In the midst of the big day Thursday, the gals who were cleaning the yard came to tell me that there were bees in my water meter. Interesting. I wondered what the bees were doing there, but assuming it was making a hive, I called the water department and asked for someone to come check it out.
Today is Sunday and the beekeeper came. Odd to have a beekeeper drop by, but especially on a Sunday, rather than a work day. Whatever. He pried off the lid to the meter box, smoked the bee hive, and then sealed it all back up with caulk and sprayed something to tell the bees it's no longer a friendly lodging place.
He showed me the 5-gallon bucket filled with the bee hive, indicating that the bees have been busy for about 6 months building this sanctuary. He assured me that the bees will leave and not return to the meter box and/or start another hive nearby.
We'll see. I'm lucky this way: if another place on my property seems propitious, the bees will start building another hive.
Sunday, November 15, 2015
Thursday, November 12, 2015
Today
Today has not been a good day. I know we need bad days to balance out the many good ones that we enjoy, but it would have been nicer to space things out a bit.
I hired two women to come clean up the yard before Yucheng comes back from China on Tuesday, bringing his female cousin, Lian, with him. The yard has been looking pretty bad, so the women said they’d do the front today and the back tomorrow. I could do it, but my asthma has been kicking up quite a bit this season and I’d rather avoid all the complications of that situation. They did a lovely job and I’m really glad that I was able to find someone who actually works, does a good job, and doesn’t try to gouge me.
In the middle of the yardwork, I got a call from my next-door neighbor’s sister asking me to go check on the neighbor. She had been sending weird texts to both the sister and the neighbor’s daughter, who is away at college. I went over to the house to see what was up and my neighbor was a mess. At first, I thought she was probably drinking again, but that was not the case. She was sobbing her heart out and really upset that she had been fired during her probation with the postal service. She was so happy when she made it all the way through the application, interview, and testing process and had started driving a route. For the first time in a long time, she was looking forward to finally having a good job with benefits and appropriate pay.
I held her in my arms and let her cry it out, then told her I’d go back home and be back shortly to check on her. She told me she was okay, not to worry – she wasn’t going to kill herself. Red flag flies: people who assure you they aren’t going to kill themselves are planning just that, which is why it is in the forefront of their thinking. I said, whoa, and sat back down and talked to her a bit more until she was more settled down. I asked if she had eaten anything and she told me she wasn’t hungry, so I left to go back and supervise the yardwork.
I called both her sister and her daughter and told them she seemed to be getting through her bout of upset, but told them I’d go back and check on her throughout the day. But there’s always that nagging voice that says a person who talks about suicide often attempts it, so after waiting 10-15 minutes, I went back next door. She didn’t respond to my repeated knocking, so I used my key and opened the front door, calling her name to tell her that I was coming into the house. I got no response so went down the hallway to her bedroom and found her “passed out” on her bed. I tried to get her to sit up and talk to me, but she was out like a light. I persisted until she finally semi-roused, and that’s when she told me she took some pills because she can’t face another day.
I called 9-1-1. Lots of things I can do in life, but reviving a patient hell-bent on committing suicide isn’t one of them.
The two women working on the yard were done with today’s work, so they came over to ask me for their pay for the day. I told them I had called 9-1-1 and needed to stay with my neighbor, but I had one of them wait at her door while I ran back home and got their first payment on the work completed.
It took emergency personnel about 5 minutes to show up, with a police officer and a big fire truck the first to arrive. She was really out cold, but I gave my statement to the police officer and then handed him what I assumed to be the empty bottle of pills. The fire department personnel tried to rouse her, but weren’t having a lot of luck. When the ambulance arrived, they immediately put in an IV drip of something based on the bottle of pills she took. Before they could transport her to the local hospital, they had to change out the IV drip because it wasn’t doing what they wanted it to do. Once the ambulance left, I came back to my house – and the neighbor’s sister was arriving in my driveway.
The sister and I had been in contact for about an hour, with me trying to get my neighbor out of her funk and failing miserably. The sister decided to drive out here from Riverside – and she made it in record time. She followed the ambulance to the hospital and came back here about 2 hours later to tell me she’ll be at the ER until a bed comes available for a 51-50, which is a psych eval. She’ll be held on the 51-50 for 72 hours, and then can be held on a 52-50, which is a danger to herself or others. She lives alone, so her sister told me that sometimes they keep a patient for two weeks (or more), unless someone can arrange to be with the patient during the healing process from the suicide attempt.
Her daughter will be home tomorrow for the weekend, so it will be her responsibility to follow up with the medical personnel. I’ll drive over to the hospital if my neighbor is still local and give her some reassurance that this will be okay with time. Whatever that means.
The carpet cleaners arrived as scheduled in the middle of it all, so this was a busy, big day for an old retired schoolteacher!
I hired two women to come clean up the yard before Yucheng comes back from China on Tuesday, bringing his female cousin, Lian, with him. The yard has been looking pretty bad, so the women said they’d do the front today and the back tomorrow. I could do it, but my asthma has been kicking up quite a bit this season and I’d rather avoid all the complications of that situation. They did a lovely job and I’m really glad that I was able to find someone who actually works, does a good job, and doesn’t try to gouge me.
In the middle of the yardwork, I got a call from my next-door neighbor’s sister asking me to go check on the neighbor. She had been sending weird texts to both the sister and the neighbor’s daughter, who is away at college. I went over to the house to see what was up and my neighbor was a mess. At first, I thought she was probably drinking again, but that was not the case. She was sobbing her heart out and really upset that she had been fired during her probation with the postal service. She was so happy when she made it all the way through the application, interview, and testing process and had started driving a route. For the first time in a long time, she was looking forward to finally having a good job with benefits and appropriate pay.
I held her in my arms and let her cry it out, then told her I’d go back home and be back shortly to check on her. She told me she was okay, not to worry – she wasn’t going to kill herself. Red flag flies: people who assure you they aren’t going to kill themselves are planning just that, which is why it is in the forefront of their thinking. I said, whoa, and sat back down and talked to her a bit more until she was more settled down. I asked if she had eaten anything and she told me she wasn’t hungry, so I left to go back and supervise the yardwork.
I called both her sister and her daughter and told them she seemed to be getting through her bout of upset, but told them I’d go back and check on her throughout the day. But there’s always that nagging voice that says a person who talks about suicide often attempts it, so after waiting 10-15 minutes, I went back next door. She didn’t respond to my repeated knocking, so I used my key and opened the front door, calling her name to tell her that I was coming into the house. I got no response so went down the hallway to her bedroom and found her “passed out” on her bed. I tried to get her to sit up and talk to me, but she was out like a light. I persisted until she finally semi-roused, and that’s when she told me she took some pills because she can’t face another day.
I called 9-1-1. Lots of things I can do in life, but reviving a patient hell-bent on committing suicide isn’t one of them.
The two women working on the yard were done with today’s work, so they came over to ask me for their pay for the day. I told them I had called 9-1-1 and needed to stay with my neighbor, but I had one of them wait at her door while I ran back home and got their first payment on the work completed.
It took emergency personnel about 5 minutes to show up, with a police officer and a big fire truck the first to arrive. She was really out cold, but I gave my statement to the police officer and then handed him what I assumed to be the empty bottle of pills. The fire department personnel tried to rouse her, but weren’t having a lot of luck. When the ambulance arrived, they immediately put in an IV drip of something based on the bottle of pills she took. Before they could transport her to the local hospital, they had to change out the IV drip because it wasn’t doing what they wanted it to do. Once the ambulance left, I came back to my house – and the neighbor’s sister was arriving in my driveway.
The sister and I had been in contact for about an hour, with me trying to get my neighbor out of her funk and failing miserably. The sister decided to drive out here from Riverside – and she made it in record time. She followed the ambulance to the hospital and came back here about 2 hours later to tell me she’ll be at the ER until a bed comes available for a 51-50, which is a psych eval. She’ll be held on the 51-50 for 72 hours, and then can be held on a 52-50, which is a danger to herself or others. She lives alone, so her sister told me that sometimes they keep a patient for two weeks (or more), unless someone can arrange to be with the patient during the healing process from the suicide attempt.
Her daughter will be home tomorrow for the weekend, so it will be her responsibility to follow up with the medical personnel. I’ll drive over to the hospital if my neighbor is still local and give her some reassurance that this will be okay with time. Whatever that means.
The carpet cleaners arrived as scheduled in the middle of it all, so this was a busy, big day for an old retired schoolteacher!
Sunday, October 18, 2015
Doggone Rain
Our neighborhood is organized into long rectangular boxes, with 15 houses on each long side of the rectangle, backyard to backyard, two houses wide. For “the walk” we take each evening, we go up to the cross-street, turn left, walk down three sets of the shortest side of the rectangle, then up one of the long sides, across three short sides, and back down the long side to our house. It’s about a 15-minute walk, but we take a brisk approach to the walk and make it count.
Yesterday, when I put the harnesses and the leashes on and then opened the garage door, I could see a storm front across the freeway (to my south) that appeared to be heading northwest toward Banning/Beaumont. There was some lightning and thunder, but nothing to worry about as it wasn’t headed in our direction. The dogs and I made it across the three short-side blocks and up one of the long sides before the first rain drop fell. Still not concerned, we headed down the three short-side blocks toward our street, but by the time we got that far, the heavens opened up and drenched us.
