I made an observation to someone the other day that I am most prolific a writer when I am pissed off or exhausted. I have been neither. In fact, mostly quite the opposite. Secondly, I have been legitimately busy. Ironically, writing. Writing for work, writing for professional groups. Writing, writing, writing. I like to write and for once, it's actually a component of what I get paid to do. Who can complain? Not me. And that's part of the problem.
More than a writer, I am a ranter. I like to rant. Since I try so hard to make this blog apolitical, and this is politics season, I don't have a lot to rant about in this forum. Come have a beer with me and wind me up and I'll give you ranting. But not here. Work is great, Em and I are great. Sure, I'm a little behind on some chores and I could use some more money, but really, is that anything to write a blog about?
Well... There is one thing. Em is training to be and will take over as our church's wedding coordinator late this year. Why? Apparently, in spite of being married to a giant hairy man-child, and having two other part-time jobs and being an integral part of countless committees, commissions, panels, advisory boards and community action groups public and private, sacred and secular, she decided she needed more stress in her life. What could possibly be more stressful than dealing with brides to be?
Well, dealing with bridal parties and mothers and mothers-in-law, but that's beside the point. I think we can all agree to just lump that whole melange under the term "brides."
This is important to me how? Well, it wouldn't be except that being a husband who believes his job does not begin and end at being the breadwinner and fiddling with the greasy bits around the house, so I got sucked in.
Emily said to me in July, "Honey, the couples have to take premarital counseling before they can get married in the church. I want to take it so I know more about it and can help them in the process."
"Super!", I said. "I think you should. It will be interesting."
"Well, I don't want to take it alone."
"So, divorce me and find a new man to marry and do the counseling. Talk about commitment. It would look great on your next performance evaluation."
"As tempting as that is, I want you to take it with me."
"O.K. When is it?"
Sheepishly Em replied, "It's two Saturday mornings in September."
"College Football Saturdays? The only Saturdays of the year that mean anything to me? My reason for living between August and October to say nothing of bowls?"
"They'll be done by 12:30."
"They better damn well be, lest you will find me walking out the door with you or without you."
This is me being supportive and loving and such. Good, eh? O.k., maybe we could use this class after all.
So we took the class over the last two Saturdays and we basically busted the curve. It wasn't really fair, all these doe-eyed youthful twenty-somethings wandering haplessly toward either the best thing they will ever do or the biggest mistake they will ever make. Here among them, two people who have been married for 12 years and regard each other so comfortably we may as well be an old pair of gym shoes.
We did some activities and had a lot of discussion... and you know, it wasn't a bad class. A couple of the guys would look over at me with terror in their eyes as if to ask me, "Is what they're saying right now true?" to which I responded wordlessly with the slightest of smug smiles and almost imperceptible nod. It was actually pretty fun and opened up a lot of good conversation between Em and I. I suppose you can always use a tune-up.
Turns out, I didn't even miss any football of consequence and Em paid me back by being a great hostess with me at our gala event for my work this last weekend so it all works out in the end. She has hers, I have mine, we have ours. It's a pretty good setup.
We applied this knowledge afterward when I got a big appointment in Ann Arbor on a day where we need to be in Indianapolis for a wedding. The appointment, four hours away from our destination is only 6 hours before we need to be there, so like the famous Booker T and the MGs song, time is tight. We were able to avoid panic and came up with a workable solution. Em will get her hair done at a salon while I am in my meeting. I'll already be dressed in a suit, so I'll be good to go. Since Em's hair will be done, all that will be left is for her to slip on her dress and touch up her face, and voila! Instant formal couple, none the worse for wear.
I don't want to get too smug, but we really are starting to get this marriage thing down pat. For now. Stay tuned, these things run in spurts. I may have a good old fashioned rant just around the corner.
Tuesday, September 25, 2012
Friday, September 7, 2012
A Study in Contrasts
This is an idea I had, malformed and only partially so at that. With all apologies, I will try to work this treatment out for all to see, though it is ill conceived and probably not as funny as it struck me to be when it presented itself as a fleeting thought at five o'clock this very a.m.
Without further adieu, here is a letter written by a civil war era soldier back home to his sweetheart, Cordelia... all Civil War era ladies were named Cordelia. These soldiers were young, and held to the bar of modern standards, poorly educated. And yet, it seems when you read some correspondence or watch a Ken Burns film that these young men were so eloquent, even poetic in their descriptions of battle, life and longing.
Following this, is something on the order of what you may see today by an average teen or young man to his girlfriend.
My Dearest Cordelia,
My mind aches at the distance between us. My entreaty to the almighty is for us to be reunited safely and soon and that we shall never again be parted so long as God's will be done on Earth. For while here in this untidy place, woven of chaos and fear I cannot be complete for lack of your countenance.
The men are afeared as our previous efforts against our foe have lead to nothing but unceasing death and pestilence, resulting only an utter loss of morale and continued intransigence of the line of battle. As of late, no man here is a soldier so much as an undertaker and no recently dead man's corpse regarded so sacred as to save it the indignities of being stripped of its possessions like one would do with an old twenty dollar plow.
But of course, my love of loves, I shall not continue to press upon you my burden as I envision your frame being laden with worry at the description of my vicissitude. It is with this concern that I lift to you the depth of my faith in my return to you, a man who is able and very much alive all the better for that which I have endured. And as it comes to be so, I shall marry you with immediacy and set aside the horrors of this war and set about providing for you a life which you will regard as a blessing.
It is in my deep and abiding love for you, my sweet Cordelia, that I find my strength to suffer the inequities of war, and hunger and cold. For no campfire, indeed no burning hot sun can provide the warmth my heart desires. Only your dear sweet smile, the dulcet tones of your melodious voice and the beauty of your face can provide these elusive things.
