Wordspill by Cynthia Pinsonnault

My favorite room

2009-02-07T00:20:00.001-06:00

It's sad to admit, but my office is my favorite room.

One of the reasons could be that it joins the kitchen -- but in the end I guess it's because I spend most of my time there. I work a lot and when I'm not working, I'm doing something else on one of my computers or I'm listening to music, or just answering silly questions on Plinky.

Most people can't wait to get out of their office, into a comfy chair or cozy bed or even a luxurious bath. Almost any other room in the house would seem to offer more in terms of comfort and relaxation. But we're all relaxed and happy when we're doing something we enjoy.

An office can be a prison if you don't like what you do, but I'm lucky enough to love what I do. My office is my retreat, comfortable, spacious, with big windows and a large workspace. When I'm in my office it means I'm probably doing something I enjoy (except on bill-paying days, when I'd much rather be taking that luxurious bath).

There's No Money in Healthy People

2008-05-31T10:19:00.001-05:00

When a comedian's rant is this close to the truth, you know we're making some progress.

A New Category Just for Whining

2008-05-28T19:25:00.004-05:00

So I started social networking. ... And, I started a new diet. I tried setting up a group on FaceBook as a place for dieters to meet and whine (which we seem to like to do). But it's been up for several weeks and no one has gone near it. I guess if you're 16, you don't want to talk about dieting with a middle-aged woman. And if you're a middle-aged woman, you don't want to talk at all to someone who would set up a social network group for dieters.

Still Need a Place to Whine
So I have found myself still needing a place to bitch and whine. Wait, I need that in general all the time ... but specifically, I needed a place to bitch and whine about dieting, nutrition, healthy living, etc. Sooo, since I haven't written anything real for this blog in like, a year, I figured I could start a new category and get right to the whining.

So here goes.
Wikipedia says: "Dieting is the practice of ingesting food in a regulated fashion to achieve or maintain a controlled weight." Simple. What could be easier?

Yeah, what could be easier? That question has me whining to myself so much, I keep having to stop typing so I can pound my fists on the desk. But let me try to focus and start with just one little (gargantuan) problem.

Diets and Complexity
We, as dieters, do a lot to make the process unbelievably complex. I now have a 3 page food journal/database on my computer that would impress a CalTech engineer. Somebody stop me ... I keep thinking of more things to track.

The Internet to the Rescue
A Google search on the word "diets" nets us just about 30 million Web sites. A+ for names to: FatLoss4Idiots.net and 3FatChicks.com.

Reviewing just the first 3 pages of Google results, I found about 40 diets ranging from:

celebrity diets
fat burning diet
meal replacement diet (Replace it with what? A poke in the eye?)
low carb diets
low fat diets
high protein diets
chef's weight loss
vegetarian diets
diets for children
raw diets
diets for models
10 Web sites directly promoting drugs as the solution
weight loss surgery
and even two sites featuring pet diets.

So now I know that the perfect diet consists of:
low glycemic index foods that are fat free, low in calories, won't interfere with drugs, are NOT ever cooked, enhance your metabolism, can be fed to pets, and won't make you sick if you've had surgery.

Water.

Care to whine about diets with me? Leave a comment.

A little light for Apple® iPhone®

2008-03-08T15:42:00.005-06:00

For my friends who keep reading even though I only write something once in a blue moon:

BittyLite™ for iPhone

If you have an iPhone, go to this post for a handy little light for your iPhone home screen.

Hope you like this webapp from Pinsonnault Creative. Let me know.

Free Holiday Music from Magnatune

2007-12-10T18:44:00.000-06:00

This wonderful free holiday album is being offered by Magnatune.

"Create a toasty, elegantly merry mood with the Magnatune Christmas Compilation featuring over 60 minutes of the most timeless and classic carols of the season …. The predominantly instrumental selections range from the simple acoustic guitar of James Edwards to the rich viola de gamba of Ralph Rousseau Meulenbroeks and the snowy, sparkling harp of Cheryl Ann Fulton. A few select vocal pieces include the absolutely angelic sounding Con Brio children's choir as well as the renowned women's vocal ensemble, Kitka. This is one of those albums to which you'll return again and again, season after season, and it's absolutely perfect for holiday dinners."

Get your free music here.

New Comment Policy

2007-01-08T22:35:00.000-06:00

Wordspill invites you to be an active participant in our blog discussion threads by posting comments or questions. I recently posted the following comment guidelines on my business newsletter. They will be used to moderate comments for all of my blogs.

• Please try to be sure your comment adds value to the discussion, is relevant and will be meaningful to a majority of readers.

• Manners will be appreciated. Personal attacks (direct and passive aggressive) will not be published. This is a professional business forum and we expect everyone who participates to respect others and their views. We will not publish comments that convey discrimination or slurs against any person or group of persons. Please use language that is appropriate for a business discussion.

• Your comment may include your name and a link to your Web site URL. Additional links will be removed if you add them.

• You may not copy and paste private emails you received from someone else in your blog comments.

• Remember that your blog comments are not editable after you make them.

• "Comment spam" will be deleted. A comment spammer is someone who posts garbage to bait a discussion or only to promote their Web site or their clients' Web sites.

• This blog is intended to convey a positive tone and encourage learning, discussion, debate and knowledge sharing, and maybe a little humor. We reserve the right to delete comments for any reason at any time and to do so without explanation.

• All comments are moderated to ensure quality and relevance in the discussion.

• By submitting your comments to Wordspill, you grant Cynthia Pinsonnault and/or Pinsonnault Creative permission to republish your comment without restriction, notification or compensation. You also acknowledge that you alone are fully responsible for each comment you make including inaccuracies or potentially libelous statements. You agree to not disclose proprietary or confidential information.

