinking of Walt Whitman’s poem of mourning
for Abraham Lincoln, “When Lilacs Last in the Dooryard Bloom’d.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">But, as
is the way of my busy brain, before I become mired in Whitman’s long lament,
the memory leads on to another and another. Images overlap and blend together.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">Lilac
bushes abounded in the hollows of the <st1:place w:st="on">Catskill Mountains</st1:place>
where I grew up. Many of them marked houses long gone, flattened by snow and
rot, wind, and gravity. Those bushes, once nurtured in sunlit dooryards, had
grown spindly in their attempts to reach sunlight blocked by pine and oak and
hemlock. Others were moss-covered, gnarled and bent from struggles to survive
another winter.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">But
there were also younger bushes, carefully tended, fertilized and pruned. Many
were planted with an eye toward shadings of color. White. Lilac. Deep purple.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">I recall
a long lilac hedge along the road the bus traveled in the tedious journey to
school. In winter its bare branches did little to shield the home behind it
from wind and snow and the interest of those driving past. Spring brought forth
leaves, elongated green hearts that made my teenage heart long for love—or what
I imagined was love at that hormone-driven age. When the lilacs bloomed, rain-drenched
blossoms bending branches toward the ground, it signified the school year was
coming to a close. The flowering gave notice that another page of my life was
turning, that plans needed to be made, enlarged, or amended.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">I remember
walking dirt roads, catching the scent on a warming breeze, and following it to
a flowering bush. Because the blooms turned brown far too soon and didn’t
linger into summer they were precious to me. More precious than the varieties
of roses my father’s mother managed to grow in the thin and stony soil of a
yard shaded by an enormous maple.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">My
mother’s mother had a bottle of lilac perfume and, in the dim light of a winter
day, I would sometimes loosen the stopper and sniff. It was sweet, but the scent
was nothing like that of the blooms of spring. It was, in fact, more like a
faint memory, poorly preserved.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>Deadly Duo, Duh Bloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15279307709534348681noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4904164150534193483.post-18370082251160572502023-03-24T16:15:00.001-07:002023-03-24T16:15:45.808-07:00A Chicken in Every Pot<p> </p><br />
<p class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdZaHj1gRfc7gl8vHvWJ3K6Tj4tWVQDtQPuWk6sMJiMagGdcRG8BLketxAIe3yvuWkpNTvjkzPKUsS2Mj839ModCgdcFnXsZPbl0enyBxcrZ39ul5BVc_cvJ-2TtKmW01NLRcDRYPwNWF5mI4bFs4T-WaWk6h7_Oigu3BtpT9wJAMivdmqkI7H3tY/s291/chicken.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="270" data-original-width="291" height="270" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdZaHj1gRfc7gl8vHvWJ3K6Tj4tWVQDtQPuWk6sMJiMagGdcRG8BLketxAIe3yvuWkpNTvjkzPKUsS2Mj839ModCgdcFnXsZPbl0enyBxcrZ39ul5BVc_cvJ-2TtKmW01NLRcDRYPwNWF5mI4bFs4T-WaWk6h7_Oigu3BtpT9wJAMivdmqkI7H3tY/s1600/chicken.jpg" width="291" /></a><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: large;">Carolyn J. Rose<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: x-large;">I wasn’t around when Herbert Hoover’s campaign called for “a
chicken for every pot.” I can’t remember when I heard the slogan in a history
class, a slogan that had been changed to “a chicken in every pot.” What I do
recall is the moment I realized there are some pots that should never, in my
firm opinion,contain a chicken.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: large;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: large;">When I joined Volunteers in Service to <st1:country-region w:st="on">America</st1:country-region> in 1970, I was sent to <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Little Rock</st1:city>, <st1:state w:st="on">Arkansas</st1:state></st1:place>.
It was July, with a steamy humid heat like nothing I’d never experienced
growing up in the Catskills or going to college in <st1:place w:st="on">Tucson</st1:place>. It was a heat that barely loosened
its grip after sundown, a heat that shot up again with only a slight grace
period after dawn.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: large;"><st1:place w:st="on">VISTA</st1:place>’s monthly allotment
was a sum of less than $200 a month after taxes and I seem to recall it was
referred to as a stipend rather than pay. Buying an air conditioner or paying
for the power to run it was out of the question. Fans did little to help,
simply slapping soggy air. Perspiration didn’t evaporate. Sweat stuck around.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: large;">Cold water provided a little from-the-inside-out relief.
Cold beer helped more. And one particular brand of beer (a brand I won’t name)
was on sale that summer. A quart was around a quarter. But those quarts were
cheap because they weren’t chilled. Our refrigerators were small and, by
today’s standards, didn’t get the job done quickly.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: large;">So, the four or five of us who regularly met to cobble
together an evening meal developed a strategy. No matter how many bottles of
beer we bought, we left at least one—and ideally two—in the refrigerator.
Those, like sourdough starter, slaked our thirst at the next gathering. Of the warm
bottles purchased for that gathering, two went into the tiny freezer
compartment to chill. The rest were stashed in the coldest part of the
refrigerator. If they weren’t chilled to perfection—or even close—by the time
we opened them, it seldom seemed to matter. It was the first beer that
absolutely had to be cold.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: large;">Whole chickens were also extremely cheap that summer, so we
had chicken at every group meal. No one even dreamed of turning on the oven,
especially not in the second-floor apartment of two male volunteers. Chicken
was chopped up and grilled on a tiny Hibachi. When they discovered they were
out of charcoal, it was fried. Housekeeping was never my strong suit and it really
wasn’t the strong suit of those two guys. When the frying pan accumulated so
much caked-on grease we couldn’t stand to look at it, and when no guests
stepped up to do the scrubbing, the chicken went into a pot of water and was
boiled, made into soup, or shredded for sandwiches. When that pot developed a
crusty ring, the guys dug out a second pot. The second pot soon reached the
point where the word “disgusting” didn’t begin to describe it. The first pot
and the frying pan still languished, unscrubbed, on the counter.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: large;">Remaining hopeful for a burst of hygiene, I set out for
their apartment a few days later carrying several bottles of beer. As I climbed
the stairs, I smelled chicken, onion, and another aroma. It was familiar. I
knew I smelled it often. But I couldn’t place it.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: large;">I opened the door, set my beer offering on the kitchen
table, and turned to the stove. There, bubbling away, was a pot. A dented metal
coffeepot. A coffeepot without the basket for ground coffee or the perk tube. A
coffeepot with a chicken crammed inside.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: large;">Well, most of the chicken was crammed in. The legs, pale and
pimpled, stuck out.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: large;">I gagged. My appetite disappeared. Leaving the beer behind,
I fled.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: large;">To this day, whenever I see chicken, in any form, I get a
sharp mental picture of that chicken and that pot. After more than 50 years, I
no longer gag. I chuckle. Then I insert the word “almost” into the campaign
slogan.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: large;">
</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"> <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdZaHj1gRfc7gl8vHvWJ3K6Tj4tWVQDtQPuWk6sMJiMagGdcRG8BLketxAIe3yvuWkpNTvjkzPKUsS2Mj839ModCgdcFnXsZPbl0enyBxcrZ39ul5BVc_cvJ-2TtKmW01NLRcDRYPwNWF5mI4bFs4T-WaWk6h7_Oigu3BtpT9wJAMivdmqkI7H3tY/s291/chicken.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: x-large; text-align: left;"><br /></span></a><br /></div>Deadly Duo, Duh Bloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15279307709534348681noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4904164150534193483.post-54363525321590694802023-03-02T14:30:00.001-08:002023-03-02T14:30:30.464-08:00Spiritual Guidance Satellite Systems<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">On the way to the gym
the other morning we spotted a sign outside a church that read: <i>BEGIN YOUR
SPIRITUAL JOURNEY HERE !!!<o:p></o:p></i></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">Wow, I thought. A spiritual journey. I’ve never been on one.
But, before I would attempt one, I had a lot of questions. </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="line-height: 107%;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidZOleDfcmlxwH9OXUbdg3YpXagZQ_Pw3HlloJs5Zq8pVe8ohrvx6_eOkn2Rijw0GyER-TZSTAHDQOtWzUkTuWXkVmv783zvCyBm3_HDr6znK9VvCJdoDX98yUUuJ0zDGTnfBfYAjGtfR8oVhACIAGWM1HAbSsHIHgHzcYYyL7Oc4ejw4gUNcbN2w/s468/road%20to%20enlightenment.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="468" data-original-width="357" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidZOleDfcmlxwH9OXUbdg3YpXagZQ_Pw3HlloJs5Zq8pVe8ohrvx6_eOkn2Rijw0GyER-TZSTAHDQOtWzUkTuWXkVmv783zvCyBm3_HDr6znK9VvCJdoDX98yUUuJ0zDGTnfBfYAjGtfR8oVhACIAGWM1HAbSsHIHgHzcYYyL7Oc4ejw4gUNcbN2w/s320/road%20to%20enlightenment.jpg" width="244" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">For example, if I
went into the church, would they really send me on a certifiable spiritual
journey? Or was it just a ploy to add a baritone voice to their hymn singing
and a few additional bills to their collection plate? And what would happen if I broke
down midway through my journey? Would my AAA membership cover a tow truck coming out to
recharge my spiritual battery or replace a punctured Tao after I ran over a chunk
of jagged incredulity? And how should I pack for such a trip? How many changes
of underwear would be sensible?<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">Most importantly, how would I know, as the journey
progressed, that I hadn’t strayed away from the most efficient route to enlightenment?
What I really needed was something similar to a GPS. Something that would give
me step by step directions like the soothing (yet condescending) female voice
on my Garmin. Yes, I needed an SPS. A Spiritual Positioning Satellite device. A
Karmin if you will. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">First, I would need to enter my current location. I doubted
it would ask for a physical address. More likely the place I was beginning from
spiritually. Agnosticism-I would tap out on the virtual keyboard provided. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"> “Hello, this is your spirit guide, Astral. Are you sure you
meant to say agnosticism?” The silky, yet pious female voice would ask.
“Perhaps you meant to say Adventistism.” <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">“No, I’m starting at agnosticism.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"> “Okay, fine,” Astral says, an undercurrent of scorn in her
voice. “Where would you like to go?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">Hmmm. Where would a spiritual journey end up? Heaven? Nirvana?
Paradise? The Kona Coast?<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">“I’m not sure, actually. Can I do a look-up? Where might the road lead? Destinations of a Spiritual Journey?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">“Searching now,” she purrs, A lit bar crawls across the
bottom of the screen as the computer taps into its knowledge base.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">“Here are several possibilities,” Astral says, all business
now. “Number one-Enlightenmentland.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">“Is that like a spiritual amusement park?” <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">“Yes, it is.” She answers. “Truth-a-whirl is a local
favorite.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">“I'm not good on high-speed rides. Wouldn't do to hurl on my spiritual journey. What else?”</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">“Sanctify City,” She continues the list. “Exultationville,
Paradigmia, Holier--than-thou-burg.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">“Geez, I can’t decide. Surprise me.”</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">“I do not have a setting for surprise me.”</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">“Oh, alright then I’ll pick . . . Paradigmia. Maybe there’s
something there I can believe in.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">“Acquiring satellites now,” Astral sniffs. “Mapping out
route from your current location, Agnosticism . . . (digital snort) to destination Paradigmia.” It’s
clear from her tone she’s mildly disdainful of my choice.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">I wait while the SPS finishes its calculation. A map pops up with the route marked out. My position is shown by an icon in the shape
of a perplexed looking emoji.</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">“Beginning your spiritual journey. Back out of the driveway
of your agnostic comfort zone condo. Expand your consciousness and go to the stop
sign. Make an immediate right turn on Illumination Avenue.”</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">“Alrighty then. So far, so good.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">“Continue for three-quarters of a mile. move into the far
righteous lane. Turn piously at the traffic light and take Hallelujah Avenue.
Stay in the righteous lane until you come to the 7-11.”</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">There are convenience stores along the way on your spiritual
journey? Hey, you never know when you might want a Big Gulp to slake your
spiritual thirst.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"> “Proceed to the green light of undying faith. If you take another righteous turn, you’ll arrive at the
parking lot of your destination in 500 feet.”</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">“Thank you Astral,”</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">There you have it. My spiritual journey complete. I wondered
what would have happened if I’d ignored one of Astral’s instructions. What if
I’d turned left on Hallelujah Avenue? Where would it have taken me? If I’d
decided to mess with Astral, like I did with the semi-snotty voice on my
Garmin, would it have recalculated? Insisted I go around the block and get back
on spiritual track? What if I’d turned left and dead-ended on woo-woo circle and stopped to
burn some incense and chant some gibberish or the lyrics from a Bob Dylan song?
(Essentially the same thing). If I strayed from the correct path, would the
cosmic police write me a citation for trespassing on someone else’s spiritual
journey?</span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">Would Astral out of disgust and
spite, roll me right into eternal damnation or the universal headquarters for
false Gods?</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">The naughty nine-year-old boy in me wanted to find out.
Another part of me, the part that maintained a shred of sanity, said leave well
enough alone.</span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">“Astral,” I told the SGS. “Could you stand by, please? In case I
need to take another spiritual journey.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"> </span><span style="font-family: Bookman Old Style, serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p></div><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguQj6ueh02iKwOAS40EAJT5L_QcQcoqf7dWZOaBr2wm5G19QEJIDT1y4P3K69U9NXLI4SPnAafzAUyKPBg55GyCQToUx0zEWUOp4hN2T9TBCc-cLwzYK_lItjHO_YRr6Mt17EJb7_Jbg1s1Y7jEMY11FjTX2DY7dUs-dfEXb4nOTQN1J3_n3c09AI/s468/road%20to%20enlightenment.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguQj6ueh02iKwOAS40EAJT5L_QcQcoqf7dWZOaBr2wm5G19QEJIDT1y4P3K69U9NXLI4SPnAafzAUyKPBg55GyCQToUx0zEWUOp4hN2T9TBCc-cLwzYK_lItjHO_YRr6Mt17EJb7_Jbg1s1Y7jEMY11FjTX2DY7dUs-dfEXb4nOTQN1J3_n3c09AI/s468/road%20to%20enlightenment.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguQj6ueh02iKwOAS40EAJT5L_QcQcoqf7dWZOaBr2wm5G19QEJIDT1y4P3K69U9NXLI4SPnAafzAUyKPBg55GyCQToUx0zEWUOp4hN2T9TBCc-cLwzYK_lItjHO_YRr6Mt17EJb7_Jbg1s1Y7jEMY11FjTX2DY7dUs-dfEXb4nOTQN1J3_n3c09AI/s468/road%20to%20enlightenment.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></div><p></p>Deadly Duo, Duh Bloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15279307709534348681noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4904164150534193483.post-90105582252247239082023-02-13T14:16:00.000-08:002023-02-13T14:16:20.537-08:00A Woman of Many Words<p> <span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">Carolyn
J. Rose</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTs9P5HvWnAPgFSV_RZoLnNV3xInxIEWYh5K7_cOpU-gfQcQPl8PFzavLIF-p3LyL2Au-Q2IdpNq0Uv98OfXtSLVTMbHiNlCmK3pj8dL4HLX23O0ca-h0Adj8vsgF93pHHQvJMw0EX35xhkfbb-8DvKTdlku9asgPNXRdhz3VkwsqVy7AyQ11zEFg/s617/vocab.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="267" data-original-width="617" height="138" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTs9P5HvWnAPgFSV_RZoLnNV3xInxIEWYh5K7_cOpU-gfQcQPl8PFzavLIF-p3LyL2Au-Q2IdpNq0Uv98OfXtSLVTMbHiNlCmK3pj8dL4HLX23O0ca-h0Adj8vsgF93pHHQvJMw0EX35xhkfbb-8DvKTdlku9asgPNXRdhz3VkwsqVy7AyQ11zEFg/s320/vocab.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><o:p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"> <br /></span></o:p><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">Recently
Mike asked me the meaning of “lugubrious.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">Thanks
to my favorite high school English teacher, Miss Smith, I didn’t hesitate
before saying “mournful.”</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjCZaVF4dRiaNnT1bK3GtZZy-5I0MBC4Da2njjyNq_PUObHYmLWImEDc0AY1xt9_3zzkq2hyIhQP6sWYSsURbgLH9Jw_o-Zu5i4bzbOQmhPR1GhYR602dBZztIACBCeTpGU5EnaSJvGxL54LbyjEn-u9he919QRmAPg77H-odgiNpBXZfI6kjbl8oY" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="800" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjCZaVF4dRiaNnT1bK3GtZZy-5I0MBC4Da2njjyNq_PUObHYmLWImEDc0AY1xt9_3zzkq2hyIhQP6sWYSsURbgLH9Jw_o-Zu5i4bzbOQmhPR1GhYR602dBZztIACBCeTpGU5EnaSJvGxL54LbyjEn-u9he919QRmAPg77H-odgiNpBXZfI6kjbl8oY" width="240" /></a></div><br /><br /><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">The next
day he wondered about the meaning of “avuncular.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">Piece of
cake.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">“An
uncle,” I replied, “or someone like an uncle.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">I could
almost see the words on those tiny flash cards we made by slicing up index
cards. Five words a day. The word written on one side of the cardlet and the
definition on the other. Quizes every Friday. Spell the word. Define the word.
Use the word in a sentence. Rinse and repeat.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">We used
rubber bands to hold the cardlets together but, after a few weeks, the stacks
got too large for one band. I broke my cardlets up into two stacks—words I was
sure of and words I was sure I’d never learn.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">During
passing times on Fridays it was a snap to tell which students had Miss Smith—to
this day I can’t think of her as Miriam—and who had a teacher who didn’t place
as much emphasis on the Latin roots of words and what they all meant. Miss
Smith’s students were flipping through their stacks of cardlets as they walked,
lips moving as they recited, foreheads creased in worried frowns.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">She was
a demanding drill sergeant of a teacher. At the same time, she was also loved
and admired. I didn’t want to disappoint her.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">Only
occasionally did I get a perfect score on the weekly quizzes or the larger
tests. Something always tripped me up. Usually the spelling. An I before an E.