There was lightning everywhere, thunder booming enough to shake the streets, and more rain than we’ve seen in a year.
I hurried the dogs along, but Cinnamon, the baby, was terrified. She was both trembling and whining, and sat down on the pavement and refused to move. I tried to get her moving but that was not going to happen, so I picked her up and resumed jogging toward home.
The rain never let up and the lightning was ferocious, but we kept moving. I tried putting Cinnamon down once, but she simply would not move, so I had to pick her up again and keep jogging toward home. One neighbor, who sees us each evening, offered to let me come into his garage to wait out the storm, but we were already so wet that it was just as smart to keep moving. Farther down the street, another neighbor offered an umbrella, but I was carrying one dog and holding onto the leash of the other, so there was no way to add an umbrella to the scenario.
Of course we made it home, soaked to the skin and shaking from the cold. We dried off and curled up on the couch to cuddle as the storm stayed overhead for a good 45 minutes. At one point, I thought a lightning strike had hit in my front yard as there was a brilliant light and then a resounding boom! of the thunder, which shook my house. I’ve looked and there is no burn spot, but it was darned close.
Rain has continued throughout the Valley, but we haven't had any since the downpour we were caught in the middle of. It's so dry from the lack of moisture that I wish we'd have more rain, but it's going along the mountains and causing a lot of mudslide issues due to the recent wildfires. It never rains but what it pours -- in the places that need it the least.
Yesterday, when I put the harnesses and the leashes on and then opened the garage door, I could see a storm front across the freeway (to my south) that appeared to be heading northwest toward Banning/Beaumont. There was some lightning and thunder, but nothing to worry about as it wasn’t headed in our direction. The dogs and I made it across the three short-side blocks and up one of the long sides before the first rain drop fell. Still not concerned, we headed down the three short-side blocks toward our street, but by the time we got that far, the heavens opened up and drenched us.
There was lightning everywhere, thunder booming enough to shake the streets, and more rain than we’ve seen in a year.
I hurried the dogs along, but Cinnamon, the baby, was terrified. She was both trembling and whining, and sat down on the pavement and refused to move. I tried to get her moving but that was not going to happen, so I picked her up and resumed jogging toward home.
The rain never let up and the lightning was ferocious, but we kept moving. I tried putting Cinnamon down once, but she simply would not move, so I had to pick her up again and keep jogging toward home. One neighbor, who sees us each evening, offered to let me come into his garage to wait out the storm, but we were already so wet that it was just as smart to keep moving. Farther down the street, another neighbor offered an umbrella, but I was carrying one dog and holding onto the leash of the other, so there was no way to add an umbrella to the scenario.
Of course we made it home, soaked to the skin and shaking from the cold. We dried off and curled up on the couch to cuddle as the storm stayed overhead for a good 45 minutes. At one point, I thought a lightning strike had hit in my front yard as there was a brilliant light and then a resounding boom! of the thunder, which shook my house. I’ve looked and there is no burn spot, but it was darned close.
Rain has continued throughout the Valley, but we haven't had any since the downpour we were caught in the middle of. It's so dry from the lack of moisture that I wish we'd have more rain, but it's going along the mountains and causing a lot of mudslide issues due to the recent wildfires. It never rains but what it pours -- in the places that need it the least.
Tuesday, September 1, 2015
Dump Trump
Donald Trump embarrasses me. He’s a rude, offensive bully who seems to relish his megalomania-like tendencies to rule the world. The Apprentice showed him at his best: ridiculing other people simply because he could; humiliating people viciously just because he could; and running roughshod over others because that seems to be his primary management style. He doesn’t seem to have a kind word for other people, but he expects others to show him top-notch courtesy because … he’s The Donald.
I don’t like Trump representing me as an American. It scares me to think that there are far too many Americans taking him seriously as a presidential candidate. I don’t want the rest of the world to think that we’re all like Trump and then fear that he could become our President. Imagine what other world leaders must be thinking … .
UPDATE: Donald totally shows his true self with the recent comments he made about a female politician. He asked who would vote for her the way she looks, then backed off and tried to amend his statement by claiming he meant her persona. First, his amendment makes it clear that he has no idea what a persona is, but secondly, it's bad enough that Donald says the things that he says, but when he's called to account for his vicious personal attacks, he should own them -- not try to weasel out by saying he was misunderstood.
Those of us who are listening to him know exactly what he meant and are offended by his lack of candor in not owning his words.
I don’t like Trump representing me as an American. It scares me to think that there are far too many Americans taking him seriously as a presidential candidate. I don’t want the rest of the world to think that we’re all like Trump and then fear that he could become our President. Imagine what other world leaders must be thinking … .
UPDATE: Donald totally shows his true self with the recent comments he made about a female politician. He asked who would vote for her the way she looks, then backed off and tried to amend his statement by claiming he meant her persona. First, his amendment makes it clear that he has no idea what a persona is, but secondly, it's bad enough that Donald says the things that he says, but when he's called to account for his vicious personal attacks, he should own them -- not try to weasel out by saying he was misunderstood.
Those of us who are listening to him know exactly what he meant and are offended by his lack of candor in not owning his words.
Monday, August 31, 2015
S'Miley
I wonder if, when Miley is an older woman (say past age 30), she'll regret any/all of the wardrobe choices she's made while participating in celebrity events such as the recent VMAs? Women my age were taught to be discreet with what they shared with the world, especially prior to marriage, but Miley seems to think that walking on stage totally nude but for a couple of strips of sheer fabric or colorful post-its is just fine.
If that's the choice she makes in her personal life, okay, but when she's representing America? Let's raise our expectations: I vote for a more modest look.
If that's the choice she makes in her personal life, okay, but when she's representing America? Let's raise our expectations: I vote for a more modest look.
Monday, August 24, 2015
Compounding
A compound word is created when two closely-related words are joined to form a new word. The word light has given rise to several compound words, including flashlight, spotlight, and penlight. A compound word can also be formed with a hyphen, such as low-slung car, down-home cooking, fill-in position, and on-line dating.
The dictionary function on my Kindle accesses words through Wikipedia, and that source recognizes as compound words those that remain as two words, such as post office, which is two words for the rest of the world and postoffice for the Wiki dictionary. A game player is a person who plays games, and it is two words for most of the world, but one word for Wiki: gameplayer. Putting these words together comes naturally, but there are some compounds that don't look correct. A suitcase is a piece of luggage used for carrying clothing on a trip; Wiki thinks that suitjacket is also a compound word, rather than two separate words. A person can be overly-protective, but Wiki encourages the writer to use overprotective.
Yes, language evolves, but creating new words by not using established grammar rules goes beyond evolution, which is a natural process, and borders on just plain being lazy. I edit books as I read them, and I am amazed at how many words are just tossed together. Engagementring is two words; eveninggown is two words; weddingday is two words; however, some modern writers write them as one word. Yes, the reader can figure it out, but there are already rules for writing, so why break them just to save one stroke on the computer keyboard? Online dating has already morphed into one word that is natural and easier than using the hyphenated form. Down home cooking without the hyphen takes a second to process, but downhome cooking is easy to understand.
Grammar is simply a sharedunderstanding of how to manipulate commonwords in a sentence to createmeaning. If the writerchooses to put wordstogether that aren’tusually writtentogether, it makes it morechallenging for the reader to figureout what the sentencesays, and that hinders the making-meaning process that is the core skill of reading.
The dictionary function on my Kindle accesses words through Wikipedia, and that source recognizes as compound words those that remain as two words, such as post office, which is two words for the rest of the world and postoffice for the Wiki dictionary. A game player is a person who plays games, and it is two words for most of the world, but one word for Wiki: gameplayer. Putting these words together comes naturally, but there are some compounds that don't look correct. A suitcase is a piece of luggage used for carrying clothing on a trip; Wiki thinks that suitjacket is also a compound word, rather than two separate words. A person can be overly-protective, but Wiki encourages the writer to use overprotective.
Yes, language evolves, but creating new words by not using established grammar rules goes beyond evolution, which is a natural process, and borders on just plain being lazy. I edit books as I read them, and I am amazed at how many words are just tossed together. Engagementring is two words; eveninggown is two words; weddingday is two words; however, some modern writers write them as one word. Yes, the reader can figure it out, but there are already rules for writing, so why break them just to save one stroke on the computer keyboard? Online dating has already morphed into one word that is natural and easier than using the hyphenated form. Down home cooking without the hyphen takes a second to process, but downhome cooking is easy to understand.
Grammar is simply a sharedunderstanding of how to manipulate commonwords in a sentence to createmeaning. If the writerchooses to put wordstogether that aren’tusually writtentogether, it makes it morechallenging for the reader to figureout what the sentencesays, and that hinders the making-meaning process that is the core skill of reading.
Wednesday, August 19, 2015
Here Are a Few Disgusting Things
The man leaves the public toilet and is accosted by a woman holding a roll of toilet paper. She asks him if he used the paper to wipe his bum, and when he admits that he has, she asks if it did a good job. When he somewhat hesitantly agrees that the paper did the job, she suggests he go back to a privacy stall and remove his underwear. He's now so clean in that region that he can ... GO COMMANDO!
Remarkably, the man agrees to this and pulls the waist of his pants down to show no underwear.
