Kicking A Dead Horse

As we drove down the busy street, we commented on some of the cars we saw.  I had told my husband that during my morning walks, I was trying to learn all the emblems of the different makes of automobiles.  As one car whizzed past, we both said we had not seen one by that name, nor did we know what make it was.  A couple of days later, he told me who the maker of the car was.  The very make and model we had discussed, had shown up on his Facebook page......and for those of you who understand, he is packing an Android phone.  Yes, I have the iphone, but I keep that sweet young thing named Siri turned off.

There is a form of government, that was given some very serious thought in this country during the 1930's, called technocracy.  A technocracy government is ran by a group of decision makers who have been self elected because of their technological knowledge.  This means, scientists, engineers, or whoever is considered an expert in their particular field, could be selected as part of the group.  These experts would not be elected by the people they wish to govern because the people are obviously not smart enough to do so.  

The young lady chatted to her handsome breakfast guest during their entire meal.  I was amazed at her ability to multi-task because she never put her phone down the entire time.  This isn't new and it does not seem to be going away anytime soon.  During the morning walks, especially when the dew is heavy on the car windows, I always step off the road when I hear an approaching vehicle.  The reason for this is simple.  If five cars pass me in the morning, leaving the complex, four of the five drivers are looking at their phones.  Getting ran over on my quest for fitness and longevity would constitute a true oxymoron in the reading of my obituary.

Getting people to accept the idea of technocracy can come about by giving them all the good examples of how technocracy can supersede common sense.   This has been done easily by putting the technology in the palm of their hand.  The next step would be to feed the people information.  It doesn't have to be informative info, just give them stuff to keep them entertained, or en-trained.  Make the people think that someone who is an expert in economics would be a much better leader than someone who wants to run for a seat in government because they believe they can make a difference.  Another step would be to listen.  Listen to what the people want and listen to what the people are doing.

We all know someone who is super smart.  We would consider them an expert, a genius and if we had a question about something, and we knew that person would know the answer, well then, we would ask them.  But, this does not mean that the person, who knows all the answers to something technological, like how the entire electrical grid of a city works, is the same person we want to leave the cat with while we are gone for the weekend.

The box in the house that will answer your questions, it listens even when you are not speaking directly to it.  The cell phone that you cling to with every waking breath, it listens and keeps tabs on where you are, day and night.  I keep kicking this dead horse down the road, maybe I should just get a live one and ride into the sunset. But, the sun sets in the west and there lies China.  

Let's Keep This Idea

Although I do not know for a fact if this next statement is true, I can probably lay down a bet and come out on the winning side.  My father never changed diapers.  If this is wrong, sisters Lela and Blanche will set me straight.  Perhaps he did, but I would still venture a bet that it was only in an extreme case of emergency.

My husband changed a diaper once, that I'm sure of.  He had been left in charge of his first grandson and had him in his shop.  Nature called and the workbench was the only available space.  He will tell you to this day, it was a terrible experience, complete with gagging.

Times and ideas have changed over the years.  I have watched our sons-in-law master diaper changes and baths, all while cooking a meal.  This does not mean the men of the past were wrong, they just grew up with a different idea, a different mindset.  Another example from my father's era; girls do not drive pick-up trucks. He did accompany me though, when I bought my first one. 

There are lots of things that were believed to be carved in stone, then later found out, that was not exactly the way things had to be.  Yet, there will still be people who believe the way it was done in the past, is the way it should always be done. 

One thing that seems to have been tossed out as something that is no longer a truth, is the old adage, "The customer is always right."  I nearly bit my tongue off at the grocery store recently and it is still sore.  The young checkout lady first asked me to come into her lane.  I thought that was nice of her and as I wheeled my full cart of groceries into her lane, that is where the niceties ended.  She first instructed me not to put my groceries on the conveyor belt.  As I stopped half way through the motion of lifting my first item out of the cart, I glanced at the young lady who was ahead of me, in line.  I could see why I could not put my groceries on the belt because she was frantically trying to get hers out of her cart.  The checkout lady never stopped the belt.  By the time the young woman got her last item out of the cart, it was time to pay and the words, "Have a wonderful day", left the lips of the cashier.   The cashier had paused long enough though, to give me the go-ahead sign, that I could begin unloading my cart.  Since I was still at the far end of the conveyor belt, each time I placed items on the belt, speed demon cashier lady hit the 'go' button for the belt.  My groceries where in a frantic stop and go dance on their way to the scanner.  She then tells me that I am basically putting my groceries on the belt wrong and to move my cart up closer to the register.  By the time I did this, it was time to swipe my card and hear her lovely parting words as she smiled and handed me the receipt.

I was so flustered, along with being on a mission of more than just groceries, I thanked her and maneuvered my cart to the self bagging area.  When I looked into the cart, I understood how she herded us through the lane so quickly. All the can items had been tossed to and fro.  One of them had pierced the plastic wrapping on the hamburger.  My brats were squished under cans of beans and broth. The hummus was slowly settling to one side of its container, since it was standing on edge.  I'm not sure how the eggs and bread survived, but they were unscathed. 