As I continue on in my struggle, I keep your picture at my breast and envision the coming day whereupon I shall walk up your path, gravel crunching beneath these boots, no longer the engine of war, intent upon only holding you in my embrace until the day is gone and exhaustion sets upon us.
Until then, my darling Cordelia, I shall whisper your name each morning and night in the hopes that somehow the echo of my emotions find your ear that you may know fully the conviction of my heart.
Yours Forever,
Francis Beauregard Tuttle-Ashford Lee III
_____________________________________________________________
Babe,
This class sux. I can't wait 2 see u again in the hall. Yo booty looks so good in those jeans. I don't like them dudes checkin' you out, but what can i do? Study hall blows. It is so boring. There's like, 15 min left and I don't think I'm gonna make it.
Later we should hook up at my place. My parents won't be home for an hour, so if you don't mess around I could tap you like a keg before dinner.
Peace,
Moogie.
Without further adieu, here is a letter written by a civil war era soldier back home to his sweetheart, Cordelia... all Civil War era ladies were named Cordelia. These soldiers were young, and held to the bar of modern standards, poorly educated. And yet, it seems when you read some correspondence or watch a Ken Burns film that these young men were so eloquent, even poetic in their descriptions of battle, life and longing.
Following this, is something on the order of what you may see today by an average teen or young man to his girlfriend.
My Dearest Cordelia,
My mind aches at the distance between us. My entreaty to the almighty is for us to be reunited safely and soon and that we shall never again be parted so long as God's will be done on Earth. For while here in this untidy place, woven of chaos and fear I cannot be complete for lack of your countenance.
The men are afeared as our previous efforts against our foe have lead to nothing but unceasing death and pestilence, resulting only an utter loss of morale and continued intransigence of the line of battle. As of late, no man here is a soldier so much as an undertaker and no recently dead man's corpse regarded so sacred as to save it the indignities of being stripped of its possessions like one would do with an old twenty dollar plow.
But of course, my love of loves, I shall not continue to press upon you my burden as I envision your frame being laden with worry at the description of my vicissitude. It is with this concern that I lift to you the depth of my faith in my return to you, a man who is able and very much alive all the better for that which I have endured. And as it comes to be so, I shall marry you with immediacy and set aside the horrors of this war and set about providing for you a life which you will regard as a blessing.
It is in my deep and abiding love for you, my sweet Cordelia, that I find my strength to suffer the inequities of war, and hunger and cold. For no campfire, indeed no burning hot sun can provide the warmth my heart desires. Only your dear sweet smile, the dulcet tones of your melodious voice and the beauty of your face can provide these elusive things.
As I continue on in my struggle, I keep your picture at my breast and envision the coming day whereupon I shall walk up your path, gravel crunching beneath these boots, no longer the engine of war, intent upon only holding you in my embrace until the day is gone and exhaustion sets upon us.
Until then, my darling Cordelia, I shall whisper your name each morning and night in the hopes that somehow the echo of my emotions find your ear that you may know fully the conviction of my heart.
Yours Forever,
Francis Beauregard Tuttle-Ashford Lee III
_____________________________________________________________
Babe,
This class sux. I can't wait 2 see u again in the hall. Yo booty looks so good in those jeans. I don't like them dudes checkin' you out, but what can i do? Study hall blows. It is so boring. There's like, 15 min left and I don't think I'm gonna make it.
Later we should hook up at my place. My parents won't be home for an hour, so if you don't mess around I could tap you like a keg before dinner.
Peace,
Moogie.
Wednesday, August 22, 2012
RIPs
Mr. Funk died the middle of last week. He was my next door neighbor growing up. The Funks were great neighbors, invited us to parties, kept the house looking nice from the street and didn't roll their eyes every time I came around.
Mr. Funk was funny, and as a final joke, he left us in his casket, shirt and tie pulled back just enough to reveal the Superman shirt on underneath. He was a huge fan of Superman. It was fitting. I will always remember him being a funny man. He told me jokes that were above my age limit and understanding, some I didn't get until much later.
When I was a wee lad, I was going out with a cute red-headed girl. Mr. Funk asked me to describe her and after I was done he said "yeah, but do the curtains match the rug?" I was maybe 10. I had no idea what he meant until a few years later when it just sorta hit me. It still makes me laugh.
RIP, Mr. Funk, you will be missed here on earth.
__________________________________________________________
Phyllis Diller cannot be explained, she must be experienced. My first experience with her was as an animated guest star on Scooby Doo. Like so many in my generation, that's how I learned about pop culture. I met the Globetrotters, The Monkees and so much more on Scooby Doo. Following the career high of Scooby Doo was The Muppet Show and The Love Boat. Both were really big in my house; and so even from the time I was very young, I knew who Phyllis Diller was.
And that she was funny. And classy. I like funny and raunchy... Roseanne, way back before she lost her last name(s) was funny raunchy. I liked her stuff. Joan Rivers could swear a blue streak and was terribly mean spirited. Funny. But mean. Diller was first, and like Bill Cosby, seldom resorted to overtly blue material, opting instead for delighting in entendre. Classy.
I cannot eulogize Ms. Diller as well as those who knew her personally, but it really does say something that everyone I know who is a cohort of mine knew Phyllis Diller and her humor and was sad to see her go. Considering she was in her late fifties when I was born that is quite a long and lasting legacy.
Here's to you,Ms. Diller. I hope you and Johnny and Bob and Dinah are having a ball up there... speaking of a ball... say hey to Lucy for me.
__________________________________________________________
I have never been to San Francisco, but Scott MacKenzie's eponymous city song always made me want to go. A troubadour in the classical sixties mold, he wrote and co-wrote many songs you and I know word for word, even if we didn't know he had a hand in writing them.