Not wearing underwear is one of those things in life that I would never do. I was taught that we had private areas on our body and that we kept those areas covered. Young people today are being taught to be free as, in some opinions, not being free about one's body is now called body shaming. I'm not ashamed of my body: I just think that private areas should remain private. Conversely, another TV commercial shows 3 young girls standing in front of potted bushes. Each one has a different way to shape the green bush into something cute, like a heart shape, but the one who wins uses a new Shick electric razor specifically designed for shaving the pubic region. The three green bushes are strategically placed in front of the girls' pubic area, so the message is sent: use this new tool to get creative with your pubic hair. I know women who have very hairy pubic regions, according to their own admissions, and they did groom the area when it was bathing suit weather. I am not aware of any of my female friends who groomed their pubic hair into cute shapes! And, I certainly never expected this whole trend to be part of a 60-second commercial.
We now have commercials with hundreds of actors wearing protective panties to proclaim that they are securely protected against unwanted leakage while out in public. I think it's nice that this product is available to both women and men, but I'm not sure I want to see such an "in your face" pictoral of it on my TV. Can't the point be made without having men/women parading in public with their Depends leading the way?
And women's breasts have become a status symbol in outfits designed--or just worn--to offer maximum exposure of the mammary glands. It's one thing for a woman to breast-feed her child discretely in public, but another to have females of all ages wearing tops with cutouts that draw the eye to naked breasts. Women walking the various red carpets used to be known for their excellent style; now, they are going commando and braless because the dresses they wear have sheer panels everywhere but across their nipples and the genitalia. That's not fashion: that's simply too much exposure in public.
I once laughed at the thought of a commercial showing a woman removing her tampon and shaking it to show how much menstrual blood one brand could hold versus another less absorbent product. Sad to say, what used to be a joke is now coming much closer to becoming a televised commercial. In fact, there is a new "craze," called free bleeding, for women who like nature to take its course by not using sanitary napkins and/or tampons. Yes, they just bleed wherever they go, which has to create a health hazard for the rest of the world. I can't imagine how anyone in their right mind would want to freely bleed, especially for those who have heavy periods, since that would be horribly messy for the person, as well as the leave-behind for the rest of us, especially those of us who use public restrooms when necessary.
I'd like to go back a few years and regain some public modesty. What goes on in one's home is one's business, but when it comes out into the public arena, those of us who are disturbed and/or offended by the lack of public modesty have no recourse.
Remarkably, the man agrees to this and pulls the waist of his pants down to show no underwear.
Not wearing underwear is one of those things in life that I would never do. I was taught that we had private areas on our body and that we kept those areas covered. Young people today are being taught to be free as, in some opinions, not being free about one's body is now called body shaming. I'm not ashamed of my body: I just think that private areas should remain private. Conversely, another TV commercial shows 3 young girls standing in front of potted bushes. Each one has a different way to shape the green bush into something cute, like a heart shape, but the one who wins uses a new Shick electric razor specifically designed for shaving the pubic region. The three green bushes are strategically placed in front of the girls' pubic area, so the message is sent: use this new tool to get creative with your pubic hair. I know women who have very hairy pubic regions, according to their own admissions, and they did groom the area when it was bathing suit weather. I am not aware of any of my female friends who groomed their pubic hair into cute shapes! And, I certainly never expected this whole trend to be part of a 60-second commercial.
We now have commercials with hundreds of actors wearing protective panties to proclaim that they are securely protected against unwanted leakage while out in public. I think it's nice that this product is available to both women and men, but I'm not sure I want to see such an "in your face" pictoral of it on my TV. Can't the point be made without having men/women parading in public with their Depends leading the way?
And women's breasts have become a status symbol in outfits designed--or just worn--to offer maximum exposure of the mammary glands. It's one thing for a woman to breast-feed her child discretely in public, but another to have females of all ages wearing tops with cutouts that draw the eye to naked breasts. Women walking the various red carpets used to be known for their excellent style; now, they are going commando and braless because the dresses they wear have sheer panels everywhere but across their nipples and the genitalia. That's not fashion: that's simply too much exposure in public.
I once laughed at the thought of a commercial showing a woman removing her tampon and shaking it to show how much menstrual blood one brand could hold versus another less absorbent product. Sad to say, what used to be a joke is now coming much closer to becoming a televised commercial. In fact, there is a new "craze," called free bleeding, for women who like nature to take its course by not using sanitary napkins and/or tampons. Yes, they just bleed wherever they go, which has to create a health hazard for the rest of the world. I can't imagine how anyone in their right mind would want to freely bleed, especially for those who have heavy periods, since that would be horribly messy for the person, as well as the leave-behind for the rest of us, especially those of us who use public restrooms when necessary.
I'd like to go back a few years and regain some public modesty. What goes on in one's home is one's business, but when it comes out into the public arena, those of us who are disturbed and/or offended by the lack of public modesty have no recourse.
Friday, August 14, 2015
Desert Heat
Today, it's 115 degrees out, pretty darned hot. Tomorrow, Saturday, it's set to be 116; Sunday 118; and then a huge cooling trend beginning Monday, when the temps go from 117 all the way down to 109 by the end of the week.
Yes, say the true desert rats, but it's a dry heat -- and that it is. Very dry; very hot; very uncomfortable. Once this heat spree loses its punch, we'll head into autumn and temps in the high 90s for a spell.
The winner in all this heat? The electric company! There's no way not to use air conditioning of one form or another.
And, with the water shortage, there is no more running through the hose on the front lawn because the lawn has been replaced with desert-friendly landscaping that doesn't require watering. Filling up the kiddie pool in the backyard? No way: our water usage is being monitored and if it goes above our limit, we are fined for excessive water usage, which wouldn't bother me if the pools at the hotels/motels and all the golf courses greens also had to suck it up and cut their usage, too.
I'd like to say it's the price we all are willing to pay to live in this desert paradise, but the truth is it's harder every year to find the benefits with all the regulations and higher utility costs.
Yes, say the true desert rats, but it's a dry heat -- and that it is. Very dry; very hot; very uncomfortable. Once this heat spree loses its punch, we'll head into autumn and temps in the high 90s for a spell.
The winner in all this heat? The electric company! There's no way not to use air conditioning of one form or another.
And, with the water shortage, there is no more running through the hose on the front lawn because the lawn has been replaced with desert-friendly landscaping that doesn't require watering. Filling up the kiddie pool in the backyard? No way: our water usage is being monitored and if it goes above our limit, we are fined for excessive water usage, which wouldn't bother me if the pools at the hotels/motels and all the golf courses greens also had to suck it up and cut their usage, too.
I'd like to say it's the price we all are willing to pay to live in this desert paradise, but the truth is it's harder every year to find the benefits with all the regulations and higher utility costs.
Wednesday, July 22, 2015
Train Wreck
"The girls" and I went to lunch, then to the movie theater to see Train Wreck, which, from the previews, looked to be a bit naughty, but funny. We each paid our $7.75 and found our seats in the theater, along with other senior citizens out for an afternoon of laughs.
Ten minutes in, I was ready to leave. The language was filthy, not funny, and the emphasis on the sexual nature of the film was dominating. I stayed on, perhaps hoping that it would improve, but then a very naked John Cena had a scene in the bathroom with a towel displayed on his very erect penis, a part I'm sure was played by a stand-in, but that was my tipping point.
I told the girls I was leaving as it was getting worse and nastier, not better and funnier, and they joined me. I went to guest services and told the manager that the movie was filthy and asked for my money back. He apologized and gave each of us our ticket price back in cash, rather than a voucher for another film, which is what this theater has done in the past. He said that he'd heard from co-workers that the movie was totally funny, but I told him it was totally filthy and offensive, neither of which I find funny.
I did admit that maybe it's a generational thing as the scene of an office meeting featured street language and profanity, which I found as offensive as the nudity and commonplace use of obscenities and sexual scenes. But maybe today's younger worker is used to this sort of language used on the job.
All in all, I can say the first 15 minutes are awful and nasty, and based on that limited sampling would caution anyone who thinks about seeing this movie to check for other films that may be less offensive.
Ten minutes in, I was ready to leave. The language was filthy, not funny, and the emphasis on the sexual nature of the film was dominating. I stayed on, perhaps hoping that it would improve, but then a very naked John Cena had a scene in the bathroom with a towel displayed on his very erect penis, a part I'm sure was played by a stand-in, but that was my tipping point.
I told the girls I was leaving as it was getting worse and nastier, not better and funnier, and they joined me. I went to guest services and told the manager that the movie was filthy and asked for my money back. He apologized and gave each of us our ticket price back in cash, rather than a voucher for another film, which is what this theater has done in the past. He said that he'd heard from co-workers that the movie was totally funny, but I told him it was totally filthy and offensive, neither of which I find funny.
I did admit that maybe it's a generational thing as the scene of an office meeting featured street language and profanity, which I found as offensive as the nudity and commonplace use of obscenities and sexual scenes. But maybe today's younger worker is used to this sort of language used on the job.
All in all, I can say the first 15 minutes are awful and nasty, and based on that limited sampling would caution anyone who thinks about seeing this movie to check for other films that may be less offensive.
Wednesday, July 15, 2015
Jurassic World
I expected an action-packed, scary movie, but ended up giggling my way through Jurassic World. The basic story is a hoot as it stumbles from scene to scene. The acting is over the top, which makes the actors much more intense than the material they are given to deliver.