An E tacked onto the end of a word or taking the place of an A.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">But,
like song lyrics from the same period (the early 60s) the meanings of many of
those words have stuck with me. Granted, I don’t often get called upon to act
as a walking, talking dictionary. But when I do, an image of Miss Smith forms
in my mind. She’s wearing a white blouse, a dark straight skirt with a muted
pattern, and black heels. She gives me a nod of approval. I toss back a nod of
thanks.</span></p>Deadly Duo, Duh Bloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15279307709534348681noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4904164150534193483.post-1183973090694160942023-01-20T15:09:00.000-08:002023-01-20T15:09:52.316-08:00Customer non-service<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgvPFjUnhjgbSoI6jHyNyMngZEjk5eozhyk_-BEJcyHPb8ZwnW5Yli6zzT7m93Nqtnae9qtk3ZCynU1Szh0yQzjLwIz2FS7XZXfLNXFVNaPfWviJlguNM2hAq6-sUKOhyIHOB79An3Bs-iFvSR2TiT1dNdvIS0nNJHtzN02UsvyUmapT8CUUwp1wsM" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="306" data-original-width="300" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgvPFjUnhjgbSoI6jHyNyMngZEjk5eozhyk_-BEJcyHPb8ZwnW5Yli6zzT7m93Nqtnae9qtk3ZCynU1Szh0yQzjLwIz2FS7XZXfLNXFVNaPfWviJlguNM2hAq6-sUKOhyIHOB79An3Bs-iFvSR2TiT1dNdvIS0nNJHtzN02UsvyUmapT8CUUwp1wsM" width="235" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> </span><span style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">Hatred is a very strong and poisonous emotion. So, I’m not
one to throw the word “hate” around willy-nilly. Hatred should be reserved for
those who truly deserve it. The people who hijacked airplanes and brought down
the twin towers. Adolph Hitler. Darth Vader. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: left;"><span style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"> I don’t “hate” people whose opinions I disagree with. I don’t
for example “hate” Ted Cruz or Marjorie Taylor Greene. Instead, I marvel at the
sheer blast furnace intensity of their stupidity. I don’t “hate” kale. After
all, it’s an inanimate object. In fact, I have reached a grudging detente with
the noxious green, leafy miscreant, eating it in salads to appease my health-conscious
wife.</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: large; text-align: center;"> </span><span style="font-family: times; font-size: large; text-align: center;">But there is something I truly hate. With all of my spiteful
and unforgiving heart. Automated telephone customer service lines. And their
nearly-as-evil cousin, website service portals with their circular “endless
loop” of customer-ditching software.</span></p></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: left;"><span style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"> Let’s be clear. This method of avoiding people with problems
that need to be solved is unrelated to actual customer service. Companies take
this approach for several reasons.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="margin-left: 40.05pt; text-align: left; text-indent: -0.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">1.<span style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal;">
</span><!--[endif]-->They
don’t have to hire or pay actual people to answer the phone. This </span><span style="font-family: times; font-size: large;">makes
corporate profits inch upward. (Read: someone’s third yacht)</span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 40.05pt; text-align: left; text-indent: -0.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">2.<span style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal;">
</span><!--[endif]-->Chances
are the pesky customer will pass out from their level of frustration and reawaken
to forget what their issue was about.</span><span style="font-family: times; font-size: large;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 0in; text-align: left;"><span style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"> I just
spent an entertaining and raucous afternoon of listening to Carolyn trying to
cope with the cable company’s telephonic purgatory by shouting, bellowing, and
finally screeching at her telephone (between throwing things against the wall
of her office). <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><i><span style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"> “Huuuuuuman
being. I want to talk to a huuuuuuuuman beeeeeeeing!!!<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 0in; text-align: left;"><span style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><span> </span><span> </span>Her despair, anger, and frustration boiled out of
her office on a snarling red tide of vitriol. It was, I must say, most
unladylike. But I felt her pain. A simple task involving adjusting our account
information could have been solved by any semi-competent person with decent
interpersonal skills in a matter of say, 5 minutes. Instead, three hours of her
life was gone, vanished, never to be recovered.</span></span></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 0in; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: large;"><span> </span><span> </span>I
wonder if this “one size fits all” approach to communication could be extended
to international politics. For example, the famed “red phone” which links our
president with Russia’s HMFDIC. (Head Moscow Frupper Directly in Charge.</span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 0in; text-align: left;"><span style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><u>Recorded Voice</u>: <i>Hello, you’ve reached the Kremlin’s
hotline automated response line.</i></span></span></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 0in; text-align: left;"><u style="font-family: times; font-size: large;"><span style="line-height: 150%;">President whoever</span></u><span style="font-family: times; font-size: large; line-height: 150%;">: <i>I need to
talk to Vladimir. Now! It’s important.</i></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 0in; text-align: left;"><span style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><u>R.V</u>. <i>If you’re calling because you’ve detected
our missiles on their way to your cities, please hang up and make your way to
the nearest underground shelter.<o:p></o:p></i></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 0in; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><u><span style="line-height: 150%;">P. W.</span></u><span style="line-height: 150%;"> <i>No, but there’s a
major problem. I need Vladimir on the line, now!<o:p></o:p></i></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 0in; text-align: left;"><span style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><u>R.V.</u> <i>If you’re calling to protest our incursion
into Ukraine, hit one on your keypad. <o:p></o:p></i></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 0in; text-align: left;"><span style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><u><span> </span>P.W.</u> <i>That’s
not it. Everybody knows that sucks. But so will . . . Okay, if I can’t talk to
Vladimir I’ll settle for whoever’s nearby!<o:p></o:p></i></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 0in; text-align: left;"><span style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><u>R.V.</u> <i>If you wish to leave a message, please hit
two on your keypad. Someone will get back to you by the end of the year. <o:p></o:p></i></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 0in; text-align: left;"><span style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><u>P.W.</u> (clearly losing it) <i>Human Being. I need to
talk to a human being.<o:p></o:p></i></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 0in; text-align: left;"><span style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><u>R.V.</u> <i>For a list of our planned military
takeovers, hit number three.<o:p></o:p></i></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 0in; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><span style="line-height: 150%;"><u>P.W.</u> (screeching and
throwing things) </span><i><span style="line-height: 150%;">Huuuuuman
Beeeeeeeing. Huuuuuuman Beeeeeeing!<o:p></o:p></span></i></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 0in; text-align: left;"><span style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><span> </span><span> </span>Between this and
automated checkout machines at stores, it’s clear that soon the reason for
humanity to exist will shrink to a short list. </span></span></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 0in; text-align: left;"><span style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">1. </span></span><span style="font-family: times; font-size: large; text-indent: -0.25in;">To feed, pet, and walk dogs. </span></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 0in; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: large; text-indent: -0.25in;">2.</span><span style="font-family: times; font-size: large; text-indent: -0.25in;">To be ignored by cats. </span></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 0in; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: large; text-indent: -0.25in;">3. To post stupid memes on Facebook. </span></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 0in; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: large; text-indent: -0.25in;">Okay, Okay, I understand. It's wrong to hate anyone at any time for any reason. But with such an egregious example I'm sure you'll understand if I'm weak. </span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 58.05pt; text-align: left; text-indent: -0.25in;"><br /></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 58.05pt; text-align: left; text-indent: -0.25in;"><br /></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 58.05pt; text-align: left; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><span style="line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></span></p></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%;"><i><span style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"> </span></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="margin-right: 40.05pt;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"> </span></p></div><p><br /></p>Deadly Duo, Duh Bloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15279307709534348681noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4904164150534193483.post-73175053759013271752023-01-07T11:53:00.000-08:002023-01-07T11:53:18.981-08:00 The Extraction (A conversation with simultaneous translation)<p><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;"> Michael A. Nettleton</span></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br /></p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0EvYru9o1_kpC1sWrAS-AMdNyUCWCpQ0mRTZicbuaDC2GkSoqJorfK2RysWkXWJmf3l7zflznRS-gXciJOO0Pq3aclgvFYv0yNS-s_v0cy97hv-bJnyOICtbuqIoHNenBXg4Am_yuKeG1AzFxI1ZvMICowdYP5OxtT5ezWIOfRVAAkWxyvTca3MU/s4690/dentist.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4690" data-original-width="4690" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0EvYru9o1_kpC1sWrAS-AMdNyUCWCpQ0mRTZicbuaDC2GkSoqJorfK2RysWkXWJmf3l7zflznRS-gXciJOO0Pq3aclgvFYv0yNS-s_v0cy97hv-bJnyOICtbuqIoHNenBXg4Am_yuKeG1AzFxI1ZvMICowdYP5OxtT5ezWIOfRVAAkWxyvTca3MU/s320/dentist.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br /></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“So, how was your trip to New Orleans?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Fgmbgnbrt!” (<i>Hot and humid. Could we maybe stick
with yes-no questions?)</i><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“And the food? I love creole food?” Dr. R. waggled
the soon-to-be ex-resident of my mouth back and forth.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Itmgth waghth exquifgtr!” <i>The etouffee was exquisite.</i>
I was strangely proud of getting most of the word exquisite out around the
cotton wads, dentist fingers and ominous tooth-pulling vise grips in my Novocain
saturated mouth. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Dr. R. levered the wisdom tooth back and forth. “Good
job, good job,” she smiled behind her mask. “We’re almost there.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I wondered if it was part of the psychological unit
at dental school. Make the patient feel like he or she is part of a team. All
working toward the same goal.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Good job, good job,” she burbled. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Luckily, my role in the team was sitting in a chair,
stoned out of my gourd on nitrous oxide, mouth gaping and drooling prodigiously
from gums I could no longer reliably testify were living tissue. If Dr. R was
the power forward, I was the team’s water-boy for sure. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">After more wrenching, waggling and walloping, the tooth
came away. I have a nitrous-triggered vision of Dr. R and two of her assistants
bent over backwards with their feet braced against the wall, six hands gripping
the forceps, fulfilling their part in the team extraction. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Good job, good job,” All three of them cheered the
effort. I almost expected them to exchange high 5s and fist bumps. I would have
joined them; except I was busy spitting blood. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Mefdgtr Jgrbgl” <i>Good job, good job. </i>I
contributed. “Hbvget uh rnfgse?” <i>How about a rinse?<o:p></o:p></i></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Since my mouth was already pried open with an entire
Alabama cotton field of little tubelets, Dr. R. opted to make my day complete
by taking care of a little cavity in another part of my mouth. Compared to the
extraction, it was a walk in the park. Until . . . until . . . the low-speed
drill came out.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“We just use this for a second to grind down a
stubborn place,” She said. “It’s kind of a throwback to the old days.” Kachunk,
kachunk, vreep kachunk, went the drill. “Good job, good job,” she trilled. “Almost
done.” I wondered how much it would add to my bill to have the nitrous turned
up to the <i>wildly-hallucinating </i>setting. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I closed my eyes and listened to the drill sound
that could have been lifted directly from the soundtrack of <i>The Marathon
Man. </i>Dr. R. looked nothing like Laurence Olivier’s sadistic Nazi torturer,
but still. I closed my eyes and was suddenly transported back to 1957. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">An eight-year-old me sat on a stack of pillows in
the chair of our small town dentist whose name I disremember. We’ll just call
him Dr. Painmonger. Dr. P, who thought Novocain was a fad that would never
catch on, was drilling at an offending bicuspid in my tiny mouth. He used
several fingers to pry open my lips to make room for the implement of torture. “Vreep
vreep, kachunk, kachunk,” it went. I whimpered. Dr. Painmonger gave me a thump
on the shoulder. “Don’t be a crybaby,” he said. “Vreep kachunk. Vreep, vreep,”
Tears ran down my cheeks as he drilled. He pulled the device out, still running.
“Vreep,” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“No more,” I whined. “It hurts. Bad.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">He slapped me. Hard. “There. Now you’ve got something
to cry about.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">When I told my mother what had happened, she tskk
tskked me. “Michael Alan, I’m sure kindly old Dr. Painmonger would have have
hit you.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“But he did. He slapped the shit out of me.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">She made her disappointed mother face at me. “I
would hate to have in my hand, what you just had in your mouth.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“But he did.” I insisted. “I won’t go back to him. I’ll
let all my teeth rot out before I’ll go back.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Don’t be silly,” Mom smiled and patted me on the
head. “You’ll forget all about it. Dr. Painmonger is your friend.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I sniffled. “If you
make me go back to him, I’ll . . . <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I’ll . . .” I couldn’t think of any kind of a threat
that could help me avoid that drill. “I’ll join the Navy.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">After a drive to Coos Bay, my mother and I had a
very nice conversation with the Navy recruiter. He told her to bring me back in
ten years. But I never returned to be treated by Dr. Painmonger. In fact I
avoided dentistry altogether for twenty-something years. Until a dental
emergency sent me to a trippy tooth yanker in Albuquerque, New Mexico and I
discovered laughing gas and Novocain would distract me enough to get the necessary
work done. In fact, they could have pulled my kidneys out through my throat and
I wouldn’t have noticed. My reverie ended as the nurse pulled the nose hood off
and the effects of the gas wore off. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I soon found myself standing out front at the
receptionist and book keeper’s area of Dr. R’s practice. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“That’ll be 148. 75 for today’s visit,” Nancy said,
pushing the credit card device toward me. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I pulled out my Visa and paid the bill. On my way
out the door, I could swear I heard Nancy and the receptionist Gayle chant. “Good
job, good job.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>Deadly Duo, Duh Bloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15279307709534348681noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4904164150534193483.post-77406051778820175402022-12-25T11:37:00.000-08:002022-12-25T11:37:01.046-08:00Nostalgia? No thanks, I’ll pass.<p> </p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Carolyn
J. Rose</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: large;">During a
recent ice storm, I watched neighborhood kids sliding on the slope beside our
house, sliding atop colorful snow tubes. Sliding on a bright blue toboggan,
lightweight and made to zip down the slope. And wearing warm and
water-resistant clothing.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmS4NXFSIKO3Evg0acEnPu33IhubasZRmL3UlUuQ8H8AdHcQMnSOl0TJq56QWKF80bGdrg-sGVGdviIeZby0L1I2TwZAKpaWhNyAbmYL6f5HjvKE5sey-MiP3KdQPvs2X2pd0sagD2ZOL9XoeUFQvNw13_8nQtXKbANzZ59sJI0VbTTn8_WZ1MzT4/s646/sled%20girls.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="646" data-original-width="485" height="362" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmS4NXFSIKO3Evg0acEnPu33IhubasZRmL3UlUuQ8H8AdHcQMnSOl0TJq56QWKF80bGdrg-sGVGdviIeZby0L1I2TwZAKpaWhNyAbmYL6f5HjvKE5sey-MiP3KdQPvs2X2pd0sagD2ZOL9XoeUFQvNw13_8nQtXKbANzZ59sJI0VbTTn8_WZ1MzT4/w272-h362/sled%20girls.jpg" width="272" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmS4NXFSIKO3Evg0acEnPu33IhubasZRmL3UlUuQ8H8AdHcQMnSOl0TJq56QWKF80bGdrg-sGVGdviIeZby0L1I2TwZAKpaWhNyAbmYL6f5HjvKE5sey-MiP3KdQPvs2X2pd0sagD2ZOL9XoeUFQvNw13_8nQtXKbANzZ59sJI0VbTTn8_WZ1MzT4/s646/sled%20girls.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></a><div style="text-align: left;">Part
of my brain went “Wow!” Another part of my brain got busy recalling the winter
clothing and snow sliding equipment I had when I was their age and growing up
in the <st1:place w:st="on">Catskill Mountains</st1:place>. That part soon turned
green with envy.</div></span></div><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: large;">In the
years after WWII, we made do with hand-me-down sleds. The narrow runners were prone
to rust that had to be rubbed away with steel wool. One sled would accommodate
only a single short person, or a taller person able to bend his knees in a
snowsuit and stick his feet in the air if he belly flopped or draw his knees
to his chin if he sat and steered with his feet. The other sled was longer and
could accommodate two people, either sitting, or with one flopping on top of
the other. Not much fun if you were the bottom flopper.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: large;"><o:p> </o:p>Both sleds
were more likely to give us splinters than smooth rides.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: large;"><o:p> </o:p>Later we
acquired a wooden toboggan. It was a varnished work of art. Four of us could
sit on it. But unless we kept up with the waxing and unless the snow was
perfect and the slope steep, it provided all the thrill of watching bread rise.
