Tuesday, July 28, 2015
A Dinner Gratuity
I don't very often cook dinner. When I say "cook", I mean using pots, pans, and an oven other than my microwave. I don't very often cook dinner for myself, and it is even more rare that I cook dinner for someone else. I do not own an apron. Yesterday evening I cooked dinner for Terry, my boyfriend. I'm not sure what got into me. Once or twice in my adult life I have cooked a dinner in an effort to impress or at least to encourage some new guy in my life. But Terry has been around for a while now and so that was not my motive. I'll have to give it some more thought.
Anyway, the whole cooking ordeal took about forty-five minutes and most of that was just waiting for the timer to buzz. It involved cooking some Italian sausage, boiling some pasta shells, inserting a bit of the cooked sausage into each individual pasta shell along with a morsel of mozzarella cheese and a small slice of green pepper. I then placed the stuffed shells onto a cooking sheet and baked for about twenty minutes. The salad was bought at the grocery store and came out of a plastic bag straight into the bowl. Terry removed the cork out of the red wine bottle. Peach sherbet was for dessert. Not too tough to prepare a dinner like that.
After dinner we watched something I had previously recorded on my DVR; a movie with Will Smith that's title escapes me. About a half an hour into the movie Terry asked if he could brush my hair. He said that I deserved it, considering the effort I put into dinner. So, did I let him brush my hair? Are you kidding me!? There isn't much I like more than to have my hair gently brushed. If I were a kitten it would make me purr. After about five minutes of heavenly hair brushing, Terry stated that I needed my back massaged. I was instructed to lay on my stomach on the sofa, and to "just relax". He received no argument. Terry tenderly massaged all areas of my back and then followed it up with this soothing, gentle, back scratch that had my skin tingling. It was all so blissful that my slightly opened mouth drooled onto a sofa cushion.
Maybe I'll prepare dinner more often, what with the great gratuity I received. Still, I'm a little hesitant to become too domesticated. I'm not about to go out and buy an apron. At least not yet.
Monday, July 13, 2015
Birdwatchers, Fistfighters, and a Social Observation
I am going to write something based on an odd feeling, or sentiment, that came over me yesterday. It will probably seem nutty but I'm going to put it in this silly blog anyway.
Yesterday I donned my nerdy, floppy hat and went out birdwatching. I'm a birdwatcher which I guess is nutty enough on its own. Anyway, I thought I saw a lark bunting through my binoculars off in the distance. I have never seen a lark bunting. They are a bird common in the West, places like Colorado and Wyoming. I am in Massachusetts. So I almost assuredly did not see one, but it is not absolutely impossible. Birds can get off course for a number of reasons, particularly due to foul weather, and end up spending a season in some unknown area; unknown to them.
Not too long after my unconfirmed lark bunting sighting, I came upon an older man with a pair of binoculars in his hands. He was glancing upwards here and there into the trees. I knew he was birdwatching. I stopped and asked him if he happened to see what looked like a lark bunting. He gave me an inquisitive look and told he had not. In his soft-spoken voice, he amicably questioned me as to whether I was sure I'd seen a lark bunting. I replied that I had not gotten a really good look at the bird and so I was not sure. He mentioned that he had seen a saw-whet owl the previous weekend. I enthusiastically replied that I had seen only one saw-whet owl in my life. We were having the typical birdwatchers conversation; mundane to anyone but a birdwatcher. Anyway, we said goodbye and went our separate ways.
When I got home thirty minutes or so later, I went to the internet to see if anyone in the area, or for that matter, anyone in the state had seen a lark bunting. I found nothing. I clicked on a search of videos. For some reason what appeared on the page, among other things, was what looked to be a thumbnail video still of two guys dancing. There were thousands of "views" so I thought it might be some little comedy skit or something. The video was something like forty seconds in length. I clicked on it. It was not a comedy skit. The video featured two guys but they were not dancing, they were fighting, a fight caught on a cellphone camera. It began with a few seconds of the two simpletons shouting at each other. They then scuffled around for a few seconds before one of the idiots swung and knocked the other moron to the ground, limp and unconscious. After a few obscenities shouted by the dimwit still standing, the video mercifully ended.
