The Cougar

At the local mall, there is a Chick Fil-A.  While all jobs have their down sides, an upside at this job is both of my sons could work together.  As a parent, this kept us from having to add another car to quickly to our entourage of vehicles.  And, it gave the boys time together.  It was interesting to hear their stories of the “name of the day” (We would need to guess what name came up the most times as the name to call when the order was ready on that day.) or we would listen to the whiny customer of the day story.  (The one I remember most  distinctly is the person who wanted them to double cook chicken – not a normal menu item.  And, when the chicken was not overcooked to his satisfaction after they tried twice, he returned it and wanted a full refund.)  Occasionally, there would be the story of a regular customer who thought my boys were nearly as special as I do.

Enter the cougar….

While their relationship started with her being a little snarky with my son when he was working the register at Chick Fil-A, they now have had a post Chick Fil-A relationship for nearly a year.  Please understand, this is not the normal “cougar” relationship. She exceeds his age by probably 40 years.  And, although she is married, she seems to like to be social with my little cub.  She makes him tea and offers him a few snacks as they meet and discuss his recent accomplishments and/or activities.

The relationship has included a few phone calls while he is at school.  When he is home for breaks, he tries to fit a visit in.  The past visit involved him taking his camera to show off the pictures from our recent trip.  Although some details are sketchy, it seems she is very complimentary of his ambition and the direction he is taking with his life.  I have warned him to not be surprised if she attempts to introduce him to any of her daughters or granddaughters.  (This would remove the cougar title and have it replaced with “matchmaker”.  Since it is a family joke, the “cougar” title is likely to stick regardless of the pseudo-grandmother/grandson relationship.)

As with our recent trip, Jeff does very well talking to adults of all levels.  He has told me she is Catholic.  If his relationship with his “cougar” friend gives him an opportunity to show what his relationship is with our Heavenly Father, that is a good thing.  If his older friend sees how my son’s relationship with God is different than her own, then it is a better thing.  And, if at the end of the relationship, my son has practice talking to future mother-in-laws OR grandmother in-laws, then it certainly will not be time wasted….I think every son-in-law has room for improvement in this area.

Jet Lag Fog

After coming back from the trip with my son, not all parts of my brain have been working correctly.  There is the expected restless nights and the craving of an afternoon nap.  There is the attempt to ingest an appropriate amount of caffeine to help navigate those times when napping seems unnecessary.  And, finally there is the complete inability to watch a show on the DVR at 9:30 PM without falling sleep–it used to be one of my favorite shows!!

Late yesterday afternoon, I needed to call a supplier.  They never replied to an email I sent confirming pricing and availability of a product.  Since they are a time zone to the west, they still had the lights on and they were able to answer my questions.  To avoid confusion with any email issues, they advised me to change the email address I used to contact them with any future orders.  This made sense and was noted somewhere in the ephemeral fog of my post-trip brain.  I then went on to send the quote to my customer.

This morning after receiving a confirmation from my customer, I prepared a Purchase Order for my supplier.  Some deep part of my brain said, “You need to change the email address you are sending the PO to.”  At the time, it seemed completely logical.  I did not question in the least this inner urging.  I did a copy and paste into the email field and hit “Send”.

As the fog cleared, the realization hit me.  And, the email was beyond the use of any “Recall” buttons.  While my fog recalled part of my instructions, the fog conveniently forgot to gather the right email before “sending” to the supplier.  As it turned out, I grabbed my customer’s email address and then sent the Purchase Order to them…not my supplier.  If you are not realizing what I did, I let my customer know exactly what I was paying for the products they had purchased from me.  These were not thousand dollar items, but this type of fog-induced error certainly has me ready to do a dance should they contact me and wonder why I am making such a “scandalous profit” off of them. (My discount off of my supplier’s website is 30% and I gave the customer a 10% discount, so they are still coming out ahead—it is just the guy in the mirror who will beat me up for a couple of hours.)

What did I do?  I did what any reasonable person would do.  I pretended I didn’t send the email to my customer.  I correctly changed the email address and sent it to my supplier.  My supplier confirmed the receipt and my customer remained silent.  Since this is a repeat customer, the worst thing to likely happen is they will say, “We want to pay this price and NOT that one.”  If they do this, I will have a concrete reminder not to commit this “middle man” sin again….