Plus, because few slopes were free of stumps or shrubs or rocks, and steering
was a joke, we often crashed or were dumped.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: large;"><o:p> </o:p>On icy
days, we slid on old cookie sheets and lobbied hard for those bowl-shaped snow
sliders. I can’t recall whether we ever got one, but I expect it didn’t last
long if we did. We weren’t especially gentle with our toys.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: large;"><o:p> </o:p>Outside
play was limited by the temperature, the layers we pulled on, and the
water-resistance of our clothing. Back in the day, that wasn’t great. In fact,
it was pathetic. Mittens and leather gloves got soaked through in no time. Snow
sifted inside jackets without hoods, jackets that didn’t extend far below the
waist. And, unless we donned those ugly black galoshes over our shoes and
fastened them as tight as possible, our feet got wet, and our toes numb.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: large;"><o:p> </o:p>All of
that goes a long way toward explaining why, back in the day, I preferred to sit
by the fireplace and read.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: large;"><o:p> </o:p>And I
still do.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>Deadly Duo, Duh Bloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15279307709534348681noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4904164150534193483.post-37712325397215228342022-12-06T15:11:00.000-08:002022-12-06T15:11:15.524-08:00 Is It Dry Yet?<p><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">Carolyn J. Rose</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizryBlEZBCHaoFsP93Dx-DGD_SQRDSpxlGicnC4gPwOyW_v8cJ7bTTFdJkOmcQ8-gmxYENog-hi_NvUfgHGL_nGEv4upqV-v65eUnn4fvghZtXP_FhAqoNDC-5VCVwm5ZePZCU-evdc7RqxTSg5mhLCIFFy_sEaIvt0onfUvG2z8D058bGjl2RJII/s173/hair%20dryer%20giant.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="90" data-original-width="173" height="154" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizryBlEZBCHaoFsP93Dx-DGD_SQRDSpxlGicnC4gPwOyW_v8cJ7bTTFdJkOmcQ8-gmxYENog-hi_NvUfgHGL_nGEv4upqV-v65eUnn4fvghZtXP_FhAqoNDC-5VCVwm5ZePZCU-evdc7RqxTSg5mhLCIFFy_sEaIvt0onfUvG2z8D058bGjl2RJII/w296-h154/hair%20dryer%20giant.jpg" width="296" /></a></div><br /><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">It takes about three minutes to dry my hair these days. The hair dryer weighs maybe half a pound but blasts out hot air like a jet engine. Even though my hair is thick and shoulder length, it dries in the time it would take to make a hardboiled egg. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: large;">Back in
the day—the day being on a calendar from the 50s—my family didn’t own a hair
dryer. Getting moisture from the strands took a heck of a lot longer.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;"> <span> </span>When I
was still young enough that my mother washed my hair—probably while I argued
that it wasn’t really dirty, shampoo would get in my eyes, and the water was
too hot or too cold—the drying process involved my father. I’d be handed off to
him along with a large towel and he’d do a kind of head massage thing.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;"> <span> </span>My
father was six feet tall and strong, so the massage was brisk and not the
epitome of gentle. It often felt like my head would come unscrewed from my neck
and I’m amazed I didn’t get whiplash.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;"> <span> </span>What I
did get was more knots than I’d had before the shampoo. Lots more knots. This
was back before conditioner or detangling rinses, so these were serious knots,
knots of all sizes.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;"> <span> </span>It was
also my father’s job to comb my hair and work them loose. Dad was noted for a
lot of things, but patience wasn’t high on the list. Often, frustrated by my
hair and my attitude, he got a scissors and I got a trim.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;"> <span> </span>I was
thrilled when we got our first hair dryer. But the thrill faded fast. The thing
was heavy (at least two pounds), the nozzle was small, and the air that emerged
was closer to warm than hot and had the velocity of a galloping sloth. It was
quicker to sit by the fireplace and fluff my hair or bend over the floor grate
above the furnace. That was risky because we had a wood furnace, and the grate
was hot enough to sear a steak. Loose hair that fell on it sizzled and smoked.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;"> <span> </span>In the
early 60s, I got a dryer with a bonnet so I could roll my wet hair and dry it
while I did my homework. Provided I didn’t want to move farther than the length
of the cord, had at least an hour of homework, and used plenty of rollers
designed for maximum air circulation, that worked.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;"> <span> </span>By the
end of the 60s I no longer rolled or teased my hair. It grew long and dried in
the sun in <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:state w:st="on">Arizona</st1:state></st1:place>.
In the 70s it was cut in a wedge and took almost no time to dry with new and
improved, light and powerful hair dryers. In the 80s I tortured my layered hair
with perms and dried it slowly, twirling it on a brush to avoid frizz.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;"> <span> </span>Now I
run my fingers through it as I aim the tiny dryer. No comb, no rollers, no
brush. Sometimes I think of all the time this dryer and the I-don’t-much-care
styling technique could have saved me during my childhood and teenage years.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;"> Then I
give myself a reality check and admit I probably wouldn’t have used that time
wisely.</span><span style="background-color: white; color: transparent; font-family: helvetica; font-size: large; white-space: pre;">hair these days. The hair dryer </span></p><div class="document-page" data-page="1" height="1056" style="background: rgb(255, 255, 255); box-shadow: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.2) 0px 0px 8px; box-sizing: border-box; height: 1056px; margin: 20px auto; text-align: left; visibility: visible; width: 816px;" width="816"><div class="pdf-page" height="1056" style="background-clip: content-box; box-sizing: border-box; height: 1056px; margin: 0px auto; overflow: visible; position: relative; width: 816px;" width="816"><div class="text-wrapper user-select-text" height="1056" style="box-sizing: border-box; height: 1056px; inset: 0px; line-height: normal; opacity: 0.2; overflow: hidden; position: absolute; user-select: text; width: 816px;" width="816"><div data-canvas-width="581.8079999999999" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: transparent; cursor: text; left: 96.1333px; margin: -500px -2em 0px -10em; padding: 500px 2em 0px 10em; position: absolute; top: 189.415px; transform-origin: 10em 0px 0px; transform: scaleX(1.14357); white-space: pre; z-index: 33;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">weighs maybe half a pound but blasts out hot air like a jet engine. Even
</span></div><div data-canvas-width="622.4479999999999" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: transparent; cursor: text; left: 96.1333px; margin: -500px -2em 0px -10em; padding: 500px 2em 0px 10em; position: absolute; top: 208.082px; transform-origin: 10em 0px 0px; transform: scaleX(1.15877); white-space: pre; z-index: 32;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">though my hair is thick and shoulder-length, it dries in the time it would take
</span></div><div data-canvas-width="211.36" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: transparent; cursor: text; left: 96.1333px; margin: -500px -2em 0px -10em; padding: 500px 2em 0px 10em; position: absolute; top: 226.748px; transform-origin: 10em 0px 0px; transform: scaleX(1.14239); white-space: pre; z-index: 31;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">to make a hardboiled egg.
</span></div><div data-canvas-width="619.7759999999998" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: transparent; cursor: text; left: 96.1333px; margin: -500px -2em 0px -10em; padding: 500px 2em 0px 10em; position: absolute; top: 264.082px; transform-origin: 10em 0px 0px; transform: scaleX(1.14243); white-space: pre; z-index: 30;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">Back in the day—the day being on a calendar from the 50s—my family didn’t
</span></div><div data-canvas-width="580.208" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: transparent; cursor: text; left: 96.1333px; margin: -500px -2em 0px -10em; padding: 500px 2em 0px 10em; position: absolute; top: 282.748px; transform-origin: 10em 0px 0px; transform: scaleX(1.15269); white-space: pre; z-index: 29;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">own a hair dryer. Getting moisture from the strands took a heck of a lot
</span></div><div data-canvas-width="55.84" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: transparent; cursor: text; left: 96.1333px; margin: -500px -2em 0px -10em; padding: 500px 2em 0px 10em; position: absolute; top: 301.415px; transform-origin: 10em 0px 0px; transform: scaleX(1.16239); white-space: pre; z-index: 28;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">longer.
</span></div><div data-canvas-width="600.1600000000001" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: transparent; cursor: text; left: 96.1333px; margin: -500px -2em 0px -10em; padding: 500px 2em 0px 10em; position: absolute; top: 338.748px; transform-origin: 10em 0px 0px; transform: scaleX(1.13996); white-space: pre; z-index: 27;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">When I was still young enough that my mother washed my hair—probably
</span></div><div data-canvas-width="621.808" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: transparent; cursor: text; left: 96.1333px; margin: -500px -2em 0px -10em; padding: 500px 2em 0px 10em; position: absolute; top: 357.415px; transform-origin: 10em 0px 0px; transform: scaleX(1.15631); white-space: pre; z-index: 26;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">while I argued that it wasn’t really dirty, shampoo would get in my eyes, and
</span></div><div data-canvas-width="622.704" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: transparent; cursor: text; left: 96.1333px; margin: -500px -2em 0px -10em; padding: 500px 2em 0px 10em; position: absolute; top: 376.082px; transform-origin: 10em 0px 0px; transform: scaleX(1.14973); white-space: pre; z-index: 25;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">the water was too hot or too cold—the drying process involved my father. I’d
</span></div><div data-canvas-width="590.4000000000001" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: transparent; cursor: text; left: 96.1333px; margin: -500px -2em 0px -10em; padding: 500px 2em 0px 10em; position: absolute; top: 394.748px; transform-origin: 10em 0px 0px; transform: scaleX(1.14698); white-space: pre; z-index: 24;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">be handed off to him along with a large towel and he’d do a kind of head
</span></div><div data-canvas-width="123.008" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: transparent; cursor: text; left: 96.1333px; margin: -500px -2em 0px -10em; padding: 500px 2em 0px 10em; position: absolute; top: 413.415px; transform-origin: 10em 0px 0px; transform: scaleX(1.13363); white-space: pre; z-index: 23;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">massage thing.
</span></div><div data-canvas-width="617.872" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: transparent; cursor: text; left: 96.1333px; margin: -500px -2em 0px -10em; padding: 500px 2em 0px 10em; position: absolute; top: 450.748px; transform-origin: 10em 0px 0px; transform: scaleX(1.14082); white-space: pre; z-index: 22;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">My father was six feet tall and strong, so the massage was brisk and not the
</span></div><div data-canvas-width="621.216" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: transparent; cursor: text; left: 96.1333px; margin: -500px -2em 0px -10em; padding: 500px 2em 0px 10em; position: absolute; top: 469.415px; transform-origin: 10em 0px 0px; transform: scaleX(1.1527); white-space: pre; z-index: 21;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">epitome of gentle. It often felt like my head would come unscrewed from my
</span></div><div data-canvas-width="345.53600000000006" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: transparent; cursor: text; left: 96.1333px; margin: -500px -2em 0px -10em; padding: 500px 2em 0px 10em; position: absolute; top: 488.082px; transform-origin: 10em 0px 0px; transform: scaleX(1.14606); white-space: pre; z-index: 20;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">neck and I’m amazed I didn’t get whiplash.
</span></div><div data-canvas-width="609.0399999999997" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: transparent; cursor: text; left: 96.1333px; margin: -500px -2em 0px -10em; padding: 500px 2em 0px 10em; position: absolute; top: 525.415px; transform-origin: 10em 0px 0px; transform: scaleX(1.13942); white-space: pre; z-index: 19;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">What I did get was more knots than I’d had before the shampoo. Lots more
</span></div><div data-canvas-width="610.3839999999999" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: transparent; cursor: text; left: 96.1333px; margin: -500px -2em 0px -10em; padding: 500px 2em 0px 10em; position: absolute; top: 544.082px; transform-origin: 10em 0px 0px; transform: scaleX(1.13441); white-space: pre; z-index: 18;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">knots. This was back before conditioner or detangling rinses, so these were
</span></div><div data-canvas-width="253.95200000000006" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: transparent; cursor: text; left: 96.1333px; margin: -500px -2em 0px -10em; padding: 500px 2em 0px 10em; position: absolute; top: 562.748px; transform-origin: 10em 0px 0px; transform: scaleX(1.12875); white-space: pre; z-index: 17;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">serious knots, knots of all sizes.
</span></div><div data-canvas-width="604.6879999999999" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: transparent; cursor: text; left: 96.1333px; margin: -500px -2em 0px -10em; padding: 500px 2em 0px 10em; position: absolute; top: 600.082px; transform-origin: 10em 0px 0px; transform: scaleX(1.14028); white-space: pre; z-index: 16;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">It was also my father’s job to comb my hair and work them loose. Dad was
</span></div><div data-canvas-width="547.472" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: transparent; cursor: text; left: 96.1333px; margin: -500px -2em 0px -10em; padding: 500px 2em 0px 10em; position: absolute; top: 618.748px; transform-origin: 10em 0px 0px; transform: scaleX(1.15701); white-space: pre; z-index: 15;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">noted for a lot of things, but patience wasn’t high on the list. Often,
</span></div><div data-canvas-width="582.48" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: transparent; cursor: text; left: 96.1333px; margin: -500px -2em 0px -10em; padding: 500px 2em 0px 10em; position: absolute; top: 637.415px; transform-origin: 10em 0px 0px; transform: scaleX(1.15519); white-space: pre; z-index: 14;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">frustrated by my hair and my attitude, he got a scissors and I got a trim.
</span></div><div data-canvas-width="602.768" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: transparent; cursor: text; left: 96.1333px; margin: -500px -2em 0px -10em; padding: 500px 2em 0px 10em; position: absolute; top: 674.748px; transform-origin: 10em 0px 0px; transform: scaleX(1.15665); white-space: pre; z-index: 13;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">I was thrilled when we got our first hair dryer. But the thrill faded fast. The
</span></div><div data-canvas-width="623.2639999999999" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: transparent; cursor: text; left: 96.1333px; margin: -500px -2em 0px -10em; padding: 500px 2em 0px 10em; position: absolute; top: 693.415px; transform-origin: 10em 0px 0px; transform: scaleX(1.1451); white-space: pre; z-index: 12;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">thing was heavy (at least two pounds), the nozzle was small, and the air that
</span></div><div data-canvas-width="593.3599999999999" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: transparent; cursor: text; left: 96.1333px; margin: -500px -2em 0px -10em; padding: 500px 2em 0px 10em; position: absolute; top: 712.082px; transform-origin: 10em 0px 0px; transform: scaleX(1.1463); white-space: pre; z-index: 11;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">emerged was closer to warm than hot and had the velocity of a galloping
</span></div><div data-canvas-width="618.1759999999999" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: transparent; cursor: text; left: 96.1333px; margin: -500px -2em 0px -10em; padding: 500px 2em 0px 10em; position: absolute; top: 730.748px; transform-origin: 10em 0px 0px; transform: scaleX(1.15528); white-space: pre; z-index: 10;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">sloth. It was quicker to sit by the fireplace and fluff my hair or bend over the
</span></div><div data-canvas-width="563.9359999999998" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: transparent; cursor: text; left: 96.1333px; margin: -500px -2em 0px -10em; padding: 500px 2em 0px 10em; position: absolute; top: 749.415px; transform-origin: 10em 0px 0px; transform: scaleX(1.13429); white-space: pre; z-index: 9;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">floor grate above the furnace. That was risky because we had a wood
</span></div><div data-canvas-width="622.0959999999999" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: transparent; cursor: text; left: 96.1333px; margin: -500px -2em 0px -10em; padding: 500px 2em 0px 10em; position: absolute; top: 768.082px; transform-origin: 10em 0px 0px; transform: scaleX(1.14094); white-space: pre; z-index: 8;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">furnace and the grate was hot enough to sear a steak. Loose hair that fell on
</span></div><div data-canvas-width="177.99999999999994" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: transparent; cursor: text; left: 96.1333px; margin: -500px -2em 0px -10em; padding: 500px 2em 0px 10em; position: absolute; top: 786.748px; transform-origin: 10em 0px 0px; transform: scaleX(1.13083); white-space: pre; z-index: 7;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">it sizzled and smoked.
</span></div><div data-canvas-width="601.664" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: transparent; cursor: text; left: 96.1333px; margin: -500px -2em 0px -10em; padding: 500px 2em 0px 10em; position: absolute; top: 824.082px; transform-origin: 10em 0px 0px; transform: scaleX(1.14859); white-space: pre; z-index: 6;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">In the early 60s, I got a dryer with a bonnet so I could roll my wet hair and
</span></div><div data-canvas-width="611.0559999999998" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: transparent; cursor: text; left: 96.1333px; margin: -500px -2em 0px -10em; padding: 500px 2em 0px 10em; position: absolute; top: 842.748px; transform-origin: 10em 0px 0px; transform: scaleX(1.15679); white-space: pre; z-index: 5;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">dry it while I did my homework. Provided I didn’t want to move farther than
</span></div><div data-canvas-width="620.8319999999999" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: transparent; cursor: text; left: 96.1333px; margin: -500px -2em 0px -10em; padding: 500px 2em 0px 10em; position: absolute; top: 861.415px; transform-origin: 10em 0px 0px; transform: scaleX(1.14799); white-space: pre; z-index: 4;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">the length of the cord, had at least an hour of homework, and used plenty of
</span></div><div data-canvas-width="466.78399999999993" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: transparent; cursor: text; left: 96.1333px; margin: -500px -2em 0px -10em; padding: 500px 2em 0px 10em; position: absolute; top: 880.082px; transform-origin: 10em 0px 0px; transform: scaleX(1.15369); white-space: pre; z-index: 3;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">rollers designed for maximum air circulation, that worked.
</span></div><div data-canvas-width="606.4639999999999" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: transparent; cursor: text; left: 96.1333px; margin: -500px -2em 0px -10em; padding: 500px 2em 0px 10em; position: absolute; top: 917.415px; transform-origin: 10em 0px 0px; transform: scaleX(1.14598); white-space: pre; z-index: 2;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">By the end of the 60s I no longer rolled or teased my hair. It grew long and
</span></div><div data-canvas-width="615.68" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: transparent; cursor: text; left: 96.1333px; margin: -500px -2em 0px -10em; padding: 500px 2em 0px 10em; position: absolute; top: 936.082px; transform-origin: 10em 0px 0px; transform: scaleX(1.14231); white-space: pre; z-index: 1;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">dried in the sun in Arizona. In the 70s it was cut in a wedge and took almost </span></div><div style="bottom: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: transparent; cursor: default; padding: 1632px 0px 0px 816px; position: absolute; right: 0px; transform-origin: 0% 0%; white-space: pre;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;"></span></div></div></div></div><p style="text-align: left;"><span color="transparent" face="sans-serif" style="background-color: white; font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium; white-space: pre;"></span></p><div class="document-page" data-page="2" height="1056" style="background: rgb(255, 255, 255); box-shadow: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.2) 0px 0px 8px; box-sizing: border-box; height: 1056px; margin: 20px auto; outline: none; text-align: left; visibility: visible; width: 816px;" width="816"><div class="pdf-page" height="1056" style="background-clip: content-box; box-sizing: border-box; height: 1056px; margin: 0px auto; outline: none; overflow: visible; position: relative; width: 816px;" width="816"><div class="canvas-wrapper" height="1056" style="box-sizing: border-box; height: 1056px; overflow: hidden; width: 816px;" width="816"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;"><canvas height="1056" style="box-sizing: border-box; display: block; height: 1056px; margin: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; width: 816px;" width="816"></canvas></span></div><div class="text-wrapper user-select-text" height="1056" style="box-sizing: border-box; height: 1056px; inset: 0px; line-height: normal; opacity: 0.2; outline: none; overflow: hidden; position: absolute; user-select: text; width: 816px;" width="816"><div data-canvas-width="616.048" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: transparent; cursor: text; left: 96.1333px; margin: -500px -2em 0px -10em; padding: 500px 2em 0px 10em; position: absolute; top: 96.0818px; transform-origin: 10em 0px 0px; transform: scaleX(1.15644); white-space: pre; z-index: 9;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">no time to dry with new and improved, light and powerful hair dryers. In the
</span></div><div data-canvas-width="617.456" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: transparent; cursor: text; left: 96.1333px; margin: -500px -2em 0px -10em; padding: 500px 2em 0px 10em; position: absolute; top: 114.748px; transform-origin: 10em 0px 0px; transform: scaleX(1.16177); white-space: pre; z-index: 8;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">80s I tortured my layered hair with perms and dried it slowly, twirling it on a
</span></div><div data-canvas-width="158.68800000000002" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: transparent; cursor: text; left: 96.1333px; margin: -500px -2em 0px -10em; padding: 500px 2em 0px 10em; position: absolute; top: 133.415px; transform-origin: 10em 0px 0px; transform: scaleX(1.14389); white-space: pre; z-index: 7;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">brush to avoid frizz.