Autumn - My Favorite Season

2006-09-30T14:25:00.000-05:00

To the half-dozen people who read this blog, welcome back after a pretty long break. Let’s just call it summer vacation. Summer’s are pretty long here. I was busy. I lost my pen, er, keyboard, thingy. Insert your own excuse here …

Anyway, I thought I'd write about how much I like this time of year. So here goes.

I really like this time of year. … I guess I should elaborate.

Autumn has always been magical for me. I grew up in New England where autumn is an assault of color at every turn. The old, worn down and softly rolling mountain ranges throughout the northeast become blanketed with a blazing quilt of red, gold, purple, orange — just about every color nature has to offer. It’s beautiful, warm, comforting. It’s magic.

We had a huge Sugar Maple in our back yard that turned completely red just before releasing its leaves for the approaching winter. Our yard was full of trees, mostly pines and maples, and we didn’t have to go far to watch this amazing transformation from full, lush green through vibrant reds and yellow, to warm browns, golds and umbers, and finally to the stark naked branches ready for the icy blast of a northeastern winter.

My father worked six days a week, leaving the house early in the morning before the rest of us were up and coming home just in time for dinner. And so, Sundays, particularly Sundays in autumn, held another magic for me. My father was the best leaf-raker ever.

He had a method all his own and he could build the most glorious mountains of leaves that a child could ever wish for. And let’s not forget his amazing patience building and rebuilding over and over each time we’d throw ourselves into those soft, billowy piles. Ahh. The smell of the leaves, the crunchy sounds, the cool crisp air, the sun shining down. The perfect place for a nap.

My sister taught me how to rake leaves into make-believe houses that could be as big as the yard and redesigned a million times in a million ways until they were the perfect visions of what we dreamed of living in one day. Hours upon hours of pure joy.

We lived almost in the country and when I was very young my father burned his piles of raked leaves. I guess today we’re smarter about the risks of spreading fires and air pollution, but that sweet pungent smell drifting off the burning leaves and pine cones and pine needles is forever etched in my mind as a signal of the end of summer and the beginning of winter, with its promise of snow and Christmas presents.

Today, I live in a place where the leaves don’t turn many colors other than brown just before they fall, still half green sometimes. I miss the glory of a New England autumn. Still, when the weather finally starts to chill slightly and the smell of the air changes almost imperceptibly, I can see my father, rake in one hand, bushel basket in the other, working his way without much haste across our yard, building piles of leaves that he knows will surely be trampled at least a few times. I think it’s time for a nap.

I heard it from some guy in a pub ...

2006-05-06T12:44:00.001-05:00

Used to be you could count on the information you picked up, say in a bar, or listening to other people's conversations at work, or on the bus or subway. Frankly, I think someone who's been drinking all day in a bar is as likely to tell you the truth as anyone — although … could be not everyone agrees with that assessment. So, for argument's sake, let's say there could be better sources for important data.

For instance, the guy in the pub might have seemed to say something about a catastrophe at the mall, but with all the slurring it sounds a bit like "they have cats for free down the hall." So you're left in a quandary — do you worry about the devastation that might have occurred or do you go pick out a new pet?

The more sensible among us probably turn to the newspaper or television news programs to get the truth. Well, okay, I guess if you want to think of it that way:

The Noble Profession of Journalism
"Study reveals … 77 television stations aired video news releases without informing viewers even once that the reports were actually sponsored content." Read this article here.

"Flaming Mouse Story Found To Be False — Rumor Squashed: Flaming Mouse Didn't Start House Fire." Read the whole story here.

"TV News Station Caught Inserting False Details Into 'Live' News Story." Read the rest here.

"Five weeks after Hurricane Katrina … rumors repeated uncritically in the news media helped slow the response to the disaster …" Washington Post article.

Truth, Justice, the Internet Way
So where can we turn for truth. The Internet, of course! Certainly, there could be no false information lurking on the medium of the masses.

"Congress caught making false entries in Wikipedia." C|Net News.com article.

Well, okay. A few tiny little falsehoods may have crept in over time. But there's a Web site dedicated to debunking Internet and email myths — Snopes.com. Surely they have exposed any and all lies that might be floating about.

Of course, what if Snopes is lying? That would mean Nigerians really are giving away free money for helping them move large sums to American banks, and Bill Gates will send me money just for forwarding an email to everyone in my address book, and the moon landing really was filmed on a soundstage. Oh, my.

I thought I was going somewhere with all this. I guess I'm now thinking someone is going to read what I've written here and actually believe it. Then someday, someone will come along and prove that I was completely and utterly wrong — not a drop of truth — and then I'll have to write about how I'm no longer a reliable source of information.

(Here comes the sappy part.) I guess all I can tell you is that the truth lies within each of us. Relying on anyone or any medium to tell you what is true will inevitably lead to disillusionment. Don't let anyone tell you what to believe; find out for yourself.

I'm not saying you shouldn't trust people. After all, the guy who's been drinking in a pub all day may really know what he's talking about — free cats for everyone!

"#!@&"ing Tech Support

2006-02-25T21:49:00.000-06:00

Warning: I'm not in a good mood. This may not be pleasant.

What exactly is the pool from which technical support representatives are chosen? Remedial readers? Vocational school drop-outs? I'm pretty sure they at least come from English-as-a-second-language classes. And none of them have attended speech therapy classes, mumbling into a headset that is probably not even in the vicinity of their mouths, making us constantly ask "What?" "What did you say?" Now, some of that may be due to my advanced years, but I don't think so.

And what is that "you're the one calling for help so you must be the idiot" attitude all about? Clearly, anyone who can make it through the telephone maze to actually speak with a live tech support representative has proven that she isn't stumped easily.

My current theory (it changes a lot) is that technical companies know they can't help you. The lack of personnel who can read a technical manual, much less understand and interpret the information, has forced companies to outsource technical support to other countries while they work harder at creating more and more complex telephone systems to thwart our attempts to reach them in the first place. Aarrgghh. A lot of people, after hours of trying to get to the one person in the company that might have been able to help, give up and just buy new equipment.