Thanks for the gentle melodies from a turbulent time.
_________________________________________________________
We are all immortal, really, or at least we live on long after we are physically gone. Through children or the people who surrounded us. We will continue to be the subject of stories anecdotes, and maybe even legends. I am amazed that people I haven't seen in a long time or don't talk to with regularity will quote back to me things I have said to them. It is as shocking to me they remember what I said as it is when I hear what I told them and really like it.
I guess in the end, that's what we are all living for if we are doing it right. Leave a lot of good memories, wisdom, humor and positive energy. Immortality without having to pay income tax... not a bad gig.
Mr. Funk was funny, and as a final joke, he left us in his casket, shirt and tie pulled back just enough to reveal the Superman shirt on underneath. He was a huge fan of Superman. It was fitting. I will always remember him being a funny man. He told me jokes that were above my age limit and understanding, some I didn't get until much later.
When I was a wee lad, I was going out with a cute red-headed girl. Mr. Funk asked me to describe her and after I was done he said "yeah, but do the curtains match the rug?" I was maybe 10. I had no idea what he meant until a few years later when it just sorta hit me. It still makes me laugh.
RIP, Mr. Funk, you will be missed here on earth.
__________________________________________________________
Phyllis Diller cannot be explained, she must be experienced. My first experience with her was as an animated guest star on Scooby Doo. Like so many in my generation, that's how I learned about pop culture. I met the Globetrotters, The Monkees and so much more on Scooby Doo. Following the career high of Scooby Doo was The Muppet Show and The Love Boat. Both were really big in my house; and so even from the time I was very young, I knew who Phyllis Diller was.
And that she was funny. And classy. I like funny and raunchy... Roseanne, way back before she lost her last name(s) was funny raunchy. I liked her stuff. Joan Rivers could swear a blue streak and was terribly mean spirited. Funny. But mean. Diller was first, and like Bill Cosby, seldom resorted to overtly blue material, opting instead for delighting in entendre. Classy.
I cannot eulogize Ms. Diller as well as those who knew her personally, but it really does say something that everyone I know who is a cohort of mine knew Phyllis Diller and her humor and was sad to see her go. Considering she was in her late fifties when I was born that is quite a long and lasting legacy.
Here's to you,Ms. Diller. I hope you and Johnny and Bob and Dinah are having a ball up there... speaking of a ball... say hey to Lucy for me.
__________________________________________________________
I have never been to San Francisco, but Scott MacKenzie's eponymous city song always made me want to go. A troubadour in the classical sixties mold, he wrote and co-wrote many songs you and I know word for word, even if we didn't know he had a hand in writing them.
Thanks for the gentle melodies from a turbulent time.
_________________________________________________________
We are all immortal, really, or at least we live on long after we are physically gone. Through children or the people who surrounded us. We will continue to be the subject of stories anecdotes, and maybe even legends. I am amazed that people I haven't seen in a long time or don't talk to with regularity will quote back to me things I have said to them. It is as shocking to me they remember what I said as it is when I hear what I told them and really like it.
I guess in the end, that's what we are all living for if we are doing it right. Leave a lot of good memories, wisdom, humor and positive energy. Immortality without having to pay income tax... not a bad gig.
Thursday, August 16, 2012
The D Word
The patient has NOT fulfilled his deductible.
Those are the words that appear at the bottom of the explanation of benefits from my insurance provider. Over top of that is a graph that shows how much the insurance paid for my surgery. The answer? Predictably zero. Zero dollars. Nada. Zip. Zilch. Nil.
I pay my insurance like anyone else... about $600.00 a month, or $7,200 per year. And on top of that, I have a $2,000 deductible for each of us, (Em and me). So, that means, in simple terms that in order for my insurance to really "pay" for anything, I have to spend $7,200 first. Except prescriptions, I don't pay a lot for those.
Now, at the ripe old age of 37, I have never, ever spent $7,000 on medical anything. I know I am only a few tests and a polyp or a tumor away from that number, which is pretty small in the face of a hospitalization. But, really?
For my recent surgery, I had a doctor's consult which cost me money, an MRI which cost me a lot of money, another test which cost me money and a surgery which cost me a lot of money. When all is said and done, it all combines to cost me less than $2,000. But the insurance still didn't pick any of that up because of my "deductible".
Well, so should I just "deduct" insurance out of my life?
Because of the aforementioned and unavoidable tumor or polyp or car accident. I scarcely know anyone who gets out of life alive without some sort of hospitalization. Which assumes some sort of hospital bill. There are no small hospital bills.
And when it comes down to it, I can pay the $2,000 without selling off the family silver or hawking Grandma's mink, (back then fur wasn't murder, it was cold outside). But what about all the people that are low/no income earners who will soon be forced by the universal health care plan to have insurance?
I am not asking because I am espousing a particular view... I'm asking because no one seems to know, or want to tell me what happens to those people. And anyone who claims to know has a different answer from the last person who claimed to know.
From what I gather:
A. Great, now I have insurance and I can finally get all that work done I need... Holy shit! What's a deductible? I can't pay that! What a scam. Well, they'll have to send it to collections and take me to court and garnish my wage so I will have to get some sort of assistance because now I can't afford to eat.
B. Great, now I have insurance premiums that come out of my check so I am taking home less money. And to top it off, I still can't afford to go see a doctor because of the deductible, so I guess I'll just have to pay and not receive any services in return.
C. I ain't buyin' no 'surance from no gubment. This is 'Merica! And I'm 'Merican! Then, I guess according to the plan (at least from what I have heard) is that Jimmy Rick Joe Bobby will have to pay higher taxes because he didn't buy insurance of one form or another. Wow... that doesn't seem 'Merican, either. But again, and I don't know if this is fact so don't go getting your britches all in a hitch, the IRS doesn't think it can constitutionally enforce that levy!
