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 |  I've maxed out. Closed this blog. |
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This is a way of making myself write something coherent and grammatically correct almost every day. I'm opinionated and need an outlet. I'm also prone to flights of fancy. Thanks for stopping by. |
| I'm not a Charlie Sheen fan. With that being said, his show was going down hill, even for a nasty, in-your-face kind of comedy. Chances are it would end soon even with Charlie still in the show. All shows end eventually because the writers simply play out the idea, and the audience tires of it. For some reason, the audience was still hanging on to Two and a Half Men despite the repetitive and predictable story lines. At first, I thought the show would work with Ashton Kusher since the other characters were still present, and they had memorable roles of their own. However, I'm changing my mind. The mother hasn't appeared in several episodes or even been mentioned. Jake, a key player, is no longer the cute little boy eating, producing methane, and whining like the spoiled child he is, but a teenager who should be showing more mature characteristics and interests, even for a brat. He isn't on every episode either. Besides the fact that he hauls in a huge fee for each episode, the writers are probably correct that this older teen just doesn't fit their story lines. However, Berta, the maid, with her blunt lower class sassiness, was good in her very minor role, but has been given a bigger part in every show. Her character just isn't good enough to pull off her constant presence. She gets annoying fast. They need to go back to the one liners and let her exit. Considering that Jake is older, his mother needs to take an even smaller role. It doesn't make sense for her to walk a teenager to the door. A realistic show would let her drop him off at the driveway. She'd never appear except to confront Allen about money. And that needs to play a smaller role. Jake should be asking for his own money or getting a job. Alan is the constant in the show. He does good physical comedy. He just appears in his underwear a little too often. The audience is going to tire of watching this underdog in his antics. The show is winding down with or without Charlie. How many different ways can we watch a nerd miss out on success and happiness while others around him find some temporary bliss? As for Kusher's role, the story lines aren't consistent. Is he really as innocent as he tries to appear or just faking? One minute he doesn't know he's getting high from the special brownies, but a few minutes later he states the bikini team is getting "high on brownies". He loves his wife, but will go with any woman who shows temporary interest in him. The writers just don't seem to be paying attention to detail. The show has probably run past its limits. It will hang on only because of the determination of the producer and the network to prove they didn't make a mistake canceling it when Charlie left. |
| It's that time of year. Don't pass up your opportunity to get a flu shot. They are safe. Very few people have bad reactions, so don't let exaggerated tales of woe scare you off. Get your shot! So much time is lost from work because of flu. Or worse people come back to work too soon or wait until they are really sick and pass their germs onto someone else. The flu shot is inexpensive, in some cases free, and will be better than not working or paying a doctor's visit or making your whole family sick. A little time now, maybe a small fee ($30 or less), a small sore spot from the needle could save you from puking your eyeballs out and feeling miserable. Who needs to get shots? Everyone under 18 for sure. Everyone over 65. Everyone with heart trouble or serious illnesses. Health care workers, including pharmacists and housekeepers, hospital employees, teachers, child care workers, alcoholics, and homeless people. Parents of preschoolers. People who tend to elderly people. Nursing home employees. School bus drivers. People who handle food for a living. I'm getting mine. Get yours. |
| Today, there are a lot of flags flying. Speeches have been made, symbolic acts have taken place, patriotic music has been played. Prayers have been said and tears have been shed. Ten years later, we are still shaken and moved and grieved by the attacks of 9-11. It is good to remember what we have been through as individuals, as communities, as a nation. We recall the loss of life, the destruction of property, the disrupted families and businesses, and neighborhoods devastated by the violence. We recall the brave men and women who rescued others, who came to the aid of those who were trapped or hurt with no thought of their own safety or welfare. We recall the first responders who spent hours or days in the aftermath searching, rescuing, helping, sometimes to their own peril. We recall the bravery of so many, including those passengers in Pennsylvania who gave up their lives to save others. We remember the price of freedom. We remember what we value. We remember what really matters. We are survivors. We know what we believe. We treasure our families, our rights, human life, brotherly love. We know what's worth dying for. We know what's worth living for. We remember. Remembering strengthens our resolve. We remember who we are and how we want to live. We have not been the same since 9-11. We will always remember. |
