Observations

Orange Laptop

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Although I like my technology, I don’t stay on the front edge of the technology curve.  I have had a couple of laptops.  I bought an Ipad over 3 years ago before my wife and I went to Europe, but my most recent addition seems to get the most attention.

My son got a Chromebook for school this year.  He enjoyed its features and its ability to be so easily mobile.  I put it on my list of things I would like to have sometime soon.  And, as our exchange student needed to borrow my Ipad for the first few months she was here, the Chromebook moved up the wishlist considerably.  I tried to make one of my old laptops work, but it did not possess the mobility I needed.  As my birthday approached, my wife went ahead and greenlighted the purchase of the Chromebook.  So, I purchased it and handed it over to my wife to add to my gift stash.  (She got a cruise for her significant birthday while i got a laptop…)

Even though it is “only” a Chromebook, I did personalize it with an orange shell.  While the shell allows me to tilt the computer to assure proper typing angle,  the non-screen orange shell-side does catches quite a few eyes. While I was at Panera recently,  a little boy could not take his eyes off of it.  He kept turning around in his highchair.  His mother kept adjusting the chair to make it more difficult for him to see it.  Not to be deterred, he kept cranking his little head around to have his eyes tickled by the neon orange “TV” without a changing picture.

My daughters and others have also commented on my orange laptop.  It looks kind of like a Macbook.  The orange cover distracts and allows anyone looking at it to just think about how something that color must be cool. Cool or not, it is a great little laptop.  If it leads to a few conversations and a few more ideas for postings, it will have more than exceeded my expectations.

Morning Glory

After a couple of cloudy days and one VERY rainy day, it was good to be able to go outside on a walk Sunday morning!

The sky seemed a little bluer and the animals (upright and those on all fours) seemed to a little happier to greet the morning.  Every living thing seemed to be celebrating the bright new day with its own special glow.  (Maybe not the longhorns…)

The fall color is fleeting at best in Texas, but if you are patient and lower your expectations (Midwestern fall expectations will set you up for disappointment), you can find trees with fantastic color.  And, although it is difficult to find an entire tree line with eye-popping color, the right perspective can allow you to see the beauty a Texas fall offers.

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The Internet Timeout

As I have tried to get away from the distractions of life and the responsibilities associated with my various roles, I have been finding the available wireless internet access points that are free.  While I am inclined to at least get a drink prior to getting comfortable, I am pretty sure I have seen the guy sneak into McDonald’s and pull his computer out without having any qualms whatsoever.

The timeout probably does not effect most normal people.  If you are surfing, eating your meal and leaving once the meal is completed, or just stopping for a quick snack, you may not encounter this dreaded phenomenon.  The slayer of a great ideas and the denier of great thoughts!  What is it?  The “free wireless boot”!

I experienced this today while enjoying my tea at McDonald’s.  I realized I probably overstayed my welcome, but I was not warned or given any grace in the matter.  I went to publish something I worked hard to craft only to find my connection was not very interested in staying connected to me.  The laptop (a chromebook, so I don’t know all of its nuances) said the wifi was present.  All of my tinkering and attempting to salvage the situation resulted in the perfect edits ending up as unsaved characters on an otherwise compliant screen.  I have since tried to publish it, but I am convinced my memory and editing skills were far less superior when I tackled it later in the day.

My Panera shove was not nearly as disastrous.  Although my wifi connection and I temporarily lost interest in each other, I was able to rekindle the relationship before anything ephemeral or “brilliant” was lost for the ages.  (If it is not obvious, my tongue was firmly planted in my cheek as I typed this.)

Certainly I can try and find a muse residing where the internet is always free and non-judgmental.  I could even attempt to forego all of my responsibilities when my office door is closed.  However, since I don’t trust myself and my unceasing efforts to assign blame and avoid the capturing of even one good thought, I am likely to continue to seek inspiration beyond the cluttered desk and boring walls of my self-proclaimed den. My den is a place where ideas may not go to die, but they certainly to not live as freely or as vibrantly as when they are grown while drinking someone else’s coffee or tea.

 

Bleeders Can Be Choosers

As I prepared to punch the nearly quarterly clock at “Vampires R Us”, I was soon to find out my blood letting of choice was not available!  A compromise was reached, and this is how it went….

