Less Letters

Do we really need two Ds in address?

I mean, isn’t that a waste of D’s time?

We’d still get it with just the one D.

Notice I’m not even bringing up the S’s.

Pick your battles, right?

If there’s any letter used to excess…it’s S.

Excess being a prime offender.

Who wouldn’t get it without the extra S?

Not to mention the extra F in offender.

Another one.

Halloween just passed, and while we might need the extra E for the “een” effect, did we really need to waste that additional L.

What the Hell…again.

The L.

Really?

Realy?

Works just as well…don’t you think?

Wel?

Do you?

Who came up with all these wasted letter rules, anyway?

Some guy name Al probably…with L envy.

Because All’s he ever wanted…this Al.

So he encumbered the rest of us with all these extra letters.

When just one leter, like T, would do.

Never thought about it before, did you?

Yeah…that’s how most people are.

Never give much thought to something until it starts affecting you directly, do ya?

Like that F in affecting.

There are so many better things that F could be doing right now, as well as that T in better, rather than aiding your pronunciation.

I mean if you don’t know how the words are supposed to sound by now….

Besides, we could probably use all those secondary, weak sister letters to make all sorts of new words.

Like FLSTDRABIGO.

What’s it mean?

How should I know?

I just made it up.

It can mean anything I want it to mean…like all the other words when they were first made up.

Do you think the guy who invented “Handle” knew what it meant?

No…he just went around with this great new word, looking for something to apply it to.

One day, he got tired of never being able to open any of his kitchen drawers so he stuck it there and we’ve had handles ever since.

Make sense?

It does…really?

Okay…well then, I think I’m going to assign FLSTDRABIGO to mean the thing that happens when you put your shoes on the wrong feet.

“Damn…FLSTDRABIGO again!”

I mean it’s not something that happens every day…once a week, tops...so it should be able to just sneak into the lexicon, gradually.

I was going to assign it to the thing that happens when you put your underpants on backwards, but since that happens a lot more often…at least to me…I thought it would be a little bit of over kill.

So you can see I’m not taking this lightly.

I’ve given it a lot of thought.

Maybe too much thought….

But look…I just slipped an extra O by you…twice.

Although one can argue that in these particular cases the extra O is necessary.

One can argue…but I disagree.

And I don’t think I even need to mention the abomination of excess that “necessary” brings.

Or excess…or disagree….

It an endless battle.

But somebody has to fight it…it might as well be me….

I’ll just add it to the list….

Sighhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh….

 

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More Positive...maybe

I’ve been trying to be more positive.

Yeah…I know…again.

I’ve written about my negativity in the past…and the future…and even the present.

So it shouldn’t come as a surprise…least of all to me.

And while in the end I know I’m bound to fail…again….

Oh…wait…can’t say that.

And while I KNOW, this time I’m going to succeed…at least until I slip up and make a mess of everything…again…

Sorry….

Yeah…I know…you’ve heard it all before.

But this time things are going to be different.

This time I’m going to change my attitude…maybe even change my shoes…and possibly my socks.

At least in time for the holidays.

I’ve come to see that everything is really just a matter of attitude…and perspective.

If you expect good things, you’ll get good things…and vice versa.

And if you expect bad things…well, then why would you even think about leaving the house.

Excuse me a second…my glass of OJ is half full.  I’m gonna get a refill so I can half fill it again….

Okay…sorry.

Where was I?

Oh, yeah….

Why bother leaving the house.

No no no…that’s not it…what I mean is, why look at things with a dour deposition?

Why expect the worst outcome when you can just as easily anticipate the best!

Even though that’s really, pretty much unlikely….

Oops!

Sorry…old habits die hard. In fact they’re near impossible to overcome.

Damn!

Sorry…I mean, perseverance always pays off…you know, except when it doesn’t and you end up crushed and disappointed.

This is not the first time I’ve been down this road, so I don’t know why I’m having such a hard time.