| I don't want to give anyone the wrong impression. I'm not a fanatic about dusting. In fact, my motto is tha a woman with an immaculate home has a dull life. However, I'll pass along a little tip I learned recently. Not only is glass cleaner, or "blue juice" amongst cleaning enthusiasts, bad for keyboards and electronic parts, it attracts dust. So unless you really have a lot of electronic equipement and can afford special screen cleaners, use water on a soft cloth or paper towel to wipe TV screens and computer monitors. I have used alcohol before, because it evaporates quickly. But water is free. Don't soak your cloth, so you don't leave streaks. I've tried on a big screen TV and the monitor, and it works. No streaks, no dust, no fingerprints. |
| It doesn't matter what type of music video I pull up, the comments under it tend to be obscene and angry. If you hate opera, why are you viewing opera videos. If you hate John Wayne, why are you looking at clips from his movies? And why waste your time arguing with people you don't know and will never meet over trivial stuff? So much anger! Are these people using YouTube just to release frustrations? Are they turning to things they don't like, just so they can complain about something? And if you don't like a comment about some video you don't like anyway, why blow a gasket over it? Rechannel that energy and intensity into something that matters! I look at comments, when I'm brave, because I sometimes gain a little insight into the making of the video, the writing of the song, or something about the performer. But experience has taught me not to read too many, because inevitably someone takes offense at something, or thinks his performer does a superior job, and that requires a lot of swearing, threatening, and general insulting. The repetiveness of the words is alarming. Is this indicative of the dumbing down of the population? Our language is so rich with vocabulary, yet the same profane and vulgar words are used over and over to describe opera, religious music, "oldies", rock, country, humor, and just about everything. These comment-makers are limited in their word choices, but the anger is consistent. Disagree, fine, but do so a little less on the attack side. Let's agree to disagree without getting viscious. And do yuor English teachers a kindness: use some of those vocabulary words you memorized instead of your "shock" words. They make you sound stupid, not cool. |
| It is not just my aging imagination. I listened to one of the big wigs at the medical center talking over lunch in our office yesterday about ill-mannered people at the hospital. Bad manners are not limited to class or social standing. People with steady professional careers, wealth, and excellent education have atrocious manners, are self-centered and thoughtless, and just plain rude. Foul language is used prolifically by all. We agreed that society in general over the last few decades had "classed" down. "Well-bred" can act like "ill-bred" and get away with it. It's laziness and self-absorption. Why bother with self-discipline, or self-control if you can just throw a temper tantrum or swear a blue streak? Why wait your turn when you can butt in line? Why say, "Excuse me. . ." when you just blurt out your own concerns without regard for others? Why be patient or forgiving when you can blast a car horn or call someone names or humiliate them in front of others? Why wait another few seconds and hold a door open for someone with their arms full? Why inconvenience yourself to offer a bus seat to an elderly woman or a man with a cane? Why be polite to a cashier or stock clerk? Why get off your cell phone to talk with the person serving you face to face? Self importance rules the day. In a study done recently, the USA came in behind 49 other countries in manners amongst the young! 49 other countries do a better job of teaching please and thank you, respect for others, kindness, taking turns, sharing, and obedience to authority. Look around. Who's failing to teach children? The adults who have never practiced manners or have stopped using them, that's who! People of my generation got lazy when it came to parenting, and overindulged them on top of that.We created an uncaring, self-absorbed lot who are now raising an even more self-absorbed lot and who are now beginning to breed their own ill-behaved children. It's time for the pendulum to go the other way. Who will take the lead? |