Suitcase Choices

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On a recent extended trip with my son, I knew a big suitcase was a necessity.  What I didn’t know was if the “existing” big suitcase with the fickle zipper was going to work out.  Since my wife knows I like to travel but I don’t like hiccups, she opted to let me (really the family) purchase a new large suitcase to simplify the planning (and possible work-a-rounds) necessary for the trip.

Two days before the trip, we went to Kohl’s where my wife always seems to have a “stash” of discounts tucked away in her purse or the counter or wherever she cleverly stores or allows them to congregate.  Luckily, they had a sale as well.  After test driving a few suitcases and weighing the critical appearance and overall effectiveness factors, a decision was made.  The winner was not to flashy, but had the necessary growth and organizational features.

Skip ahead a few days….the bag worked great.  It allowed me to fit some of the items my son’s suitcase was not able to safely carry.  It still had room to expand, and even on the the nights when we had to live out of the suitcase it had the pockets and corners I needed to find my stuff.  At the end of the trip, it certainly seemed like the right suitcase for this trip.

On our flight home, the bag was still a winner.  Since it was an international flight, we got to see our bags before the final flight home.  At that time, I picked up my bag and easily rolled it to the dropoff before heading thru the post-customs security clearance.

At our final destination, the bag arrived as shown above.  Yes, it still rolls.  Yes, it still has cozy pockets to store my electronic and international charger needs, but it leans wrong.  It does not give me a convenient place to comfortably rest an extra bag of shopping goodies or the backpack full of computer/kindle/ipad/gopro.  Critique it all I want, but it still has REALLY good zippers.  Somehow, a reliable level surface is likely to trump a good zipper.  <sigh>

Wet Driving

Since returning from my trip earlier in the week, Texas has been wet.  When Texas or any place is wet for long due to constant rains (the “flash flood” type rains have a slightly different set of rules than the standard rain driving rules), there are a set of rules common sense drivers should follow.

For your benefit…

  • Hydroplaning:  I have found the far right lane tends to be the lane where the water congregates.  What is hydroplaning?  It is water deep enough that when you try and drive through it it slows you down significantly.  And, if the water is deep enough, it limits your ability to control the car.  (The really bad side of this is usually found under bridges or when rivers/streams overflow.)  While this may be an issue with limited impact to other drivers, if you hit the water just right and shoot up a bunch of water, it may cause other drivers to need their…..
  • Windshield Wipers:  While it seems obvious these are necessary when it is wet out, the speed of the wipers can contribute greatly to your visibility.  IF someone hits a big puddle at a high rate of speed and you just happen to be next to them when the “spray” flies onto your windshield, the wipers help you to get oriented and recover quickly from the blinding spray.
  • Stopping Distance:  IF you are blinded by a windshield flood and you don’t have a proper stopping distance, you will wish you had one.  When I went thru drivers ed MANY years ago, they taught you should have a 3 second stopping distance.  (Watch the car ahead of you pass a certain landmark, light pole or whatever.  Count the seconds until you pass it.  It should be over 3 seconds for good weather and more when wet.) While my competitive nature sometimes modifies this rule, it is still good to have a baseline.  When cars are doing lots of weaving, I especially like to modify the rule to keep them from jumping into my lane.

For the benefit of others….and sometimes you

  • Headlights:  Can you say “pet peeve”?  As the rains poured down today, I didn’t see lots of cars without headlights, but they were still there.  (When the rain is lighter, the ratio or headlight-less drivers seems to be higher.)  As I look in the rear-view mirror, I am not blind–I see most everything.  But, if the headlights are on, I see you more quickly.  While lane jumping is not a great idea when it is wet out and the reaction time of other drivers might be slower, a quick glance that does not immediately reveal a car lurking on your tail may lead to a lane change with a conversation punctuated by horns. When in doubt, headlights are good.
  • Turn Signals:  I did fail ALL of my mind reading classes in college.  And, I don’t think they offered any mind reading classes in driver’s ed.  (An aside….I was taught the I-P-D-E method of driving.  Identify the problem.  Predict what they will do.  Decide what you will do.  Execute your plan.  I guess there is a bit of clairvoyance in there…at least an anticipation.) Turn signals are just a bit of information that allows the other drivers to go, “Oh, he is switching lanes.  How does that affect my safe little cocoon I have tried to create for myself out on the road?  (Cocoon is only used to express a place of comfort.  It has nothing to do with butterflies or any mode of  transportation other than driving.)