The video was kind of scary for a number of different reasons. But what I found startling at that moment was that a half hour earlier I had been in a brief, friendly conversation with a quiet, older man, and the contrast to what was in the video I found startling. Two behaviors at opposite ends of the spectrum. It was almost like the cordial, bird-watching gentleman was not of the same species as the two dolts fist fighting. Of course they are of the same species which, in a way, made me feel sorry for the birdwatcher.
Thursday, July 9, 2015
Men's Cologne
Well, I have sort of rediscovered my goofball blog. So with that in mind, I might as well throw in yesterday's mild oddity.
To begin, for my entire life I have loved the fragrance of almost all men's cologne. When I was little, my father had a bottle of Old Spice. I think he got it as a gift because he rarely used it. The bottle stayed almost completely full for years and I never smelled it on him. Every once in a while I would pull off the plastic stopper and take a whiff. I really liked it.
The thing is; I hate smelling cologne on men and always have. I catch the scent of a cologne and I get this feeling that the man is trying to hide some underlying, unpleasant odor. Fortunately I am rarely exposed to men's cologne. It seems I'm most likely to be subjected to it in places like grocery store lines or for a few seconds in a crowded elevator.
Yesterday my boyfriend, Terry, came by with dinner, dinner being a carry-out order of two Italian sub sandwiches. Apparently he had a little time to kill when he reached the restaurant and he strolled next door to a pharmacy where he almost absent-mindedly sprayed a bit of cologne on his fingertips and after giving it a quick sniff, dabbed the remnants onto his neck. At least that's the story I was told.
Later, after we consumed the subs, Terry and I went on a little stroll around the block. When we returned to my place, one thing led to another and we became very close physically. It was then I got my first hit of an unnatural scent. I momentarily stopped the proceedings and asked Terry if he were wearing a cologne. At first he said no but then after a short pause for thought, he recalled that he had dabbed on a tiny bit of cologne earlier in the evening while waiting for the subs.
I smiled and muttered a slow, drawn-out "Ohhh grrreat."
Terry said that if it bothered me he could dash off and hurriedly wash his neck. Much to my shock, I told him that I actually kind of liked it. I'm not saying the trace of fragrance wildly helped the occasion, but it certainly did not seem to hurt it.
Upon reflection, I believe that the tiny amount used was a factor in my appreciation of the cologne. Also, I think the fact that I was enjoying the moment made me appreciate the scent of the moment. But what makes this really weird is that to the best of Terry's recollection, the cologne was British Sterling, which following a brief internet research, is poorly rated, low-priced stuff. I guess that kind of figures.
To begin, for my entire life I have loved the fragrance of almost all men's cologne. When I was little, my father had a bottle of Old Spice. I think he got it as a gift because he rarely used it. The bottle stayed almost completely full for years and I never smelled it on him. Every once in a while I would pull off the plastic stopper and take a whiff. I really liked it.
The thing is; I hate smelling cologne on men and always have. I catch the scent of a cologne and I get this feeling that the man is trying to hide some underlying, unpleasant odor. Fortunately I am rarely exposed to men's cologne. It seems I'm most likely to be subjected to it in places like grocery store lines or for a few seconds in a crowded elevator.
Yesterday my boyfriend, Terry, came by with dinner, dinner being a carry-out order of two Italian sub sandwiches. Apparently he had a little time to kill when he reached the restaurant and he strolled next door to a pharmacy where he almost absent-mindedly sprayed a bit of cologne on his fingertips and after giving it a quick sniff, dabbed the remnants onto his neck. At least that's the story I was told.
Later, after we consumed the subs, Terry and I went on a little stroll around the block. When we returned to my place, one thing led to another and we became very close physically. It was then I got my first hit of an unnatural scent. I momentarily stopped the proceedings and asked Terry if he were wearing a cologne. At first he said no but then after a short pause for thought, he recalled that he had dabbed on a tiny bit of cologne earlier in the evening while waiting for the subs.
I smiled and muttered a slow, drawn-out "Ohhh grrreat."
Terry said that if it bothered me he could dash off and hurriedly wash his neck. Much to my shock, I told him that I actually kind of liked it. I'm not saying the trace of fragrance wildly helped the occasion, but it certainly did not seem to hurt it.