Today, at the top of my list is the telephone company, which just happens to also provide my Internet connection. Sort of … when it's working … if the planets are aligned just right … and there's no sunspots or gamma rays … The gap between services promised and service delivered is big enough to, you know, get something really, really big through.

I'm not saying they don't try to deliver what's promised. I can't actually say whether they're trying or not. I only know that after two onsite visits and conversations with more than a dozen different tech support staff, the person who finally figured out what was wrong — was me. Furthermore, part of the answer was found (by me) in their own product specifications.

Now maybe I'm being picky or maybe it's just me, but I don't think so. It seems like the technical support staff of a company should know something about the technical specifications of the products that company sells. No?

But, then again, maybe we should feel sorry for the person having to handle complaints about bad equipment only to find that the user hasn't actually turned it on yet. Most software companies don't bother with the expense of providing user manuals anymore, since they discovered that the very last place the average user will look for answers is the manual. So perhaps I shouldn't judge so harshly. After all, politely explaining to users that the "printer must be connected to the computer in order for it to work" may take its toll. Maybe tech support staff deserve a break … but I don't think so.

Avoidance

2006-02-21T09:37:00.000-06:00

In two short months, I have gone from writing every day to avoiding it as though my fingers would start on fire if I touched the keyboard.

What commitment … what persistence … truly amazing … gotta go …

The Fine Art of Procrastination

2006-02-02T13:30:00.000-06:00

Okay … so what I really meant the last time was that I'll try to write now and then … if I can … um, if it isn't a lot of trouble … if I have the time …

I did take the time to jot down some topics. Almost all of them involved something like: how bad it is to put off important tasks, how you should always do things right away … you get where I'm going with this. Incidentally, the justifications I have for not writing make a much longer list. I wrote those down too. It made me feel better.

I've always been a bit of a procrastinator. It's not that I don't know what to do or that I can't do something quickly. It's more that I want to be sure it's just the right time to do it and that I have all the information needed. I like to think of it as thoughtful evaluation, conservatism.

For instance, I have not put away my Christmas decorations yet. Today is Groundhog Day. I should be celebrating the little rodent's adventures in the sun, or shade, and waiting breathlessly to see how much longer winter will last. Instead, I'm distracted by the many decisions involved in the removal of the remaining traces of a holiday that has been over for more than a month. How should I pack everything? Where should I store it for easy access again next year?

I should really go work on it now … but I don't want to put everything away all willy-nilly, in no apparent order. These are the kinds of things that require contemplation and prolonged introspection. One must think about next year and try to anticipate problems that can be avoided by careful action now. Remember all the fun times untangling a previous year's lights that were ripped off the tree and dumped in a big box? That's the kind of thing that can happen if you move too quickly.

Anyway, I should go get started putting things away … but first I wanted to mention that it's not like I haven't been writing at all. I write two other blogs: one with advice and tips on marketing, advertising and graphic design, and one about vintage crate labels, the collecting of which is a hobby of mine. Of course, it's me so I over-collected and now need to get rid of some, hence the blog. By the way, vintage crate labels make great gifts, they're quite lovely framed, available in lots of different topics like flowers and ships — little bits of antique folk art.

Okay, so I'll stop advertising. I have to go now; I really need to take that tree down. But I think, well, maybe I should go see how much room there is in the garage again. And I was going get some new boxes …

Attribution Policy

2006-01-26T23:11:00.000-06:00

All of the content on this blog is licensed by Cynthia Pinsonnault under a Creative Commons License.

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This page defines the attribution that must be included in any use of all articles found on this blog. When used online, it is preferred that attributions are linked back to the original blog post containing the content used.

Preferred Attribution:
This article is from the Wordspill blog by author, Cynthia Pinsonnault, owner of Pinsonnault Creative, a creative services company offering graphic design and Website design; Web site user interface analysis, SEO and usability consulting; copy writing and creative writing; marketing and advertising. View portfolio at: http://www.pinscreative.com, or read the company's Ballyhoo Blog.

Alternative Attribution:
This article is from the Wordspill blog (http://cyntheta.blogspot.com) by author, Cynthia Pinsonnault, owner of Pinsonnault Creative (http://www.pinscreative.com).

Responsibility. Don't You Just Hate It?

2006-01-23T00:05:00.000-06:00

Alrighty then. Okay. It appears I was a tiny bit over-confident when I said I was absolutely going to write something for Wordspill every day. … Um … What I actually meant to say, what I was really thinking at the time was I would try hard to write something every day. And I'm not just saying that now because it's been over a week since I wrote anything. That's just a coincidence and means nothing.

Responsibility can be tough. And very annoying. For instance, you tell someone you're going to do something and then you're expected to actually do it. You borrow money from the bank; they want it back. And in a timely fashion. You promise someone you'll pick them up at the airport and they get all fussy when you show up a couple hours late. Why didn't they take some responsibility themselves and get a taxi? I personally hate paying bills. It bugs me. I hate opening the bills when they come in the mail. I hate writing the checks, mailing them, balancing my checkbook. (Although, ironically, I love the feeling I get when all my bills are paid.)

I guess it's all part of being a grown up; learning to do what you say you will. To me, that's integrity. Keeping your promises. Being true to your word, trustworthy. They used to say things like "A man is as good as his word," and other deep stuff like that. (I guess it applied to women as well, don't you think?) And it used to mean something. But these days, it seems more and more that we all would prefer to quote Peter Pan and say "I'll never grow up."

All around us society is telling us we're not responsible. We're not responsible for our actions. They're the result of stress, or disease or depression and require medication to handle. We're not responsible for our education or the education of our children. That requires medicating the children. We're not even responsible for our children, the government is. And if the government decides you're doing a poor job of it, they will come get your children to protect them from you, medicate everyone involved and put your children in the care of strangers who are certain to do the bang up job you were unable to do. Of course, there are some people who deserve this but I suspect that often boils down to a responsibility issue as well.

