I know how much everyone enjoys it when I make suggestions for how to improve things. The universe needs my input, and I have marvelous ideas. So far I've covered ill-fitting sheets, bad drivers, and books in need of copy editors.
Today I'm tackling the very difficult problem of ELECTRICAL CORDS. Before you start emailing, texting, Twittering, or commenting with helpful hints about re-using cardboard tubes from paper towels or toilet paper to stow cords, or how a twist tie can tame an unruly bunch of cords, let me explain.
I mean the cords themselves.
Here it is: Why on earth, in a world filled with technological marvels, does almost every electrical appliance that I might MOVE from one spot or another have to have a cord that comes in two parts? The very act of moving anything that has more than one piece almost guarantees that I will lose at least some part of it.
The Kindle was sidelined for a while until we found the missing bit of its two-piece cord. The missing link was the size of a thick matchbook. It might as well be a microdot when it gets loose in my car or slithers down the side of the couch or vanishes under someone's bed.
The laptop's cord is in two pieces, but I always keep it hooked together--am I committing some kind of electrical crime? If I want to tote it with me, I suppose I might want to separate them, but usually I'm not taking it somewhere. Usually I'm, well, using it!
Why must these cords be in two pieces? Why? Okay, okay, okay. Different electricities or something? I'm not buying it. If there is some real reason (*snort*) for the cord to be in two different pieces, can't they put a strip of plastic connecting the two? Do I have to think of everything?
See how easily I've solved this problem with one little suggestion? I am going to go to the store, get myself a roll of packing tape, and tape these suckers together.
How simple the solution!
Now, off to think about how else I can improve this world we live in.
(You're welcome.)
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
Monday, September 7, 2009
Hello, September! What do YOU have in store?
My last post concluded with my list of things I wanted to do. Did I get them all accomplished?
Well, um, gee, let's see...NO!
I did get the book done (although that slid into September, thanks to a bout with some tummy bug). My toes are tipped with a lovely shade of purple. Ice cream and I-love-you's to my kids? Done.
Saturday Market--done (although I realized calling it Saturday Market is a remnant of my Oregon days; here it's called the Farmers Market, although it's more than that). Felt the sun on my shoulders, for a minute or two.
Not long enough for a sunburn. No movies although I'm holding out hope that my schedule will exhale long enough for me to get to one.
I didn't get the house cleaned. No garage sale. No knitting. No tv. No strawberries. No French class. No book in the backyard while guzzling iced tea.
Let's see if I can get any of this done in September! You just never know.
Well, um, gee, let's see...NO!
I did get the book done (although that slid into September, thanks to a bout with some tummy bug). My toes are tipped with a lovely shade of purple. Ice cream and I-love-you's to my kids? Done.
Saturday Market--done (although I realized calling it Saturday Market is a remnant of my Oregon days; here it's called the Farmers Market, although it's more than that). Felt the sun on my shoulders, for a minute or two.
Not long enough for a sunburn. No movies although I'm holding out hope that my schedule will exhale long enough for me to get to one.
I didn't get the house cleaned. No garage sale. No knitting. No tv. No strawberries. No French class. No book in the backyard while guzzling iced tea.
Let's see if I can get any of this done in September! You just never know.
Thursday, July 30, 2009
Summertime blues
Summertime is--well, it's one of those things in life that never seems to quite live up to its hype. It's full of promise but lately it hasn't been coming through at all well.
It seems like summer is when the you-know-what hits the fan, and why wouldn't it be? It's summer! The fans are on!
I haven't blogged in almost 2 months. And here's what's happened:
1. I had surgery that I'm not recovering from the way I'd hoped. I'm giving up.
2. The plumbing in my house--oh, sigh.
3. This is the worst: a woman died. Not just any woman, but one whom I'd known for almost 40 years, one who gave me my husband, one who loved me. My life has a huge hole in it now, with only memories to fill it in.
There's a month left in summer. I'm going to try to redeem those last 31 days. I'm going to go to the Saturday Market. I'm going to feel the sun on my shoulders and get a sunburn. I'm going to sit in the back yard and read a book and drink iced tea. I'm going to see a movie, preferably one with Johnny Depp in it, and I don't care what the reviews are.
I'm going to clean my house, every single room, and then I'm going to have a garage sale. I'm going to knit a scarf. I'm going to watch TV, and I'm going to take my kids out for ice cream, and I'm going to tell them I love them.