Upon reflection, I believe that the tiny amount used was a factor in my appreciation of the cologne. Also, I think the fact that I was enjoying the moment made me appreciate the scent of the moment. But what makes this really weird is that to the best of Terry's recollection, the cologne was British Sterling, which following a brief internet research, is poorly rated, low-priced stuff. I guess that kind of figures.
Tuesday, July 7, 2015
When Katie Gets Annoyed
I have not paid much attention to my blog lately. There hasn't been much to tell it. Things have been going along pretty well, which means my life has been boring, or at least boring to describe. But yesterday was a little different. I became somewhat agitated.
I was at work yesterday afternoon and as it happened, in such a location where I could overhear a short, informal meeting between an area supervisor, and about ten of his workers. These were blue collar workers who in some capacity handle store merchandise. Near the end of the meeting the supervisor asked if there were any questions or comments. One of the workers said, "Ever since our second forklift broke, we've been down to just one. If that one breaks down, we won't have none."
Well, the supervisor, who I will call Ron, tersely replied, "I'm aware that we won't have none. If it should come to that, we'll lease a forklift." Ron repeated, and put special emphasis on the worker's use of a double negative in a deliberate attempted to belittle the employee. It worked too because I heard a couple of chuckles.
I don't like when people are made fun of for such things. I have known and liked many individuals who did not speak perfect English.
A few hours later, near the end of the workday yesterday, I happened to stroll by Ron's personal whiteboard that he uses to post instructions or ideas. On it he had written: one person with poor work habits can have a negative affect on many others. My feet took about two additional steps beyond the whiteboard when they brought me to an abrupt halt. I turned around and reread the comment, just in case I had misread it the first time. I hadn't.
I quickly glanced about the immediate area. No one was around. I stepped to the whiteboard and picked up the red marker that was just below the board. I circled the word "affect" and then from the circled word, drew a line to an open space on the whiteboard. In the open space I wrote; the proper word is not "affect", it is "effect". EFFECT! I'm sure I was grinning when I used all capital letters and the exclamation point. I then left my initials to indicate the author of the observation.
That was late yesterday afternoon. I thought today I might hear something from Ron concerning yesterday's impromptu bit of correction, but my workday is now over and I never heard a word. I had imagined Ron confronting me about it. I was planning to reply with something like, "Gee Ron, I thought that when it came to the English language, you never made no mistakes."
I was at work yesterday afternoon and as it happened, in such a location where I could overhear a short, informal meeting between an area supervisor, and about ten of his workers. These were blue collar workers who in some capacity handle store merchandise. Near the end of the meeting the supervisor asked if there were any questions or comments. One of the workers said, "Ever since our second forklift broke, we've been down to just one. If that one breaks down, we won't have none."
Well, the supervisor, who I will call Ron, tersely replied, "I'm aware that we won't have none. If it should come to that, we'll lease a forklift." Ron repeated, and put special emphasis on the worker's use of a double negative in a deliberate attempted to belittle the employee. It worked too because I heard a couple of chuckles.
I don't like when people are made fun of for such things. I have known and liked many individuals who did not speak perfect English.
A few hours later, near the end of the workday yesterday, I happened to stroll by Ron's personal whiteboard that he uses to post instructions or ideas. On it he had written: one person with poor work habits can have a negative affect on many others. My feet took about two additional steps beyond the whiteboard when they brought me to an abrupt halt. I turned around and reread the comment, just in case I had misread it the first time. I hadn't.
I quickly glanced about the immediate area. No one was around. I stepped to the whiteboard and picked up the red marker that was just below the board. I circled the word "affect" and then from the circled word, drew a line to an open space on the whiteboard. In the open space I wrote; the proper word is not "affect", it is "effect". EFFECT! I'm sure I was grinning when I used all capital letters and the exclamation point. I then left my initials to indicate the author of the observation.
That was late yesterday afternoon. I thought today I might hear something from Ron concerning yesterday's impromptu bit of correction, but my workday is now over and I never heard a word. I had imagined Ron confronting me about it. I was planning to reply with something like, "Gee Ron, I thought that when it came to the English language, you never made no mistakes."
Thursday, May 21, 2015
Pre Memorial Day Sentimentality
Memorial Day is coming and I think it's time for me to get sentimental. To tell you the truth, I've been looking at some old photos so I think it might be beyond my control.