Forget being responsible for your bills or mowing your lawn or getting to work on time. Today you can kill another human being and blame it on any number of disorders or drugs. Actually, it might be possible to get in more trouble for not paying your bills than for taking an Uzi to work and ending a little of your stress.

What has happened to us? In a world where seemingly every problem, upset, non-optimum situation can be classified as a disorder with a quick and easy prescription fix being advertised nightly on TV, we've started to lose any idea that any of it has anything to do with us. I don't really care if the stress at your job is so bad your whole body twitches like a jumping bean. I don't think that is a good excuse for mowing down fellow workers with a semi-automatic. I don't care if your children depress you to the point of continuous tears, you're not allowed to kill them.

Wherever we are in life, we had something to do with getting there. And the bright spot in this is that we can also have something to do with changing where we are in life. IF we're willing to take some responsibility for it.

Talking Trash

2006-01-12T22:29:00.000-06:00

Today was trash day. I forgot until I left the house. That's when I noticed the street neatly lined with the giant brown bins issued by the city, all standing at attention waiting patiently to be emptied. I was lucky, they were all still full so I dragged mine out to join the crowd.

Where does all this trash come from? The city sent out a notice saying we could buy a second bin, if needed. What are people throwing out that they need a second bin every week? How do they get that much stuff in their houses in the first place to have it to toss? Part of the answer may be that there is a lot more trash these days than there used to be. It seems as though every single tiny little thing you buy comes packaged in at least two boxes with literature and some padding. Let's not forget junk mail which apparently is increasing exponentially each month.

I know I have way more trash each week than seems theoretically possible. I have no idea where it comes from. I don't remember bringing that much stuff home. How does it get there? Are sneaky reverse-thieves breaking into my house while I'm away and putting stuff in my house and filling up my trash baskets? I'm starting to think there's trash secretly growing somewhere in my house — in the back of a closet in the dark, like mushrooms.

Which leads me to my next question: Where can all the trash possibly be going? It's nice that a few of the things we toss out will actually disintegrate over time. But more and more our trash is filled with the innovations of mad-scientist, greedy mega-conglomerates, and will still be perfectly intact three thousand years from now, when possibly the human race will have long since nicely disintegrated. We'll all be gone but the plastic package my snack chips came in will look like new, perched on top of a mountain of plastic milk jugs.

I'm definitely not radical in my ecological opinions; you might be able to say I am a conservationist. I like to think I care, at least. I believe there is a point where we can't escape the fact that we are, ourselves, responsible for the world on which we are living. If we can just protect the planet from our own stupidity, it will still be here for future stupid generations to ruin.

Widget Worship

2006-01-11T23:50:00.000-06:00

I'm crazy for computers of all kinds. My first computer was a PC and I loved it. I currently have a Dell and it's fabulous. I hate Microsoft (a much longer story which I'll save for another day), but I love my PC.

Ah but, now, I also have two Macs and spend most of my time on one or the other of those. I use a Mac; I make no apologies. Anyone who knows me knows I'm pretty much a Mac person. You know, you have dog people and cat people and a few snake people and somewhere there's one or two monkey people. Well, I am a Mac people.

The first time I sat down at a Mac 512K (with two 700k floppy drives) and drew a picture of a mouse — using a mouse — I was totally hooked and I have never looked back. I have steadily upgraded my computers to newer, cooler, faster, bigger, and to smaller, cooler, more compact, wireless, etc. Let's just say, if something new comes out, I get it.

The latest operating system for Mac is called Tiger. Since System X, they've all been named for some kind of feline: Jaguar, Panther and now Tiger. Meaningless but cute, I guess. What they name these things doesn't mean too much to me. It's what they do and how they do it. One of the latest productivity tools to be incorporated into the newest Mac system is called Dashboard. And it manages a collection of Widgets. Widgets are not exclusive to Macs but they are new to me.

I get the Dashboard analogy. I'm not sure I get the connection between Dashboards and Widgets, but okay. I like Widgets because it's fun to say. Widgets. Wid gets. Wiggits, Wuhjits, Wi Wi Wi Wigitz … Anyway — I just never expected much from Tiger. After all, it was a 0.1 upgrade — how great was it going to be? So I delayed upgrading thinking I'd wait until they worked out a few of the inevitable bugs.

Today, I finally put Tiger on my Mac. And just like I fell in love with that first mouse, I am crazy over Widgets. In the few short hours since I installed the new system and experimented with the few Widgets included, I have become a Widget junkie, searching the Internet for these tiny little nuggets of fun, reference, productivity, distraction and coolness.

I probably don't need more than the ones that came with the new system, but the addict in me says I must have the Australian Population Widget that shows current estimated population of Australia. And how can I possibly live without ChemFinder. It finds the structure of any highlighted chemical name, CAS Number, molecular formula, or molecular weight. Now that I know it exists, I have to have it even though I have no clue why I would ever need it.

In one evening, I have collected forty-one Widgets that yesterday I didn't know existed and tonight consider vital for successful computing. I have current weather, a dictionary/thesaurus, stock tracker, package tracker, calendar, clock, unit converter, stopwatch, Morse code translator, Arabic to roman numeral converter, and more. Some aren't quite as vital as the Morse code translator but 'Sing That iTune' displays the lyrics as iTunes plays your songs. I can't listen to music now if I don't have that. If this was alcohol, I'd have alcohol poisoning and I'd be getting my stomach pumped at the hospital right now. If it was heroine, I'd probably be dead.

Luckily, it's not. It's just little bitty files, some of them as small as 50K. Most are freeware or shareware, so money isn't even slowing me down. My only problem now is I don't have enough monitor space to display them all at the same time. Now I'm going to have to get a bigger monitor, maybe two. My hands are getting shaky thinking about this. I started collecting Beanie Babies once. I don't even want to talk about that.