| Too many people take their kids shopping without teaching them good manners first. They destroy the stores, the merchandise, and wear down the nerves of shopkeepers and customers. Babies and toddlers should not be out past their bedtimes or at their mealtimes. That would do a lot to reduce crying, whinging, and temperfits. The parents should learn early on not to give in to every whim of the child, too. Disicpline of the parent leads to discipline of the child. I realize that children, even within the same family, can have different temperments. But the parents need to learn how to deal with them or leave the problem children with a baby sitter until they learn how to behave in public. Children need a routine, a consistent bedtime, a consistent mealtime, and consistent naptime. They need to learn from the look on mother's face or some special word when to curb bad behavior (or behavior that they don't realize is bad). They need to learn words, like "please" and "thank you" and not cry when they don't get an immediate response to their requests. When they misbehave, the family should leave the store without making a purchase. The child needs to learn what not to do, instead of being rewarded or tolerated for bad behavior. And other people shouldn't suffer from the child's outrageous crying or yelling. I'm not in favor of face smacking or whipping, but the undesired behavior needs to be nipped in the bud. I'm tired of the increasingly wild children in public and parents who don't seem to care. |
| I walk on the other side of the road from my university job in order to avoid the panhandlers. The side I was using is more direct, fewer crossovers; but I'm on a limited budget, and I have a hard time refusing beggars. I walk there, as a matter of fact, to save money on parking, to get to the bus station for my bus. It's a half hour walk, good exercise. It kills time I would be sitting on a crowded trolley getting to the bus station. But I manage despite my age and health limitations. Healthy looking, younger men approach occasionally on that side of the busy street to give me a sad story of how long they've been homeless and they just need a dollar or even 75 cents. I always search my wallet. How can I turn someone down if I have it? I resent it because I work two jobs and do without things to meet my budget. Someone else in better shape than I can be a bum and beggar and ask me for money. They don't look like guys who are just down on their luck temporarily. Yet I remind myself that even if they spend it on beer or on fast food or just outright lied to me about their need, I still need to be kind. I give the dollar, not for them, but for me. Something spiritual, I suppose you could say. The act of giving is my spiritual exercise, to keep my tender heart from hardening. I buy a case of water about every 3 or 4 weeks for a friend who has a "cold water" ministry to the homeless. He and his wife spend hours each day in the warm weather, downtown where the homeless and the bums hang out (not all bums are homeless). They hand out water to anyone who needs it. (Last summer they personally handed out more than 2000 bottles of water before losing count.) The homeless problem has bothered me for decades now. I have volunteered at a shelter in another city and spent the night there once "on duty". It gave me nightmares for years afterward. I dreamed it was time to go to bed, and I had no bed and was surrounded by hundreds of people. It seemed like acres of people lying on mats in a flat area, all their belongings beside them, and I had to choose a spot beside someone, anyone, that I had never seen before. I would have to close my eyes and be vulnerable as sleeping people are in uncertain surroundings. In reality, I'm secure and safe and warm and dry. I hadn't given much thought to the water situation. Water is something everyone needs to survive. But if you don't have a home, where do you get a drink? In the winter time, most communities do something about shelter, or blankets, or coats and gloves. But what about summer? What about water to drink? Clean, safe water? Steve and Debbie have inspired me with their calling, their mission. Today I heard a woman telling two children about giving gifts to people who have everything. Then she said, "Jesus really does have everything. What would you give him?" I thought she was driving them to say "my heart" or "my love". But instead she told the story about the sheep and the goats. One group has been stingy and unyielding to Jesus; the other has been generous and kind to him. Then the people in the kind group said, "But when did we ever do anything nice for you? We haven't even seen you before!" Jesus said, "When you do it for the least of these, you do it for me." Maybe the dollar, or the bottle of water, or the blanket, or gloves, aren't really for the person that gets them. Maybe they're gifts for Jesus. Big churches with stained glass windows, symphony orchestras , and TV crews say less about our God than two people in a park on a scorching hot summer day handing out bottles of water from coolers of ice. They say "thank you" and "praise God" more beautifully than any choir. And they make me want to be like that. We all need more spiritual exercise that has eternal consequences. |