D. Nosotros no hablan Inglés, y aunque yo nací en los Estados Unidos, mis padres son ilegales. Así que me temo que el gobierno va a utilizar este programa para encontrarnos y separar a nuestra familia.
Por lo tanto, mis padres están abandonando sus puestos de trabajo y tomar los nombres de mis tíos para que podamos solicitar prestaciones por desempleo. No confiamos en el gobierno y la Piensan que están tratando de dividir y deportar a nosotros.
(We do not speak English, and although I was born in the United States, my parents are illegal. So I'm afraid the government will use this program to find and remove our family.
So my parents are leaving their jobs to take the name of my uncle so that they can apply for unemployment and food stamps. We do not trust the government and think they are trying to divide and deport us. )
E. I'm an insurance company executive. I am so glad the government made everyone in America have insurance, because we want everyone to be healthy and live forever... so they can buy more insurance! And because those suckers pay us whatever we charge for anything, because, and I'm letting you in on a little secret here, the government... Doesn't know anything about insurance! Whooo, dog... these are good times, indeed. Good, good times.
And since every consumer is beholden to our industry, we have more latitude than ever to charge whatever the hell we want to and no one can do a thing about it! We all cry about how it cost us so much money to insure the previously uninsured and someone has to pay. Hey, I guess it's you!
F. My name is Bill Uebbing, I am a Business Development Manager for a mid-sized building services company that operates in 8 states and has about 1200 employees. We are in a cutthroat industry where every cent counts. The only reason people use a contract company like us is because we can do a better job for less money than if they tried to do it themselves.
The problem is, companies have been squeezing us for 10 years. We are doing jobs now for less than we did then. And the companies still want us to give more.
What happens when we have to provide insurance to all 1200 employees? We will certainly have to raise our prices. This will cause the financial and economical advantage of having a contractor to virtually disappear causing businesses to look at us as a middle man.
Once the economic advantages are gone, many companies will "in source" their services because it will become cheaper for those people to be company employees.
My living will dry up and I will be unemployed. I will lose my house, I will have my cars repossessed. I, once a member of the working middle class, the class that supports the backbone of this country, will be poor.
I guess I don't know the facts on health care or Obamacare or whatever you call it, but I do think I know this much... the government doesn't, shouldnt, cannot care about you in that much depth unless you are shooting someone, being shot at by someone or planning to do either of those things.
Why should they even try?
Monday, August 6, 2012
Monday Miscellany
On The Other Hand
My left hand, the dominant one, is wrapped up. I had a little surgery last week to relieve the carpal tunnel in my wrist so I could feel my fingers again on that hand. It has been three years since I last felt them consistently.
The procedure went well, was short and the results immediate. The only issue now is the off-an-on pain at the site of the incision, which is mostly minor, and this bandage, which I can't ditch for seven more days.You see, there is a long list of things you can't do with a hand when it's bandaged. There are only a few things on that list that truly matter. For me, those important two are cooking, and wiping my butt.
Gross. I know, but everybody poops, and I am no exception. For some reason, I can't make my brain work using my right hand for that particular function. It's a pain in... well, suffice it to say neither hand is especially happy with the current arrangement and both will be all too happy to get back to the way things were real soon.
Of course if I can't prepare food for myself I suppose I could significantly reduce the effects of the other. I have a nice wife and nice friends who have been providing for me in the food department. Also, does it look like I am prone to skipping meals?
Bathing is another fun project. I have taken to double wrapping ol' lefty in grocery bags to keep it dry and kneeling in the tub. It works. I can't complain, there are people with disabilities who deal with far greater obstacles every day. I just think it must look awfully funny to see me holding my razor with my double-bagged left hand. Did I mention the bags are taped around my forearm with painter's tape? Did I have to?
Today being my first day back to work, I got around writing notes for my appointment by taking the iPad and clacking notes out on that. Even now typing this I am able to use the wrist bump thingy as a sliding fulcrum and use the middle finger of my left hand to hit the keys. It causes no pain to my wrist, though I must admit I am not as fast, nor as accurate with this arrangement.
Again, the human spirit and my natural indefatigability rise up over small obstacles. It's nothing that other heroes don't do every day, so let's not make a big deal out of it, shall we?
____________________________________________________________
Men are From Mars...
Kudos, NASA, for your triumph today of landing a rover on Mars. I can't wait to find out what you learned by way of the dulcet baritone of Morgan Freeman. I wonder, do you have Mr. Freeman watch the images as they come in and narrate them to you in real time?
You should. that guy makes science really, really interesting.
___________________________________________________________
...Women are From Venus
Emily is now the wedding coordinator at our church. Why anyone would want to be married to me, be the junior high youth director and a wedding coordinator is far beyond even Morgan Freeman's ability to make me understand.
I bring this up because the couples in our church have to attend a class about the ravage...I mean the joys of marriage. My dear wife, being one who must experience things in order to understand them, decided she should take the class.
Which means I will also be taking the class. Actually classes, as they are on two Saturdays during college football season.
Help me, Mr. Freeman!
___________________________________________________________
The Great Divide
We are a nation divided. This is not the forum to get into deep political commentary as I endeavor to keep things light around here. But I wonder what ever happened to agreeing to disagree agreeably? It seems that we as a people have allowed every issue to become a wedge and are using those wedges to drive us out to the fringes of political thought.
I think we need a national debate, moderated by Morgan Freeman, whose soft, comforting tones will help us all gain the perspective we need to help understand that we have many more sames than differences. Ossie Davis would have been my first choice, but he appears to have died seven years ago so that is likely out of the question.