Some things need changing, but I do not think a lack of courtesy should be one of them.  Being proficient and efficient have their place, in the work place, but it does not take any more time to show some kindness to the customer. 

 I did feel like telling her that I had been buying groceries longer than she had been drawing breath and was pretty certain that I knew what I was doing....but, it would not have sounded near as good as it does here.

Gotta Luv It

It has been said the English language is one of the hardest to learn.  There are so many words that sound the same but are spelled differently and have different meanings.  These words are called homophones and here are a few of them; bear bare, know no, right write, flower flour, sense cents, dear deer and the most confusing of all, at least in text messages, there, their, they're.

Then there are the homonyms that have the same spelling but can have completely different meanings.  Here are a few examples; bat, bank, change, book and bolt.  

Next, we can throw in a little bit of French and this really tosses a wrench into the cogs.  There are words such as valet, filet, bouquet, crochet and buffet that all end in the sound of a long A.  The one exception in that list would be buffet, this happens when it is preceded by the first name of Jimmie.  Jimmie Buffet.  In this case the 'et' at the end of the word is pronounced  like the following; inlet, owlet, and bracelet.  It can be very confusing.

Sisters Lela and Blanche came for a visit.  It had been well over a year since we had seen each other and we had lots of catching up to do.  One thing that these two love to do is shop.  They also know I do not.  I waited patiently as I watched them peruse the racks in the Macy's store at the local mall.  They have the uncanny ability to finger every piece of clothing in the store, try on endless outfits in the dressing rooms and never purchase a single item.  This time, they surprised me and both emerged carrying a small bag.  From there, Lela decided she needed a rest and Blanche wanted to take me to another store....Bed Bath & Beyond.

I do not shop.  If I need something, I just go get it, usually at the big box store that has underwear at the entrance door and frozen pizza at the exit.  Surely I had been in a BB&B before, but it had been a long while.  This one is just across the street from our abode, but I had never ventured through its doors.  When I did, it was sensory overload.  This store has definitely put the emphasis on the Beyond.  

Blanche and I began scanning the shelves of gadgetry and whatnots.  As we approached the clearance shelves, full of linens and bedding, I  picked up an item and made my fatal faux pas.  As Blanche approached, she asked what I was holding and I answered, "It's a duvet."  (dove-it).  With a grin, she corrected me with the proper pronunciation of "do-vAy" and things went south from there.

I told her I would go home and tell the hubby, in my best red neck voice, "Looky here honey, I bought us a duvet!" 

When we returned to the apartment and told Lela of our antics, she chimed in with "Don't let your neighbor covet your duvet!"  It began to sound somewhat like an infomercial with phrases such as, "get your duvet, you're gonna love it"  and "if they make fun of your duvet, tell em' to shove it!"  We even called another family member to share our humor and the first thing they said was, "well, you've duvet again."

No doubt, the English language has its twists and turns.  It will be a long time before they forget the duvet, maybe never,  but I shall just rise above it.

The Ivy Patch

Way back in September of 1958, the folks, sisters Lela and Blanche and myself moved to South Corey Street in a small Midwest town. We left the small house in the country for a big two story home with an open air front porch and a porch swing.  There was a patch of soil  between the porch and the sidewalk that was about four feet wide and the length of the porch.  This is where Mother planted her English Ivy.

Traveling between the Carolinas  and the state of Georgia, one can see several signs with the following message:  English Ivy Kills Trees.  It seems that the lovely vine, with its evergreen leaves lightly laced with a bit of pale cream, has a bad rap in the South.  One of its likable characteristics is the fact that it is a great ground cover and grows in the shade.  It not only grows in the shade, it grows everywhere.  It not only is a great ground cover, it can and will cover anything that sits still long enough.  Trees have no defense when it comes to English Ivy and it can quickly cover them.  The ivy itself does not kill the tree but its dense green foliage blocks the sunlight from reaching the tree and without sunlight, the tree withers and dies.  It also seems that there are just as many people interested in how to grow English Ivy as there are for those who want to know how to get rid of it.

Just as the moon waxes and wanes, so did the seasons of South Corey Street.  Upon our arrival, there were few children on the street.  Most of the stately two story homes had elderly occupants who's children had long been grown and gone.  Since Lela and Blanche were in their teens, the quaint quietness of this tree lined street was soon replaced with honking cars and lots of bicycles.

Mother's ivy was doomed from the beginning.  No matter how hard she tried, she was never able to conquer the sneaker clad feet that used its location as a shortcut to the porch, or the bicycles that found the ivy patch to be a great resting place.  It was not too many years later, as South Corey Street began to shift into a new phase of young people, that she gave up all together and seeded the area with grass.

English Ivy can be a source of great contention for those who would like to be rid of its presence.  But, it is no match for the voracity of youthful endeavors.