It’s not like I haven’t been trying.

For instance, the other day I went to the mall to buy a pair of sneakers.

Not just any sneakers; the same brand and style of sneakers I’ve been wearing since Reagan was almost an actor…sort of.

Normally, in the past, I would walk into the shoe store, already negatively resigned to the fact that while they may indeed have the exact shoe I was looking for, they would of course not have it in my size…which with shoes is important.

And I’d be right.

This would normally be followed by a lot of huffing and puffing and grumping about the likelihood of my spending the next decade shoeless.

But not this time! This time I marched right into the store, positively expecting the exact shoe I was looking for, in my size, to be sitting right out on the counter, just waiting for me to pick them up and take them home.

And do you know what happened? 

Right…

They did indeed actually have the exact shoe I was looking for, and this time the box did have my size written right there on the side, and the shoes inside, were only off by a size and a half…which I took to be progress made.

So I have to admit…positive thinking does have its pluses.

And instead of huffing and puffing and grumping about the likelihood of my spending the next decade shoeless…I only huffed, with a little grump, and did not at all think I would spend any more than the next 5 years shoeless.

And as I left the mall, I was so positive that the meter lady had indeed left yet another overtime parking ticket on my windshield that I didn’t even read it before I tore it up, this time.

Yep…It’s all in the way you look at things.

Positive vs. negative.

Why worry about the bad before it happens, when you can appreciate it so much more when it inevitably sneaks up on you…at the worst possible moment

Just think of all the worry free time you’ll have to buy those lottery tickets, now.

I’m pretty certain those things always pay off…at least if you think positively about those numbers you found on that gum wrapper that was stuck to the bottom of your new sneaker…the one that doesn’t quite fit!

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Eye Yi Eye

 

 

 

 

I had a visit with my eye doctor last week.

Well, I guess it really wasn’t a visit…there was no tea involved, and nary a crumpet to be found.

No, it was for my annual eye exam.

Annual, if every 5 years or so counts.

As I’ve discussed in the past, I’m not very good at making appointments…for anything…especially anything that begins with Dr.

But I decided it was time to go see the eye doc, mostly because I was having trouble seeing all the walls I kept bumping into.

That and the fact I’d begun to notice mothers yanking their kids off the sidewalk whenever I pulled my car out of the driveway.

So I thought maybe people were seeing some things I wasn’t…so to speak.

Like stop signs…and curbs…and such.

So I gave in and made an appointment with my eye doc.

Well…not my eye doc, per se, since it turned out my eye doc had retired since I’d last been in to see him.

So I had to see his replacement…which I did, which is why I’m using the word “see” so much…since it’s all about the eyes…yi eye.

I first became aware of my vision trouble when way back in 6^th grade.  It was becoming difficult to see the blackboard…and most of the other kids…plus I noticed the yearly eye exam they made us take was getting harder and harder to memorize.

You know…the one where you had to see the Giant E on top of the chart and read your way down.

When they asked me to read the rest of the chart, it was of course all a blur, so I just made stuff up…including some Greek.

Most of which was wrong.

Except for the Greek.

As a result of this failure, I was sent home with a note, saying I needed to get my eyes checked by a professional, rather than the guy who delivered the milk every morning, who doubled as the school eye test administrator…but, being nearly blind, I could have been mistaken.

So from there I was diagnosed with “Mr. Magooiopia” and subsequently prescribed a series of eye glasses—which I hardly ever war—except to see…and hard contacts, which were these little tiny plastic dots that felt as if they were stuck onto my pupil with paper clips…until I moved on to the much more reasonable, not to mention comfortable, soft contact lenses, which I could actually sleep in.

Basically, the point is, a lot has changed since my old doc retired and this new doc stepped in to take his place…you know, after he finished his morning milk runs.

I mean, a lot has changed, except the horrified expression on the staff’s faces when I say, I haven’t been in for…a while.

Which I don’t really mind…but find the genuflecting and hand blessings to be a bit excessive.