The animation is good, with the dinosaurs stealing the movie from the humans. The clash of the titans scene that pits gargantuan dinosaur against blood-thirsty gargantuan dinosaur lost some of its intensity by having the humans next to the action. If you can believe that a human can out-run a running or flying dinosaur, then you will be totally into the fight scenes, but I was rooting for the dinos to do some damage to the main characters and was disappointed. Two young boys in fear for their lives in a "bubble" car escape when the largest dino cracks open the vehicle with its foot. The boys run to the edge of a what looks like a 100-foot waterfall, leap blindly into the abyss, and save themselves from certain death.
The absolute best part is the co-starring actress role, a role in which the actress wears her white suit and 3-inch pumps throughout the action. She finally ends up with a well-placed, provocative split up one side of her skirt, but those 3-inch heels take her from the control room to the wilderness of the dinosaurs and many near-death adventures with nary a speck of dirt or blood on them.
Rest assured: there will be another episode in the franchise. How do I know this? The bad guy absconded with the engineered dino eggs and missed all the fun of being chased by all manner of pre-historic creatures and dangers.
The animation is good, with the dinosaurs stealing the movie from the humans. The clash of the titans scene that pits gargantuan dinosaur against blood-thirsty gargantuan dinosaur lost some of its intensity by having the humans next to the action. If you can believe that a human can out-run a running or flying dinosaur, then you will be totally into the fight scenes, but I was rooting for the dinos to do some damage to the main characters and was disappointed. Two young boys in fear for their lives in a "bubble" car escape when the largest dino cracks open the vehicle with its foot. The boys run to the edge of a what looks like a 100-foot waterfall, leap blindly into the abyss, and save themselves from certain death.
The absolute best part is the co-starring actress role, a role in which the actress wears her white suit and 3-inch pumps throughout the action. She finally ends up with a well-placed, provocative split up one side of her skirt, but those 3-inch heels take her from the control room to the wilderness of the dinosaurs and many near-death adventures with nary a speck of dirt or blood on them.
Rest assured: there will be another episode in the franchise. How do I know this? The bad guy absconded with the engineered dino eggs and missed all the fun of being chased by all manner of pre-historic creatures and dangers.
Go Set a Watchman
Just as Scout learned as a child that it is a sin To Kill a Mockingbird, she learns in her adulthood that life needs a watchman, a person who can illuminate a pathway through the darkness of human behavior. Harper Lee’s second novel, the rest of the Atticus Finch story, pits father against daughter in a coming of age story that touches on a seminal moment in time in that relationship. Atticus Finch is not a racist; if that is the only message a reader walks away with after finishing Go Set a Watchman, the reader is unable to “get” the story Harper Lee tells.
The story begins with Scout coming home for a visit, during which she quickly learns that the more things in her life change, the more things from her childhood stay the same. She has high expectations for Maycomb and its people, and lofty, unreachable expectations for her father, Atticus. Scout has romanticized her father and is devastated when she thinks that he has failed her idolatry of him. She lashes out at her beloved Atticus, still seeing him through her childish eyes, rather than as an adult. Scout admits that “I did not want my world disturbed, but I wanted to crush the man who’s trying to preserve it for me.”
The turning point of the story occurs in the courthouse wherein the most well-known scene from To Kill a Mockingbird occurs. Once again Atticus is at the front of the room, but this time he’s there for a community meeting that includes discussion of the legislation and the NAACP. The agenda focuses on changes coming to the South, changes that can create equal opportunity for all Southerners, not just the white folks. Uncle Jack tells Scout that “… it takes a certain kind of maturity to live in the South these days,” a concept that Scout is reluctant to accept. Scout believes that change is today this/tomorrow that, but her Uncle Jack and her father, Atticus, help her to work through the difficult concept that change is a process, not an event.
Her uncle clarifies for Scout that “… the white supremacists fear reason, because they know cold reason beats them.” A reasonable person can see more than one side to an issue, and Atticus taught Scout to reason. Scout’s beloved Atticus has not changed: he adapts to what goes on around him and plots a wise course because he does know how many of his fellow citizens believe what he believes and need a voice of reason in what can only be turbulent times. Scout is incredulous that she can engage in a screaming fight with her father, but all he says when she comes to pick him up from work is “Ready?” Scout’s thoughts are revealed: “You can say ready to me. What are you, that I tried to obliterate and grind into the earth, and you say ready?”
The looming battle is clear: “Prejudice, a dirty word, and faith, a clean one, have something in common: they both begin where reason ends.” Dr. Finch reminds Scout that she’s a rarity, a truly “color blind” Southern girl. He reminds her that “The only differences you see between one human and another are differences in looks and intelligence and character and the like. You’ve never been prodded to look at people as a race, and now that race is the burning issue of the day, you’re still unable to think racially. You see only people.”
What Scout has forgotten is that Atticus “… certainly hoped a daughter of mine’d hold her ground for what she thinks is right—stand up to me first of all.” As father and daughter prepare to go home, Atticus says to his daughter, “I can take anything anybody calls me so long as it’s not true.” He knows that the future is going to be difficult with citizens taking sides in a centuries old battle, but he’s proud that his daughter will be a voice of reason.
The story begins with Scout coming home for a visit, during which she quickly learns that the more things in her life change, the more things from her childhood stay the same. She has high expectations for Maycomb and its people, and lofty, unreachable expectations for her father, Atticus. Scout has romanticized her father and is devastated when she thinks that he has failed her idolatry of him. She lashes out at her beloved Atticus, still seeing him through her childish eyes, rather than as an adult. Scout admits that “I did not want my world disturbed, but I wanted to crush the man who’s trying to preserve it for me.”
The turning point of the story occurs in the courthouse wherein the most well-known scene from To Kill a Mockingbird occurs. Once again Atticus is at the front of the room, but this time he’s there for a community meeting that includes discussion of the legislation and the NAACP. The agenda focuses on changes coming to the South, changes that can create equal opportunity for all Southerners, not just the white folks. Uncle Jack tells Scout that “… it takes a certain kind of maturity to live in the South these days,” a concept that Scout is reluctant to accept. Scout believes that change is today this/tomorrow that, but her Uncle Jack and her father, Atticus, help her to work through the difficult concept that change is a process, not an event.
Her uncle clarifies for Scout that “… the white supremacists fear reason, because they know cold reason beats them.” A reasonable person can see more than one side to an issue, and Atticus taught Scout to reason. Scout’s beloved Atticus has not changed: he adapts to what goes on around him and plots a wise course because he does know how many of his fellow citizens believe what he believes and need a voice of reason in what can only be turbulent times. Scout is incredulous that she can engage in a screaming fight with her father, but all he says when she comes to pick him up from work is “Ready?” Scout’s thoughts are revealed: “You can say ready to me. What are you, that I tried to obliterate and grind into the earth, and you say ready?”
The looming battle is clear: “Prejudice, a dirty word, and faith, a clean one, have something in common: they both begin where reason ends.” Dr. Finch reminds Scout that she’s a rarity, a truly “color blind” Southern girl. He reminds her that “The only differences you see between one human and another are differences in looks and intelligence and character and the like. You’ve never been prodded to look at people as a race, and now that race is the burning issue of the day, you’re still unable to think racially. You see only people.”
What Scout has forgotten is that Atticus “… certainly hoped a daughter of mine’d hold her ground for what she thinks is right—stand up to me first of all.” As father and daughter prepare to go home, Atticus says to his daughter, “I can take anything anybody calls me so long as it’s not true.” He knows that the future is going to be difficult with citizens taking sides in a centuries old battle, but he’s proud that his daughter will be a voice of reason.
Saturday, May 16, 2015
Cry Baby
Of course, receiving a seat assignment late in the reservation process assured that I would get a middle seat for the longest link of the three flights, and this one was between 2 men, each of whom quickly tugged down the arm-rest to make it more challenging for me to get into my seat. There was never even a smidgen of a chance that either of them would take their elbows out of my space, so I hugged myself tightly and settled in for the flight.
In addition to the lack of armrest comfort, the men both did the "man-spred" with their legs, which forced me to lock my knees together to keep from touching their encroaching knees and lower legs. I felt like I wrapped myself up like a taco shell and then had to hold that pose for a very long 5-hour flight segment. And that would have been okay but for the one male passenger seated next to me who was pissed because ...
1) No one told him that this was a no wi-fi flight. He's a busy man and uses his flight time to work, which meant without the wi-fi, he "lost" 5 hours of productive time and, as he said repeatedly to anyone who would listen, "time is money in my world."
2) We left the airport late, which was going to throw his entire work schedule out of sync. What was the excuse for not leaving on time? Well, believe it or not, the flight attendant really did not know why they left late, but she was sure the flight captain could make up some of the time and we'd arrive close to the original flight time.
3) Yeah, not so much as we ran into a storm and the captain was directed to fly around it, so we were late getting into the arrival gate, which inconvenienced many of the passengers, including me. I adjusted to the close call for my next flight by striding forcefully on the moving walkways and knocking out slow-pokes like they were bowling balls in an alley. I'm sure he was still back on the plane wa-wah-wahing to anyone who'd listen to his temper tantrum.
4) His final complaint was that the flight attendant did not announce gate arrivals and departures prior to landing. I'm sure the flight crew was busy with other duties, but this guy wanted -- and got -- a personally delivered gate arrival and information about his next flight departure. Guess it pays to be a pain in the ass, huh?