Waylon Jennings always did a great job narrating the cliff hangers before each commercial break of "The Dukes of Hazzard", but alas, Mr. Jennings checked out a decade ago. He really would have appealed to the traditional country conservative demographic.
Though facetious, I really am in search of the one person or persons trustworthy enough, likeable enough and neutral enough to help us all get back on the same page... or even in the same book! It isn't either man running for the top spot now, and I bet no such person exists. If he or she did, one side would declare them the antichrist and boycott their business and molotov cocktail their neighbor's house for putting up a sign that they don't like.
I leave you with this latent response to the also now deceased Rodney King's most famous utterance; "No, we clearly can't all get along. Now, make room at the bottom of that swimming pool."
My left hand, the dominant one, is wrapped up. I had a little surgery last week to relieve the carpal tunnel in my wrist so I could feel my fingers again on that hand. It has been three years since I last felt them consistently.
The procedure went well, was short and the results immediate. The only issue now is the off-an-on pain at the site of the incision, which is mostly minor, and this bandage, which I can't ditch for seven more days.You see, there is a long list of things you can't do with a hand when it's bandaged. There are only a few things on that list that truly matter. For me, those important two are cooking, and wiping my butt.
Gross. I know, but everybody poops, and I am no exception. For some reason, I can't make my brain work using my right hand for that particular function. It's a pain in... well, suffice it to say neither hand is especially happy with the current arrangement and both will be all too happy to get back to the way things were real soon.
Of course if I can't prepare food for myself I suppose I could significantly reduce the effects of the other. I have a nice wife and nice friends who have been providing for me in the food department. Also, does it look like I am prone to skipping meals?
Bathing is another fun project. I have taken to double wrapping ol' lefty in grocery bags to keep it dry and kneeling in the tub. It works. I can't complain, there are people with disabilities who deal with far greater obstacles every day. I just think it must look awfully funny to see me holding my razor with my double-bagged left hand. Did I mention the bags are taped around my forearm with painter's tape? Did I have to?
Today being my first day back to work, I got around writing notes for my appointment by taking the iPad and clacking notes out on that. Even now typing this I am able to use the wrist bump thingy as a sliding fulcrum and use the middle finger of my left hand to hit the keys. It causes no pain to my wrist, though I must admit I am not as fast, nor as accurate with this arrangement.
Again, the human spirit and my natural indefatigability rise up over small obstacles. It's nothing that other heroes don't do every day, so let's not make a big deal out of it, shall we?
____________________________________________________________
Men are From Mars...
Kudos, NASA, for your triumph today of landing a rover on Mars. I can't wait to find out what you learned by way of the dulcet baritone of Morgan Freeman. I wonder, do you have Mr. Freeman watch the images as they come in and narrate them to you in real time?
You should. that guy makes science really, really interesting.
___________________________________________________________
...Women are From Venus
Emily is now the wedding coordinator at our church. Why anyone would want to be married to me, be the junior high youth director and a wedding coordinator is far beyond even Morgan Freeman's ability to make me understand.
I bring this up because the couples in our church have to attend a class about the ravage...I mean the joys of marriage. My dear wife, being one who must experience things in order to understand them, decided she should take the class.
Which means I will also be taking the class. Actually classes, as they are on two Saturdays during college football season.
Help me, Mr. Freeman!
___________________________________________________________
The Great Divide
We are a nation divided. This is not the forum to get into deep political commentary as I endeavor to keep things light around here. But I wonder what ever happened to agreeing to disagree agreeably? It seems that we as a people have allowed every issue to become a wedge and are using those wedges to drive us out to the fringes of political thought.
I think we need a national debate, moderated by Morgan Freeman, whose soft, comforting tones will help us all gain the perspective we need to help understand that we have many more sames than differences. Ossie Davis would have been my first choice, but he appears to have died seven years ago so that is likely out of the question.
Waylon Jennings always did a great job narrating the cliff hangers before each commercial break of "The Dukes of Hazzard", but alas, Mr. Jennings checked out a decade ago. He really would have appealed to the traditional country conservative demographic.
Though facetious, I really am in search of the one person or persons trustworthy enough, likeable enough and neutral enough to help us all get back on the same page... or even in the same book! It isn't either man running for the top spot now, and I bet no such person exists. If he or she did, one side would declare them the antichrist and boycott their business and molotov cocktail their neighbor's house for putting up a sign that they don't like.
I leave you with this latent response to the also now deceased Rodney King's most famous utterance; "No, we clearly can't all get along. Now, make room at the bottom of that swimming pool."
Tuesday, July 31, 2012
National Grammar Rodeo
I made myself laugh just now, from something I wrote four years ago. It was a response to an e-mail I got from a co-worker... truth be told, a boss. It said exactly this:
bcbs-omni?????????????
My reply was:
Wow, thirteen question marks and I still have no idea what you are asking me. Can you add some more question marks, please? I'm sure I get it then.
I didn't much care for the person who wrote this to me and I am glad she has been gone for quite some time now. The company, at least my life within it, has been much to the better for her absence.
Emily's blog, is about a proposal she is reading for a project committee she is on. It is terrible. It is clearly schlocked together and was not proofread, or even really given a once-over before it was turned in. A large part of my job is putting out proposals, so this is something that really sticks in my craw.
On top of that, I am considered a bit of a snit when it comes to usage, grammar and speaking. This is not to say I am perfect... I make plenty of mistakes and I can't diagram a sentence to save my life. The fact remains I put more than a little thought into my professional proposals and in my regular writing. I try to speak and write with clarity and precision, following the rules that have been lain out before me.
Except, I don't know whether I just used "lain" right, so I looked it up. I found this handy chart, courtesy of The Grammar Girl Website at www.grammargirl.com:
It made my head hurt. I may have to lay down. Lie down? Ugh... I don't know. So I took a quiz, also on The Grammar Girl website. Somehow, I got 5 out of 6 correct. "Congratulations!", she said, "You have mastered lie lay lain."