The same pleasant lady greeted me at the front desk at Carter Blood Care.  (I have periods of blood giving frequency. Presently, I am trying hard to give at every opportunity. My favorite giving of choice is “double red”.  They pump blood out and then pump it back in after the red blood cells are removed)  My goal is to only submit myself to a needle every 16 weeks. This gives me the satisfaction of doing good and only having to deal with the annoying screening process as infrequently as possible.  Less annoying means I don’t make excuses for doing something good.  Our encounter went like this:

As the greeter got me to sign in and gathered the necessary IDs, she asked me,"What    blood type are you?"
Without hesitation, I said, "O+". (I didn't say "plus sign", it was just easier to
type.)
"And, what type of donation did you want to do today?", she inquired.
"Double red.", I said without hesitation.
With a slight pause she stated, "We are not taking double red for O+ today, but we can use your platelets or whole blood. Can I go ahead and get you going on a platelet      donation?"
Now, my turn to hesitate. "How long does it take?"
"It may take up to 2 hours.", she informed me.
"Since I haven't done platelets before, I guess I can do it once.", I replied with     additional hesitation.
"Great! With platelets you can come back and give again in 2 weeks. (Note my previous  comments about quarterly time clock punching.) Have you taken aspirin in the past 48   hours?"
"Unfortunately, I have.", I mumbled.(Aspirin thins the blood & frustrates the platelet gatherers.)
"Then, lets go ahead and get you in for whole blood today!"
"Okay. At least I will get out quickly.", I said as I acquiesced.

The rest of the donation went pretty uneventfully.  My “screener” had to spend some extra time making sure our cruise in the Caribbean did not give me a “fail” for today’s donation.  One woman I met in the reception area was there for “mommy time” while doing platelets.  She was trying to sell me on how great it is doing platelets.  She brings her own movies and just enjoys herself for 2 hours.  Unfortunately, while I was giving, I saw her walk out after leaving the screener’s door. For some reason, she didn’t make it past the screening process. Maybe an aspirin or a tattoo or a fail on any of those other crazy questions regarding where you have been, who you have been with, or what you have done to your body lately.

After meeting my “blood collection technician”, I couldn’t help but ask if she was pregnant.  (I guess it takes guts to ask this of the woman poking you with a needle, but sometimes I just need to know.  The same question at a garage sale we hosted did not turn out as well…)  She answered “yes”, and we had a brief discussion on, “If you are going to have a toddler boy with long hair you should at least dress them in something not gender-neutral to save  ‘friendly’ people from any embarrassment when asking what you call your daughter.”  Since it only took 8 minutes to fill the bag, it did not allow for much additional conversation.  Once the bag was full, she gave a tug on the needle and asked me to put a little pressure on the “entry point”.  The blue, stretchy wrap she used to circumnavigate my arm had a duel purpose.  Besides holding the gauze in place over the wound, the “blue, stretchy wrap” roll doubled as my squeezy toy I was instructed to squeeze every few seconds while my blood was filling the bag.

It ruined my day to be told I would need to limit my tobacco and alcohol usage, but some how I found the strength to rise off the gurney to engage in the final part of the ritual – the snack. Once the snack and liquid were consumed (They asked I sit 10-15 minutes before leaving. Really, more of a guideline then a rule.), I had a brief dialogue with the nurses closest to the snack area.

"You feeling okay?, she asked.
"Considering it is my first time giving, I guess I am okay.", I said while taking a    step with a slight deliberate stutter in it...almost a tripping motion.
"Could almost give in your sleep, huh?", she replied in a non-concerned manner.
"Pretty much", I said as I tripped the rest of the way out the door. (not really)

The greeter/good-byer couldn’t help but ask if I would schedule my next appointment.  I don’t blame her persistence.  However, I am the kind of guy who digs in his heels if he has to continue saying, “No” to the same question.  Since they didn’t want my blood in its desired form today, I did have some concern whether they would even want my old, boring O+ on January 15th. As good as it feels to give blood to help others, bleeders can be choosers.