Anyone who has ever read this idiotic blog to its entirety would know that my dad is a Vietnam veteran. But us Anderson folk have a longer line of military tradition. And there's a little bit on my mom's side of the family too.
My grandfather on my mother's side was a Methodist minister. He died when I was six in 1991. I barely remember him. In WWII he was a young chaplain who stayed in this country, comforting the people who lost loved ones, and sometimes comforting those soldiers who came back severely wounded. I have been told his work during WWII was very rewarding, and also very taxing.
My grandfather on my father's side died about ten years ago. I think he was 92. In WWII he was in the Army Air Corp. He was stationed in Australia for most of the war but was moved up to one of the airbase islands near the end.
A few years before he died he was over for Thanksgiving dinner, as he usually was in the years after my grandmother died. One time he happened to mention WWII and I jumped in and asked him if he ever shot anyone. I think I was about 14 at the time. I still remember how Grandpa answered.
He leaned back in his chair and said that for a time his outfit was having trouble with a mischievous kangaroo that would break into a supply tent at night and make a mess of things. Finally enough was enough and Grandpa was ordered to stand guard in the tent the next night. He said that they gave him a thompson "to make sure he did the job right". I learned that a thompson was a type of machine gun.
Well, sure enough, the kangaroo paid a visit. Grandpa put a flashlight on the animal, aimed the machine gun, and pulled the trigger. According to my grandfather, he was totally unprepared for the power and the noise of the thompson. He said he put a line of bullet holes across the back of the tent without ever coming close to the kangaroo. According to Grandpa, he was more terrified by the thompson than was the kangaroo. But Grandpa said that the kangaroo must have gotten the message because he never returned.
Grandpa looked at me, grinned, and said, "Katie, that was my combat during WWII". I miss you Grandpa.
Anyone who has ever read this idiotic blog to its entirety would know that my dad is a Vietnam veteran. But us Anderson folk have a longer line of military tradition. And there's a little bit on my mom's side of the family too.
My grandfather on my mother's side was a Methodist minister. He died when I was six in 1991. I barely remember him. In WWII he was a young chaplain who stayed in this country, comforting the people who lost loved ones, and sometimes comforting those soldiers who came back severely wounded. I have been told his work during WWII was very rewarding, and also very taxing.
 |
| Grandpa Anderson in WWII |
A few years before he died he was over for Thanksgiving dinner, as he usually was in the years after my grandmother died. One time he happened to mention WWII and I jumped in and asked him if he ever shot anyone. I think I was about 14 at the time. I still remember how Grandpa answered.
 |
| Grandpa, top middle |
 |
| Grandpa with my dad in 1951 |
Well, sure enough, the kangaroo paid a visit. Grandpa put a flashlight on the animal, aimed the machine gun, and pulled the trigger. According to my grandfather, he was totally unprepared for the power and the noise of the thompson. He said he put a line of bullet holes across the back of the tent without ever coming close to the kangaroo. According to Grandpa, he was more terrified by the thompson than was the kangaroo. But Grandpa said that the kangaroo must have gotten the message because he never returned.
Grandpa looked at me, grinned, and said, "Katie, that was my combat during WWII". I miss you Grandpa.
Friday, May 15, 2015
Technology Updating
I am on Tracphone and have a cheap flip phone. I have had the same phone for over five years. It was a bare-bones piece of technology then, and it has only gotten worse since. It looks like a half-used, black bar of soap and it's just about as slippery; I've dropped it several times. Once I dropped it on a sidewalk and it went into pieces. Believe it or not I was able to put it back together, and it worked. But it's an old, cheap thing and I can't do anything with it other than talk. And it's actually wearing out. The shine wore off of the the exterior several years ago. The other day I pulled it out to make a call and someone started to laugh at it. My contract is about to run out, as are the minutes available. I've been thinking about getting something that is not obsolete.
When it comes to this type of technology, my boyfriend Terry is a little more knowledgeable than am I... okay, maybe he is a lot more knowledgeable. Still, he doesn't necessarily know how to combine the best smartphone for the money with my needs and what I am willing to spend. Right now, at 5:36 PM on Friday, I'm thinking about venturing out this weekend and buying a Samsung Galaxy S4 for around $400 or so and visiting Walmart where they have something called Straight Talk that offers unlimited text and data for about $50 a month and no contract.