</span></div><div data-canvas-width="609.856" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: transparent; cursor: text; left: 96.1333px; margin: -500px -2em 0px -10em; padding: 500px 2em 0px 10em; position: absolute; top: 170.748px; transform-origin: 10em 0px 0px; transform: scaleX(1.14878); white-space: pre; z-index: 6;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">Now I run my fingers through it as I aim the tiny dryer. No comb, no rollers,
</span></div><div data-canvas-width="603.952" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: transparent; cursor: text; left: 96.1333px; margin: -500px -2em 0px -10em; padding: 500px 2em 0px 10em; position: absolute; top: 189.415px; transform-origin: 10em 0px 0px; transform: scaleX(1.15109); white-space: pre; z-index: 5;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">no brush. Sometimes I think of all the time this dryer and the I-don’t-much-
</span></div><div data-canvas-width="564" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: transparent; cursor: text; left: 96.1333px; margin: -500px -2em 0px -10em; padding: 500px 2em 0px 10em; position: absolute; top: 208.082px; transform-origin: 10em 0px 0px; transform: scaleX(1.14255); white-space: pre; z-index: 4;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">care styling technique could have saved me during my childhood and
</span></div><div data-canvas-width="120.048" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: transparent; cursor: text; left: 96.1333px; margin: -500px -2em 0px -10em; padding: 500px 2em 0px 10em; position: absolute; top: 226.748px; transform-origin: 10em 0px 0px; transform: scaleX(1.13412); white-space: pre; z-index: 3;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">teenage years.
</span></div><div data-canvas-width="608.6399999999999" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: transparent; cursor: text; left: 96.1333px; margin: -500px -2em 0px -10em; padding: 500px 2em 0px 10em; position: absolute; top: 264.082px; transform-origin: 10em 0px 0px; transform: scaleX(1.14441); white-space: pre; z-index: 2;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">Then I give myself a reality check and admit I probably wouldn’t have used
</span></div><div data-canvas-width="133.42399999999998" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: transparent; cursor: text; left: 96.1333px; margin: -500px -2em 0px -10em; padding: 500px 2em 0px 10em; position: absolute; top: 282.748px; transform-origin: 10em 0px 0px; transform: scaleX(1.18467); white-space: pre; z-index: 1;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">that time wisely.</span></div><div style="bottom: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: transparent; cursor: default; outline: none; padding: 1632px 0px 0px 816px; position: absolute; right: 0px; transform-origin: 0% 0%; white-space: pre;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;"></span></div></div></div></div><div class="document-page" data-page="1" height="1056" style="background: rgb(255, 255, 255); box-shadow: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.2) 0px 0px 8px; box-sizing: border-box; height: 1056px; margin: 20px auto; text-align: left; visibility: visible; width: 816px;" width="816"><div class="pdf-page" height="1056" style="background-clip: content-box; box-sizing: border-box; height: 1056px; margin: 0px auto; overflow: visible; position: relative; width: 816px;" width="816"><div class="text-wrapper user-select-text" height="1056" style="box-sizing: border-box; height: 1056px; inset: 0px; line-height: normal; opacity: 0.2; overflow: hidden; position: absolute; user-select: text; width: 816px;" width="816"><div class="document-page" data-page="1" height="1056" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; box-shadow: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.2) 0px 0px 8px; box-sizing: border-box; height: 1056px; margin: 20px auto; visibility: visible; width: 816px;" width="816"><div class="pdf-page" height="1056" style="background-clip: content-box; box-sizing: border-box; height: 1056px; margin: 0px auto; overflow: visible; position: relative; width: 816px;" width="816"><div class="text-wrapper user-select-text" height="1056" style="box-sizing: border-box; height: 1056px; inset: 0px; line-height: normal; opacity: 0.2; overflow: hidden; position: absolute; user-select: text; width: 816px;" width="816"><div data-canvas-width="102.048" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: transparent; cursor: text; left: 96.1333px; margin: -500px -2em 0px -10em; padding: 500px 2em 0px 10em; position: absolute; top: 96.0818px; transform-origin: 10em 0px 0px; transform: scaleX(1.12141); white-space: pre; z-index: 36;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">Is It Dry Yet?
</span></div><div data-canvas-width="120.43199999999997" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: transparent; cursor: text; left: 96.1333px; margin: -500px -2em 0px -10em; padding: 500px 2em 0px 10em; position: absolute; top: 133.415px; transform-origin: 10em 0px 0px; transform: scaleX(1.05809); white-space: pre; z-index: 35;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">Carolyn J. Rose
</span></div><div data-canvas-width="568.0319999999999" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: transparent; cursor: text; left: 96.1333px; margin: -500px -2em 0px -10em; padding: 500px 2em 0px 10em; position: absolute; top: 170.748px; transform-origin: 10em 0px 0px; transform: scaleX(1.15088); white-space: pre; z-index: 34;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">It takes about three minutes to dry my hair these days. The hair dryer
</span></div><div data-canvas-width="581.8079999999999" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: transparent; cursor: text; left: 96.1333px; margin: -500px -2em 0px -10em; padding: 500px 2em 0px 10em; position: absolute; top: 189.415px; transform-origin: 10em 0px 0px; transform: scaleX(1.14357); white-space: pre; z-index: 33;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">weighs maybe half a pound but blasts out hot air like a jet engine. Even
</span></div><div data-canvas-width="622.4479999999999" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: transparent; cursor: text; left: 96.1333px; margin: -500px -2em 0px -10em; padding: 500px 2em 0px 10em; position: absolute; top: 208.082px; transform-origin: 10em 0px 0px; transform: scaleX(1.15877); white-space: pre; z-index: 32;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">though my hair is thick and shoulder-length, it dries in the time it would take
</span></div><div data-canvas-width="211.36" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: transparent; cursor: text; left: 96.1333px; margin: -500px -2em 0px -10em; padding: 500px 2em 0px 10em; position: absolute; top: 226.748px; transform-origin: 10em 0px 0px; transform: scaleX(1.14239); white-space: pre; z-index: 31;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">to make a hardboiled egg.
</span></div><div data-canvas-width="619.7759999999998" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: transparent; cursor: text; left: 96.1333px; margin: -500px -2em 0px -10em; padding: 500px 2em 0px 10em; position: absolute; top: 264.082px; transform-origin: 10em 0px 0px; transform: scaleX(1.14243); white-space: pre; z-index: 30;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">Back in the day—the day being on a calendar from the 50s—my family didn’t
</span></div><div data-canvas-width="580.208" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: transparent; cursor: text; left: 96.1333px; margin: -500px -2em 0px -10em; padding: 500px 2em 0px 10em; position: absolute; top: 282.748px; transform-origin: 10em 0px 0px; transform: scaleX(1.15269); white-space: pre; z-index: 29;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">own a hair dryer. Getting moisture from the strands took a heck of a lot
</span></div><div data-canvas-width="55.84" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: transparent; cursor: text; left: 96.1333px; margin: -500px -2em 0px -10em; padding: 500px 2em 0px 10em; position: absolute; top: 301.415px; transform-origin: 10em 0px 0px; transform: scaleX(1.16239); white-space: pre; z-index: 28;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">longer.
</span></div><div data-canvas-width="600.1600000000001" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: transparent; cursor: text; left: 96.1333px; margin: -500px -2em 0px -10em; padding: 500px 2em 0px 10em; position: absolute; top: 338.748px; transform-origin: 10em 0px 0px; transform: scaleX(1.13996); white-space: pre; z-index: 27;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">When I was still young enough that my mother washed my hair—probably
</span></div><div data-canvas-width="621.808" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: transparent; cursor: text; left: 96.1333px; margin: -500px -2em 0px -10em; padding: 500px 2em 0px 10em; position: absolute; top: 357.415px; transform-origin: 10em 0px 0px; transform: scaleX(1.15631); white-space: pre; z-index: 26;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">while I argued that it wasn’t really dirty, shampoo would get in my eyes, and
</span></div><div data-canvas-width="622.704" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: transparent; cursor: text; left: 96.1333px; margin: -500px -2em 0px -10em; padding: 500px 2em 0px 10em; position: absolute; top: 376.082px; transform-origin: 10em 0px 0px; transform: scaleX(1.14973); white-space: pre; z-index: 25;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">the water was too hot or too cold—the drying process involved my father. I’d
</span></div><div data-canvas-width="590.4000000000001" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: transparent; cursor: text; left: 96.1333px; margin: -500px -2em 0px -10em; padding: 500px 2em 0px 10em; position: absolute; top: 394.748px; transform-origin: 10em 0px 0px; transform: scaleX(1.14698); white-space: pre; z-index: 24;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">be handed off to him along with a large towel and he’d do a kind of head
</span></div><div data-canvas-width="123.008" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: transparent; cursor: text; left: 96.1333px; margin: -500px -2em 0px -10em; padding: 500px 2em 0px 10em; position: absolute; top: 413.415px; transform-origin: 10em 0px 0px; transform: scaleX(1.13363); white-space: pre; z-index: 23;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">massage thing.
</span></div><div data-canvas-width="617.872" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: transparent; cursor: text; left: 96.1333px; margin: -500px -2em 0px -10em; padding: 500px 2em 0px 10em; position: absolute; top: 450.748px; transform-origin: 10em 0px 0px; transform: scaleX(1.14082); white-space: pre; z-index: 22;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">My father was six feet tall and strong, so the massage was brisk and not the
</span></div><div data-canvas-width="621.216" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: transparent; cursor: text; left: 96.1333px; margin: -500px -2em 0px -10em; padding: 500px 2em 0px 10em; position: absolute; top: 469.415px; transform-origin: 10em 0px 0px; transform: scaleX(1.1527); white-space: pre; z-index: 21;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">epitome of gentle. It often felt like my head would come unscrewed from my
</span></div><div data-canvas-width="345.53600000000006" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: transparent; cursor: text; left: 96.1333px; margin: -500px -2em 0px -10em; padding: 500px 2em 0px 10em; position: absolute; top: 488.082px; transform-origin: 10em 0px 0px; transform: scaleX(1.14606); white-space: pre; z-index: 20;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">neck and I’m amazed I didn’t get whiplash.
</span></div><div data-canvas-width="609.0399999999997" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: transparent; cursor: text; left: 96.1333px; margin: -500px -2em 0px -10em; padding: 500px 2em 0px 10em; position: absolute; top: 525.415px; transform-origin: 10em 0px 0px; transform: scaleX(1.13942); white-space: pre; z-index: 19;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">What I did get was more knots than I’d had before the shampoo. Lots more
</span></div><div data-canvas-width="610.3839999999999" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: transparent; cursor: text; left: 96.1333px; margin: -500px -2em 0px -10em; padding: 500px 2em 0px 10em; position: absolute; top: 544.082px; transform-origin: 10em 0px 0px; transform: scaleX(1.13441); white-space: pre; z-index: 18;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">knots. This was back before conditioner or detangling rinses, so these were
</span></div><div data-canvas-width="253.95200000000006" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: transparent; cursor: text; left: 96.1333px; margin: -500px -2em 0px -10em; padding: 500px 2em 0px 10em; position: absolute; top: 562.748px; transform-origin: 10em 0px 0px; transform: scaleX(1.12875); white-space: pre; z-index: 17;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">serious knots, knots of all sizes.
</span></div><div data-canvas-width="604.6879999999999" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: transparent; cursor: text; left: 96.1333px; margin: -500px -2em 0px -10em; padding: 500px 2em 0px 10em; position: absolute; top: 600.082px; transform-origin: 10em 0px 0px; transform: scaleX(1.14028); white-space: pre; z-index: 16;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">It was also my father’s job to comb my hair and work them loose. Dad was
</span></div><div data-canvas-width="547.472" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: transparent; cursor: text; left: 96.1333px; margin: -500px -2em 0px -10em; padding: 500px 2em 0px 10em; position: absolute; top: 618.748px; transform-origin: 10em 0px 0px; transform: scaleX(1.15701); white-space: pre; z-index: 15;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">noted for a lot of things, but patience wasn’t high on the list. Often,
</span></div><div data-canvas-width="582.48" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: transparent; cursor: text; left: 96.1333px; margin: -500px -2em 0px -10em; padding: 500px 2em 0px 10em; position: absolute; top: 637.415px; transform-origin: 10em 0px 0px; transform: scaleX(1.15519); white-space: pre; z-index: 14;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">frustrated by my hair and my attitude, he got a scissors and I got a trim.
</span></div><div data-canvas-width="602.768" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: transparent; cursor: text; left: 96.1333px; margin: -500px -2em 0px -10em; padding: 500px 2em 0px 10em; position: absolute; top: 674.748px; transform-origin: 10em 0px 0px; transform: scaleX(1.15665); white-space: pre; z-index: 13;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">I was thrilled when we got our first hair dryer. But the thrill faded fast. The
</span></div><div data-canvas-width="623.2639999999999" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: transparent; cursor: text; left: 96.1333px; margin: -500px -2em 0px -10em; padding: 500px 2em 0px 10em; position: absolute; top: 693.415px; transform-origin: 10em 0px 0px; transform: scaleX(1.1451); white-space: pre; z-index: 12;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">thing was heavy (at least two pounds), the nozzle was small, and the air that
</span></div><div data-canvas-width="593.3599999999999" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: transparent; cursor: text; left: 96.1333px; margin: -500px -2em 0px -10em; padding: 500px 2em 0px 10em; position: absolute; top: 712.082px; transform-origin: 10em 0px 0px; transform: scaleX(1.1463); white-space: pre; z-index: 11;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">emerged was closer to warm than hot and had the velocity of a galloping
</span></div><div data-canvas-width="618.1759999999999" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: transparent; cursor: text; left: 96.1333px; margin: -500px -2em 0px -10em; padding: 500px 2em 0px 10em; position: absolute; top: 730.748px; transform-origin: 10em 0px 0px; transform: scaleX(1.15528); white-space: pre; z-index: 10;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">sloth. It was quicker to sit by the fireplace and fluff my hair or bend over the
</span></div><div data-canvas-width="563.9359999999998" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: transparent; cursor: text; left: 96.1333px; margin: -500px -2em 0px -10em; padding: 500px 2em 0px 10em; position: absolute; top: 749.415px; transform-origin: 10em 0px 0px; transform: scaleX(1.13429); white-space: pre; z-index: 9;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">floor grate above the furnace. That was risky because we had a wood
</span></div><div data-canvas-width="622.0959999999999" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: transparent; cursor: text; left: 96.1333px; margin: -500px -2em 0px -10em; padding: 500px 2em 0px 10em; position: absolute; top: 768.082px; transform-origin: 10em 0px 0px; transform: scaleX(1.14094); white-space: pre; z-index: 8;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">furnace and the grate was hot enough to sear a steak. Loose hair that fell on
</span></div><div data-canvas-width="177.99999999999994" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: transparent; cursor: text; left: 96.1333px; margin: -500px -2em 0px -10em; padding: 500px 2em 0px 10em; position: absolute; top: 786.748px; transform-origin: 10em 0px 0px; transform: scaleX(1.13083); white-space: pre; z-index: 7;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">it sizzled and smoked.
</span></div><div data-canvas-width="601.664" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: transparent; cursor: text; left: 96.1333px; margin: -500px -2em 0px -10em; padding: 500px 2em 0px 10em; position: absolute; top: 824.082px; transform-origin: 10em 0px 0px; transform: scaleX(1.14859); white-space: pre; z-index: 6;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">In the early 60s, I got a dryer with a bonnet so I could roll my wet hair and
</span></div><div data-canvas-width="611.0559999999998" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: transparent; cursor: text; left: 96.1333px; margin: -500px -2em 0px -10em; padding: 500px 2em 0px 10em; position: absolute; top: 842.748px; transform-origin: 10em 0px 0px; transform: scaleX(1.15679); white-space: pre; z-index: 5;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">dry it while I did my homework. Provided I didn’t want to move farther than
</span></div><div data-canvas-width="620.8319999999999" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: transparent; cursor: text; left: 96.1333px; margin: -500px -2em 0px -10em; padding: 500px 2em 0px 10em; position: absolute; top: 861.415px; transform-origin: 10em 0px 0px; transform: scaleX(1.14799); white-space: pre; z-index: 4;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">the length of the cord, had at least an hour of homework, and used plenty of
</span></div><div data-canvas-width="466.78399999999993" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: transparent; cursor: text; left: 96.1333px; margin: -500px -2em 0px -10em; padding: 500px 2em 0px 10em; position: absolute; top: 880.082px; transform-origin: 10em 0px 0px; transform: scaleX(1.15369); white-space: pre; z-index: 3;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">rollers designed for maximum air circulation, that worked.