I need a program, now. Widget Support Group. Widgets Anonymous. Widget-anon. Wait, maybe there's a Widget that can help me find …

Cell Phones and the Dentist

2006-01-10T21:36:00.000-06:00

Don't you just hate people who talk on their cell phones while they drive? Blindly babbling away, not paying attention to the road, endangering everyone nearby … so inconsiderate.

Anyway, today while I was chatting on the phone and driving to the dentist, I got a tiny bit distracted and turned onto the wrong road … twice. But I cleverly figured out a shortcut back to where I belonged and pulled into the parking lot right on time. Unfortunately, it was the parking lot at my doctor's office, not my dentist's.

Now, I've always been a little reluctant to go to the dentist. When I was young, they used to lie to me to get me there. Of course once I knew what was happening I would throw a crying fit — in the car on the way to the dentist, in the elevator on the way up to the office, in the waiting room, in the dentist's chair throughout the entire visit, in the office while my mother paid, in the elevator on the way down, in the car on the way home, and once again when my father came home that night just to be sure everyone knew how I felt about it.

My mother was afraid of the dentist. And she shared that fear and its effects with her children. She picked our dentist based solely on the fact that he would give her lots of Novocain. Lots of Novocain. Much Novocain. Beyond that, she never really bothered about the skills-as-a-dentist thing.

My own theory is that dentistry was invented by Beelzebub, based largely on the fact that our dentist looked exactly the way I imagined a Devil's minion would look. And, oh, by the way, when we were finally done and wanted nothing more than to run as fast and as far as possible, he would smile at us kids, with his coke-bottle-thick glasses making him look popeyed, and hand us each a lollipop. Maybe not the best dentist, but surely a clever businessman lining up return customers.

Today, even after better dentists have shown me that there may possibly be some redeeming value in dental care, I still get a bit unsettled before an appointment. Therefore, I have two things to say about the cell phone thing:

1) It might have been the fact of going to the dentist that distracted me and not the cell phone. I think, maybe, my subconscious was trying to get me to go to the wrong place and miss my appointment completely. Self-protection is a very powerful instinct in times of peril. That could explain it.

2) If it was the cell phone use, I think I deserve an exemption from condemnation because, after all, I was on my way to the dentist. Maybe I wouldn't have been able to talk again when I came out. One little slip of the drill and, oops. Or I could have choked on one of the forty appliances they had crammed into my mouth just before asking me how I was doing.

Either way, I feel completely justified in continuing to judge others if they use a cell phone while driving. Unless, of course, I learn that they were on their way to the dentist.

Reality Bites

2006-01-09T22:39:00.000-06:00

I was working at the literacy center again tonight, and while I was daydreaming (which was more fun than actually doing any work) I found myself thinking about the proliferation of reality television shows. You know, those shows where you feel the danger, pressure, fear of ordinary folks just like you and me, and really believe they are stranded on an island (along with about eighty directors, producers, cameramen, lighting crew …).

Maybe it's just because I was at the center, but it occurred to me that there might be some connection between today's education and reality TV. I don't really know that there's a connection or what it might be. I could probably come up with several complex and meaningful theories if I had the time. But I don't, so here's some uninformed babbling instead.

Why? Why reality TV? Could it have something to do with education? Are the producers and writers the guys who got through school by stealing exam papers, sneaking a peak at their neighbor's answers or paying someone to do their homework? Or is it just something about working in television (movies too, for that matter) that sucks all original, creative thought out of people's minds?

Could it be the viewing public driving this? Would they tune in if they were given other choices? I assume reality TV was created to entertain. Just an assumption — due to lack of proof — I could be wrong. But for the sake of discussion, let's go ahead and say it entertains. Why? And who?

Let's do a quick survey — of me. I like The Apprentice. But only the last ten minutes. I enjoy watching Donald Trump fire one of the poor dopes on the show. What does that mean? Am I just a sadistic, fellow-human hater?

The first casualty of the television age was the book. And now fiction in general is being lost. I'm not even going to discuss television that educates or informs. These days, that's just there for show. Does literacy play a part in all this? If you can read this, your answer probably doesn't count. If you have trouble reading a book, television is largely pictures. If you have no language skills and find it difficult to follow a plot, you can always tune in to see the stars dancing.

Or, maybe there's more to it than just literacy. Maybe we want to think these folks are just like us. Maybe we root for our favorites to win and to distinguish themselves because it gives us hope for ourselves. If Joe from Minnetonka can win a million, maybe someday I can win and I won't have to worry about my house plants anymore, or clean the toilet.

But for myself, I spend enough time in reality, thank you. I don't really want to watch more of it on TV.

Keeping You "Posted"

2006-01-07T22:28:00.000-06:00

"The Postal Service™ will change its rates and fees for all classes of mail and services, effective January 8, 2006." This information — about regular mail — came to me in an email. Just think about that for a moment …

Am I the only one who finds it odd that postage rates go up on a day when the Post Office is closed? It seems sneaky to me but I can't figure out why. Why not just change it Monday morning? They could hold a little ceremony and invite the public. Instead they do it when nobody is around and behind closed doors. Seems sneaky.

Anyway, back to the subject. I would like to say right up front that I am not at all put off by the rate hike. First-class mail goes to thirty-nine cents and postcards to twenty-four cents; two- and one-cent increases, respectively. That's still a pretty good bargain. It would cost me a LOT more to deliver my own mail, especially letters to my family in New York. The plane ticket from Texas alone would put me way over budget. What if I forgot a letter and had to go back for it?

Furthermore, I like mail, or "snail mail" as it is often referred to derogatorily. Email is fast, I'll give you that, and I use it constantly. Email gives me the opportunity to get work from clients and to respond to them quickly. It's kind of like mail and a phone call morphed into some new mutant kind of communication.

But I still love to get real mail — you know, the kind you can touch and feel, and take in the bathroom with you to read. I love checking the mailbox and finding, in amongst the bills and advertising, a letter or card. It simply thrills me. When I was a kid, my mother told me that all the mail addressed to occupant was for me. I was in heaven, until I figured it out.