More than a lack of technological expertise, I have no knowledge of plans that are available, what I will need, who is best and who is not. I am going on the advice of others. Once I get through this learning curve, I'll be faced with coming up to speed concerning all that can be done with a smartphone.
I'm paying the toll for living in my own little world of solo nature hikes, trips to a fitness center, evenings out to dinner or to a movie, or alone at home causing trouble on the Net with a glass of wine and/or bourbon at my elbow. I'm living proof that not all goofball geeks are geekish in the field of electronic technology.
When it comes to this type of technology, my boyfriend Terry is a little more knowledgeable than am I... okay, maybe he is a lot more knowledgeable. Still, he doesn't necessarily know how to combine the best smartphone for the money with my needs and what I am willing to spend. Right now, at 5:36 PM on Friday, I'm thinking about venturing out this weekend and buying a Samsung Galaxy S4 for around $400 or so and visiting Walmart where they have something called Straight Talk that offers unlimited text and data for about $50 a month and no contract.
More than a lack of technological expertise, I have no knowledge of plans that are available, what I will need, who is best and who is not. I am going on the advice of others. Once I get through this learning curve, I'll be faced with coming up to speed concerning all that can be done with a smartphone.
I'm paying the toll for living in my own little world of solo nature hikes, trips to a fitness center, evenings out to dinner or to a movie, or alone at home causing trouble on the Net with a glass of wine and/or bourbon at my elbow. I'm living proof that not all goofball geeks are geekish in the field of electronic technology.
Thursday, May 7, 2015
A Quick and Ill-Advised Blog Entry
I am starting on this blog entry at 11:22 PM. I just took a shower and hopefully will soon go to bed and be fast asleep. About two hours ago I took a nip of bourbon. At 11:22 I'm not entirely sober and the alcohol is probably at least partly responsible for the travesty of this blog entry. Nevertheless, here it goes...
I have a fairly new coworker. I'll call her Joan. Joan has been a fellow employee for a few months. She is about my age and single. She has a boyfriend who is a nice-looking guy. Not too long ago Joan voluntarily told me that she is a Mormon and saving herself for marriage. At the time, I thought this rather amusing and quaint. Now, after additional thought, it actually kind of annoys me.
Joan talks of her boyfriend often. She has sexual desires that she speaks of. I'd be willing to bet her boyfriend has sexual desires too. Her boyfriend is planning to go back to school and they are waiting until he finishes to get married. That's about a year away, according to Joan.
I'm not going to say anything to Joan but I think her mentality is sad and really, something of a tragedy. To be forthright, Joan, a very pretty lady, should be giving sexual pleasure, and receiving it. Instead she is tied to Mormon mythology. That's what it is; mythology. I think it is very sad. The only good thing is that I can better appreciate that I do not have such problems and am able to enjoy life to the utmost... except when the lifestyle of a fellow employee depresses me.
Maybe tomorrow I will delete this blog entry. By then I won't have this bourbon-induced tipsiness. Don't get me wrong; I'll still be of the same opinion, I'll just have regretted writing about it.
I have a fairly new coworker. I'll call her Joan. Joan has been a fellow employee for a few months. She is about my age and single. She has a boyfriend who is a nice-looking guy. Not too long ago Joan voluntarily told me that she is a Mormon and saving herself for marriage. At the time, I thought this rather amusing and quaint. Now, after additional thought, it actually kind of annoys me.
Joan talks of her boyfriend often. She has sexual desires that she speaks of. I'd be willing to bet her boyfriend has sexual desires too. Her boyfriend is planning to go back to school and they are waiting until he finishes to get married. That's about a year away, according to Joan.
I'm not going to say anything to Joan but I think her mentality is sad and really, something of a tragedy. To be forthright, Joan, a very pretty lady, should be giving sexual pleasure, and receiving it. Instead she is tied to Mormon mythology. That's what it is; mythology. I think it is very sad. The only good thing is that I can better appreciate that I do not have such problems and am able to enjoy life to the utmost... except when the lifestyle of a fellow employee depresses me.
Maybe tomorrow I will delete this blog entry. By then I won't have this bourbon-induced tipsiness. Don't get me wrong; I'll still be of the same opinion, I'll just have regretted writing about it.
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