Could've (could have) fooled me. I don't (do not) feel any smarter or more prepared now than I did before. All I know is that I have a better than 80% chance of guessing correctly if you write a sentence with a blank in it and ask me to guess which word I should use.
I make that digression so you know I am not wallowing in my pomposity and do not believe I am holier than thou art. That being said, I would like to turn on the "Rant Button" for a few moments.
When did the apostrophe (which looks like ' for my truly lost friends) come to rule the world? I don't remember when people started putting an apostrophe in all words ending with the letter S. Do they put it in because they can't (cannot) remember when to put it in or take it out so they put it in just hoping it is right? And then does the person reading it say, "Oh, crap... I don't (do not) remember if I'm (I am) right or not, so I won't (will not) say anything so I don't (do not) look like a douche."? And then the apostrophe scattering mad man says, "Whew... apostrophes everywhere from now on!"?
Let's (let us) review
You have a singular word: Phone
The plural of which is: Phones
Never: Phone's
When you write Phone's, what you mean is a contraction of "phone" and "is", like in, "Honey, the phone's ringing."
Now, just because we are lazy and fat and stupid and say things like "Honey, the phone's ringing" doesn't mean we should write it that way. There are a few contractions that are acceptable and I don't (do not) want to get into them now, but I will say that some people go way too far out of their way to make a contraction.
What is this powerful evil draw the apostrophe has upon Americans? I wikipedia lists "shouldn't've" as an acceptable contraction. It is not an acceptable contraction. If you are contracting more than two words, you are spending more time being lazy than if you just typed them out!
Ok, I am experiencing a little topic drift here... back to the basics of singular, plural, possessive and possessive plural. Please jot down, in your own words the following sentences. Go ahead, this is all prerecorded. I will be here when you are done. You won't (will not) be left behind, (though perhaps someone in third grade should have pondered doing just that).
A man, whose name is David, has a phone. The phone is ringing.
First of all, notice I did not write "A man, who's name is David. Why? Because if anyone on the street caught you saying "A Man Who Is Name Is David..." would shoot you and it would be justifiable homicide. That's (that is) why!
Now, whose (not who's) phone is it?
A. David's
B. Davids
C. Davids'
D. David's'
If you answered A, you are correct. If you answered B or C you may still read on to discover the error of your (not you're) ways. If you answered D, please pin some mittens on your jacket, go to the street, wait for the shortest bus you see and hop on. You have found your people! Be free, perpetual field tripper, the world is your oyster!
What if David has more than one phone? David has:
A. Phones
That's (that is) the only answer. Stop being so complicated. It a simple plural word. Phones. Leave it.
How many of you wrote sentences that looked like this?
David's phone is ringing.
You are my people.
How many of you wrote a sentence that looked like this?
Davids' phone's ringing.
First, there are a lot of Davids in that sentence and we already talked about "phone's" as being lazy and inappropriate unless you are Mark Twain. If you're (you are, not your) Mark Twain, you can write any old thing in quotations, because you are brilliant and aren't (are not) to be questioned.
Are you Samuel Clemens, (that's {that is} Mark Twain)? Are you? I didn't think so.
Now, smart ass, you say, what about when a word ends in S?
Here in west Michigan, we have a restaurant called Russ'. It is pronounced "RUSSESS". It belongs to Russ, (hence the apostrophe to show possession), or the Russ family, which means it belongs to multiple Russessessesss. That is expressed the same in our language so it's (it is) still Russ'.
It is not Rus's and it certainly is not Russe's or Russ'es'. Laughing? Don't. I've seen things, man... bad things.
Whose (not who's) restaurant is it? Russ'.
Who's (not whose) the owner? Russ.
The truly astute among you, and I believe I have two or even three astute readers, will notice I've (I have) been adding a handy parenthetical guide to contractions right in the text of this blentry. Use it.
I would get into "its" and "it's", but I have already passed an aneurism just trying to get all this out so far. I fear my body won't make it, so I'll (I will) give up.
Grammar sucks. Grammar is boring. However, all is not lost. Check out the book "Eats, Shoots and Leaves - The Zero Tolerance Approach to Punctuation" by Lynne Truss. It is a small book, handily sized to go with you anywhere. I am sure for those of you advanced enough, you could download it to your iPad or Kindle or Nook, (Of course, I am not totally comfortable recommending anyone download anything to their nook).
Thanks (not thank's) for listening. Y'all (you all) have a great day now, y'hear (you hear)?
bcbs-omni?????????????
My reply was:
Wow, thirteen question marks and I still have no idea what you are asking me. Can you add some more question marks, please? I'm sure I get it then.
I didn't much care for the person who wrote this to me and I am glad she has been gone for quite some time now. The company, at least my life within it, has been much to the better for her absence.
Emily's blog, is about a proposal she is reading for a project committee she is on. It is terrible. It is clearly schlocked together and was not proofread, or even really given a once-over before it was turned in. A large part of my job is putting out proposals, so this is something that really sticks in my craw.
On top of that, I am considered a bit of a snit when it comes to usage, grammar and speaking. This is not to say I am perfect... I make plenty of mistakes and I can't diagram a sentence to save my life. The fact remains I put more than a little thought into my professional proposals and in my regular writing. I try to speak and write with clarity and precision, following the rules that have been lain out before me.
Except, I don't know whether I just used "lain" right, so I looked it up. I found this handy chart, courtesy of The Grammar Girl Website at www.grammargirl.com:
Could've (could have) fooled me. I don't (do not) feel any smarter or more prepared now than I did before. All I know is that I have a better than 80% chance of guessing correctly if you write a sentence with a blank in it and ask me to guess which word I should use.