 

 

Meatloaf Fingers

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As we made a recent trip to Sam’s and bought a “tube” of hamburger, the hunk of meats fate had already been decided.  One-third of the meat was for a meatloaf, and the rest of it was going to be browned and frozen to make a rapid appearance in some other meal.  (A “rapid” meal might be tacos, Hamburger Helper, or a meat-enriched spaghetti sauce.)  Since I am the one who prepares the meat “best” and has the time (Best is generally in reference to browning the meat–I don’t like the chunks very big.  My wife’s tolerance are not quite as stringent.), I spent part of my morning  dividing and conquering the meat.

It is my contention that meatloaf cannot be made by using a spoon to mix the ingredients.  (Simple ingredients of meat [80/20 is best – 90/10 is to dry], onion soup mix, a couple of eggs, and a couple handfuls of quick oats)  I suppose a  glass cooking dish could also be used to do the mixing, but I really need to have the sides of the bowl to allow the meat and ingredients to be more successfully mixed.  If you insist on mixing your meat while using a spoon, I suppose it may taste okay, but your fingers will never achieve the nirvana that is “meatloaf fingers”.  When mixing the meat with your fingers, a chill starts in the fingers and work its way almost to the elbows.  As frostbite nears and the fingers are approaching unresponsiveness, the fingers are allowed a couple of brief breaks from the meatloaf.  After two such breaks, the eyes and fingers typically agree-the meatloaf can now be handed off to the oven.

Prior to sticking the meatloaf into the over and after it was chilled for a few hours (the chilling may or may not be necessary, but making it ahead always seems to be a good idea.), the loaf is divided into thirds-1/3 is plain, 1/3 gets covered in ketchup, and 1/3 gets deluged in barbecue sauce.   About an hour an a half later at 350, we are eating.

I am proud that we make the effort to eat meals together frequently.  I feel so very blessed my kids have their favorite meals and make special effort to make sure they are home for those meals (and sometimes making an effort when it is not their favorite meals). As my wife and I watched a “family-ish” commercial the other day, I commented, “We may not be perfect parents, but we have tried really hard to eat meals together.”  If we had it all to do over again, the only thing I might change is finding some way to put a little more love in each meal we sat down and ate together.

Fun Parents

As I sat down at McDonald’s today to tap into their internet and slurp on an slightly sweetened iced tea, I was greeted by a family sitting two tables in front of me.

The dad in his early 20’s had droopy jeans, a knitted hat pulled over his head with a bit of hair sticking out, an unshaven face, and a couple of tattoos above his elbow peaking out from under his t-shirt.  The mother had her back to me.  She had shoulder length black hair with a black t-shirt.  The youngest child (under 2) was in a highchair with his hair combed into a rooster type style.  The older brother (no older than 4) was facing me, but blocked by his mother.  He looked to be his younger brother PLUS 2 or 3 years.

As I notice the youngest brother begging pancakes off of his father’s plate, I see the smile on dad’s face as he continues to fill the nearly perpetually gaping mouth.  I see little brother reach for dad as he goes to refill his Dr. Pepper (Don’t leave me dad.) .  I see mom haul little brother to the bathroom to change a diaper.  I see big brother watching everything going on while keeping the hand moving from plate to mouth.  I see how both boys are wearing clothes that could easily be described as pajamas.  I decide I will say something to the parents (see Blessed Eggs), but as they get up from their table, they go into the play area.

When they emerged from the play area, I couldn’t help but make a comment.  I am not sure it was the best comment, but it was the one I had:

"You must be fun parents.  Not every parent would let their kids wear pajamas on a     drizzly day."
"Thank you. The boys insisted.  They just got their new pajamas yesterday.", she       replied.
"You guys enjoy the rest of your day.", I said with a smile.
"You, too.", the dad said with a bigger smile

It isn’t your appearance or my standards that make you a fun parent.  It is how your kids see you.  I have no idea what this family’s home looks like, but I know this family knows how to love their kids.  I am not so arrogant to think my words made any difference in their day, but saying the words did in mine.

Syrup on the pajamas? No problem.  I am sure this loving mom will have them washed for bed tonight.

Chinese Banana Bread

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If anyone who reads Chinese wants to make my banana bread, this should get you there! While our Chinese exchange student helped me make the bread, she told me about the “3 Cleans” that used to be expected of a Chinese woman when making dough….clean hands, clean bowl, and clean, shiny dough. She hasn’t achieved this herself, but she is convinced it is something to do with the water temperature….???