Somehow, even in spite of the benefits of email, it seems to me to be casual and yet, cold. I don't think people put as much thought into an email as they do a letter. Just check the spelling on the next email you get. And we're all a bit too quick to click on "send" when we should pause and give some thought as to whether Granny really wants to get 20 of the latest fart jokes from around the world. How many of us have been cursed with years of bad luck because we didn't have time to forward a message on to 1000 of our closest friends? And, other than that one time when my mailman sneezed all over my mail, I have never gotten a virus from regular mail.

Technology is a wonderful thing. We all live better lives because of it. But now and then it's nice to slow down for a moment — write a long letter to someone. There's something special about folding up a letter and stuffing it into an envelope. Maybe you're one of those people who puts a little smiley face on the back flap when you seal the envelope, or a heart or a kiss, or something only the person getting the letter will understand. And there's something mysterious about dropping your letter in that big blue box and knowing it's magically going to get to it's destination. I know it's not really magic; it's just a bunch of big machines reading and sorting. But it still seems magical to me. You drop this little bit of paper in a box and someone, somewhere receives it. With luck, it'll even be the person you sent it to. And what if they write back? Ooh, the anticipation! There's something personal, formal, warm, proper and fun in real mail that our speedy, efficient, cold and casual email will never duplicate.

Now I have to go to the bathroom; I got a letter today.

I Can't Kill This One (I Hope)

2006-01-06T21:13:00.000-06:00

So now that we know just how good I am with plants and animals, you will understand why my husband gave me an iDog for Christmas. The package says the iDog is for ages 8 and up. I'm up.

I recommend him, (even if you don't kill every living thing in your care like I seem to). He really is quite endearing, making little noises and dancing and barking to music. His face lights up depending upon how happy he is. And whenever he has looked or acted like he was dying, so far he's just needed new batteries.

The instructions say you are supposed to give him attention to keep him happy, but, well, I'm not good at that part. I realized the other night that I had left him sitting alone on my desk for about four hours. And, yup, he was still in there, occasionally barking a little bit trying to lure me back to pet his head or play him some music. Of course, I left him there until the next morning, but still, this is my kinda pet. With luck, I won't be trying to figure out how to flush this one.

If you want to check him out, you can go to Amazon.com and get the White iDog. Or coming soon, get the Black iDog. Have fun!

A Fish Story

2006-01-05T22:17:00.000-06:00

Yesterday, I told you about my unique skills with plants and I mentioned parenthetically that, from time to time, I've had a similar effect on fish. Well, today my fish died. It was very sad.

As I was trying to get him out of his cute little bowl with the colorful rocks and into the toilet, I tried to think kind thoughts about him. I remembered all the fun times we had together: seeing him swim in seemingly endless circles in his cozy bowl; banging on the bowl and watching him swim around erratically to amuse me; watching him jump for his food whenever I would drop some in after forgetting for a week or so. Good times. Sushi was indeed a prince among fish.

In this solemn moment, with my fingers poised above the handle, I began to worry that all living things perish at my touch, so later I did a quick Google search to see what I could learn. Sushi was a beta or betta (I always called him a beta; maybe that's what killed him), so I checked out a couple Web sites that discussed care of bettas.

One site I found was Ask the Vet — Solving Pet Health Questions. (Maybe I should have checked this site yesterday.) The "Ask the Vet" guy had the following things to say about the care of bettas:

"The beauty about betta fish is that they don't need a large tank to survive, they can cope quite well in a small bowl with no requirement for a filtration system." — Okay, I did pretty well on this one. Sushi's bowl was not a large tank and there was no filtration system. But, compared to the tiny little plastic specimen cup he was in at the pet shop, he practically had an ocean to swim in. And now, I like to think he's on his way to that big ocean (in the Gulf of Mexico).

"… there are some betta owners who will swear that having a tank system with a filtration system does seem to make for a happier fish." — Sushi never appeared to be depressed; he wasn't moping about or prone to fits of melancholy. He did seem to be sleeping a lot though.

"Generally, the smaller the container for your betta fish, the more likely you need to do frequent water changes." — Huh? Change it into what?

"They aren't particularly fussy about food, you can feed them once a day or twice if you feel the urge to." — Does that say once or twice a day?

I learned a lot at that Web site. If you want to know how to help your fishy get to heaven, I suggest reading the Question and Answer section at the bottom of the page — it involves Vodka and the freezer. That doesn't sound so bad.

Anyway, cheers, Sushi!

Not Great with Plants

2006-01-04T20:44:00.000-06:00

Tonight, I am once again unprepared to write, and I've already discussed how great the staple puller is.

I could tell you about how bad I am with plants — really bad. I used to be really good. At one time, I had plants not just growing but thriving all over my home. Now the only things I seem to be able to keep growing are the weeds in my back yard. Those grow just fine … and really fast.

Everything else, however, lasts about a week before it shrivels up into a dead, brown, unrecognizable mess that slowly drops parts onto my floor. There's a patch of lawn out front that has not had grass growing on it for ten years. I keep putting grass there: seeds, sod, fertilizer. It grows for a week and then starts to die. It saves a little money; dirt doesn't need much water.

I finally discovered that Sago Palms would grow in my yard quite well. In fact, the less attention I pay to them the better they seem to do. (I had some fish like that once.) Anyway, you can probably imagine what my yard is like — lots of Sago Palms. Luckily I like them, but even if I didn't … you know, they grow.

Indoor plants are different. You actually have to pay some attention to them at some time. And that is where the system breaks down. Generally, I get around to paying them some attention when I find myself cleaning up all the dropped leaves. As far as I can tell, apparently, it is too late by then. In fact, fussing over them at that point seems to hasten their demise.