I make that digression so you know I am not wallowing in my pomposity and do not believe I am holier than thou art. That being said, I would like to turn on the "Rant Button" for a few moments.
When did the apostrophe (which looks like ' for my truly lost friends) come to rule the world? I don't remember when people started putting an apostrophe in all words ending with the letter S. Do they put it in because they can't (cannot) remember when to put it in or take it out so they put it in just hoping it is right? And then does the person reading it say, "Oh, crap... I don't (do not) remember if I'm (I am) right or not, so I won't (will not) say anything so I don't (do not) look like a douche."? And then the apostrophe scattering mad man says, "Whew... apostrophes everywhere from now on!"?
Let's (let us) review
You have a singular word: Phone
The plural of which is: Phones
Never: Phone's
When you write Phone's, what you mean is a contraction of "phone" and "is", like in, "Honey, the phone's ringing."
Now, just because we are lazy and fat and stupid and say things like "Honey, the phone's ringing" doesn't mean we should write it that way. There are a few contractions that are acceptable and I don't (do not) want to get into them now, but I will say that some people go way too far out of their way to make a contraction.
What is this powerful evil draw the apostrophe has upon Americans? I wikipedia lists "shouldn't've" as an acceptable contraction. It is not an acceptable contraction. If you are contracting more than two words, you are spending more time being lazy than if you just typed them out!
Ok, I am experiencing a little topic drift here... back to the basics of singular, plural, possessive and possessive plural. Please jot down, in your own words the following sentences. Go ahead, this is all prerecorded. I will be here when you are done. You won't (will not) be left behind, (though perhaps someone in third grade should have pondered doing just that).
A man, whose name is David, has a phone. The phone is ringing.
First of all, notice I did not write "A man, who's name is David. Why? Because if anyone on the street caught you saying "A Man Who Is Name Is David..." would shoot you and it would be justifiable homicide. That's (that is) why!
Now, whose (not who's) phone is it?
A. David's
B. Davids
C. Davids'
D. David's'
If you answered A, you are correct. If you answered B or C you may still read on to discover the error of your (not you're) ways. If you answered D, please pin some mittens on your jacket, go to the street, wait for the shortest bus you see and hop on. You have found your people! Be free, perpetual field tripper, the world is your oyster!
What if David has more than one phone? David has:
A. Phones
That's (that is) the only answer. Stop being so complicated. It a simple plural word. Phones. Leave it.
How many of you wrote sentences that looked like this?
David's phone is ringing.
You are my people.
How many of you wrote a sentence that looked like this?
Davids' phone's ringing.
First, there are a lot of Davids in that sentence and we already talked about "phone's" as being lazy and inappropriate unless you are Mark Twain. If you're (you are, not your) Mark Twain, you can write any old thing in quotations, because you are brilliant and aren't (are not) to be questioned.
Are you Samuel Clemens, (that's {that is} Mark Twain)? Are you? I didn't think so.
Now, smart ass, you say, what about when a word ends in S?
Here in west Michigan, we have a restaurant called Russ'. It is pronounced "RUSSESS". It belongs to Russ, (hence the apostrophe to show possession), or the Russ family, which means it belongs to multiple Russessessesss. That is expressed the same in our language so it's (it is) still Russ'.
It is not Rus's and it certainly is not Russe's or Russ'es'. Laughing? Don't. I've seen things, man... bad things.
Whose (not who's) restaurant is it? Russ'.
Who's (not whose) the owner? Russ.
The truly astute among you, and I believe I have two or even three astute readers, will notice I've (I have) been adding a handy parenthetical guide to contractions right in the text of this blentry. Use it.
I would get into "its" and "it's", but I have already passed an aneurism just trying to get all this out so far. I fear my body won't make it, so I'll (I will) give up.
Grammar sucks. Grammar is boring. However, all is not lost. Check out the book "Eats, Shoots and Leaves - The Zero Tolerance Approach to Punctuation" by Lynne Truss. It is a small book, handily sized to go with you anywhere. I am sure for those of you advanced enough, you could download it to your iPad or Kindle or Nook, (Of course, I am not totally comfortable recommending anyone download anything to their nook).
Thanks (not thank's) for listening. Y'all (you all) have a great day now, y'hear (you hear)?
Friday, July 27, 2012
Friday Miscellany
TIME
The week after coming home from being out of town is always a little surreal. Time is referenced by what you were doing last Thursday at 8:20 pm and measuring that against what you are doing now on Thursday, 8:20 pm.
Here it is, Friday and I can't believe this week has gone by so quickly. Since I had to jump right into travel and meetings upon my return, the week has been a blur. This morning at oh-dark-thirty when I woke up, I couldn't believe it was already Friday.
It is now 9:48 and I can't believe it's still Friday.
My, how the gears have changed. I have finally downshifted and find my brain struggling to understand the new speed. I am moving fast and slow at the same time.
I wonder if Einstein ever felt this way and that opened his mind up to the assertion that space and time are not constant, but instead they bend and flex and speed up and slow down like water in a river.
Indeed, Dr. Einstein, it is all relative.
____________________________________________________________
SPACE
After spending a week on a gym floor with a bunch of boys, my perspective is all changed. I put some clothes on the floor of my office Monday while unpacking and they are still there. I have walked past, through and over them innumerable times since and it hasn't phased me.
Time to get back into normal. I am sure my "gym floor" organizing system is starting to get on Em's nerves. Especially since I would never let her get away with the same.
_____________________________________________________________
DAYS OF RECKONING
Friday, August 3rd is my day of reckoning.There is a tri fold brochure on my desk staring at me. It's features a happy looking elderly African American couple smiling confidently with the words "Having Surgery?" written on it.Not being elderly, and not being entirely confident, I am having a hard time relating to the brochure, which is full of dos and don'ts.