| In Flanders Fields By: Lieutenant Colonel John McCrae, MD (1872-1918) Canadian Army In Flanders Fields the poppies blow Between the crosses row on row, That mark our place; and in the sky The larks, still bravely singing, fly Scarce heard amid the guns below. We are the Dead. Short days ago We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow, Loved and were loved, and now we lie In Flanders fields. Take up our quarrel with the foe: To you from failing hands we throw The torch; be yours to hold it high. If ye break faith with us who die We shall not sleep, though poppies grow In Flanders fields. Written in 1914, after witnessing his friend's death in battle, this poem was first published in the English magazine Punch in 1915. the following was written in response 3 years later. Its creator began the "red poppy" lapel flower as a token of remembrance. This was adopted by the veterans associations of several countries. We Shall Keep the Faith by Moina Michael, November 1918 Oh! you who sleep in Flanders Fields, Sleep sweet - to rise anew! We caught the torch you threw And holding high, we keep the Faith With All who died. We cherish, too, the poppy red That grows on fields where valor led; It seems to signal to the skies That blood of heroes never dies, But lends a lustre to the red Of the flower that blooms above the dead In Flanders Fields. And now the Torch and Poppy Red We wear in honor of our dead. Fear not that ye have died for naught; We'll teach the lesson that ye wrought In Flanders Fields. Let's not take for granted or downplay the sacrifice that is always required to protect freedom and human rights. May each generation be strong enough to keep the faith. |
| As I re-potted red begonias, candy-striped petunias, and coleus, I thought how I have enjoyed doing this since my college days. I did not start early because of my grandmother with the green thumb and my father the vegetable gardener. My great-aunt Ruth had a green thumb, too. I remember she had plants in all kinds of pots, including old pans and coffee pots out in the yard. If anyone admired one enough, she'd break off a piece to root for her. She had a really nice house, that was nicely kept, with good furniture and doilies, and so forth, so the odd pots around the edges of the driveway or by the house seemed out of place, but the overall effect was still neat and serene. My mom and her mother also had plants, so I never needed to grow them. And it seemed like an "old person" thing. Then finally, I developed a house full of plants. I lost most of them in a small apartment after my divorce. The upstairs neighbor had her mother complain to me about plants in the hallway, which I only put there during frost season. I had no choice but to put them back outside and let them die. When I finally had no money and no prospects and moved to where I am now, I had no plants. Now I live in a nice house--someone else's, with a nice yard, and lots of cacti, peonies, azaleas, holly trees, shrubs, clematis, jonquils, pampas grass, elephant ears, coleus, dusty millers, hostas, a raised vegetable bed, and much more. We have two solitary rose bushes and feed them banana peels. Strawberries and dill and parsley and chives grow in big pots on the porch. We also have lots of colorful flowers in pots that brighten the view from the breakfast table, along with the resident red birds and wrens, and the occasional blue jay. Of course, before I go out to re-pot my plants or even to water them, I have to cover with mosquito repellent from head to foot. I know some of them can have bad side effects, but I have such a miserable reaction to bites, I have to risk it. Besides now in my old age, the bites are turning into skin problems that don't go away. I need to do more weeding and earn my keep, but the bug-proofing takes so long and leaves an odor that I don't want to carry with me when I go out. But enough whining! (Did I mention the wasps and the bumblebees?) Getting your hands dirty, and putting plants in pots of healthy dirt, tamping them off, and watering is very satisfying. Choosing the right size pot and arranging for adequate drainage can give a great feeling of accomplishment. Tending to them, weeding the pots, monitoring the sun and shade, keeping the squirrels and the neighbor's cat out of them all contribute to the sense of nourishing, of helping something good to transpire. Watching them grow and seeing their beauty, whether grand or simple, is a joy. Smelling the flowers, cooking the herbs and veggies, eating the strawberries and tomatoes, now that's a bonus! |
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