I like to think they're not really dead when I put them in the trash and that they may be resurrected in another place. I imagine a landfill somewhere, dotted with my discarded house plants that, once away from my brown thumb, revived themselves to live long, flowering and happy lives.

Literacy 2

2006-01-03T22:35:00.000-06:00

I'm feeling pretty proud of myself right now. I continued my volunteer job at the literacy center tonight. It's a rewarding experience. The kids and parents I've met are inspiring; they work hard and it's making a difference in their lives.

During a conversation with the education director of the center, he mentioned change. The work these families do to learn and break through the barriers to learning, is changing more than the children's grades. It often changes life at home, how they interact in school, and so much more.

I didn't have a very difficult time in school. I've always loved learning things and, while I didn't always like my teacher or some of the other aspects of public school, I always liked the part about learning something. So I did not grow up with or experience the difficulties and set-backs that some children face these days. This volunteer experience is teaching me a lot about the unique challenges at school for today's children.

It's not always just about intelligence. What I observed tonight was children who could easily learn when taught properly. To continue my thoughts from yesterday, schools today are not in the business of teaching. Actual teaching has become an extra bonus. Our schools babysit, they counsel, they evaluate, they refer to doctors, they suggest or even insist on prescriptions — but they rarely teach. If it happens, it is almost by accident.

So when a child comes into the literacy center thinking they are not smart or that they are the problem, and then a couple hours later they are improved, it changes their lives, and it changes the family.

If there is a literacy center near you that is really helping children learn, go volunteer some time to help. You'll just love yourself for it!

Literacy

2006-01-02T21:41:00.000-06:00

(noun) 1. the ability to read and write to a competent level 2. knowledge of or competence in a subject or area of activity. (Encarta College Dictionary)

Tonight, I started a temporary volunteer job at a nearby literacy center. I can read pretty well. I also can usually string together some words and have them make sense. So I consider myself pretty literate. I truly believe in the importance of developing good reading and writing skills — in fact, I believe all education depends upon these skills — but this was my first time helping at a literacy center.

It turns out there's more to it than pointing someone at a book and saying "Those are words. Read them." And it's not just about reading the words; this literacy center actually wants students to comprehend the words — pretty high standards in today's educational arena.

I didn't get to work with any students tonight; I'll probably be in training longer than the volunteer job lasts. I did learn how to administer a word recognition and reading comprehension test. I was quite amazed to see just how low a person's comprehension can be and still rate a pass according to our educational system. This may explain the county motor vehicle department or the customer service department of any company.

If you think literacy doesn't affect you because you can read and write, you'd better think again. Literacy and the standards for literacy are declining faster than the queues fill up at the unemployment office. In the US, students are not mastering basic literacy skills, much less the math and science skills this country needs to keep in step with the rest of the world. More and more, US industry is going outside the country to recruit the scientists and technical personnel it needs and can't find here. And at the same time, education spends more and more resources on social programs, failed teaching methods (like sight reading and new math), and labeling and drugging our children. If it continues this way, pretty soon we'll be happy if Johnny can count to 20 using his fingers and toes.

Fifty, even twenty, years ago when grades were down, you looked at the teacher or the subject or the textbooks to see how they could be improved. Today, when whole generations are falling behind, we look to see what brain disorder the children have and how we can chemically improve them. This is irresponsible to the point of criminality. Our schools don't teach anymore. They are quickly becoming mental health clinics. This is so convenient. No one has any responsibility. The teachers don't have to worry about teaching well. Parents don't have to get involved in their children's education, children don't have to try hard to get good grades. It's no one's fault; it's a brain disorder; get the medicine.

Just don't expect much at the motor vehicle department.

Welcome 2006

2006-01-01T22:32:00.000-06:00

Okay, 2005 is gone. And the new year has begun. A new start? New opportunities? What will they be? As always, at this time of year, I find my self wondering about what's to come and hoping for opportunities to make my life richer. And by richer, of course, I mean I want more money. I want my business to rake in the money in big bushels this year! I wouldn't mind winning some big contest with a big cash payoff. I want interest rates to skyrocket and the stock market to hit never-before highs.

All that being established, there are a few opportunities that are within me to create: I want a chance to be a better friend. A chance to be more professional in my work. A chance to help someone and a chance to let someone help me. A chance to show my husband and my family how much I love them. A chance to feel the warmth of their love.

I am an artist and I want to create an effect. I want to wake people up; I want to help them sleep better. I want to end abuse and suffering. I want a chance to somehow, in some way, make a difference in my neighborhood, my city, my state, my country, my world.

I want to make people smile; I want to make them think. Or at least, I want to make them think about smiling. It's going to be a good year.

Goodbye 2005

2005-12-31T23:16:00.000-06:00

As 2005 comes quickly to a close and I think back on the year, I realize that for the most part, it was a good year and I am grateful for my good fortunes. I'm well. My family is well. For some members of my family 2005 was a year of healing from tremendous loss. For other family members it was a year of new beginnings and the welcoming of a new addition.

There are moments from the last year that I will never forget. Some moments I will think back on with a smile, some with sadness. Most of my memories from 2005 will warm my heart in one way or another and in some future year I will find myself thinking "That was a good year." I traveled to Mexico and a few other places, and enjoyed all the things I saw and experienced and learned. I volunteered a lot of my time last year to help projects in which I strongly believe. I worked hard and occasionally wondered if it was worth all the work. It was, and I am a better person for it.

Life goes on. The world keeps turning. The end of each year gives us the birth of a new one, with new opportunities, new challenges, new sorrows and new joys. Goodbye 2005 and thank you for everything you brought to my life.

Happy New Year!

Office Supply Treasures

2005-12-30T22:56:00.000-06:00

I didn't have any topic planned for today but since my exercise is to write something every day, no matter what, I started looking around my office for inspiration. And there it was, sitting in a bowl on my desk — the lowly staple puller.