Proud of his bullying and whining, the guy made it loudly clear to anyone within 15 feet of him that he'd already composed the letter of complaint to the airlines so they will know how incompetent this particular flight crew was in meeting his personal needs. He turned toward me, pehaps to see if I was in agreement with him, and I just gave him the stare, and we all know the stare I shared.
In addition to the lack of armrest comfort, the men both did the "man-spred" with their legs, which forced me to lock my knees together to keep from touching their encroaching knees and lower legs. I felt like I wrapped myself up like a taco shell and then had to hold that pose for a very long 5-hour flight segment. And that would have been okay but for the one male passenger seated next to me who was pissed because ...
1) No one told him that this was a no wi-fi flight. He's a busy man and uses his flight time to work, which meant without the wi-fi, he "lost" 5 hours of productive time and, as he said repeatedly to anyone who would listen, "time is money in my world."
2) We left the airport late, which was going to throw his entire work schedule out of sync. What was the excuse for not leaving on time? Well, believe it or not, the flight attendant really did not know why they left late, but she was sure the flight captain could make up some of the time and we'd arrive close to the original flight time.
3) Yeah, not so much as we ran into a storm and the captain was directed to fly around it, so we were late getting into the arrival gate, which inconvenienced many of the passengers, including me. I adjusted to the close call for my next flight by striding forcefully on the moving walkways and knocking out slow-pokes like they were bowling balls in an alley. I'm sure he was still back on the plane wa-wah-wahing to anyone who'd listen to his temper tantrum.
4) His final complaint was that the flight attendant did not announce gate arrivals and departures prior to landing. I'm sure the flight crew was busy with other duties, but this guy wanted -- and got -- a personally delivered gate arrival and information about his next flight departure. Guess it pays to be a pain in the ass, huh?
Proud of his bullying and whining, the guy made it loudly clear to anyone within 15 feet of him that he'd already composed the letter of complaint to the airlines so they will know how incompetent this particular flight crew was in meeting his personal needs. He turned toward me, pehaps to see if I was in agreement with him, and I just gave him the stare, and we all know the stare I shared.
Monday, May 11, 2015
Flight Line
Anyone who knows me also knows that I have bad luck when it comes to booking a flight and then having it happen the way the itinerary says it should go. This trip, the snafu's began at the PS airport before my 6 am scheduled departure. The flight was seriously over-booked and I didn't have a confirmed seat, along with another half-dozen frustrated flyers who were giving the airport employee a loud ration of serious shit. I waited my turn at the end of the line and finally made it to the front of the queue.
I politely asked the employee if I would have a seat on the flight and he stopped for a minute, then leaned toward me and said, "How would you like to leave an hour later, fly through Phoenix, and arrive a hour earlier than your original flight?"
"Sure," I responded, thinking what a deal.
Then he said, "And I'll throw in a $500 free travel voucher."
He had me at the rescheduling of the first itinerary, so I was now elated. The only question I had was would my luggage make it to H'burg, but he assured me that it would.
Flights went off without a hitch, and I was at the luggage pick-up, waiting for the original flight to land and cough up my purple suitcase. Quick trip back to LanCo and all was well in my world.
Until 2 days later, when I received an email telling me that my entire itinerary, all 6 flights, had been cancelled. No way, I thought, as 3 of those flights were the return trip. If those flights were not available, there was going to be a problem, so I called the US Airways help-line and introduced myself to the CSR who answered the phone. She was a bit perplexed, but called a supervisor, and my flights were restored -- with seat assignments -- and I am good to return home if nothing changes in the meanwhile.
Flying is always an adventure for me, and there's always a story to tell. I pity the poor people who sail through their itineraries without a hitch as they don't know how exciting it can be to have to go with the flow and make changes on a moment's notice.
I politely asked the employee if I would have a seat on the flight and he stopped for a minute, then leaned toward me and said, "How would you like to leave an hour later, fly through Phoenix, and arrive a hour earlier than your original flight?"
"Sure," I responded, thinking what a deal.
Then he said, "And I'll throw in a $500 free travel voucher."
He had me at the rescheduling of the first itinerary, so I was now elated. The only question I had was would my luggage make it to H'burg, but he assured me that it would.
Flights went off without a hitch, and I was at the luggage pick-up, waiting for the original flight to land and cough up my purple suitcase. Quick trip back to LanCo and all was well in my world.
Until 2 days later, when I received an email telling me that my entire itinerary, all 6 flights, had been cancelled. No way, I thought, as 3 of those flights were the return trip. If those flights were not available, there was going to be a problem, so I called the US Airways help-line and introduced myself to the CSR who answered the phone. She was a bit perplexed, but called a supervisor, and my flights were restored -- with seat assignments -- and I am good to return home if nothing changes in the meanwhile.
Flying is always an adventure for me, and there's always a story to tell. I pity the poor people who sail through their itineraries without a hitch as they don't know how exciting it can be to have to go with the flow and make changes on a moment's notice.
Full Circle
I was good and firmly snagged when I pulled off my pinny and it caught on my earring and pulled the hoop loose. As I reached up to catch it, I realized that my 24k gold butterfly earring was also missing from my ear. I immediately began searching for it as it is precious to me because the earrings were a gift from Y. Of course, a frantic search was begun in the powdery black sand and gravel floor by helpful bystanders, but to no avail. As I left the show venue, I said, "If it is to be, it will come back to me," but I knew that it was lost forever.
Yesterday, however, when I was walking on the main floor of the house, a bright glimmer caught my eye: it was the earring back on the floor, partway under the small hallway table. Elated, I began searching high and low for the earring, but, again, it was nowhere to be found. Now having two locales to search, I figured it was a total lost cause.
This morning, I picked up the pile of dirty show venue clothes to give them a good wash and my toe flicked against something. Thinking it was a small rock from my shoe tread, I bent down to pick it up and was elated that it was my earring, which must have found its way inside my clothing at the venue and then onto the bedroom floor, which was why we couldn't see it there in the black gravel floor covering and I couldn't find it on my main floor of the house.
St. Anthony is the patron of lost causes, so I'm sending him my thanks this morning for returning my beautiful gold earring to me.
Yesterday, however, when I was walking on the main floor of the house, a bright glimmer caught my eye: it was the earring back on the floor, partway under the small hallway table. Elated, I began searching high and low for the earring, but, again, it was nowhere to be found. Now having two locales to search, I figured it was a total lost cause.
This morning, I picked up the pile of dirty show venue clothes to give them a good wash and my toe flicked against something. Thinking it was a small rock from my shoe tread, I bent down to pick it up and was elated that it was my earring, which must have found its way inside my clothing at the venue and then onto the bedroom floor, which was why we couldn't see it there in the black gravel floor covering and I couldn't find it on my main floor of the house.
St. Anthony is the patron of lost causes, so I'm sending him my thanks this morning for returning my beautiful gold earring to me.
Wednesday, April 22, 2015
Be Careful What I Wish For
I didn't like the "bob" haircut, so I looked around for another stylist to reshape the first cut into the picture I found that showed exactly what I wanted. I should have checked this stylist's credentials or figured out from the appearance of his shop that he probably wasn't what I wanted. Too late after he'd butchered my hair, all the while talking about how he was exactly duplicating the picture.
My hair went from Bob to boy-cut, about 2" long all over my head. Nothing I can do about it after the fact, but my gut told me not to have this stylist cut my hair, and then I laughed that feeling off and sat in his chair. To add to the total effect, my hair is naturally curly as I've aged, so the short cut is curly, with wisps sticking out here and there. Y likes it, but I don't share his enthusiasm and hate the thought of appearing in public with this ridiculously short, curly mop of hair on my head.
The only blessing in all of this is that my hair grows fast, so I should look a bit better in say 3 months or so.
My hair went from Bob to boy-cut, about 2" long all over my head. Nothing I can do about it after the fact, but my gut told me not to have this stylist cut my hair, and then I laughed that feeling off and sat in his chair. To add to the total effect, my hair is naturally curly as I've aged, so the short cut is curly, with wisps sticking out here and there. Y likes it, but I don't share his enthusiasm and hate the thought of appearing in public with this ridiculously short, curly mop of hair on my head.
The only blessing in all of this is that my hair grows fast, so I should look a bit better in say 3 months or so.
Saturday, April 18, 2015
Stylin'
Going to the beauty salon is, for me, a trial. I know how I want my hair to be when I walk out the door at the end of the session, but I obviously don’t know how to communicate that to the stylist. Yesterday, for example, I downloaded a picture of Lisa Renna from the internet because one of the styles she once wore was exactly the way I wanted my very long hair to be cut. I talked to the stylist and explained clearly that I did NOT want a “bob,” but I wanted a shaggy short cut – just like the picture. Because her English was limited, she called over another one of the stylists to translate for me into Spanish – just so we were clear on my expectations.
I have a shaggy bob. It’s not shaped into a short, hug the back of the neck haircut like the picture I brought in. The top, rather than being a big longer, is shorter; the middle part of the cut is pretty good; the bottom of the cut is too long to be anything other than a bob. As I kept referring to the picture for what I wanted, I felt confident I was communicating clearly because, after all, a picture is worth a thousand words, but the picture was in English and she spoke Spanish, so I got her interpretation of the haircut, rather than the haircut.