</span></div><div data-canvas-width="606.4639999999999" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: transparent; cursor: text; left: 96.1333px; margin: -500px -2em 0px -10em; padding: 500px 2em 0px 10em; position: absolute; top: 917.415px; transform-origin: 10em 0px 0px; transform: scaleX(1.14598); white-space: pre; z-index: 2;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">By the end of the 60s I no longer rolled or teased my hair. It grew long and
</span></div><div data-canvas-width="615.68" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: transparent; cursor: text; left: 96.1333px; margin: -500px -2em 0px -10em; padding: 500px 2em 0px 10em; position: absolute; top: 936.082px; transform-origin: 10em 0px 0px; transform: scaleX(1.14231); white-space: pre; z-index: 1;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">dried in the sun in Arizona. In the 70s it was cut in a wedge and took almost </span></div><div style="bottom: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: transparent; cursor: default; padding: 1632px 0px 0px 816px; position: absolute; right: 0px; transform-origin: 0% 0%; white-space: pre;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;"></span></div></div></div></div><div class="document-page" data-page="2" height="1056" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; box-shadow: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.2) 0px 0px 8px; box-sizing: border-box; height: 1056px; margin: 20px auto; outline: none; visibility: visible; width: 816px;" width="816"><div class="pdf-page" height="1056" style="background-clip: content-box; box-sizing: border-box; height: 1056px; margin: 0px auto; outline: none; overflow: visible; position: relative; width: 816px;" width="816"><div class="canvas-wrapper" height="1056" style="box-sizing: border-box; height: 1056px; overflow: hidden; width: 816px;" width="816"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;"><canvas height="1056" style="box-sizing: border-box; display: block; height: 1056px; margin: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; width: 816px;" width="816"></canvas></span></div><div class="text-wrapper user-select-text" height="1056" style="box-sizing: border-box; height: 1056px; inset: 0px; line-height: normal; opacity: 0.2; outline: none; overflow: hidden; position: absolute; user-select: text; width: 816px;" width="816"><div data-canvas-width="616.048" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: transparent; cursor: text; left: 96.1333px; margin: -500px -2em 0px -10em; padding: 500px 2em 0px 10em; position: absolute; top: 96.0818px; transform-origin: 10em 0px 0px; transform: scaleX(1.15644); white-space: pre; z-index: 9;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">no time to dry with new and improved, light and powerful hair dryers. In the
</span></div><div data-canvas-width="617.456" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: transparent; cursor: text; left: 96.1333px; margin: -500px -2em 0px -10em; padding: 500px 2em 0px 10em; position: absolute; top: 114.748px; transform-origin: 10em 0px 0px; transform: scaleX(1.16177); white-space: pre; z-index: 8;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">80s I tortured my layered hair with perms and dried it slowly, twirling it on a
</span></div><div data-canvas-width="158.68800000000002" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: transparent; cursor: text; left: 96.1333px; margin: -500px -2em 0px -10em; padding: 500px 2em 0px 10em; position: absolute; top: 133.415px; transform-origin: 10em 0px 0px; transform: scaleX(1.14389); white-space: pre; z-index: 7;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">brush to avoid frizz.
</span></div><div data-canvas-width="609.856" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: transparent; cursor: text; left: 96.1333px; margin: -500px -2em 0px -10em; padding: 500px 2em 0px 10em; position: absolute; top: 170.748px; transform-origin: 10em 0px 0px; transform: scaleX(1.14878); white-space: pre; z-index: 6;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">Now I run my fingers through it as I aim the tiny dryer. No comb, no rollers,
</span></div><div data-canvas-width="603.952" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: transparent; cursor: text; left: 96.1333px; margin: -500px -2em 0px -10em; padding: 500px 2em 0px 10em; position: absolute; top: 189.415px; transform-origin: 10em 0px 0px; transform: scaleX(1.15109); white-space: pre; z-index: 5;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">no brush. Sometimes I think of all the time this dryer and the I-don’t-much-
</span></div><div data-canvas-width="564" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: transparent; cursor: text; left: 96.1333px; margin: -500px -2em 0px -10em; padding: 500px 2em 0px 10em; position: absolute; top: 208.082px; transform-origin: 10em 0px 0px; transform: scaleX(1.14255); white-space: pre; z-index: 4;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">care styling technique could have saved me during my childhood and
</span></div><div data-canvas-width="120.048" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: transparent; cursor: text; left: 96.1333px; margin: -500px -2em 0px -10em; padding: 500px 2em 0px 10em; position: absolute; top: 226.748px; transform-origin: 10em 0px 0px; transform: scaleX(1.13412); white-space: pre; z-index: 3;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">teenage years.
</span></div><div data-canvas-width="608.6399999999999" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: transparent; cursor: text; left: 96.1333px; margin: -500px -2em 0px -10em; padding: 500px 2em 0px 10em; position: absolute; top: 264.082px; transform-origin: 10em 0px 0px; transform: scaleX(1.14441); white-space: pre; z-index: 2;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">Then I give myself a reality check and admit I probably wouldn’t have used
</span></div><div data-canvas-width="133.42399999999998" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: transparent; cursor: text; left: 96.1333px; margin: -500px -2em 0px -10em; padding: 500px 2em 0px 10em; position: absolute; top: 282.748px; transform-origin: 10em 0px 0px; transform: scaleX(1.18467); white-space: pre; z-index: 1;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">that time wisely.</span></div></div></div></div><div data-canvas-width="120.43199999999997" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: transparent; cursor: text; left: 96.1333px; margin: -500px -2em 0px -10em; padding: 500px 2em 0px 10em; position: absolute; top: 133.415px; transform-origin: 10em 0px 0px; transform: scaleX(1.05809); white-space: pre; z-index: 35;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;"><span face="XfinityStandard-Regular, "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif"></span><span>Carolyn </span><span face="sans-serif">J. Rose
</span></span></div><div data-canvas-width="568.0319999999999" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: transparent; cursor: text; left: 96.1333px; margin: -500px -2em 0px -10em; padding: 500px 2em 0px 10em; position: absolute; top: 170.748px; transform-origin: 10em 0px 0px; transform: scaleX(1.15088); white-space: pre; z-index: 34;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">It takes about three minutes to dry my hair these days. The hair dryer
</span></div><div data-canvas-width="581.8079999999999" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: transparent; cursor: text; left: 96.1333px; margin: -500px -2em 0px -10em; padding: 500px 2em 0px 10em; position: absolute; top: 189.415px; transform-origin: 10em 0px 0px; transform: scaleX(1.14357); white-space: pre; z-index: 33;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">weighs maybe half a pound but blasts out hot air like a jet engine. Even
</span></div><div data-canvas-width="622.4479999999999" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: transparent; cursor: text; left: 96.1333px; margin: -500px -2em 0px -10em; padding: 500px 2em 0px 10em; position: absolute; top: 208.082px; transform-origin: 10em 0px 0px; transform: scaleX(1.15877); white-space: pre; z-index: 32;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">though my hair is thick and shoulder-length, it dries in the time it would take
</span></div><div data-canvas-width="211.36" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: transparent; cursor: text; left: 96.1333px; margin: -500px -2em 0px -10em; padding: 500px 2em 0px 10em; position: absolute; top: 226.748px; transform-origin: 10em 0px 0px; transform: scaleX(1.14239); white-space: pre; z-index: 31;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">to make a hardboiled egg.
</span></div><div data-canvas-width="619.7759999999998" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: transparent; cursor: text; left: 96.1333px; margin: -500px -2em 0px -10em; padding: 500px 2em 0px 10em; position: absolute; top: 264.082px; transform-origin: 10em 0px 0px; transform: scaleX(1.14243); white-space: pre; z-index: 30;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">Back in the day—the day being on a calendar from the 50s—my family didn’t
</span></div><div data-canvas-width="580.208" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: transparent; cursor: text; left: 96.1333px; margin: -500px -2em 0px -10em; padding: 500px 2em 0px 10em; position: absolute; top: 282.748px; transform-origin: 10em 0px 0px; transform: scaleX(1.15269); white-space: pre; z-index: 29;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">own a hair dryer. Getting moisture from the strands took a heck of a lot
</span></div><div data-canvas-width="55.84" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: transparent; cursor: text; left: 96.1333px; margin: -500px -2em 0px -10em; padding: 500px 2em 0px 10em; position: absolute; top: 301.415px; transform-origin: 10em 0px 0px; transform: scaleX(1.16239); white-space: pre; z-index: 28;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">longer.
</span></div><div data-canvas-width="600.1600000000001" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: transparent; cursor: text; left: 96.1333px; margin: -500px -2em 0px -10em; padding: 500px 2em 0px 10em; position: absolute; top: 338.748px; transform-origin: 10em 0px 0px; transform: scaleX(1.13996); white-space: pre; z-index: 27;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">When I was still young enough that my mother washed my hair—probably
</span></div><div data-canvas-width="621.808" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: transparent; cursor: text; left: 96.1333px; margin: -500px -2em 0px -10em; padding: 500px 2em 0px 10em; position: absolute; top: 357.415px; transform-origin: 10em 0px 0px; transform: scaleX(1.15631); white-space: pre; z-index: 26;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">while I argued that it wasn’t really dirty, shampoo would get in my eyes, and
</span></div><div data-canvas-width="622.704" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: transparent; cursor: text; left: 96.1333px; margin: -500px -2em 0px -10em; padding: 500px 2em 0px 10em; position: absolute; top: 376.082px; transform-origin: 10em 0px 0px; transform: scaleX(1.14973); white-space: pre; z-index: 25;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">the water was too hot or too cold—the drying process involved my father. I’d
</span></div><div data-canvas-width="590.4000000000001" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: transparent; cursor: text; left: 96.1333px; margin: -500px -2em 0px -10em; padding: 500px 2em 0px 10em; position: absolute; top: 394.748px; transform-origin: 10em 0px 0px; transform: scaleX(1.14698); white-space: pre; z-index: 24;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">be handed off to him along with a large towel and he’d do a kind of head
</span></div><div data-canvas-width="123.008" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: transparent; cursor: text; left: 96.1333px; margin: -500px -2em 0px -10em; padding: 500px 2em 0px 10em; position: absolute; top: 413.415px; transform-origin: 10em 0px 0px; transform: scaleX(1.13363); white-space: pre; z-index: 23;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">massage thing.
</span></div><div data-canvas-width="617.872" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: transparent; cursor: text; left: 96.1333px; margin: -500px -2em 0px -10em; padding: 500px 2em 0px 10em; position: absolute; top: 450.748px; transform-origin: 10em 0px 0px; transform: scaleX(1.14082); white-space: pre; z-index: 22;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">My father was six feet tall and strong, so the massage was brisk and not the
</span></div><div data-canvas-width="621.216" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: transparent; cursor: text; left: 96.1333px; margin: -500px -2em 0px -10em; padding: 500px 2em 0px 10em; position: absolute; top: 469.415px; transform-origin: 10em 0px 0px; transform: scaleX(1.1527); white-space: pre; z-index: 21;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">epitome of gentle. It often felt like my head would come unscrewed from my
</span></div><div data-canvas-width="345.53600000000006" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: transparent; cursor: text; left: 96.1333px; margin: -500px -2em 0px -10em; padding: 500px 2em 0px 10em; position: absolute; top: 488.082px; transform-origin: 10em 0px 0px; transform: scaleX(1.14606); white-space: pre; z-index: 20;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">neck and I’m amazed I didn’t get whiplash.
</span></div><div data-canvas-width="609.0399999999997" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: transparent; cursor: text; left: 96.1333px; margin: -500px -2em 0px -10em; padding: 500px 2em 0px 10em; position: absolute; top: 525.415px; transform-origin: 10em 0px 0px; transform: scaleX(1.13942); white-space: pre; z-index: 19;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">What I did get was more knots than I’d had before the shampoo. Lots more
</span></div><div data-canvas-width="610.3839999999999" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: transparent; cursor: text; left: 96.1333px; margin: -500px -2em 0px -10em; padding: 500px 2em 0px 10em; position: absolute; top: 544.082px; transform-origin: 10em 0px 0px; transform: scaleX(1.13441); white-space: pre; z-index: 18;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">knots. This was back before conditioner or detangling rinses, so these were
</span></div><div data-canvas-width="253.95200000000006" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: transparent; cursor: text; left: 96.1333px; margin: -500px -2em 0px -10em; padding: 500px 2em 0px 10em; position: absolute; top: 562.748px; transform-origin: 10em 0px 0px; transform: scaleX(1.12875); white-space: pre; z-index: 17;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">serious knots, knots of all sizes.
</span></div><div data-canvas-width="604.6879999999999" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: transparent; cursor: text; left: 96.1333px; margin: -500px -2em 0px -10em; padding: 500px 2em 0px 10em; position: absolute; top: 600.082px; transform-origin: 10em 0px 0px; transform: scaleX(1.14028); white-space: pre; z-index: 16;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">It was also my father’s job to comb my hair and work them loose. Dad was
</span></div><div data-canvas-width="547.472" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: transparent; cursor: text; left: 96.1333px; margin: -500px -2em 0px -10em; padding: 500px 2em 0px 10em; position: absolute; top: 618.748px; transform-origin: 10em 0px 0px; transform: scaleX(1.15701); white-space: pre; z-index: 15;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">noted for a lot of things, but patience wasn’t high on the list. Often,
</span></div><div data-canvas-width="582.48" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: transparent; cursor: text; left: 96.1333px; margin: -500px -2em 0px -10em; padding: 500px 2em 0px 10em; position: absolute; top: 637.415px; transform-origin: 10em 0px 0px; transform: scaleX(1.15519); white-space: pre; z-index: 14;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">frustrated by my hair and my attitude, he got a scissors and I got a trim.
</span></div><div data-canvas-width="602.768" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: transparent; cursor: text; left: 96.1333px; margin: -500px -2em 0px -10em; padding: 500px 2em 0px 10em; position: absolute; top: 674.748px; transform-origin: 10em 0px 0px; transform: scaleX(1.15665); white-space: pre; z-index: 13;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">I was thrilled when we got our first hair dryer. But the thrill faded fast. The
</span></div><div data-canvas-width="623.2639999999999" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: transparent; cursor: text; left: 96.1333px; margin: -500px -2em 0px -10em; padding: 500px 2em 0px 10em; position: absolute; top: 693.415px; transform-origin: 10em 0px 0px; transform: scaleX(1.1451); white-space: pre; z-index: 12;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">thing was heavy (at least two pounds), the nozzle was small, and the air that
</span></div><div data-canvas-width="593.3599999999999" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: transparent; cursor: text; left: 96.1333px; margin: -500px -2em 0px -10em; padding: 500px 2em 0px 10em; position: absolute; top: 712.082px; transform-origin: 10em 0px 0px; transform: scaleX(1.1463); white-space: pre; z-index: 11;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">emerged was closer to warm than hot and had the velocity of a galloping
</span></div><div data-canvas-width="618.1759999999999" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: transparent; cursor: text; left: 96.1333px; margin: -500px -2em 0px -10em; padding: 500px 2em 0px 10em; position: absolute; top: 730.748px; transform-origin: 10em 0px 0px; transform: scaleX(1.15528); white-space: pre; z-index: 10;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">sloth. It was quicker to sit by the fireplace and fluff my hair or bend over the
</span></div><div data-canvas-width="563.9359999999998" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: transparent; cursor: text; left: 96.1333px; margin: -500px -2em 0px -10em; padding: 500px 2em 0px 10em; position: absolute; top: 749.415px; transform-origin: 10em 0px 0px; transform: scaleX(1.13429); white-space: pre; z-index: 9;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">floor grate above the furnace. That was risky because we had a wood
</span></div><div data-canvas-width="622.0959999999999" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: transparent; cursor: text; left: 96.1333px; margin: -500px -2em 0px -10em; padding: 500px 2em 0px 10em; position: absolute; top: 768.082px; transform-origin: 10em 0px 0px; transform: scaleX(1.14094); white-space: pre; z-index: 8;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">furnace and the grate was hot enough to sear a steak. Loose hair that fell on
</span></div><div data-canvas-width="177.99999999999994" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: transparent; cursor: text; left: 96.1333px; margin: -500px -2em 0px -10em; padding: 500px 2em 0px 10em; position: absolute; top: 786.748px; transform-origin: 10em 0px 0px; transform: scaleX(1.13083); white-space: pre; z-index: 7;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">it sizzled and smoked.
</span></div><div data-canvas-width="601.664" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: transparent; cursor: text; left: 96.1333px; margin: -500px -2em 0px -10em; padding: 500px 2em 0px 10em; position: absolute; top: 824.082px; transform-origin: 10em 0px 0px; transform: scaleX(1.14859); white-space: pre; z-index: 6;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">In the early 60s, I got a dryer with a bonnet so I could roll my wet hair and
</span></div><div data-canvas-width="611.0559999999998" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: transparent; cursor: text; left: 96.1333px; margin: -500px -2em 0px -10em; padding: 500px 2em 0px 10em; position: absolute; top: 842.748px; transform-origin: 10em 0px 0px; transform: scaleX(1.15679); white-space: pre; z-index: 5;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">dry it while I did my homework. Provided I didn’t want to move farther than
</span></div><div data-canvas-width="620.8319999999999" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: transparent; cursor: text; left: 96.1333px; margin: -500px -2em 0px -10em; padding: 500px 2em 0px 10em; position: absolute; top: 861.415px; transform-origin: 10em 0px 0px; transform: scaleX(1.14799); white-space: pre; z-index: 4;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">the length of the cord, had at least an hour of homework, and used plenty of
</span></div><div data-canvas-width="466.78399999999993" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: transparent; cursor: text; left: 96.1333px; margin: -500px -2em 0px -10em; padding: 500px 2em 0px 10em; position: absolute; top: 880.082px; transform-origin: 10em 0px 0px; transform: scaleX(1.15369); white-space: pre; z-index: 3;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">rollers designed for maximum air circulation, that worked.