She was very meticulous in her notes.  When she forgot how to write an uncommon Chinese character, she resorted to English.  (She had one moment where it took her a couple of minutes to remember how to write the proper character.  Eventually the Chinese Brain search engine kicked in, and she had it.)Also, as part of the recipe, the bananas need to be smashed into a paste.  She said the Chinese word she chose for this would be the same word used if you were “making something bloody”.  She also gave me a tutorial in how a character is used when writing proper Chinese so the right “adverb” is associated with the right “verb”. (I put them in quotes because I am not sure those words would accurately describe them from a Chinese perspective.)  Apparently, the older Chinese think this character is still essential; our exchange student did not seem to share this opinion.

Her goal before she leaves our house next June is to make a batch of banana bread all by herself.  When she gets home, she wants to make it for her family.  She has mentioned the possible difficulty in finding sour cream, vanilla extract, and possibly cinnamon in China.  She is a resourceful girl – I am certain she will find some way to get there.  (Our Korean exchange student sent the recipe to her mother in Korea.  Her mother made it in Korea without sour cream or cinnamon, and they still claimed it tasted good.  I am not as convinced…)

With exchange students, you need to fully engage them in your lives!  You never know what activity you are going to participate in when some interesting rabbit trail will result.  Some days it is harder than others (my wife is on a business trip for 3 days), but the potential for mental cross pollinating certainly puts the “hardness” into perspective!

Discount Breading

To clarify up front, this posting is not about the cheapest possible bread or cracker crumbs to introduce into or onto your food.  Although that is one possible interpretation of the title, today, I am singing mostly the praises of “day old” (or longer) bread stores.

We have purchased all of these items at pretty good discounts in the past:

  • Doughnuts:  we enjoyed the donuts at the Hostess store more than the Mrs. Baird’s store, but when Hostess closed, we some how found we could eat the Mrs. Baird’s offerings…occasionally.
  • Bread:  Many varieties and many sizes.  When you have kids packing sandwiches, you always have to have some in stock.  Although you give up a few days on how long the bread can dwell on your counter when it is bought “day old”, 5 lunch-packers does not make this a huge concern.  The cinnamon swirl bread is especially good for french toast.
  • Bagels:  Many flavors and a few new ones.  They have had french toast and apple bagels.  The pumpkins ones are also kind of fun in the fall.   The bad thing is during the summer the bagels may only last a few days (or 2 days) before the “mold” moves in.  The bread/bagels ride around in a truck for a few hours before being brought to the discount store.  The summer heat makes the preservatives retire more quickly than cooler temperatures would.
  • Buns:  Lots of saving here, and in some cases the price is 1/2 to 1/4 what it is at the store. (Although the Aldi’s up the road is pretty cheap.)  Most of the time it is still significantly below store brand prices.  So, if you need a bun for every hamburger, hot dog, or brat that goes into your body, it might as well be a cheap one!
  • Tortillas:  Yeah, they have these, too.  A couple different flavors and a couple different sizes.  Saving is good!
  • Pizza crust:  They sell Boboli pizza crust.   A couple different sizes and thicknesses.  If you look carefully, they have had football shaped crust during the appropriate season. (Baseball & basketball fans can make a regular crust resemble their sport at any time.  Apparently football players just need a little inspiration to make their pizzas more popular for tailgating.)

It may not take much effort to work a register or to sort bread.  Maybe it is the lack of stress in the employees of the discount bread store that makes them so open to conversation.  The two employees I see the most are very likely to ask about my kids or even our exchange students.  They will recommend new products, and/or ask (as an example), “If you make french toast, you might want to consider the cinnamon swirl bread.  You won’t believe how great it will taste.” I truly appreciate their willingness to help me stretch my “breading” dollar as much as possible!  I assume they do this for every customer who walks in the door, but maybe asking questions about their lives makes them care about me a little more.  (Allow me to assign some value to my existence–please?)