During the process, I tried to provide guidance. When the back was still really long, I picked up the picture and showed her how it came to the bottom of the ear, not the top of my shoulders. She did cut it shorter, but it’s much longer than both the picture and my expectation. The front has that funny too long look that most of the bobs I see have, what looks to me like the cut is unfinished, and the pieces of hair stick out. I tried to blend them behind my ear, but that’s not the way the hair is cut, so that’s not the way it’s going to be.
The good news is that I’m going to dotter’s house and she has a really good hair-dresser who may be able to fix the cut. It’s not that it looks bad, and Y says he really likes it, but it’s a bob—and I didn’t want a bob. Funny that the only word out of the conversation that my stylist seemed to translate was bob.
I have a shaggy bob. It’s not shaped into a short, hug the back of the neck haircut like the picture I brought in. The top, rather than being a big longer, is shorter; the middle part of the cut is pretty good; the bottom of the cut is too long to be anything other than a bob. As I kept referring to the picture for what I wanted, I felt confident I was communicating clearly because, after all, a picture is worth a thousand words, but the picture was in English and she spoke Spanish, so I got her interpretation of the haircut, rather than the haircut.
During the process, I tried to provide guidance. When the back was still really long, I picked up the picture and showed her how it came to the bottom of the ear, not the top of my shoulders. She did cut it shorter, but it’s much longer than both the picture and my expectation. The front has that funny too long look that most of the bobs I see have, what looks to me like the cut is unfinished, and the pieces of hair stick out. I tried to blend them behind my ear, but that’s not the way the hair is cut, so that’s not the way it’s going to be.
The good news is that I’m going to dotter’s house and she has a really good hair-dresser who may be able to fix the cut. It’s not that it looks bad, and Y says he really likes it, but it’s a bob—and I didn’t want a bob. Funny that the only word out of the conversation that my stylist seemed to translate was bob.
Saturday, March 14, 2015
Turbo Taxing
My income tax guy made a huge mistake on my taxes last year that cost me an extra thousand dollars I had to pay. I talked it over with Y, who majored in finance and is taking his CPA license courses and doing well. Could we muddle through the taxes if I bought TurboTax, a highly recommended tax program. We came to the conclusion that we could not do worse than my tax guy, so Y downloaded the software and we were in for better or worse.
The graphics make the program seem so easy, but there is no place to explain that last year, an error was made and this year we have to do it a bit differently than last year. We made it through the federal return, going to the reams of documents to find the specific information we needed at each step in the program. It seemed that we did the return correctly, but Lord only knows!
Then it came time to hit the send button on the federal and check the state return for accuracy and completion. Alas, no state form – and panic set in. We tried everything we could think of to find the return, to no avail. Lacking that, we wanted to purchase the state return and complete it as a separate document. Believe it or not, we could not find an option to purchase a single state copy of the program. When worst comes to worst, call tech support, and what a mistake that was. The woman who answered our call was foreign, based on her very thick accent and difficulty communicating with us. When Y explained the problem, she told him she would check, then they began having a challenging conversation, so I asked him for the phone. I repeated the core problem – we did not have our state return, so could we download it and merge the federal information? Her response was that she would check with her supervisor, which led me to believe that she had limited knowledge of the product, much less the actual usage of the software.
After she told me three separate times that she would check with her supervisor, she finally gave me the bad news. We would have to purchase the state return program separately and start all over with completing it. I told her there had to be an option to merge the information, but I’m pretty sure she had no idea what I was talking about. I finally thanked her for her time and hung up.
Then we started trying to find a way to download the state return and I asked Y if he had saved the completed return. When he assured me he had, I asked him to find it. When he located the completed federal return, I saw the word “state” as Y quickly flashed past it and back to the main menu. I asked him to return, but he wanted to call another service representative. I told him that it said “state” as he looked at the saved files, so he reluctantly went back just to shut me up. Voila! There was our completed state return. We figured out that when we bought the federal program, we also bought the state program, which is what we intended, but we had no idea that we actually had done that. We printed both documents for our files, but also printed the state one and sent it by mail because we had already submitted the federal return and were tired and cranky and just wanted to be finished.
I had everything we needed ready to import to the program – and it still took both of us working together 5 hours to complete the return. Yes, it completes both federal and state returns at the same time, but the language and options are restrictive and don’t allow for much help in preparing the returns. The only positive is that once the federal is completed, the state is auto-completed too, which means we only had to wade through this process once. If I were to rate this software experience, I’d give it a 6/10.
The graphics make the program seem so easy, but there is no place to explain that last year, an error was made and this year we have to do it a bit differently than last year. We made it through the federal return, going to the reams of documents to find the specific information we needed at each step in the program. It seemed that we did the return correctly, but Lord only knows!
Then it came time to hit the send button on the federal and check the state return for accuracy and completion. Alas, no state form – and panic set in. We tried everything we could think of to find the return, to no avail. Lacking that, we wanted to purchase the state return and complete it as a separate document. Believe it or not, we could not find an option to purchase a single state copy of the program. When worst comes to worst, call tech support, and what a mistake that was. The woman who answered our call was foreign, based on her very thick accent and difficulty communicating with us. When Y explained the problem, she told him she would check, then they began having a challenging conversation, so I asked him for the phone. I repeated the core problem – we did not have our state return, so could we download it and merge the federal information? Her response was that she would check with her supervisor, which led me to believe that she had limited knowledge of the product, much less the actual usage of the software.
After she told me three separate times that she would check with her supervisor, she finally gave me the bad news. We would have to purchase the state return program separately and start all over with completing it. I told her there had to be an option to merge the information, but I’m pretty sure she had no idea what I was talking about. I finally thanked her for her time and hung up.
Then we started trying to find a way to download the state return and I asked Y if he had saved the completed return. When he assured me he had, I asked him to find it. When he located the completed federal return, I saw the word “state” as Y quickly flashed past it and back to the main menu. I asked him to return, but he wanted to call another service representative. I told him that it said “state” as he looked at the saved files, so he reluctantly went back just to shut me up. Voila! There was our completed state return. We figured out that when we bought the federal program, we also bought the state program, which is what we intended, but we had no idea that we actually had done that. We printed both documents for our files, but also printed the state one and sent it by mail because we had already submitted the federal return and were tired and cranky and just wanted to be finished.
I had everything we needed ready to import to the program – and it still took both of us working together 5 hours to complete the return. Yes, it completes both federal and state returns at the same time, but the language and options are restrictive and don’t allow for much help in preparing the returns. The only positive is that once the federal is completed, the state is auto-completed too, which means we only had to wade through this process once. If I were to rate this software experience, I’d give it a 6/10.
Saturday, March 7, 2015
For Your Viewing Pleasure
A good film can hold the watcher’s attention even when the watcher already knows the story and how it ends. Such a film is McFarland, starring Kevin Costner. The story centers on Costner’s character, a highly-stressed out high school football coach who loses his cool and throws a cleated shoe at a player – and then loses his job. With few (if any) options available to him, he accepts a job teaching science and coaching at a high school in McFarland, CA. The town is definitely Mexican, so it takes the white middle-class family a bit to make adjustments to the new culture, but they do so willingly as they meet warm, wonderful people who welcome them into their neighborhood.
Costner develops an appreciation for the young men he sees leaving early for work in the fields, then running cross country to make it to school in time to beat the tardy bell. He sees their inner strength, as well as their innate potential for running, and decides to start a cross-country team. The team not only turns the young men around, but it also draws in the rest of the community with a deep sense of pride in the runners and their accomplishments.
This is a feel-good film that is worth the time to see. It is the kind of film that schools should show during assemblies or on a film night. It’s relatable for both adults, who need to know that the generations to come have potential and are able to reach for the stars, and for young people, who often doubt that they can make a difference. The message is there, but the movie isn’t in your face to receive it.
A second film that I watched this past week is the second installation of the Marigold Hotel, set in India and featuring a cast of elderly characters who wonder what’s left for them in a world that seems too focused on young people. The cast is amazing, playing elderly, but coming across as still vibrant and engaged with life. The story moves right along, but pauses here and there to present issues about the quality of one’s life after middle age is in the rear-view mirror.
Some days, it is challenging to wake up and realize that there are fewer days ahead than are past, but not have a clear pathway to the future. There are characters who are afraid to share love because they don’t know how long they have to enjoy their lives together. There are characters who realize that they are no longer defined by what they do, but who they are, and they are not sure who that is at this time in their lives. And there are characters who fool themselves into believing that they are fine just the way they are because it’s too much work (or too frightening) to take a chance on what if.
Absolutely the best event of the movie is the Bollywood wedding, which is fun, colorful, noisy, and a perfect ending to a subdued storyline. I like uplifting, fun entertainment, so I’m already standing in line for a ticket for the third phase of the Marigold Hotel series.
Costner develops an appreciation for the young men he sees leaving early for work in the fields, then running cross country to make it to school in time to beat the tardy bell. He sees their inner strength, as well as their innate potential for running, and decides to start a cross-country team. The team not only turns the young men around, but it also draws in the rest of the community with a deep sense of pride in the runners and their accomplishments.
This is a feel-good film that is worth the time to see. It is the kind of film that schools should show during assemblies or on a film night. It’s relatable for both adults, who need to know that the generations to come have potential and are able to reach for the stars, and for young people, who often doubt that they can make a difference. The message is there, but the movie isn’t in your face to receive it.