In conclusion, when driving on the road there is a “handshake” agreement made with all of the other drivers out there.  While some days the handshake may be like a wet dish rag and other days it may be a firm “Vote for me” type  handshake, the road is not your private domain.  It is a shared resource for all taxpaying citizens (and non-paying) to enjoy. (Or, if you hate commutes, not enjoy.  But, it is still there for you.)  It is a necessary evil in places where mass transit it not readily available.  So, if it not a big problem next time it rains, just keeps the lights on for me.

Green Shirt Danger

When you walk into the wrong supermarket with the wrong color shirt (read this as, “The local store we like for bulk and produce wearing a shirt very similar to the shirt worn by the store staff.”), you shouldn’t be surprised if you get questions from some of the customers.

Today was my day to get a question on the cooking of organic quick oats.  As the customer struggled to open the bin (the hinge was not where he expected it to be.), I stepped in to point out the handle cleverly disguised as a handle.  

The customer seemed slightly embarrassed to need help with the bin, so he felt the need to engage me with a question.  “How do you cook those?”  

As I prepared to answer to answer, his eyes played across my t-shirt. While it was a close kin of the store’s employee shirts, mine was a lighter shade.  He quickly had another question, “Do you work here?”

Never being one to run from a conversation, I let him know it was not a problem.  “I have never done the organic, but I am guessing you double the water.  If you use ¼ cup of oats, you add a ½ cup of water. Set the microwave for a couple of minutes.”

He seemed to feel comfortable with that recipe.  I then went on to say, “If it runs over the top of your bowl, you know you did it too long.”

He also seemed to identify with the “messy microwave” phenomenon.  He spoke with an accent and has trouble bins, but oatmeal allowed us to bond.

First Flight Done

It has been a year since I have flown.  Usually, I think of the pain of just flying….ear popping and confined spaces.  Today, I had two people in close proximity to distract me from these things.

Before I sat down, I sad to the lady setting on the aisle of my seat row,  “It looks like our paths are going to cross.”  She was less than enthusiastic. The only additional question I asked her was, “Is New York your final destination?”  She said “yes” and not another word was exchanged. She seemed to have some problem with her hair/head.  My theory is she is an airhead. As she sat next to me numerous times she took a few strands of her hair and periodically wound it up to make sure the pressure is maintained. As I sat beside her, I am pretty sure she attempted to scan the same book twice. My guess is the air got low when she was reading a few of the chapters.  She had to go  back and reread those chapters to adjust for when her “head air” was to low or to high.

The little man behind me was given free reign for most of the flight. He was making sounds, banging on my chair and doing a variety of things that make it hard to concentrate during the early part of the flight. I leaned forward and leaned on the pullout table to read. Not my first choice, but it allowed me to concentrate. As the flight neared its end and my eyes grew heavy, I needed to lean back. I was barely back before the 5 year old behind continued treating my seat as one of his toys. I pushed the seat button and leaned back–quickly letting him know he was not playing in a vacuum. I also said to him, “Please don’t push on my seat.”  He made eye contact and gave a sheepish expression. I had to lean the seat back one more time to keep him honest. His mother became one of my advocates and the rest of the flight was fine.

The first flight was the easy one.  It is the one where I exist in time zones easily shifted between.  The multi-hour change awaits me after the landing.  Being in the middle seat in the middle section does mean I will have to bother people to get out, but it does mean (I think the seats are 3-3-3) I won’t have to be bothered if they want to get out.  Maybe the elusive “plane” sleep will find me before we land…

Fecal Matter

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Did he really post this picture here?  Why did he do that?  Why did he have to choose that title?  Is he trying to gross us out?  Why can’t all of his blog postings be wholesome family oriented pictures?

Now that we are dog owners (technically my son is the owner), I take seriously the various roles I have when walking the dog….