The one gal has a few tattoos and a few kids.  Her father works in a union job, and he has had a heart attack.  I don’t know her politics, but a few factors make the first guess “Democrat”.  I am not sure if she is married or not.  (The title of “customer” does impose some limits on what questions are asked.  Of course, I would listen to anything that was volunteered.)  She has a very positive attitude.  She smiles easily, and she greeted me with a quick smile when I walked in the door today.  One day I greeted her and barely got a blank stare–the other employee let me know her grandfather had died.  The next time I saw her, she was her old self.  She felt horrible she was in such a daze that one day–such a good heart!

The other gal is probably closer to my age.  She is the one who recommended the french toast w/ cinnamon swirl.  She gives me a quick smile and thinks nothing of calling me “hon” when I am shopping.  She has a daughter who has gone a couple of short term missions trips with her church to work with girls involved with sex trafficking.  Her daughter now lives in New York where she works with those involved w/ sex trafficking.  I believe she said her daughter has had great success using art therapy to reach these sometimes forgotten members of society.  Unfortunately, she no longer works there.  She was a great person to visit with.  Likely, the salary she received failed to reach the level of headaches the job generated.

Despite a sometimes uneventful day, I like to have some weekly errands to anchor me into life.  A slowing internet business and kids who seem to be unable to do anything buy grow make these predictable encounters something I happily put on my schedule.  Their are too many employees at Walmart to have much hope of building a relationship with an employee.  I sometimes fail to think of those small businesses out there who provide more than a receipt and a bag of supplies. (groceries, hardware, etc)  They provide a smile and a acquaintance-ship. (Discussions on more than weather, but less than politics)  Did small town, pre-internet businesses all used to be this way?

 

Asian Destruction Crew

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AKA:  My introduction to Window blind repair

It started with our exchange students not understanding the complexities of working a US generic window blind.  I will admit to a part of this being conjecture, but here is how it goes…. For some reason, the blind would not go level for them.  They may or may not have known how to operate the blind and how to “unlock” the blind so it could be lowered.  Whatever did occur  on our blinds (they are wood blinds, so “generic” is probably not a completely accurate description), three plastic clip on the bottom of the blinds has been removed.  Underneath the clip, was a knot that ran the whole length of the blind–it allowed the blind to move up and down the window.  It is our guess the locking function (the hand motion where you take the height adjustment string to the left or right at a high angle and lock the blind height in place) was not working to their expectations.  They were trying to solve the problem without getting us involved.  (All of this information was news to me UNTIL I started trying to fix the blind today.  Prior to me really looking at the blind, I thought the blind “chose” to take some time off RATHER than being giving an unexpected vacation due to receiving some inappropriate therapy.)

As I went into the room today to begin my task, I grabbed a very similar blind from the other room.  Although the strings were not in the identical position, I felt its presence would give me a visual aid if I ever got stumped.  As I followed the strings and tried to figure out where they were and where they needed to be, I started to see I was not dealing with an accident.  When the window blinds first received their “therapy”, I am sure the goal was just to make the blind function better.  As I saw parts removed and knots undone, it began to look more like sabotage than saving.  (If I would have been entrusting my life to this window blind just after the knots were removed, I would not be writing this now.)  Their therapeutic adjustment may only have been minor ones, but they did eventually go very bad.

And, after over 2 hours, help from my spouse (some parts are hard to do by yourself while balancing) and a couple redos because I did not realize how the “locking” mechanism for the blinds worked, I had blinds that functioned again.  (Note the “cheat” they implemented to keep the blinds from dragging on the window seal.  It didn’t work perfectly, but it did keep me from having to drop everything and try and figure the problem out.)

Fixing the blind was easy when compared to what we tried to do so we don’t have to do this repair again.  (I am glad I am a self proclaimed window blind repairman.  I am very content to NEVER use my skills again.)  Before our exchange students went up to their room after school, we asked them to not try to fix their blinds by themselves again.  (We got push back–“I do not think we broke them.”  [please see above]) After they had a little time to settle in their rooms, my wife went up to their rooms and asked them to show her they knew how to operate the blinds.  (It took a few tries, but they did.) Now, it is our hope our window blinds will work just as well as they did after we moved in.

If you don’t know how to use something, trying to fix it yourself might be just fine.  But, when knots are untied and parts are removed, you have probably moved into an area where you are at risk of breaking something.  Regardless of age or perceived smarts or urgency, it is probably better to ask “how does it work?” than “can you please fix it?”.