</span></div><div data-canvas-width="606.4639999999999" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: transparent; cursor: text; left: 96.1333px; margin: -500px -2em 0px -10em; padding: 500px 2em 0px 10em; position: absolute; top: 917.415px; transform-origin: 10em 0px 0px; transform: scaleX(1.14598); white-space: pre; z-index: 2;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">By the end of the 60s I no longer rolled or teased my hair. It grew long and
</span></div><div data-canvas-width="615.68" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: transparent; cursor: text; left: 96.1333px; margin: -500px -2em 0px -10em; padding: 500px 2em 0px 10em; position: absolute; top: 936.082px; transform-origin: 10em 0px 0px; transform: scaleX(1.14231); white-space: pre; z-index: 1;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">dried in the sun in Arizona. In the 70s it was cut in a wedge and took almost </span></div><div style="bottom: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: transparent; cursor: default; padding: 1632px 0px 0px 816px; position: absolute; right: 0px; transform-origin: 0% 0%; white-space: pre;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;"></span></div></div></div></div><div class="document-page" data-page="2" height="1056" style="background: rgb(255, 255, 255); box-shadow: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.2) 0px 0px 8px; box-sizing: border-box; height: 1056px; margin: 20px auto; outline: none; visibility: visible; width: 816px;" width="816"><div class="pdf-page" height="1056" style="background-clip: content-box; box-sizing: border-box; direction: ltr; height: 1056px; margin: 0px auto; outline: none; overflow: visible; position: relative; width: 816px;" width="816"><div class="canvas-wrapper" height="1056" style="box-sizing: border-box; height: 1056px; overflow: hidden; text-align: left; width: 816px;" width="816"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;"><canvas height="1056" style="box-sizing: border-box; display: block; height: 1056px; margin: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; width: 816px;" width="816"></canvas></span></div><div class="text-wrapper user-select-text" height="1056" style="box-sizing: border-box; height: 1056px; inset: 0px; line-height: normal; opacity: 0.2; outline: none; overflow: hidden; position: absolute; user-select: text; width: 816px;" width="816"><div data-canvas-width="616.048" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: transparent; cursor: text; left: 96.1333px; margin: -500px -2em 0px -10em; padding: 500px 2em 0px 10em; position: absolute; text-align: left; top: 96.0818px; transform-origin: 10em 0px 0px; transform: scaleX(1.15644); white-space: pre; z-index: 9;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">no time to dry with new and improved, light and powerful hair dryers. In the
</span></div><div data-canvas-width="617.456" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: transparent; cursor: text; left: 96.1333px; margin: -500px -2em 0px -10em; padding: 500px 2em 0px 10em; position: absolute; top: 114.748px; transform-origin: 10em 0px 0px; transform: scaleX(1.16177); white-space: pre; z-index: 8;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">80s I tortured my layered hair with perms and dried it slowly, twirling it on a
</span></div><div data-canvas-width="158.68800000000002" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: transparent; cursor: text; left: 96.1333px; margin: -500px -2em 0px -10em; padding: 500px 2em 0px 10em; position: absolute; top: 133.415px; transform-origin: 10em 0px 0px; transform: scaleX(1.14389); white-space: pre; z-index: 7;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">brush to avoid frizz.
</span></div><div data-canvas-width="609.856" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: transparent; cursor: text; left: 96.1333px; margin: -500px -2em 0px -10em; padding: 500px 2em 0px 10em; position: absolute; top: 170.748px; transform-origin: 10em 0px 0px; transform: scaleX(1.14878); white-space: pre; z-index: 6;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">Now I run my fingers through it as I aim the tiny dryer. No comb, no rollers,
</span></div><div data-canvas-width="603.952" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: transparent; cursor: text; left: 96.1333px; margin: -500px -2em 0px -10em; padding: 500px 2em 0px 10em; position: absolute; top: 189.415px; transform-origin: 10em 0px 0px; transform: scaleX(1.15109); white-space: pre; z-index: 5;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">no brush. Sometimes I think of all the time this dryer and the I-don’t-much-
</span></div><div data-canvas-width="564" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: transparent; cursor: text; left: 96.1333px; margin: -500px -2em 0px -10em; padding: 500px 2em 0px 10em; position: absolute; top: 208.082px; transform-origin: 10em 0px 0px; transform: scaleX(1.14255); white-space: pre; z-index: 4;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">care styling technique could have saved me during my childhood and
</span></div><div data-canvas-width="120.048" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: transparent; cursor: text; left: 96.1333px; margin: -500px -2em 0px -10em; padding: 500px 2em 0px 10em; position: absolute; top: 226.748px; transform-origin: 10em 0px 0px; transform: scaleX(1.13412); white-space: pre; z-index: 3;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">teenage years.
</span></div><div data-canvas-width="608.6399999999999" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: transparent; cursor: text; left: 96.1333px; margin: -500px -2em 0px -10em; padding: 500px 2em 0px 10em; position: absolute; top: 264.082px; transform-origin: 10em 0px 0px; transform: scaleX(1.14441); white-space: pre; z-index: 2;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">Then I give myself a reality check and admit I probably wouldn’t have used
</span></div><div data-canvas-width="133.42399999999998" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: transparent; cursor: text; left: 96.1333px; margin: -500px -2em 0px -10em; padding: 500px 2em 0px 10em; position: absolute; top: 282.748px; transform-origin: 10em 0px 0px; transform: scaleX(1.18467); white-space: pre; z-index: 1;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">that time wisely.</span></div><div style="bottom: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: transparent; cursor: default; outline: none; padding: 1632px 0px 0px 816px; position: absolute; right: 0px; transform-origin: 0% 0%; white-space: pre;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;"></span></div></div></div></div>Deadly Duo, Duh Bloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15279307709534348681noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4904164150534193483.post-12800033250905542182022-11-15T15:31:00.001-08:002022-11-15T15:32:03.656-08:00M I double ss I double ss I double P I<p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> Remember
when people would invite you over to view slides of their recent vacation? And
it was only the potato chips and clam dip that kept you from mumbling a lame
excuse and bolting out the door when they showed you the fifth shot of them
splashing water on each other at the hotel swimming pool?</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Well,
this is going to be ‘zactly like that only different. No clam dip. No swimming
pool. And no lame excuse needed. All you have to do is hit the esc key on your
computer and boom, you’re outa there. Back to playing Wordle or playing Death
Race 7000. Or whatever. Who’s gonna know? No harm, no foul.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The
problem with fulfilling one of the items on your bucket list is the prospect
that it might be a profound disappointment. But when it came to our paddlewheel
excursion up the Mississippi River (round trip New Orleans to New Orleans) this
wasn’t the case. Don’t get me wrong, it was far from perfect. But there’s
something about a view like this from the balcony of your stateroom, that makes
you forget all of the small annoyances. </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /><span style="line-height: 107%;"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP2w3yygNZibSkuwlpiWqvTOvpRVifX1RRiYwDfmu-zvREZgGXaD9_kZjUGX0xnyi9sHq70H7u1xdgsaCI6webXrWks2qnoyuszPOtRwM0lxlW09FOIoR0Fbu-VEObovwJLcK3pJfH_B9Jrif1swB3pyQvvcNHfr_uBPyERdUKa9CHNr14jNT8Z0g/s1600/Moon%20Van%20Gogh.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="376" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP2w3yygNZibSkuwlpiWqvTOvpRVifX1RRiYwDfmu-zvREZgGXaD9_kZjUGX0xnyi9sHq70H7u1xdgsaCI6webXrWks2qnoyuszPOtRwM0lxlW09FOIoR0Fbu-VEObovwJLcK3pJfH_B9Jrif1swB3pyQvvcNHfr_uBPyERdUKa9CHNr14jNT8Z0g/w267-h376/Moon%20Van%20Gogh.jpg" width="267" /></a></span></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">I first
visited New Orleans back in the 80’s when my radio station employer sent me out
with a listener who’d won a trip to see the Sugar Ray Leonard-Roberto Duran
prize fight. (The infamous No Mas fight) I remember thinking The Big Easy was vibrant,
electric and a never-ending circus of people, music and fun. This trip it just
felt seedy. I think my impression was epitomized by the street person we saw
wearing a t-shirt that read “The Savage Life Chose Me.” The highlight of our time in N.O. was a bus tour around the city. Carolyn stayed in the room glued to a T.V. series that pitted aspiring moonshiners against each other in a distill-off judged by professional moonshiners. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 107%;"><o:p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Our excursion off the boat in Natchez took us to a
sprawling historical graveyard. </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYS8iEo0_eRXY3YLbmT536YesgI3ym-7MkK781xevopzz9N8In12SfEKAwkbfXAbYeBDY4hE6HNEVHcLMVEXiKjbt047AHLbU69T5Bz13t4q3VkKyNFgK8VaBBSZs0E31-JdU4maRnXL4_lgwvYf53aM04Kz3rEoLGJl6VykuET5VzznzreMvucsQ/s1600/Graveyard%20Baton%20Rouge%202(or%20Vicksburgh).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYS8iEo0_eRXY3YLbmT536YesgI3ym-7MkK781xevopzz9N8In12SfEKAwkbfXAbYeBDY4hE6HNEVHcLMVEXiKjbt047AHLbU69T5Bz13t4q3VkKyNFgK8VaBBSZs0E31-JdU4maRnXL4_lgwvYf53aM04Kz3rEoLGJl6VykuET5VzznzreMvucsQ/s320/Graveyard%20Baton%20Rouge%202(or%20Vicksburgh).jpg" width="240" /></a></span></div><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">There were hundreds of acres worth of tombstones, monuments and above the ground family crypts. (protection against regular
flooding) </span></p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">This solitary gravestone and its story tugged at our hearts.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1v-3VZaJDNDWu-7YlIRLjBwx4CdOEWkFqQts39QBOGN8X2DOPFDBPnhwSEqBBy1sb06BuAR71a5wSwhYcUDEDNh1SgqQnXJkGtlOUafliQJ_yOsxBmDf9EE3E2B3Wq5SN2jqaE_Ez5og7ENCbED4ZUp2zFHiyEKpkf0Kuh1RRtm596KpA9WQizts/s1119/Louise%20gravestone%20B.R..jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1075" data-original-width="1119" height="331" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1v-3VZaJDNDWu-7YlIRLjBwx4CdOEWkFqQts39QBOGN8X2DOPFDBPnhwSEqBBy1sb06BuAR71a5wSwhYcUDEDNh1SgqQnXJkGtlOUafliQJ_yOsxBmDf9EE3E2B3Wq5SN2jqaE_Ez5og7ENCbED4ZUp2zFHiyEKpkf0Kuh1RRtm596KpA9WQizts/w320-h331/Louise%20gravestone%20B.R..jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> She was known as Louise the Unfortunate. In the late 19<sup>th</sup> century she
came to Natchez to connect with her fiancee who had mysteriously vanished. (Or, alternately she found out he was already married.) She
worked at a number of respectable jobs until hard times forced her to become a
bar girl and ultimately a lady of the evening. She was befriended by a local doctor,
who upon her death kept her from being in a pauper’s grave by buying this
headstone in the local rich people’s cemetery.</span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> </span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span style="line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></span></p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">\\</span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9Tt7I0Wh8xPo-I27_utDGtZCr4xm9jr7oBu1Zu-Au_orlWtAoKL3q7rtFyTDlwix_o0fSuRPs7ak-BWp2KWx7xXB1Z3JBdZfnUMeoK0q3z3EuiuDJtmJcpIV_AuuEkQUUOoC74MeG8NA1EyHt3-LvluOZ4GXNLteg12hT0ik8oOgdcDbQNNfjHPM/s1600/American%20Splendor.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="274" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9Tt7I0Wh8xPo-I27_utDGtZCr4xm9jr7oBu1Zu-Au_orlWtAoKL3q7rtFyTDlwix_o0fSuRPs7ak-BWp2KWx7xXB1Z3JBdZfnUMeoK0q3z3EuiuDJtmJcpIV_AuuEkQUUOoC74MeG8NA1EyHt3-LvluOZ4GXNLteg12hT0ik8oOgdcDbQNNfjHPM/w205-h274/American%20Splendor.jpg" width="205" /></span></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">On our
riverboat, the American Splendor we did some serious
sightseeing, and ate splendidly in the spacious
restaurant.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTW4DXSLBBhK1SBDsuH1Q4iYlNHH1iDbq6an7Q12lPEL0JO1mtQaM2p8j2PZOfM59x_gRg1KkufhKkkuzGryczqtNx5D4weSq8OaOrKhUmCaITJgLRfCFXOQKhiKf38Jykon-tIB_I3NFG4pjusAHw2pyl2LJuc3L2C_gOfeyIq9pqdGQ9xtwTDzg/s1600/Creole%20Shrimps%20on%20boat.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTW4DXSLBBhK1SBDsuH1Q4iYlNHH1iDbq6an7Q12lPEL0JO1mtQaM2p8j2PZOfM59x_gRg1KkufhKkkuzGryczqtNx5D4weSq8OaOrKhUmCaITJgLRfCFXOQKhiKf38Jykon-tIB_I3NFG4pjusAHw2pyl2LJuc3L2C_gOfeyIq9pqdGQ9xtwTDzg/s320/Creole%20Shrimps%20on%20boat.jpg" width="240" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Creole shrimp, yum. For you Yankees, the stuff in the middle is grits. Pronounced greeyats.</span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">There was a serious shortage of
vegetarian options, but Carolyn got to know the chef and he made her several
special dishes. And there were enough sides and deserts to keep her happy. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">There were lots of shipboard entertainment and education opportunities. I sat in on a series of morning water-color classes Carolyn tagged
along acting as a combination cheerleader and heckler. (“You call that a
musician painting? Cut off your ear, Vincent!!!)</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6pu2q7WhFW7sSbDrHTM6OQcjWOLTPo4E7xobUD9rPBeNIWToMz6n_7hpGNuzz6h4xZgC2mqptwhi8UQCYsY6I6EXXpqW8OFiHdHYZXyI7LygpttHlDmzQkgWFijomoc0Eadkr7okGW0eWzQEjmQcTX_PPo9YL8MDmnvFY0cOZOeKk53sUxobkuig/s1377/Mike%20water%20color.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1377" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6pu2q7WhFW7sSbDrHTM6OQcjWOLTPo4E7xobUD9rPBeNIWToMz6n_7hpGNuzz6h4xZgC2mqptwhi8UQCYsY6I6EXXpqW8OFiHdHYZXyI7LygpttHlDmzQkgWFijomoc0Eadkr7okGW0eWzQEjmQcTX_PPo9YL8MDmnvFY0cOZOeKk53sUxobkuig/s320/Mike%20water%20color.jpg" width="279" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p>Two of
our excursions were especially memorable. The Cajun Pride Swamp Adventure took us deep into
one of the bayous. </span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghPV4RQMGSbYdSUoHSTdIn_sMvHnUgjCwbSR8zqOH1Abc157cv3YpwiCXGYsaHirWFpjEaNeqmyxGXcP68_y5abbEqgfnZ6NtpxwwTlLuv5eGFva2tZwPa3HKT7a3XbQnMdaKqIwlcMZfig5enobr7WaAO76L8g13oO1IpCjyuvSAPcApz_Hiahv8/s1600/gators%20approach%20boat.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; display: inline !important; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghPV4RQMGSbYdSUoHSTdIn_sMvHnUgjCwbSR8zqOH1Abc157cv3YpwiCXGYsaHirWFpjEaNeqmyxGXcP68_y5abbEqgfnZ6NtpxwwTlLuv5eGFva2tZwPa3HKT7a3XbQnMdaKqIwlcMZfig5enobr7WaAO76L8g13oO1IpCjyuvSAPcApz_Hiahv8/s320/gators%20approach%20boat.jpg" width="240" /></span></a></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Those are just what they look like. Big. Honkin.' Alligators. Cap'n Allen a veteran Cajun gator hunter (with a rapid fire accent so thick you caught about ever third word) gave us a lot of
historical and nature information. At least I think that's what he was talking about. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLD1SqXOGWzlyTw-MLAXJg-yJrBvnOdfwtVqFirXKklp7AeT-qHxULe12oU9daVjpCDlLSrcOqgEn8DQ5vknMVL3L5aRBdfJfVex_PPJKOuSyMuN7qdGPIDXsquvaOUT07vwwl5ZC2LM1ngI92Cdx96FFLGUme1IvMlpdHH_z8_wVSunE3oDfTgPA/s1600/cajun%20guide%20Allen.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLD1SqXOGWzlyTw-MLAXJg-yJrBvnOdfwtVqFirXKklp7AeT-qHxULe12oU9daVjpCDlLSrcOqgEn8DQ5vknMVL3L5aRBdfJfVex_PPJKOuSyMuN7qdGPIDXsquvaOUT07vwwl5ZC2LM1ngI92Cdx96FFLGUme1IvMlpdHH_z8_wVSunE3oDfTgPA/s320/cajun%20guide%20Allen.jpg" width="240" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">He told us that when a professional alligator hunter legally bagged
an alligator, they used a power washer to clean it before harvesting the parts
for sale. Apparently, gators carry around some unsavory diseases. (Are there savory diseases?) Who even knew gator hunter was a career choice? And me a liberal arts major. </span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">The gators got close to the boat and cap'n fed
them marshmallows. Gators love marshmallows. Who knew? We also had a chance to pet a baby alligator. Strangely enough, Carolyn and I passed. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Vicksburg
was the site of one of the most decisive battles of the civil war. Control of
shipping up and down the Mississippi hinged on it. Our guide was a great
storyteller and filled us in on some little-known facts about the battle. </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0z-PcQNCLj03t8MSolca02YBlOePO_DyIkC5gZhN0Rx0pTvoC-AqFFLp3VSJk3d6ro3z2Ha1CgHeuC86fN1SrgdZYDvHeRlsO7g3rqjqHJH2DxVlE8ca6IdNIBOFqIMdL-5GxxX5Y4XwYF_2M_Ao5sS68H7nfJf8asc58lwE1D83jZlwdMuJPY9A/s1600/Terrain%20Vicksburg.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0z-PcQNCLj03t8MSolca02YBlOePO_DyIkC5gZhN0Rx0pTvoC-AqFFLp3VSJk3d6ro3z2Ha1CgHeuC86fN1SrgdZYDvHeRlsO7g3rqjqHJH2DxVlE8ca6IdNIBOFqIMdL-5GxxX5Y4XwYF_2M_Ao5sS68H7nfJf8asc58lwE1D83jZlwdMuJPY9A/s320/Terrain%20Vicksburg.jpg" width="240" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br />Contrary to some accounts, the confederates didn’t surrender because