Now you might think I could find a much more inspiring object to write about, but, well, think about it. How many big, fancy and expensive office machines are as efficient at their task as the staple puller, or as easy to master? It doesn't even come with instructions. It's just that easy to use. Why, I have seen people operate the staple puller so well that you could barely tell where the staple had been — and then combine that with the additional skill of lining up the new staple in the old holes!

We're talking about an ingenious device that unerringly unstaples. And without it, you can imagine what a mess there would be. Badly stapled reports, with crooked or misaligned pages would be common. Offices would be littered with torn pages with little bits of punched paper dangling from where a previous staple had been pried loose. And what of all the chipped fingernails and punctured fingertips?

I don't know who invented the staple puller. Some great humanitarian, I'm sure. Someone whose great passion is making the office a better place to work and staple. And I, for one, appreciate it.

The Joys of Blogging

2005-12-29T22:36:00.000-06:00

I've only just begun this adventure in Blogging but I am very excited by the possibilities. It has quickly become much more than a writing exercise. Communication is the answer to so many things in life. It solves all problems (even if it might seem to have caused some of those problems). It allows us to teach, and learn. It is the basis of a good relationship. It's how we make friends. And so much more.

Did you ever meet someone you thought was standoffish or unapproachable? Then one day, for some reason, you had to talk to that person and they turned out to love peanut butter, banana and pickle sandwiches just as much as you do. Pretty soon you're meeting for lunch every day, comparing notes on just which brand of pickles tastes best, whether Peter Pan crunchy is as good as Jiff, and you can no longer imagine your life without this wonderful friend.

Well, blogging has the potential to make us all lots of new friends. I'm sure there are some who will use the medium to try to divide people, but if the rest of us just keep on communicating through, they won't have a chance. The world is shrinking a little every day and blogging is like a hot water wash. Just don't forget to put some softener in the rinse.

My Search for Perfect Headphones

2005-12-28T17:40:00.000-06:00

I have been on about a six-month quest for the perfect headphones. I'm sad to write that I am still looking.

It all started when I went on a trip over the summer and realized that my ears simply don't work with earbuds for periods of time over a few minutes. I completely blame my ears; they apparently are not shaped correctly. Earbuds fall out, either immediately or slowly, giving me the impression that the volume isn't high enough. Eventually I end up with the volume turned up as high as possible and when I push the earbuds back in, I get a blast of sound ... for a minute or two until they start to fall out again. I've tried lots of manufacturers and types but with no success.

Finally accepting that earbuds were not for me, I moved on to nice, soft headphones that hook over the ears. These might have worked, except the first ones I tried came around the back of my head. I think this is probably a nice idea, but once again there is clearly something not quite right about the shape of my head and it stops me from enjoying the listenting experience I am seeking. Every time I move my head or turn to look at something, the nice soft little pads move off my ears. The ones that don't go around the back of the head seem to offer fewer difficulties for my obviously deformed body.

I've had great listening experiences with full-size headphones that cover your whole ear and block out everything else. However, most of the ones I've tried weigh about 3 pounds and are bigger than my head, so once again they start to slide down off my ears.

Am I asking too much? Am I unreasonable? Am I the only person with such deformed head and ears that no headphones will ever work? In a world where a Google search for "headphones" yields 24 million results, you'd think I could find some I really like ...

... I don't seem to be able to hear my music anymore; I better adjust the volume ...

Some Shops Still Want Cash!

2005-12-27T20:12:00.000-06:00

I was out today running a few errands, tying up loose ends after the holiday and before the new year. I went into a small shop to make a fairly small purchase, but did not have the necessary cash with me. When I asked if I could use my debit card, they said "No." And "No" to credit cards. At first I was stunned and slightly put off. "They must not want my business if they insist on cash only. Well, they won't be in business long," said I.

What happened? What happened to me? What happened to shopping? When I was a kid, things were just the opposite: You would never even think of putting a small purchase on a credit card! Credit cards were for buying sofas or washing machines - big stuff you needed to pay for over time. Shopkeepers didn't want plastic. They wanted money. Cash.

I can remember making jokes about this when I was a kid. "Someday we won't even need money. hahaha!" Well, I never expected to wake up one day and realize that I almost never use cash or to find, when asked for cash at a shop, that I was unprepared and surprised.

I guess for me plastic money is more convenient. I definitely have better control over my spending and better records of where my money goes. But today I was reminded of simpler times when you had the money in your pocket for the things you needed. It was an easy, obvious exchange. "I want that; I'll give you this." No privacy policies. No pages of disclaimers requiring agreement. No interest rates. No late fees. No service charges.

Plus, money has a different feeling in your hand than plastic. Plastic is cold and hard. Money, particularly money that has been around for a while, feels soft and kind of warm. Having credit cards in my hand never makes me feel rich. But having a big wad of cash somehow makes me feel affluent, ready to spend, willing to spend. And there is the reason I don't keep it in my pocket.

The Day After

2005-12-26T20:02:00.000-06:00

It's the day after Christmas. Some people had to get up and go back to work today. I'm lucky; I was able to relax and enjoy the holiday. Nothing had to be done. Nothing had to be bought or wrapped. Nothing had to be cooked (delicious leftovers - heat and serve). Nobody was waiting for anything. Or expecting anything. It wasn't exciting; it was pleasant. A slow moment. A chance to look at the tree and the lights. A chance to appreciate my good fortunes in life. A chance to look forward to the approaching new year. A chance to think about all the things I will surely do differently in 2006.

So this was a nice day to begin my new blog.

Getting Started

2005-12-26T19:40:00.000-06:00

I don't know if anyone will ever find anything here of interest. I have another blog (Ballyhoo Blog) where I post ideas, tips, news, etc. related to graphic design and marketing; and a blog about vintage crate labels (OobyNews). Hopefully some folks will find their information useful.

This blog is mostly for me. Although, I hope some of you will find my ramblings informative or entertaining. If you like something I write, I hope you will comment. If you don't find my writing interesting, I hope you will simply ignore me.