A second film that I watched this past week is the second installation of the Marigold Hotel, set in India and featuring a cast of elderly characters who wonder what’s left for them in a world that seems too focused on young people. The cast is amazing, playing elderly, but coming across as still vibrant and engaged with life. The story moves right along, but pauses here and there to present issues about the quality of one’s life after middle age is in the rear-view mirror.
Some days, it is challenging to wake up and realize that there are fewer days ahead than are past, but not have a clear pathway to the future. There are characters who are afraid to share love because they don’t know how long they have to enjoy their lives together. There are characters who realize that they are no longer defined by what they do, but who they are, and they are not sure who that is at this time in their lives. And there are characters who fool themselves into believing that they are fine just the way they are because it’s too much work (or too frightening) to take a chance on what if.
Absolutely the best event of the movie is the Bollywood wedding, which is fun, colorful, noisy, and a perfect ending to a subdued storyline. I like uplifting, fun entertainment, so I’m already standing in line for a ticket for the third phase of the Marigold Hotel series.
Monday, February 23, 2015
Healthy-ish
The next time I hear one of those "70 is the new 50" comments, I may just go off the rails and punch the speaker in the face. Seventy is the same old seventy, but with, generally speaking, better health and longer life prospects. Knowing this, I have been to a few appointments that could provide me with specific information about my health, and, thus, my longevity prospects.
Happy to say, all is well within my corpulent life container. My Diabetes II continues to be adequately managed, but the fasting blood sugar was moving toward the let's talk about daily medication at our next appointment. Thus, I'm off sweets and carbs as my two primary food groups, replaced by protein and veggies. When I'm tempted to cheat, I recall how much I hated sticking my finger every morning and tracking both my fasting blood sugar and my dietary intake.
My heart and associated bloodways to/from it are fine. My cholesterol is good, so I'll take that result with a grain of ... oops, not salt! Thankfully, I'm not having blood pressure issues, but I've cut back on the salt just in case.
My COPD is well-managed with an inhaler, but even that does not work well when it's both cold and windy outside. I gulp for breath like a beached whale when walking the dogs in those conditions, so it's nice that we're having one of the milder winters I can recall. Last night, however, a storm was coming in and it was suddenly cold and windy, causing me to stop a dozen times during the walk to breath inside my sweatshirt until I warmed up my bronchial tubes enough to breath somewhat naturally/normally.
The one area that needs immediate aggressive intervention is my body mass: it's far too much mass, with little discernable body hiding underneath the blubber. I'm working on it each day in a positive way, but results don't come at the end of each day's exercise and/or abstinance. I've upped walking the dogs to twice a day, and we go at quite the good clip around the blocks, but it'll take years to take off the weight I've put on if all I do is walk the dogs. They love going for the walks, but I'm sure that one day they will look me straight in the eyes and ask why the hell I'm punishing them for my inability to control what I put into the oral orifice!
With knowledge comes great power a wise man one sayeth, so I'm repeating it. I know that I'm in good shape for the shape I'm in, so if I just continue to tweak a couple of little issues, like food, I've done the best that I can do to be the best that I can be.
Happy to say, all is well within my corpulent life container. My Diabetes II continues to be adequately managed, but the fasting blood sugar was moving toward the let's talk about daily medication at our next appointment. Thus, I'm off sweets and carbs as my two primary food groups, replaced by protein and veggies. When I'm tempted to cheat, I recall how much I hated sticking my finger every morning and tracking both my fasting blood sugar and my dietary intake.
My heart and associated bloodways to/from it are fine. My cholesterol is good, so I'll take that result with a grain of ... oops, not salt! Thankfully, I'm not having blood pressure issues, but I've cut back on the salt just in case.
My COPD is well-managed with an inhaler, but even that does not work well when it's both cold and windy outside. I gulp for breath like a beached whale when walking the dogs in those conditions, so it's nice that we're having one of the milder winters I can recall. Last night, however, a storm was coming in and it was suddenly cold and windy, causing me to stop a dozen times during the walk to breath inside my sweatshirt until I warmed up my bronchial tubes enough to breath somewhat naturally/normally.
The one area that needs immediate aggressive intervention is my body mass: it's far too much mass, with little discernable body hiding underneath the blubber. I'm working on it each day in a positive way, but results don't come at the end of each day's exercise and/or abstinance. I've upped walking the dogs to twice a day, and we go at quite the good clip around the blocks, but it'll take years to take off the weight I've put on if all I do is walk the dogs. They love going for the walks, but I'm sure that one day they will look me straight in the eyes and ask why the hell I'm punishing them for my inability to control what I put into the oral orifice!
With knowledge comes great power a wise man one sayeth, so I'm repeating it. I know that I'm in good shape for the shape I'm in, so if I just continue to tweak a couple of little issues, like food, I've done the best that I can do to be the best that I can be.
Sunday, February 15, 2015
Black and White
I'm not a huge Kevin Costner fan, but he does a wonderful job of being the grandfather to a mixed race grand-daughter in the movie Black and White. The premise is that both sides of the family want the little girl to grow up knowing her people, as well as their customs and traditions. For a bit, they forget the welfare of the child as it becomes a tug-of-war between white grandpa and black gramma.
Costner's character focuses on the fact that the black son, at age 24, had sex with his white daughter, age 17, and left her to fend for herself when she found out she was pregnent. With that as a starting point, Costner is not willing to budge even one inch when it comes to exposing his grand-daughter to her father's side of the family.
Of course, we all know how the story ends before it begins, but it's a pleasant journey through some complications that make Black and White a good popcorn movie either on a deep, snowy day -- or a hot, dry day such as we've been having.
Costner's character focuses on the fact that the black son, at age 24, had sex with his white daughter, age 17, and left her to fend for herself when she found out she was pregnent. With that as a starting point, Costner is not willing to budge even one inch when it comes to exposing his grand-daughter to her father's side of the family.
Of course, we all know how the story ends before it begins, but it's a pleasant journey through some complications that make Black and White a good popcorn movie either on a deep, snowy day -- or a hot, dry day such as we've been having.
In Memory
Mia has had huge tumors in her body for the past couple of years. One of them has been particularly large and seemed to affect her bladder, as she voided water as she walked, and especially when she would sleep on the floor. Another tumor constricted her lungs and caused her to gasp for breath. Her hind quarters were also problematic and would suddenly collapse so Mia ended up splayed on the ground, unable to get up. Many times we had to go out into the yard to pull her to her feet so she could come inside and collapse on her favorite pillow.
Several weeks ago, we saw a sadness in her eyes that had not been there. She became more quiet and less mobile, so Y and I talked about her failing health and agreed that time was coming to have her put to sleep. We both agreed that we did not want to wait until she was totally helpless as that was not the Mia we both knew and loved. Last weekend, it seemed that the time had arrived, so I called the vet and made the appointment.
Mia had a really good day prior to the appointment. She was able to walk and seemed very comfortable, so it gave me cause to pause and question whether I was doing the right thing, but I knew the decision was best for everyone, including Mia. The vet gave her a sedative and then the lethal dosage of the medication that put her to sleep. We stayed with her, said our goodbyes, and shed our tears.
We're all missing Mia as she's been a big part of my life for well over a decade. All the kids in the neighborhood look forward to our daily walks and love to pet the dogs, but especially Mia. A couple of the kids saw her collapse in the street, unable to get back on her feet, and felt such sadness for her, showering her with love until we could get her up and on her way home again. Daisy and Cinnamon have looked for Mia, especially at night, because the two smaller dogs sleep on top of my bed, but Mia's pillow and palette were on the floor right next to the bed. They've sniffed all her favorite places, but haven't been able to find her. I wish I knew that is going through their minds ... but I know they miss Mia too.
We're not going to get another big dog as we still have two dogs to keep us busy and amused. Daisy, the Jack Russell terrier, has become fast friends with Y, while Cinnamon is my little girl. We'll spoil them and enjoy having them in our lives, but we'll always miss Mia, too.
Several weeks ago, we saw a sadness in her eyes that had not been there. She became more quiet and less mobile, so Y and I talked about her failing health and agreed that time was coming to have her put to sleep. We both agreed that we did not want to wait until she was totally helpless as that was not the Mia we both knew and loved. Last weekend, it seemed that the time had arrived, so I called the vet and made the appointment.
Mia had a really good day prior to the appointment. She was able to walk and seemed very comfortable, so it gave me cause to pause and question whether I was doing the right thing, but I knew the decision was best for everyone, including Mia. The vet gave her a sedative and then the lethal dosage of the medication that put her to sleep. We stayed with her, said our goodbyes, and shed our tears.
We're all missing Mia as she's been a big part of my life for well over a decade. All the kids in the neighborhood look forward to our daily walks and love to pet the dogs, but especially Mia. A couple of the kids saw her collapse in the street, unable to get back on her feet, and felt such sadness for her, showering her with love until we could get her up and on her way home again. Daisy and Cinnamon have looked for Mia, especially at night, because the two smaller dogs sleep on top of my bed, but Mia's pillow and palette were on the floor right next to the bed. They've sniffed all her favorite places, but haven't been able to find her. I wish I knew that is going through their minds ... but I know they miss Mia too.
We're not going to get another big dog as we still have two dogs to keep us busy and amused. Daisy, the Jack Russell terrier, has become fast friends with Y, while Cinnamon is my little girl. We'll spoil them and enjoy having them in our lives, but we'll always miss Mia, too.