they ran out of food. The truth is Grant outwitted the Confederate HMFDIC. </span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinS63CCYY-YVKL6X-KJmnpZvttPhQA6nPDOvC2I3oGdsiAMtYGmzQ6NPoyW6hht3dmqtH02gRFPL6-WNQO5rSsKyEwv0-bRa9gDm5Bz2yk-CE38RdKASrENcOXF5OsZjRfTBY29jUGMiFKK6biOlsXRrhcZahJ0evdpP617OoSFWpcBud0ItPwuzs/s373/Confederate%20general%20Lloyd%20Tighman.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="280" data-original-width="373" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinS63CCYY-YVKL6X-KJmnpZvttPhQA6nPDOvC2I3oGdsiAMtYGmzQ6NPoyW6hht3dmqtH02gRFPL6-WNQO5rSsKyEwv0-bRa9gDm5Bz2yk-CE38RdKASrENcOXF5OsZjRfTBY29jUGMiFKK6biOlsXRrhcZahJ0evdpP617OoSFWpcBud0ItPwuzs/s320/Confederate%20general%20Lloyd%20Tighman.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /><span style="line-height: 107%;"><br /> </span></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Apparently General Lloyd Tighman (depicted here at the moment of his death) wasn't the sharpest sword in the scabbard and was easily outwitted by U.S. Grant.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Another
highlight of our voyage was being allowed into the pilot house to talk to the paddle
wheeler’s captain and pilot about the rigors of navigating a huge and
everchanging waterway. I had just read Mark Twain’s “Life on the Mississippi”
and marveled at the knowledge (and memory) it took to keep track of all the
hazards on the river. Of course modern technology has simplified things some,
but it’s still impressive.</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAjaxNl4n1T15FdTWqzaiTqr1dF5lYO1I2aaVe41Zk1pxiMj_YN8SyJHvEXDKM4gg59RYvGMvvRAXyCs7a5-lYt2GjmnSAtZlVxxz89sqDkVNCChjx5zt6D_YgJOCBBoWhMKMaaneclTJamfq2PRwGPYe8NXAfPV4k4UtcbvWbLDNrOTsNTZO1sg4/s1600/Barges%20on%20rivere.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAjaxNl4n1T15FdTWqzaiTqr1dF5lYO1I2aaVe41Zk1pxiMj_YN8SyJHvEXDKM4gg59RYvGMvvRAXyCs7a5-lYt2GjmnSAtZlVxxz89sqDkVNCChjx5zt6D_YgJOCBBoWhMKMaaneclTJamfq2PRwGPYe8NXAfPV4k4UtcbvWbLDNrOTsNTZO1sg4/s320/Barges%20on%20rivere.jpg" width="240" /></span></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">This trip was special, despite some long airport lines, dealing with occasional whiners and little bumps in the road (river?) For anyone with a strong sense of history it's highly recommended. There's something magical about watching history roll by your balcony as you reread Huckleberry Finn while enjoying a complimentary bourbon and diet coke in the 4th floor lounge. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p>Deadly Duo, Duh Bloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15279307709534348681noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4904164150534193483.post-14890000458116078412022-10-31T13:59:00.000-07:002022-10-31T13:59:16.263-07:00What’s in a Name?<p><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif;">Carolyn
J. Rose</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif;"> <br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiW7_ijglYgYkqAoxpvHIxabNW18Yu_IC9JRXYOHPE3mUgf_LUFrq57VVuRhvrgDxQbt3T-c694CgzP7ygp7fqMqV0fxiQq5MBjLxjnyrTH5P7hGB7xJo17VM3go6mGZH0Ur4_lrhn7w8QArSkEsEFD6Txf5lmZxyjLb0rhJW_0nx69dUGlabPuBh4" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="1024" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiW7_ijglYgYkqAoxpvHIxabNW18Yu_IC9JRXYOHPE3mUgf_LUFrq57VVuRhvrgDxQbt3T-c694CgzP7ygp7fqMqV0fxiQq5MBjLxjnyrTH5P7hGB7xJo17VM3go6mGZH0Ur4_lrhn7w8QArSkEsEFD6Txf5lmZxyjLb0rhJW_0nx69dUGlabPuBh4" width="240" /></a></div>Before
the pandemic and lockdown, I dragged myself from bed several days a week to sub
at a local high school. Some days it was a cakewalk. Some days it was a
challenge. But every day it was interesting. And every day I looked forward to
reading the roll sheets, reading names that I doubt would have appeared on roll
sheets when I hit high school at the start of the 60s, names that perhaps
didn’t exist then, had yet to be imagined.<o:p></o:p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif;">I once
jokingly told a student that I was born shortly after World War II at a time
when people were still so exhausted by fear and loss and sacrifice they didn’t
have the energy to make up fresh names for their children. I was named for my
mother’s college friends. Growing up, I wished for a different label. I thought
of my name as a box, a burden. Was I expected to “take after” these women I met
only a few times? Would their names shape me? If I had another name, would that
alter the trajectory of my life?</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif;">I
imagined the life of a girl named Robin or Amy, Wendy or April. I imagined
“lighter” and “less serious” names for myself. I wondered about the process of
officially changing my name. I’m sure I mentioned that to my mother. I can’t
recall her reaction, but I’m guessing she told me when I was old enough I could
do that. In the meantime, there were nicknames. My mother, in fact, often
called me Petunia and, oddly, Bedelia.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif;">My
brothers got relative’s names. The second brother, however, born a decade after
the war, didn’t get an exact match to the name, or the usual spelling of a
variation. Despite the raised eyebrows of at least one relative, things were
changing. My aunts took flights of fancy, leaving out traditional letters or
making substitutions when naming my cousins.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif;">But,
compared to some of the names crafted today, that was nothing.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif;">Still,
if you ask the Internet to reveal the most popular names, you’ll see many
you’ve seen before, classics, names drawn from literature and history, names
with meanings rooted deep in the past. Many of those names appeared on the roll
sheets I’d review as I raced from the school’s attendance office to my first
class. But my eyes were always drawn to the juxtaposition of vowels and
consonants that broke with tradition.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif;">I never
changed my name. By the time I was old enough to tackle the legal process, it
no longer seemed important. As Shakespeare (if that, indeed, was <i>his</i> name) wrote, “A rose by any other
name . . .”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p>
<span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"></span></o:p></p>Deadly Duo, Duh Bloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15279307709534348681noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4904164150534193483.post-87924666516610908302022-10-10T07:50:00.003-07:002022-10-10T07:50:59.315-07:00The Urge to Move Moves On<p> </p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">Carolyn J. Rose</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigXV-1wkzKqZ8EAatxSG9ShnnjPzzr0E8j9tbokXBLfmiex95K5pFf6YcksO-ASjSFQtxGkfjdMcoVSrNLR1hjEr3Qdg5j56MK1nopLRnlmqVVc59hw3XNWcfI-_xFaOLy_iN0snI25N9b8zAgK6MzIdV9lf8uVpvwXulJLk0ASXjpgFuXBM2MoV4/s275/Moving%20boxes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="183" data-original-width="275" height="242" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigXV-1wkzKqZ8EAatxSG9ShnnjPzzr0E8j9tbokXBLfmiex95K5pFf6YcksO-ASjSFQtxGkfjdMcoVSrNLR1hjEr3Qdg5j56MK1nopLRnlmqVVc59hw3XNWcfI-_xFaOLy_iN0snI25N9b8zAgK6MzIdV9lf8uVpvwXulJLk0ASXjpgFuXBM2MoV4/w364-h242/Moving%20boxes.jpg" width="364" /></a></div><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">Twenty
years ago I often described myself as someone who moved more than she traveled.
At the time, I counted up more than two dozen different addresses—more if I
factored in college dorms and short-term episodes of squeezing in with friends
after breakups. I moved for job opportunities and relationships and fresh
horizons. I moved toward and I moved away from. I moved furniture that had been
in the family for many years and I moved boxes labeled “stuff” I hadn’t opened
in a decade.</span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">Five
years at one address was a record, and back then I expected it wouldn’t be
broken. But, here I am, still in the Vancouver house we bought in 2000.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">Why?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">The
reasons are many. It’s a comfortable house. It’s in a great location, close to
grocery stores, the rec center walking trails, movie theaters, the dog park,
and restaurants. Friends live nearby. We have some terrific neighbors. We’re
retired and no longer eyeing jobs elsewhere. One of us dreads the physical
drudgery involved in moving. The other dreads learning her way around a new
city, getting to know new neighbors, making new friends, and finding reliable
repair people when the roof leaks or the heater dies. That’s me. But I’d be
willing to take on all that, plus the planning and packing and putting away, if
the move was to the “right” house.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">What is
the right house? One with an awesome view, a cook, a cleaning staff, a yard
crew, and a price we could easily afford.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">Are we
likely to find such a deal?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">No. Not
in this age and this city.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">Perhaps
if we relocated to a small town in the Deep South or somewhere across the
border—the Southern border, that is. But that move would still involve the
drudgery of getting there.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">So, for
now, we’ll stay put.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">You
might say our urge to move on is gone—gone with passing years and the economic
wind.</span><span style="font-family: Bookman Old Style, serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>Deadly Duo, Duh Bloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15279307709534348681noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4904164150534193483.post-82032732937924313232022-09-27T15:27:00.000-07:002022-09-27T15:27:06.862-07:00The Writer's Journey<p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"> One of our early writing instructors always talked about "The Writer's Journey," framing it as some kind of mystical process, wherein you would travel to a place where a great novel would spring unimpeded from your brain and onto the page.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">I find myself wondering if you could use Google Maps to track your writer's journey. You know, enter your current location in one space and "best-selling novel" in the other and see what kind of route it would plot. (Take a left at metaphor street and then an immediate right at "collect rejection letters.)</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">Carolyn and I set out on another more reality-based writer's journey to a book fair in Florence, Oregon to meet other authors and flog our books. After leaving Nikki (our hyper-active and entitled little rescue dog) with her Uncle Viper (our Godson) we drove south, boxes of books in the back of Big Red and anticipation tingling in our . . . Oh, alright not tingling. But we weren't by any means dreading the experience. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">We found the Florence Book Fair to be attractively laid out, well organized and peopled by smiling, helpful volunteers. Our assigned table, the by now infamous number 23 was in one corner, directly across from a gesticulating poets table and just a stone's throw from where the Jehovah's Witnesses were saving souls by osmosis. Here's a shot of our area. </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggi2kWgYp6Je6A9_SBN05KxM1vLsixC9ouvceQD0jArKn-i3xa1LGe29jHxoo9KaLKYNbniMS9B3piFcie7HUS-_dkxSTJUvzZqCwpn2tooj7yAUhvxKprtY50TwoNoHbTelpgYIUWFdbtAUIgagKLSwcjgqFHrFZ_P6X-pseQM1vssS9dVQaMdvE/s4160/Author%20table%20Florence.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4160" data-original-width="3120" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggi2kWgYp6Je6A9_SBN05KxM1vLsixC9ouvceQD0jArKn-i3xa1LGe29jHxoo9KaLKYNbniMS9B3piFcie7HUS-_dkxSTJUvzZqCwpn2tooj7yAUhvxKprtY50TwoNoHbTelpgYIUWFdbtAUIgagKLSwcjgqFHrFZ_P6X-pseQM1vssS9dVQaMdvE/w300-h400/Author%20table%20Florence.jpg" width="300" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">Here, alongside a loveable nut job promoting his unfinished opus and a former Lane County Commissioner turned mystery writer, we spent 6 hours smiling, laughing and running our spiel past a parade of strangers that they really need a book about a former pro-wrestling villain/private detective traipsing around the woods looking for a missing Bigfoot Hunter. (Hey, it could happen!)</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisz0510kg8VOdbTMGegYeuQMnLH2Jmc71mIt7HsHhvHwAPE39KeZHMXbUnuZvG3BLc-Mzzcxq8a0xVsOvj2TYxUhR4nur8luGuBFhQxHoB5C9SFK4sxQQ6QegdHal1xRiceMEzfeTLYetxGfcDqAWNyPy7Aiuux4omBLImJa29vUjSk29WZZQ83rM/s2700/Angus%20Cover.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2700" data-original-width="1800" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisz0510kg8VOdbTMGegYeuQMnLH2Jmc71mIt7HsHhvHwAPE39KeZHMXbUnuZvG3BLc-Mzzcxq8a0xVsOvj2TYxUhR4nur8luGuBFhQxHoB5C9SFK4sxQQ6QegdHal1xRiceMEzfeTLYetxGfcDqAWNyPy7Aiuux4omBLImJa29vUjSk29WZZQ83rM/s320/Angus%20Cover.jpg" width="213" /></span></a></div><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><br /></p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><div><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div>Or, failing that we'd work at convincing them their next read should be a funny mystery about a woman whose three friends, tragically killed in an auto accident, have come back as ghosts to help her rid their Senior Living center of its tyrannical director. </span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo3XgfI0BBNzNtrkmJdOFciCTK62caayyEcNoeq06eFNMsrgUkX2Zo4VIEDmn7B1Dq617ewL24DBtCUxeYd6kfLCLabsbSbV-iP-TurxhbRlSfbuY_eHJQfGNnX8awxOyGBzS1myFRTvs58NrmWGMrMxF2DYpbdah0XfazXuuyuuz5hVntHuuJfUM/s2500/3SOJ%20Cover%20Ghost%20v10%201650X2500%20@300DPI%20.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2500" data-original-width="1650" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo3XgfI0BBNzNtrkmJdOFciCTK62caayyEcNoeq06eFNMsrgUkX2Zo4VIEDmn7B1Dq617ewL24DBtCUxeYd6kfLCLabsbSbV-iP-TurxhbRlSfbuY_eHJQfGNnX8awxOyGBzS1myFRTvs58NrmWGMrMxF2DYpbdah0XfazXuuyuuz5hVntHuuJfUM/s320/3SOJ%20Cover%20Ghost%20v10%201650X2500%20@300DPI%20.jpg" width="211" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><br /><br /></p><p>We met lots of nice folks, sold some books and after picking up our detritus, set out to enjoy the real reason for our 200 mile trek; A chance to enjoy the charm of Florence, eat some deep-fried clams strips and lollygag our way up the spectacular Oregon Coast. </p></span><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIm9Kf8FC6t-lnxhhHp8svlNIWETZqVKY_7VU9dXTL_yg8BCbG-NDf-7DTpwVBnYyGWm0zVe_zF-QWVpaL7JozDisVjHOs2bVz5j-5rqpdygv3X2mBShlFaSOETR1AiPcBXp02X4FCvEDviLcnnzbn4XJX2SSKxCgtp4qBiy3A8-2oeRrGAsW41C4/s1200/Heceta%20Head%20Lighthouse.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="807" data-original-width="1200" height="215" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIm9Kf8FC6t-lnxhhHp8svlNIWETZqVKY_7VU9dXTL_yg8BCbG-NDf-7DTpwVBnYyGWm0zVe_zF-QWVpaL7JozDisVjHOs2bVz5j-5rqpdygv3X2mBShlFaSOETR1AiPcBXp02X4FCvEDviLcnnzbn4XJX2SSKxCgtp4qBiy3A8-2oeRrGAsW41C4/s320/Heceta%20Head%20Lighthouse.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihDybgMkFQK_dxYapfXkOPBgwfUis9mtFacvsLEYwj39aSlxIaosZXYGMmNWVFOktN71I0p426PwMGXcZJWDO6fVeEFwZUTAADzmFcZxpTmLorJegI-cnbQeqvsS3MpklIAMSQBPpptCYATOGdMDOisGf6ViHXflo88u0kX8swmSivspN7M3vJS0A/s4160/Sea%20Lion%20Sculpture.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4160" data-original-width="3120" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihDybgMkFQK_dxYapfXkOPBgwfUis9mtFacvsLEYwj39aSlxIaosZXYGMmNWVFOktN71I0p426PwMGXcZJWDO6fVeEFwZUTAADzmFcZxpTmLorJegI-cnbQeqvsS3MpklIAMSQBPpptCYATOGdMDOisGf6ViHXflo88u0kX8swmSivspN7M3vJS0A/s320/Sea%20Lion%20Sculpture.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">Our Writer's Journey complete, we rolled up highway 101. Bonus. We found gasoline for only $4.57 a gallon. (insert sarcasm emoji here). We went by and picked up Nikki, who, under the Viper's tutelage had discarded any level of discipline we had instilled in her (admittedly not much) and returned home to begin our next prose odyssey. </span></p>Deadly Duo, Duh Bloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15279307709534348681noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4904164150534193483.post-2105101397570048502022-09-13T15:14:00.000-07:002022-09-13T15:14:02.620-07:00Pierced Ears and the Pandemic<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlQSg2_C51-W7DGpIyAJvcHT8vBt0_27w7bwvUAdCHNdsiOyO6LaCh2jecUppbWiGDtSqbAZW34laA3opne9wbmqPVSlpfVlrMYhxBoJZmk5MEiF-3I147l7kUl4VlRZyifULLCmRMSc-QnFO2j6kwG1iFnfXblABu2_24a4YQGTn99VArKhgu7s0/s159/ear.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="159" data-original-width="159" height="268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlQSg2_C51-W7DGpIyAJvcHT8vBt0_27w7bwvUAdCHNdsiOyO6LaCh2jecUppbWiGDtSqbAZW34laA3opne9wbmqPVSlpfVlrMYhxBoJZmk5MEiF-3I147l7kUl4VlRZyifULLCmRMSc-QnFO2j6kwG1iFnfXblABu2_24a4YQGTn99VArKhgu7s0/w268-h268/ear.jpg" width="268" /></a></div><br /><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;">Carolyn
J. Rose</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">As a
little girl, I loved to rummage through my grandmother’s jewelry box. To me, it
was a pirate’s treasure chest filled with gold and silver and glittering gems.
Or, with the accuracy of time and knowledge, it was filled with brooches and
clips and bracelets she referred to as costume jewelry. My perception of what
“costume” meant was that the jewelry should be used to adorn the costumes I
created out of articles scavenged from her closet—scarves and belts and shoes
and a coat with a balding mink collar.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">There
were a few other pieces, less glitzy and almost forlorn: lockets missing
pictures, a bent bracelet, broken chains, and single earrings kept with the
hope a mate might one day reappear. Some of those earrings had clips or tiny
blunt-headed screws that tightened against the lobe. Other, however, had posts
or wires and were meant to pass through pierced holes.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">I recall
shuddering at the idea of poking something through solid flesh. My grandmother
assured me it didn’t hurt and pointed out tiny dark spots on her earlobes.