  1. I can’t let him attack anybody
  2. It is better I lose circulation in my arm then lose control of the dog
  3. I try not to let him drink too much from the puddles and other assorted points where water collects along the path
  4. As much as it depends on me, I try to only let him go to the bathroom in places where it is not too inappropriate.  If he does a #2, whether inappropriate or not, I am responsible for cleaning it up.
  5. Once I clean it up, it is my responsibility to get the bag and its contents to a trash can. Putting the bag weighed down with doggy doo on display because you are too dainty to carry it is not a compromise—it is an abdication of your responsibilities as a pet owner.

If you are not going to pick it up and dispose of it, then you need to get your dog fitted with a cork.  Cleaning it up and leaving it this way is just a slight bit better than letting your dog go in a neighbors yard without picking it up at all.  If you are too dainty to haul your dog’s deposits until a trash can presents itself, you should either choose a new path OR have your wife who is less squeamish in these matters walk with you.  Would you change your babies diaper and expect someone else to clean up after you?  Maybe you should get a little pouch for your dog to wear- his/her bag or two of debris can be stored there until you find a trash can.  If you can’t talk on your cell phone, walk you dog and carry the poop simultaneously, then maybe you ought to consider walking a virtual dog who only creates virtual poop.

DIY Hail Protection

IMG_1419As my wife and I ran a couple of errands last night, we noticed the bank drive thrus and other related areas with overhangs were filled with parked cars.  It didn’t take too much thinking to realize this was how many drivers attempted to provide hail protection for their cars that would not fit into their garages.  O, if they were working,  they just chose to park strategically.

Fortunately, no hail came along.  Having heard multiple stories recently of cars being fixed after hail damage only to be hail damaged again, it is quite clear hail shows no favoritism.  As I Skyped with a friend this morning, he jokingly suggested a product be created to defeat the affects of hail.  A quick Amazon search showed a hail protection product (out of stock) that performed this task admirably.    After suffering the disappointment of having a low-cost product already existing to prevent hail calamities, ideas for volcano, hurricane and sink hole protection were also rejected.

As I was in the last third of my walk today, I noticed how somebody used landscaping items to build their own hail protection system.  Since we received no hail in our part of Texas, it could be said it worked perfectly.  Somehow a moving blanket and bags of top soil (notice the one bag that slipped off the front) achieved the goal.  Or, the minimum effort on the part of the homeowner gave them enough peace of mind to allow them to sleep well despite the thunder, wind and other possible weather perils the storm front potentially offered.  And, if I knew 6 bags of top soil would guarantee me a great night sleep, I would make that purchase every time!

Life Mystery

Yesterday, both my daughter and my wife informed me the girls would not be having softball practice today.  I thought that was a little odd.  The coach is pretty hardcore about practicing.  Even if the coach used running during practice time to remind the team not to make so many errors, she rarely gives up a practice  UNLESS the weather is working against her.

As I show up at the regular “no practice” pickup time, my youngest daughter comes out without her books or anything.  She let me know the reason practice was cancelled.  It turns out one of the fathers of a girl on the team had committed suicide over the weekend.  I won’t say I took this hard, but it certainly does make one wonder what brings a person to this point.  Prior to last Saturday’s game, I believe the dad had attended nearly every game.  We had talked quite a bit while watching our girls play.

He genuinely had a good heart.  At one of the games, he bought a packet of M&Ms.  He shared a few with me.  He usually stood behind the bleachers and leaned on them.  I was usually sitting on the second row from the top.  He would just talk about his softball exploits, or his time with his daughter, or whatever other random thing a middle aged dad might think to say.  He was probably less odd than me….but this still left plenty of room for him to my left.  I wasn’t the only one he talked to–he seemed to enjoy being social as he roamed the back of the bleachers talking to whoever would listen or had a thought to share.

Just last Saturday I was talking to the mother of the girl.  During the games I attended, the parents interacted and seemed to get along.  There did seem to be some distance, but I never was bold enough to ask the specifics.  Last Saturday, the mother was talking about shopping for groceries.  In context, it was appropriate to ask who she buys them for.  (I believe the specific point was with bananas.)  She said, “I only buy for myself and my daughter.”   It was at this point I was certain they were divorced, and they played nicely for the sake of their daughter.

Last night, my daughter made both my wife and I promise we would never end our lives in such a sudden way.  We assured her we would not.  The mystery of why someone would end their life in such an immediate way puts me at quite a loss.  Relationships are not always as smooth as you would like.  Finances can also be a source of frustration.  I have found that no matter how badly things may go the only consistent comfort comes from knowing God put you on this planet for a purpose.  If you are still asking that question, then God still has a purpose to reveal to you.  When hope dies, the heart often follows.