There were a few additional pre-exam machines to contend with, now, including this one large computer where I had to stick my entire face in a hole, or so it seemed, and have an image of the back of my eye made.

Which in some ways is very cool but in others, disconcerting, since I don’t think I’ve even seen the back of my eye, let alone strangers.

What if it doesn’t look like everybody else’s?

What if I’m shunned because of it, like my third nipple? 

I was just getting used to the body parts I already knew were unusual.

Did I really need to add another to the list?

But apparently, the back of my eye wasn’t all that out of line with any of the others…and besides the additional genuflecting and hand blessings, no one really gave that indication.

Finally, I got to meet my new eye doc, who pretty much resembled my old eye doc...I think—I really couldn't tell since everything was blurry— who then conducted the exam in pretty much the same manner as before…minus the leeches.

There were a lot of “look here” and “look there’s”…and the customary, “Is this better or worse…better now…and how about now. Better one…or better two…better 4 or better 3…which I think they throw in just to confuse you.

In fact sometimes I’m pretty sure they don’t change a thing, just to fool you.

But who’s fooling who? 

Most of the time I’m just guessing, anyway, because, like I said, it all looks fuzzy to me.

But you’re not gonna catch me flunking another eye test…nope…not since my 6^th grade humiliation.

I’ve got all the letters memorized by now.

And it works because my prescription hasn’t changed in 20 years, and I can still walk into walls without seeing them coming.

Which is a plus because who needs to see that?

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Howling for Halloween

Well, we all know what tonight is and if we don't, the sight of Zombies across the street in costume should be a dead give a way—or un-dead giveaway.

Of course they don’t really need to dress up, but they’re sensitive to the fact that most people are still skittish around them, so they like to show folks they’re really no different than anyone else.

You know, except for the fact that they’re re-animated corpses and they don’t really like the Food Network.

Other than that….

So there they are, all dolled up as various characters from Toy Story and Frozen…even a couple of Teenage Ninja Mutant Turtles, which actually works for them.

I was talking to Burt about it, yesterday, as they were putting the final touches on the various trap doors and false walls they installed in their spook house.  He said, or I think he said that they find it safer to go with the more popular cartoon themes, rather than dressing up as other ghouls.

They tried that a few years back, and some of the local werewolves, witches and vampires kind of got bent out of shape over it.

Not that it was surprising to see the vampires and witches getting their noses out of joint—they’re sensitive to every little slight imaginable—but it was out of character for the werewolves to start howling about it; especially back then, when they weren’t the most popular lycanthropes in town.

Anyway, it got me thinking back to when I was a kid, and the difficulty I had coming up with a suitable costume, every year.

I mean, talk about stress producing.  I pretty much started agonizing over it the second I unloaded my bag of candy and began arranging them by size and color.

Of course, throughout all that night's trick or treating I made a careful study of what most of the other kids in the neighborhood had put together, which probably accounted for all those falls into the leaf piles.

Halloween costumes at that time were pretty much divided into the simple, the elaborate, the creative and the cheap.

And probably not much has changed today.

The cheap would be to simply grab some of your old clothes out of the rag bag, tear some more holes in them, rub some burned cork on your face, tie a rag onto a stick and voila…instant…uhm…hobo.

Not sure if that’s politically correct to say or even do anymore, but that’s what we did back then, in a pinch.

And if you were really ambitious you could get your mom to iron on some of those sticky patchie thingies that curled at the corners.

You could also throw on your personal cowboy hat and guns, Davey Crocket coonskin cap and long rifle, Indian feathers with bow and arrow and go in that direction as well.

The elaborate get-ups consisted of going to an actual costume shop and renting a lion, scarecrow or tin man suit…Superman, Frankenstein, Dracula…all realistic…all very expensive, and all pretty much unseen in my neighborhood…and if they were, you made sure to cross the street, because you could never be sure they weren’t real.