Those, she said, had been holes. But they’d grown closed because she never wore
pierced earrings anymore and seldom wore earrings at all.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">That
surprised me more than the idea of going through what I imagined was a painful
experience only to let scar tissue take over. Why collect all those sparkly
bits and keep them around if you didn’t use them? And why wear pinchy clip-on
earrings if there was an alternative?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">My
mother used to say that she knew it was time to leave the party when her
earrings started to pinch. It could also have been a sign that another cocktail
was required. But I didn’t know that until I reached drinking age.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">I
decided that I’d definitely have my ears pierced. But the project went on the
back burner along with my intention to wear makeup (“Not until you’re 16,” my
father decreed) and shorter skirts.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">I didn’t
get around to turning on that back burner until I went off to college, 2000+
miles from home. But it wasn’t until my sophomore year that the possibilities
for style and statement outweighed the known pain of clip-on earrings and the
anticipated pain of piercing. So I went for it and allowed a roommate to hold
an ice cube against my earlobe for a minute and then jab a self-piercing
earring through as I clenched my fists and entertained about a hundred second
thoughts.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">Kids
today, kids who get their ears pierced sometimes long before they head off to
kindergarten, won’t get this. Kids who sport tattoos and lip rings and
piercings in places I don’t want to think about, won’t understand what a big
deal it was. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">I heard
a sharp pop as the point passed through the cartilage and then, except for
swabbing on alcohol and turning the earrings regularly, it was done. Well, done
except for worrying about infection and soothing those worries by gazing at the
trove of earrings waiting to swing from the holes. I’d bought perhaps a dozen—tiny
bananas being my favorites at the time.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">In the
50 years since then I’ve owned about 200 sets of earrings—studs and dangles,
gold and silver, feathers and stones, and in all colors. I’ve had tiny dragons
and cats, birds and bells, spiders and webs, and once a set made from IUDs.
(Don’t ask me what I was thinking because I have no idea.) I wore earrings
every day.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">When the
pandemic came and we shut ourselves in, the earrings came out of my ears.
Before I realized it, the holes in my lobes were growing shut. For a time I
considered just going with it. Then a friend sent me a new pair, studs bearing
tiny photographs of bags of Cheetos. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">You all
know how much I love Cheetos.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">Obviously,
those pierced holes have to stay. </span><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: large;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></p>Deadly Duo, Duh Bloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15279307709534348681noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4904164150534193483.post-90388278731221307972022-09-03T15:53:00.000-07:002022-09-03T15:53:04.266-07:00Bright Shiny Objects<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia073MdcUI4GXickPy0m93cOqdQ-7Ri4hBfAZkwbSDrFEyslaKHCWUo88UCgPNApKxDTVRSwa9PbpQyn4Fx8QXPi77PFSqCEM8BUVtaiybWcAqcaj3wBAzSB2dJjDZ9fkcyeRdEgvzHlS-GwJaj6WfICCs9xQe2LKrSqbEOgk4DNVurlgxB01k6jU/s612/bunnies.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="226" data-original-width="612" height="118" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia073MdcUI4GXickPy0m93cOqdQ-7Ri4hBfAZkwbSDrFEyslaKHCWUo88UCgPNApKxDTVRSwa9PbpQyn4Fx8QXPi77PFSqCEM8BUVtaiybWcAqcaj3wBAzSB2dJjDZ9fkcyeRdEgvzHlS-GwJaj6WfICCs9xQe2LKrSqbEOgk4DNVurlgxB01k6jU/s320/bunnies.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br /></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><o:p><span style="font-family: Quicksand; font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></b></p>
<p align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Quicksand; font-size: large;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The way I figure it, I was born 40 years too late. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Quicksand; font-size: large;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>If I’d come along in, say, 1988 instead of 1948, my
elementary school report card would not have been crammed with a clown car full
of bullet points like “must refrain from distracting others,” “does not use his
available time to the greatest advantage,” and “often acts inappropriately.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Quicksand; font-size: large;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Instead, I would have been diagnosed with Attention Deficit
Disorder, forgiven my transgressions, and encouraged to ignore the teacher
instead of being frog-marched to the principal’s office for our regularly
scheduled 10:15 soul-searching encounter session and therapeutic
tongue-lashing. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Quicksand; font-size: large;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Of course, this tendency to view life through a flickering
focus has carried over into adulthood. I chose the life of a radio deejay (in
truth it chose me), where there’s something entirely new to do every two and a
half to three minutes when a song ends, and it doesn’t neccesarily matter if
you make any sense when you speak. In all modesty, I have excelled at this,
starting at the rock bottom of my profession, quickly rocketing to a position
firmly in the lower middle, and only occasionally dipping back down to ground
zero. As a grown-up, I’ve pursued a variety of interests and hobbies, each
lasting for a span of between two and three minutes and once for an entire half
an hour. Typical was the time I decided to become a concert oboist. By the time
I found a store that sold those instruments, I’d moved on to foosball. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Quicksand; font-size: large;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>As a writer, my inquisitive but mercurial imagination is
both a blessing and a curse. While I excel at playing the “what if?” game, I’m profoundly
poor at the sport of “what then?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: Quicksand; font-size: large;">Students
in my short-story writing class and the novel-writing boot camp I co-teach with
my wife often ask where ideas for stories come from. Usually, I’ll respond: “Excuse
me, were you talking to me?” Then, after they’ve restated the question, I’ll
tell them the truth. I don’t know. They just seem to be there, all around me,
and all I have to do is stop and pluck one, as if it were an overripe cherry.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: Quicksand; font-size: large;">But
that’s when my difficulties begin.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Quicksand; font-size: large;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Bright shiny object.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Quicksand; font-size: large;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I’m easily . . . easily . . . uh . . . er . . . is that a
bunny? Did you see a bunny? Oh, yeh, uh, distracted.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My wife, a woman of infinite patience and
pretty darn nice legs is alternately amused and disgusted by my inability to
turn inspiration into perspiration. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Quicksand; font-size: large;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>She contends that every time I’m distracted it reminds her
of when we’re agate-hunting together on a rocky beach and I spot something
sparkling in the sand. My pupils grow larger, my breathing accelerates, and a
child-like grin spreads across my face. Bright shiny object. Ooh. Pretty. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: Quicksand; font-size: large;">Carolyn
can take the germ of a plot, a handful of interesting characters, and an idea
of where she wants the story to take place and then immerse herself in the
process of writing a novel. Three pages one day, five pages the next, only two
the third (there was something she wanted to watch on television); before long
there’s a complete book in a three-ring binder beside her desk. A month or so
later it’s been rewritten and she’s querying agents to find someone to rep it. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: Quicksand; font-size: large;">Meanwhile,
in the same period of time, I’ve started and discarded five novels, written a
rough draft of a short story, generated ten other ideas for novels I’d like to
write, played golf seventeen times, downloaded eighty songs from the internet
and—<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: Quicksand; font-size: large;">Bright
shiny object.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: Quicksand; font-size: large;">Look at
it sparkle in the sun. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: Quicksand; font-size: large;">Despite my
stuttering synapses, I’ve managed to co-write five novels with my wife and
several on my own. Guess whose rock-solid resolve and discipline made those
come together? A clue. It was someone who was not, in any way, even by the
wildest stretch of your imagination, remotely resembling me. As we collaborated,
Carolyn, to her credit, never frog-marched me to the principal’s office. She
did use a variety of tactics to keep me on task, including, but not limited to:
threats, intimidation, shame, leg chains, firearms, and yogurt. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: Quicksand; font-size: large;">Short
stories are a natural for me. I can generate an idea; pressure spray the
contents of my brain onto a page and have a rough draft in the matter of a
couple of hours. Then, between brainstorming, noodling, and discarding four or
five new ideas, I can generally force myself to sit still long enough to steam
clean the original story, peeling away glaring logic dropouts, sappy syntax,
and rogue adverbs. Next comes the self-flagellation portion of the writing
exercise—playing bend-over dodge-ball with several dozen dysfunctional endings.
(Whack. Thank you, sir. May I have another? Whack.) <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: Quicksand; font-size: large;">Endings
are a bitch. My standard M.O. is to spend several hours more on the last two
paragraphs of a short story than I did the ten pages that preceded it. I know
the way the story is brought to a conclusion is of critical importance. It must
satisfy the reader, answering their inner need for a symbolic answer to today’s
most perplexing conundrums. It must wrap up all loose ends and bring the
characters to their inevitable—but not totally predictable—rendezvous with
destiny. And most importantly, it must have some kind of punctuation following
the final word. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: Quicksand; font-size: large;">I know
that if I’m to succeed as a writer, I must find a way to stay on task. A
friend, creative in his own right, suggested that I have to tell myself it’s
okay to ignore the whack-a-mole idea farm in my brain and plod forward on
whatever project I’ve begun. He claims inspiration isn’t hopping a bus for <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Pocatello</st1:city></st1:place> or running an ad
in Craig’s list for a new spawning ground. He assures me that ideas will always
be lurking in the shadows, waiting for me to call out to them. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: Quicksand; font-size: large;">I’m not
so sure. And that may be the root cause of my problem. Deep down, I’m afraid
that if I ignore the muse, she’ll stop showing up, like a guest who finds her party
invitation sported the wrong address. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: Quicksand; font-size: large;">But,
I’ll try. Like right now I’m plotting out a novel where the detective is a
professional midwife who . . . <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: Quicksand; font-size: large;">Bright
shiny object.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: Quicksand; font-size: large;">Or maybe
I should work on the one with the tuna fisherman who hauls up his net to find
Nazi gold in the . . .</span><o:p></o:p></p>Deadly Duo, Duh Bloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15279307709534348681noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4904164150534193483.post-39993445147135784502022-08-30T17:04:00.003-07:002022-08-30T17:04:26.370-07:00Cold Water Ears<p> </p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;">Carolyn
J. Rose</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">Recently
my brother’s doctor peered into his ears and announced “You must have done a
lot of swimming in cold water when you were young.”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-size: large;">Indeed we did.</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCJGAmvf9qwROI0BzmJAHO_6ZJ4OL4klDiICeHYhKZdlRmP5soQ-Qz-fjn6YUnJHeRNfWgE9XfynZAa_UI5ukU4DAtPtff6U-n5hpm0kmLkIEuTjblqogsgLh1jNnyhihXnMA3YgettDmYPCuh8gAOm0HMIlNBJ3kTX74aKPfJNJrDz-HnMjL8go4/s1689/CJ%20Poolside.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1092" data-original-width="1689" height="259" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCJGAmvf9qwROI0BzmJAHO_6ZJ4OL4klDiICeHYhKZdlRmP5soQ-Qz-fjn6YUnJHeRNfWgE9XfynZAa_UI5ukU4DAtPtff6U-n5hpm0kmLkIEuTjblqogsgLh1jNnyhihXnMA3YgettDmYPCuh8gAOm0HMIlNBJ3kTX74aKPfJNJrDz-HnMjL8go4/w400-h259/CJ%20Poolside.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">That’s
how my brother developed the bony growths the doctor spotted.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">I’m sure
I have them as well, although a medical professional has never brought them up.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">When
summer finally came to the <st1:place w:st="on">Catskill Mountains</st1:place>
where we grew up, we chose between cold water and colder water. We headed
either for the Sawkill or the family pool.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">The
Sawkill (note that “kill” means “creek” in that neck of the woods) was off
limits in the early spring when it ran high after heavy rains. For one thing,
the high water was an opaque rusty red from clay deposits upstream. For
another, we could hear rocks slamming together and see limbs thrashing in the
current. Even at an age when we had little idea of what mortality was all
about, we knew enough to pass on a rock-slamming swim.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">In summer,
however, the stream ran clear. But the level was usually low and the pools only
a few feet deep and a few wide. Not exactly conducive to swimming laps or
executing wave-creating cannon balls.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">So
mostly we picked the family pool. Built in 1941 and now no more, it wasn’t
fancy. It was an in-ground concrete-lined rectangular box with a sloping bottom
that filled and was replenished with water from a hillside spring. Shaded by
that hillside and plenty of trees, the water remained chilly for weeks. By the
end of August, it began to cool down when the days weren’t long enough to
replace heat that lengthening nights sucked from the water.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">So, the
window of opportunity was short. But we were hardy souls. And, let’s face it,
without computers, smart phones, and more than the two TV channels our set
picked up, there wasn’t much else to do. The days seemed to stretch forever and
then compress suddenly as the start of another school year loomed. So, we
crammed in all the swimming we could. We splashed and sunned and bet who could
swim farther underwater, or knock someone else off a tube, or do a complete
flip, or bring up a quarter from the corner of the pool where water didn’t
circulate much and green slime grew thicker every day.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">There
was no filter system on that pool, and no chlorine to kill germs. My father
tossed in a handful of copper sulfate now and then, but it didn’t deter the
algae. It did, however, seep into my hair and by the end of the summer it was a
brassy green that kids at school would tease me about.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">It a
weird way, I didn’t mind that. Green hair set me apart. At least for a few
weeks. Then, like my summer tan, the tint faded. I don’t have many pictures
from those days. Perhaps my brother will ask his doctor to take some shots of
the interior of his ears to remind me of how it was.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: Bookman Old Style, serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>Deadly Duo, Duh Bloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15279307709534348681noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4904164150534193483.post-72151018205590763682022-08-21T16:06:00.000-07:002022-08-21T16:06:32.346-07:00<p> </p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhYLWtjuQOmxD5vUjZtwiOhU3mnAom3awYJ1tef4JKBEBWHIx3l4LYCERe9XHGAGOfCI8rERKihqX70J_I59JHCk4A9FMmzVwn1UuJetKfm6mINBQA5Sy9BIfJi29xWyXIaBrVDXUaFEsK6zymZi7y3XL8YprtSIQt3E7Q0JcUVXNCyvDnKujBrGCI" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="285" data-original-width="430" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhYLWtjuQOmxD5vUjZtwiOhU3mnAom3awYJ1tef4JKBEBWHIx3l4LYCERe9XHGAGOfCI8rERKihqX70J_I59JHCk4A9FMmzVwn1UuJetKfm6mINBQA5Sy9BIfJi29xWyXIaBrVDXUaFEsK6zymZi7y3XL8YprtSIQt3E7Q0JcUVXNCyvDnKujBrGCI" width="320" /></a></div><br /><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The Indy 500 of the future.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">PA Announcer: “Gentlemen Start Your Engines!”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Dead silence. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">A field of 27 high-powered EVs zip silently for the
first turn. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Or imagine a Daytona race with only a high-pitched
humming for a soundtrack. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The makers of America’s traditional muscle cars,
notably Dodge Challenger and Charger and Ford Mustang are now marketing
Electric Vehicles that will outperform their gasoline-powered namesakes. Tesla,
Lucid and a number of others are also hitting the market.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">For gearhead skeptics, the quickest EV, the
Lucid Air Sapphire will go from 0-60 in under 2 seconds. 1.85 to be precise. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Part of the change that will be hard for some to
cope with is cultural. The ritual of idling at a stop light alongside another
muscle car, pumping the gas pedal and personal testosterone levels up to the
rumble and roar of a 396 or 427 eight-cylinder mega-beast will fade into our
collective memories.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Bookman Old Style, serif;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">My </span><span style="font-size: 18.6667px;">million-dollar</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> idea, (Which Dodge has already pre-empted. More on that in a
second) is creating a device that incorporates a tiny mp3 player loaded with muscle
car sounds from our automotive past. It would be set up to correspond to
different levels of foot pressure on the accelerator. Users could dial up the
engine sound they wanted to pump into high-quality rear mounted speakers and the
relative volume they wanted to inflict on other motorists and pedestrians. I’m
working on brand names. I’m thinking either Vroomblaster or Growlplifier. Other small steps that might help ease the motorhead angst include flame decals, fuzzy dice for the </span><span style="font-size: 18.6667px;">rear-view</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> mirror and a device that sprays a delicate mist of gasoline smell into the car's cockpit. </span></span><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Dodge’s new EV
Challengers and Chargers will come standard with built in massive gas engine
sounds. They’ll also have exhaust pipes and manual gear shifts, neither of
which is necessary (or useful) in operating the vehicle. But they hope the
devices will act as an attractant for those who still get an almost sexual
charge from hearing their car burble and rumble as they wait for the light to
change. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The
other cultural shift will be adapting our rich library of hot rod songs to the
new EV reality. A couple of possible examples. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><i>She
unplugged her daddy’s car and cruised to the hamburger stand now. She forgot
all about the library like she told her old man now!<o:p></o:p></i></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Little
GTO. You’re really looking fine. Eight anodes and a quick jolt. You really glide
off the line.<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;"><i><span style="color: #202124; font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">It's
the little old lady from Pasadena </span></i><i style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: #202124; font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">(Go
granny, go granny, go granny, go)</span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;"><i style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: #202124; font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Has a pretty little flowerbed of white gardenias (Go granny, go granny, go granny, go)</span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;"><i><span style="color: #202124; font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">But plugged in at her rickety old garage. There's a brand new shiny red EV Dodge<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal;"><span style="color: #202124; font-family: Bookman Old Style, serif;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><span> </span>Kidding
aside, I love my Nissan Leaf E.V. Quiet, quick and non-polluting. I love
driving by gas stations and thumbing my nose at the insane prices they’re
asking for gasoline. I love getting a gasoline bill with the number 0 in the
total </span><span style="font-size: 18.6667px;">charges'</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> column. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal;"><span style="color: #202124; font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="color: #202124; font-family: Bookman Old Style, serif;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">My prediction. (</span><span style="font-size: 18.6667px;">And</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> I have a horrible
track record of predicting the future. For example, I never saw Trump coming.)
Within ten years EVs will be the dominant vehicle on America’s roads and
highways. If I’m right, remember you read it here. And if I’m wrong, refer to
the words in the prior parentheses. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></i></p>Deadly Duo, Duh Bloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15279307709534348681noreply@blogger.com0