 

Triple Red

Double Red Donor

When you are a double red donor, it does take longer than giving whole blood. A double red donation involves having the blood pumped from your body. The blood is put thru a centrifuge. The centrifuge removes the red blood cells. What is left, minus the white blood cells, are put back into your body. (Note the “Return” on the image.)

Prior to the trip my son and I are taking next week, I wanted to get my “Give Blood” card punched.  The closet Carter Blood Care office is not open on Thursday and Friday, so Monday was the day.  When I called they offered me an appointment OR a “come right in and take your chances no one will get there ahead of you.”  I did not even get the chance to sit down and wait when I arrived.  After reading the literature, they moved me right into the pre-screening room.

This is the room where you can lie (or tell the truth) before being told they won’t be able to take your blood today.  The person helping me today was very nice.  She did, however, admit to having a vein fetish since she starting working there.  She claims she could not go into social settings or spend time with loved ones without trying to see if they had good veins for giving blood.  (When giving blood, these veins are typically on the inner elbow.)  My two cups of coffee made my blood pressure higher than I wanted.  I was not disqualified yet.  After she confirmed my blood was “thick” enough for a double red donation (instead of giving every 8 weeks, double red donors give every 16 weeks.  They give “double” the amount of red blood cells given by whole blood donors. ) Since it has been over 4 months since I had given blood, the pre-screening questions had changed a little.  They are now digging into Zika and whether you may have had contact.  They are also tracking whether people have had an endoscopy within the past few months.  (The screener had no good explanation why they are doing this.  She said neither a “yes” or “no” answer here would throw an error code and prevent you from giving.  Answering wrong to the HIV questions, would keep you from donating on that day….or ever.)  It was also new for the screener to stay in the room while I answered the questions.  Apparently, an “efficiency expert” (she literally told me they had been evaluated to make them run better.) had told them too much time was being wasted by potential donors waiting on staff.  Today, things kept moving very nicely.

As I moved to my donor station, I met the nurse (not exactly sure of her official medical designation) who would be “taking care of me”. (In restaurants now, the waitress often says, “My name is Peaches.  I will be taking care of you.”  The nurse did offer me a drink, but I don’t see the waitress taking my blood….unless I had a really rare type of blood and I was part of some criminal organizations plans to acquire massive amounts of my blood type.)  Her name was “Duchess”.  While she played nice with me during the entire donation, I don’t think we ever really clicked.  It may have been me jokingly offering to give a “triple red” (they don’t do this.  It was an obvious attempt on my end to inject humor into a relationship that was not salvageable.) OR her getting irritated with her supervisor looking over her shoulder and “causing” her to make mistakes as she set everything up for my donation OR incessant rambling as I couldn’t help but comment on every part of the double red process.  Whatever it was, she outwardly smiled while counting the minutes until I would be gone.  (I teased her as the equipment adding 2 minutes to the time of my donation.  It started saying I would be done at 10:34.  When I was done, it was at 10:36.  She didn’t even like the tangent I had about a GPS giving you a certain time when you will get to your destination.  As you speed along, the GPS predicts you will get there more quickly.  When you make potty/gas/food stops, the goal is to still get to your destination ahead of the first time predicted by the GPS–no time to eat outside of the car.) After the needle was removed, she elevated the donor bed, and she had me spewed into the snack area.

The final stop when they are convinced you are capable of walking under your own strength is the snack bar.  I felt obligated to have a Gatorade and some chex mix.  (I did grab a bag of peanut butter cookies for my oldest daughter – actions speak louder than words when your kids are teenagers.)   The receptionist is never uncomfortable asking multiple times if you are ready to schedule you next appointment.  (Next double red would be 16 weeks or sometime last half of August)  I kindly refused based on some excuse about, “Tough to schedule anything with school starting up around then.”

While I am glad I give blood, today made me a little gladder.  I felt treated like a customer who is there voluntarily to do something I am not getting paid for.  Despite the fact Duchess and I didn’t click, I felt “fast-tracked” to the donor station.  Although there were easier things to get done and marked off my list today, this is always one I can mark off knowing my list isn’t all about me.