The creative tended to be the best of the best when it came to costumes. My cousin once painted a bunch of boxes silver, tied them around his shoulders and head and made himself into a robot.  He actually stills wears it…to this day, every day.

A friend once wrapped herself up in gauze and made herself into a mummy, which delighted all the other neighborhood kids. One of these days, she hopes to get it all unwrapped.

And if you had a handy mom, dad, grandma or grandpa, they could whip you up a Raggedy Ann, Barbie, Cinderella or Dorothy from OZ costume…any or all of which could lead to trouble if you wore it to the school Halloween party…believe me, I know.

And of course the simplest costumes were the ones that came in a box, featuring various characters from skeletons to werewolves to Tevye from Fiddler.  You just stepped into this flimsy cottony jumpsuit, tied it around your neck and avoided any open flames. And don’t forget the hot plastic mask that tended to collect your drool and kept you from seeing too much other than the inside of the mask.  Plus, don’t forget the ultra hi-tech fastening device—aka rubber band—that pretty much tore out your hair and cut a line into the back of your head.

But it was all worth it, and still is, because there’s only one day a year when you’re allowed to go panhandling from door to door in search of the elusive full size snicker bar.

And I know it’s only one day a year because back in the 60s I tried it in February…and March…and July…and nothing.

Not even a “How cute you look!”

So however you choose to dress up, tonight, make sure you compliment the Zombies on their costumes, and always say Trick or Treat, followed by a big thank you.

Because to be honest, I’m not really sure what those trap doors and false walls are for…and I’m pretty sure none of us want to find out.

Nobody wants a repeat of the Columbus Day incident…nobody….

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Watch Out for Writers

 

 

 

Okay…I’m just going to say it.

Writers make the worst friends.

So it would be wise to steer clear.

They are not nice people.

At least that’s what a guy named Salinger said some 60 years ago, or so.

I’m not sure what the “or so” adds to the sentence or thought.  I just threw it in there because I wanted to and I was pretty sure you wouldn’t notice or care.

See what I mean about writers….always playing games with words, mostly cuz they think they’re so clever.

Much too clever, Buddy….

Salinger said that too.

Now you know why he didn’t publish anything after a while.

He was doing us all a favor.

He didn’t want to manipulate us with words.

Which is what the rest of us might be really doing, anyway.

Think about it.

And while you’re at it, think about a certain, well written e-mail you received from a prolific friend that made you smile, possibly even blush, which upon further inspection was probably telling you how insufficient he or she found those cupcakes you sent over after they had their gall bladder taken out.

In fact, they probably made some veiled reference to your inadequate gall bladder and the need to extract it…all the while you’re reading, and thinking…ahhhh…isn’t that sweet?

It’s all in the phrasing…and the writer knows how to put a well turned phrase to their advantage.

“The one quality I find so refreshing about you, is your ability to find pleasure in the simple things.”

Which probably means, “Your shoes are cheap…and you don’t have many other qualities to speak of.”

“I find your discerning tastes to be wonders that never cease to amaze.”

Which probably means, “Just find something on the menu and order it…you are such a picky pain in the ass!”

“I adore your manner of speech; so plain and direct…without want of meaning or intent; a practice rarely exercised by others.”

Which probably means, “For someone with a PhD, you have the vocabulary of a 4 year old.”

“You’re presence at the last party was, as always, a joy for all. You command a room like no other, adding spice to an otherwise bland soup. Your very presence resonates throughout the halls for days”

Which probably means, “You talk way too much at parties, usually all about yourself…and your perfume is way too overpowering…”

See what I mean…?

Or perhaps you don’t, given your involvement in other matters, more pertinent to your elevated station.  A station one can’t help but notice, especially in the way you carry it so; effortless, with comfort not assumed by most…in fact, knowing there are places you’d much rather be.

Yeh, yeah, yeah….I get it, I get it.

I hope you do too.

Because the last thing I want is to be misconstrued…..

 

 

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