I'm going to finish the long-overdue book that I'm writing, and then I'm not going to write for the rest of the month. I'm going to eat a whole thing of strawberries by myself. I'm going to paint my toenails purple. I'm going to sign up for French class.
But here's what I'm NOT going to do: I'm not standing in front of any fan!!!
It seems like summer is when the you-know-what hits the fan, and why wouldn't it be? It's summer! The fans are on!
I haven't blogged in almost 2 months. And here's what's happened:
1. I had surgery that I'm not recovering from the way I'd hoped. I'm giving up.
2. The plumbing in my house--oh, sigh.
3. This is the worst: a woman died. Not just any woman, but one whom I'd known for almost 40 years, one who gave me my husband, one who loved me. My life has a huge hole in it now, with only memories to fill it in.
There's a month left in summer. I'm going to try to redeem those last 31 days. I'm going to go to the Saturday Market. I'm going to feel the sun on my shoulders and get a sunburn. I'm going to sit in the back yard and read a book and drink iced tea. I'm going to see a movie, preferably one with Johnny Depp in it, and I don't care what the reviews are.
I'm going to clean my house, every single room, and then I'm going to have a garage sale. I'm going to knit a scarf. I'm going to watch TV, and I'm going to take my kids out for ice cream, and I'm going to tell them I love them.
I'm going to finish the long-overdue book that I'm writing, and then I'm not going to write for the rest of the month. I'm going to eat a whole thing of strawberries by myself. I'm going to paint my toenails purple. I'm going to sign up for French class.
But here's what I'm NOT going to do: I'm not standing in front of any fan!!!
Monday, June 8, 2009
It's all about me
I have some secret talents that I am about to un-secret by telling you. Be prepared. You will be impressed.
When I was a kid, my career goal was to be a spy or a PI or something like that. That, of course, requires special skills, and the public school system didn't teach them (busy with math and English and history and such), so I had to teach myself. They are:
*I can read upside down.
*I can write upside down.
*I can write backwards with my left hand.
*I can toss a room and you'd never know I was in there.
*I can breathe so shallowly you'd think I wasn't breathing at all.
Nancy Drew would be so jealous.
When I was a kid, my career goal was to be a spy or a PI or something like that. That, of course, requires special skills, and the public school system didn't teach them (busy with math and English and history and such), so I had to teach myself. They are:
*I can read upside down.
*I can write upside down.
*I can write backwards with my left hand.
*I can toss a room and you'd never know I was in there.
*I can breathe so shallowly you'd think I wasn't breathing at all.
Nancy Drew would be so jealous.
Saturday, May 23, 2009
Going to Rehab
Maybe it's the curse of having teenagers, but when I hear "Rehab" I think Amy Winehouse. Here, though, "Rehab" is the place I go for physical therapy for post-op knee stuff. The only thing I'm in withdrawl from is walking.
Had a good experience there last week. I was sitting outside on a bench, waiting for my ride, when a woman wearing a bright lime green outfit, her head topped with a big puff of white hair, laboriously pushed a walker toward me. She sank gratefully onto the bench and pulled out a cigarette. She lit it, took a big draw from it, and said to me, "Pain sucks."
And there you have it.
Had a good experience there last week. I was sitting outside on a bench, waiting for my ride, when a woman wearing a bright lime green outfit, her head topped with a big puff of white hair, laboriously pushed a walker toward me. She sank gratefully onto the bench and pulled out a cigarette. She lit it, took a big draw from it, and said to me, "Pain sucks."
And there you have it.
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
Clean-up on aisle 4!
I just finished a mystery by a favorite writer, and once again I laid it aside at the end with a sigh. And it wasn't a happy sigh, either.
You're all heard my rants on this before: Punctuation errors, POV switches that are baffling to track, people changing names, story threads simply abandoned--what is going on?
In this case, the most startling error was a reference early on to a conversation that I couldn't find, even upon backtracking. Ah, but I found it several chapters later.
As soon as I saw the conversation appear later on, I knew what had happened. She had changed her mind about where something should be (and rightly so--it did belong later in the book) but she hadn't caught all the little threads associated with it when she moved it.
I immediately wanted to send all of my editors HUGE baskets of flowers. They catch my strays. I can't imagine something like this would have slipped past them, and I'm increasingly grateful for their help!