Have I mentioned I don't like being told what to do and don't do? I suppose if you know me that comes as no surprise.
One item asks, "May I shower or bathe before surgery?"
The answer is "Please shower or bathe before surgery. You may brush your teeth."
So, not getting out of that for the day.
They can't even let me know more than a day in advance when my surgery on that day will be. And I can't eat for 8 hours before. Have they met me? I am already carb loading in case I can't eat between dinner on Thursday and say, 2:00 pm on Friday. I can't stay up all night and eat later... that only makes me wake up famished. Isn't that weird? The later and bigger I eat the more hungry I am when I awake.
And what of coffee? Do they know what I am like with no coffee? Emily might need to keep a TASER handy.
I had always hoped to get through life unaltered. Now I hope to live past Friday, August 3rd. Can the bear survive minor surgery?
_____________________________________________________________
FAST FOOD
I like fast food. I have owned up to that on these pages before. Last week, I had plenty of opportunity to indulge in all manner of fast food.
Last night, we had BLTs and corn on the cob, (Em's favorite summer meal). Let me tell you, that is better than any fast food out there. Are you listening, fast food establishments? If you make it, I will come.
____________________________________________________________
AND FINALLY...
It is that time again, where the world gets together and attempts to transcend racial and political differences and compete on a purely human level. Every four years, we dust off our brightest and hope for medal counts and bragging rights.
Fat Americans ironically wedge themselves into their Barcaloungers or mount bar stools and cram deep fried somethings into their mouths and shout USA!, USA! at a TV upon which is playing a sport that in non-Olympic years exists only in the heads and hearts of the athletes and coaches.
McDonalds will hawk 2,000 calorie meals and Budweiser will tempt us into drinking too much, while Wal*Mart will brag about their low prices on China made goods. The Church of Latter Day Saints will make us feel like we have no moral character, (which they are probably right about), and the political candidates up for election in November will relentlessly pummel us with lies and negativity, statistics out of context and fake smiles.
Look closely at what you are watching and make an attempt to actually "see" our country at a glance. Then we can talk about how we can once again be proud to shout USA! USA!
The week after coming home from being out of town is always a little surreal. Time is referenced by what you were doing last Thursday at 8:20 pm and measuring that against what you are doing now on Thursday, 8:20 pm.
Here it is, Friday and I can't believe this week has gone by so quickly. Since I had to jump right into travel and meetings upon my return, the week has been a blur. This morning at oh-dark-thirty when I woke up, I couldn't believe it was already Friday.
It is now 9:48 and I can't believe it's still Friday.
My, how the gears have changed. I have finally downshifted and find my brain struggling to understand the new speed. I am moving fast and slow at the same time.
I wonder if Einstein ever felt this way and that opened his mind up to the assertion that space and time are not constant, but instead they bend and flex and speed up and slow down like water in a river.
Indeed, Dr. Einstein, it is all relative.
____________________________________________________________
SPACE
After spending a week on a gym floor with a bunch of boys, my perspective is all changed. I put some clothes on the floor of my office Monday while unpacking and they are still there. I have walked past, through and over them innumerable times since and it hasn't phased me.
Time to get back into normal. I am sure my "gym floor" organizing system is starting to get on Em's nerves. Especially since I would never let her get away with the same.
_____________________________________________________________
DAYS OF RECKONING
Friday, August 3rd is my day of reckoning.There is a tri fold brochure on my desk staring at me. It's features a happy looking elderly African American couple smiling confidently with the words "Having Surgery?" written on it.Not being elderly, and not being entirely confident, I am having a hard time relating to the brochure, which is full of dos and don'ts.
Have I mentioned I don't like being told what to do and don't do? I suppose if you know me that comes as no surprise.
One item asks, "May I shower or bathe before surgery?"
The answer is "Please shower or bathe before surgery. You may brush your teeth."
So, not getting out of that for the day.
They can't even let me know more than a day in advance when my surgery on that day will be. And I can't eat for 8 hours before. Have they met me? I am already carb loading in case I can't eat between dinner on Thursday and say, 2:00 pm on Friday. I can't stay up all night and eat later... that only makes me wake up famished. Isn't that weird? The later and bigger I eat the more hungry I am when I awake.
And what of coffee? Do they know what I am like with no coffee? Emily might need to keep a TASER handy.
I had always hoped to get through life unaltered. Now I hope to live past Friday, August 3rd. Can the bear survive minor surgery?
_____________________________________________________________
FAST FOOD
I like fast food. I have owned up to that on these pages before. Last week, I had plenty of opportunity to indulge in all manner of fast food.
Last night, we had BLTs and corn on the cob, (Em's favorite summer meal). Let me tell you, that is better than any fast food out there. Are you listening, fast food establishments? If you make it, I will come.
____________________________________________________________
AND FINALLY...
It is that time again, where the world gets together and attempts to transcend racial and political differences and compete on a purely human level. Every four years, we dust off our brightest and hope for medal counts and bragging rights.
Fat Americans ironically wedge themselves into their Barcaloungers or mount bar stools and cram deep fried somethings into their mouths and shout USA!, USA! at a TV upon which is playing a sport that in non-Olympic years exists only in the heads and hearts of the athletes and coaches.
McDonalds will hawk 2,000 calorie meals and Budweiser will tempt us into drinking too much, while Wal*Mart will brag about their low prices on China made goods. The Church of Latter Day Saints will make us feel like we have no moral character, (which they are probably right about), and the political candidates up for election in November will relentlessly pummel us with lies and negativity, statistics out of context and fake smiles.
Look closely at what you are watching and make an attempt to actually "see" our country at a glance. Then we can talk about how we can once again be proud to shout USA! USA!
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