It's a Matter of When to Speak Your Mind
The President of the United States of America came to Palm Springs to spend President’s Day weekend. His arrival/visit/departure requires some access to roads in the Valley to be limited, and therein lies the issue.
Believe it or not, local residents “wish the President had picked a better weekend” to visit the Valley. There is a lot going on this weekend, including the Tour de Palm Springs, the Indio Date Festival, the Dr. George car show and auction, Modernism week, a golf tournament, the Cathedral City Hot Balloon Festival – and on and on and on. Some residents (you know, the ones they find to put on the local news) think that there was already enough increased traffic to have reason to turn down the President’s trip to the area.
Really?
What would we do without the tourist dollars? Basically, from June through August the shops struggle to stay open as our fair weather friends fly back to their homes in milder climes. Year-round residents have learned how to stay cooler when it’s in the triple digits, but not so much our visitors who come from the northern and eastern regions of the continent. We have a bureau of tourism that works long and hard to entice visitors to the area, but they get a free publicity worldwide when it’s the President arriving to enjoy both our climates and our golf courses.
Publicity like that is literally priceless, so the nay-sayers should zip their lips and share their opinions after Air Force One leaves the local airport.
Believe it or not, local residents “wish the President had picked a better weekend” to visit the Valley. There is a lot going on this weekend, including the Tour de Palm Springs, the Indio Date Festival, the Dr. George car show and auction, Modernism week, a golf tournament, the Cathedral City Hot Balloon Festival – and on and on and on. Some residents (you know, the ones they find to put on the local news) think that there was already enough increased traffic to have reason to turn down the President’s trip to the area.
Really?
What would we do without the tourist dollars? Basically, from June through August the shops struggle to stay open as our fair weather friends fly back to their homes in milder climes. Year-round residents have learned how to stay cooler when it’s in the triple digits, but not so much our visitors who come from the northern and eastern regions of the continent. We have a bureau of tourism that works long and hard to entice visitors to the area, but they get a free publicity worldwide when it’s the President arriving to enjoy both our climates and our golf courses.
Publicity like that is literally priceless, so the nay-sayers should zip their lips and share their opinions after Air Force One leaves the local airport.
Wednesday, January 14, 2015
If I Can Take It, I Can Make It
The trailor for Unbroken shows an action-packed film that is guaranteed to keep the viewer riveted to the screen and on the edge of their seats. If I judged the film on the trailer, I'd give it an A -- but then I sat through the rest of the story as it trickled across the screen.
Louis Zamperini is played by Jack O'Connell, an actor who does a fine job portraying what has to be the world's unluckiest SOB. First, Zamperini's plane is shot all to hell by the Japanese enemy during WWII, then he has to ditch in the ocean, from which he is plucked by Japanese military, who take him to a prison camp, where his fame as a former US Olympic track star pins a bull's eye on him for maltreatment by a cruel Japanese jailor. Woven throughout these several ordeals are bits 'n pieces of his childhood, where he had to learn the hard lesson that in order to make it through life, you have to be able to take a lot of shit from a lot of sources.
Now, that's a fairly good story, but ... . First, his childhood was on par with that of all the other children in families that suffered during The Great Depression. Zamperini was lucky that he had caring parents and siblings, one of whom taught him how to take whatever came at him. When Louis qualified for the Olympics, he gave his best on the course, but I can't tell you if he won his race or not because my mind was already wandering as the film began to spend far too much time getting to the point.
Then, when the plane was shot up and ditched in the ocean and Louis had to single-handedly save his crew, the story enlongated again. While the castaways' hair didn't grow, nor did their facial hair change, the alternating scenes of sun and darkness and veiled references to another crew that was on the ocean for 40-some-odd days. At one point in the getting to the point (the rescue by the Japanese ship), it felt as if we'd been on the ocean ourselves for 40+ days, but the actors finally had some sunburn and scrabbly beard stubble.
Next, he went to prison of war camp, where there probably was a highly-skilled barber who kept the hair and beard growing under control. Also, there had to be a prison laundry because the clothes should have been rags a whole lot sooner than later. Louis suffered, but it seems that he was singled out to suffer while the rest of the prisoners went about their daily routine. I'm not sure how long Louis suffered, but my suffering was about 20 minutes of childhood, 25 minutes of ocean wreck, 30 minutes of prison suffering, an hour+ that moved by at an unbelievably slow pace.
Unbroken is a story written by Laura Hillenbrand about the real-life protagonist, Louis Zamperini. I think I would enjoy reading the book more than I enjoyed watching the film as I would get to create my own mental movie as I read, rather than sitting captive in a theatre seat while someone else's vision of the story dragged across the screen. It's not a bad film, but it is not any better than average.
Louis Zamperini is played by Jack O'Connell, an actor who does a fine job portraying what has to be the world's unluckiest SOB. First, Zamperini's plane is shot all to hell by the Japanese enemy during WWII, then he has to ditch in the ocean, from which he is plucked by Japanese military, who take him to a prison camp, where his fame as a former US Olympic track star pins a bull's eye on him for maltreatment by a cruel Japanese jailor. Woven throughout these several ordeals are bits 'n pieces of his childhood, where he had to learn the hard lesson that in order to make it through life, you have to be able to take a lot of shit from a lot of sources.
Now, that's a fairly good story, but ... . First, his childhood was on par with that of all the other children in families that suffered during The Great Depression. Zamperini was lucky that he had caring parents and siblings, one of whom taught him how to take whatever came at him. When Louis qualified for the Olympics, he gave his best on the course, but I can't tell you if he won his race or not because my mind was already wandering as the film began to spend far too much time getting to the point.
Then, when the plane was shot up and ditched in the ocean and Louis had to single-handedly save his crew, the story enlongated again. While the castaways' hair didn't grow, nor did their facial hair change, the alternating scenes of sun and darkness and veiled references to another crew that was on the ocean for 40-some-odd days. At one point in the getting to the point (the rescue by the Japanese ship), it felt as if we'd been on the ocean ourselves for 40+ days, but the actors finally had some sunburn and scrabbly beard stubble.
Next, he went to prison of war camp, where there probably was a highly-skilled barber who kept the hair and beard growing under control. Also, there had to be a prison laundry because the clothes should have been rags a whole lot sooner than later. Louis suffered, but it seems that he was singled out to suffer while the rest of the prisoners went about their daily routine. I'm not sure how long Louis suffered, but my suffering was about 20 minutes of childhood, 25 minutes of ocean wreck, 30 minutes of prison suffering, an hour+ that moved by at an unbelievably slow pace.
Unbroken is a story written by Laura Hillenbrand about the real-life protagonist, Louis Zamperini. I think I would enjoy reading the book more than I enjoyed watching the film as I would get to create my own mental movie as I read, rather than sitting captive in a theatre seat while someone else's vision of the story dragged across the screen. It's not a bad film, but it is not any better than average.
The Trouble with being Into The Woods
Imagine a group of older people sitting around, perhaps sipping cocktails and drinking far too much wine, and all talking about the myths from their childhoods, the folk stories that parents used to read to their children before they turned over the reading function first to the TV and more recently to the hand-held electronic device. One person recalls a bit of one story; another person adds a piece from a second story; a third person recalls with glee a favorite moment from yet another story, and so it goes until the subject of fairy tales has everyone laughing and enjoying the nonsense.
As the evening wears on, the wine runs out and the reminiscences begin to falter. Suddenly, someone says, "Wouldn't it be a hoot to take a whole bunch of mishmashes from all these stores and put them together into a movie?"
The one who had consumed the most wine adds, "And make it into a musical!" That comment was followed by loud guffaws from the more sober of the revelers because they knew it wouldn't make good sense, much less a good movie.
Spend your $7.50 for the matinee of Into the Woods and see for yourself. You'll be wanting your own glass of wine just to make it through the opening scenes 'n songs!
As the evening wears on, the wine runs out and the reminiscences begin to falter. Suddenly, someone says, "Wouldn't it be a hoot to take a whole bunch of mishmashes from all these stores and put them together into a movie?"
The one who had consumed the most wine adds, "And make it into a musical!" That comment was followed by loud guffaws from the more sober of the revelers because they knew it wouldn't make good sense, much less a good movie.
Spend your $7.50 for the matinee of Into the Woods and see for yourself. You'll be wanting your own glass of wine just to make it through the opening scenes 'n songs!
Tuesday, January 6, 2015
Mile Marker 70
The letter arrived today from Social Security: time to sign up for benefits.
I read it with a sinking heart as it constantly referred to my milestone birthday coming up soon. There's an offset for teachers in California, so we don't get our benefit on top of our retirement, both of which we've earned through years of hard work. I'm not sure how the offset works, but I know I'm penalized for having both Social Security and a teacher's retirement pension.
The clock is ticking harder and faster, with time whizzing by. Hope I'm ready for the late autumn of my life and make the most of it because winter just ain't far behind!!
I read it with a sinking heart as it constantly referred to my milestone birthday coming up soon. There's an offset for teachers in California, so we don't get our benefit on top of our retirement, both of which we've earned through years of hard work. I'm not sure how the offset works, but I know I'm penalized for having both Social Security and a teacher's retirement pension.
The clock is ticking harder and faster, with time whizzing by. Hope I'm ready for the late autumn of my life and make the most of it because winter just ain't far behind!!
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