Yes, I imagine them out there with my manuscript, a mop, a roll of paper towels, and some 409, doing their own version of clean-up on aisle 4. Thank you!!!
You're all heard my rants on this before: Punctuation errors, POV switches that are baffling to track, people changing names, story threads simply abandoned--what is going on?
In this case, the most startling error was a reference early on to a conversation that I couldn't find, even upon backtracking. Ah, but I found it several chapters later.
As soon as I saw the conversation appear later on, I knew what had happened. She had changed her mind about where something should be (and rightly so--it did belong later in the book) but she hadn't caught all the little threads associated with it when she moved it.
I immediately wanted to send all of my editors HUGE baskets of flowers. They catch my strays. I can't imagine something like this would have slipped past them, and I'm increasingly grateful for their help!
Yes, I imagine them out there with my manuscript, a mop, a roll of paper towels, and some 409, doing their own version of clean-up on aisle 4. Thank you!!!
Sunday, May 3, 2009
Concert YUM!
Elton John and Billy Joel. Together. How much better can it get? The concert was absolutely wonderful. The music was incredible!
I have what I call my "die-happy" moments, those when I can click off another thing that I've always wanted to do. Last night was one. Singing "Piano Man" with both Billy Joel and Elton John and a couple thousand other people was one of those moments. They stopped and let us sing it back to them. Wow. Just wow.
Now I have Jackson Browne in my sights for the next guy to see. I do like Jackson Browne!
But I do have a question for those people who do group seating: Why, oh why, must you link together folding chairs (no arm rests--one just hooks to the next one) and expect us to sit there for 3 hours? Bear in mind, I'm no physics chick but I do know how big a folding chair seat is and how big a human bottom is. They're meant to be approximately the same size.
And in most humans, the shoulders are about the same width, perhaps a bit bigger. See the problem developing?
Plus, my friends, those things hanging off our shoulders? ARMS? They add about six inches to the top area. So you've got people who are sitting, literally cheek-to-cheek, and what on earth are they supposed to do with their shoulders and arms?
We're given 14 inches of concert real-estate and a whole row of sixteen people have to somehow each accomodate the extra six inches of arm per person? That's 96 extra inches that have to somehow find a place to stay for three hours. Squish City!
This also happened at a writers conference I went to. The chairs were hooked together like that. I'm sensing a trend that must be stopped. (Along with wild dancing--an issue not at writers conferences but yowza, last night! To the chick in front of us: You fell several times. You sat on people. You hit people with your waving arms. No more beer for you, please. You way exceeded your given 14 inches. That's why those around you left.)
However, I am delighted that I got to see these two legends. I just won't go to the same venue again, unless I can be sure I have literally better seating.
I have what I call my "die-happy" moments, those when I can click off another thing that I've always wanted to do. Last night was one. Singing "Piano Man" with both Billy Joel and Elton John and a couple thousand other people was one of those moments. They stopped and let us sing it back to them. Wow. Just wow.
Now I have Jackson Browne in my sights for the next guy to see. I do like Jackson Browne!
But I do have a question for those people who do group seating: Why, oh why, must you link together folding chairs (no arm rests--one just hooks to the next one) and expect us to sit there for 3 hours? Bear in mind, I'm no physics chick but I do know how big a folding chair seat is and how big a human bottom is. They're meant to be approximately the same size.
And in most humans, the shoulders are about the same width, perhaps a bit bigger. See the problem developing?
Plus, my friends, those things hanging off our shoulders? ARMS? They add about six inches to the top area. So you've got people who are sitting, literally cheek-to-cheek, and what on earth are they supposed to do with their shoulders and arms?
We're given 14 inches of concert real-estate and a whole row of sixteen people have to somehow each accomodate the extra six inches of arm per person? That's 96 extra inches that have to somehow find a place to stay for three hours. Squish City!
This also happened at a writers conference I went to. The chairs were hooked together like that. I'm sensing a trend that must be stopped. (Along with wild dancing--an issue not at writers conferences but yowza, last night! To the chick in front of us: You fell several times. You sat on people. You hit people with your waving arms. No more beer for you, please. You way exceeded your given 14 inches. That's why those around you left.)
However, I am delighted that I got to see these two legends. I just won't go to the same venue again, unless I can be sure I have literally better seating.
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