1980s, Hearing problems, technology

Is it Just Me?

I think the flat calls started in the nineties. Newer, thinner, flatter, and cheaper phones took over from those receivers that hugged the ear, directing the sound of a voice right into the ear. The ringer was adjustable, and the curly cord was useful for winding onto the fist for tense calls or just because nothing felt as neat as puling that cord until it was straight. As time passed, Ma Bell didn’t even rent phones anymore. Anyone could go to the local Walmart and buy one, or a person could get a two-for deal, perhaps three if there are three places to put phones. The features on these new landline phones proved excellent, especially the caller ID and video, plus, plus, plus etc. But the receivers are almost perfectly flat. And we use cells mostly now, so I highly doubt a phone will be anything but flat forevermore. This is progressive technology.

Cells are the thing now, of course. Portable and thin, pretty much weightless. Blue tooth in vehicles, so honest to God, no one needs to miss a call now. But back to the point here: phones are flat. If I’m on my cell and there’s background noise, I can’t hear who I’m talking to; not without making a face, you know, the face like there’s great and sudden pain in the eye or tooth. One eye all winked shut, mouth looks like I’m chewing grizzle as I press that thing to my face. Maybe it’s just my antique Blueberry phone. Maybe it’s everyone’s cell phone or fancy landline phone. Flat. Hard to hear sometimes. Is it just me?

I won’t keep you long. I just want to make my point, which is, in the photo I’m showing you this gadget someone should get massive credit for. I must google it and see if I can send an email of undiluted praise. I found it in a thrift shop. My hubby was with me, so I called his cell. Well, well, look at that. It works. I wiped it down with alcohol and I’m back in the curly cord eighties, only with my ancient Blueberry cell connected. I love it. And yes, ladies and gentlemen, it has the volume control on the side.

Just one itty bitty thing, though. Since I’m an original sixties human myself, I’m trained to hang up a “phone off the hook” as we called it. So I see my eighties receiver on the end table and it sucks me in every time, just for a second, but still— somebody’s gotta hang up that phone.

Thanks for reading.

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past the season lights, suspicious neighbours, Uncategorized

Seems It’s Never Too Late For Christmas Lights

So many people have the same problem with the cold. Travelling the side streets, resting Christmas lights are common. It’s too friggin’ cold to take them down. They just hang there, unlit, unremarkable, collecting street salt mist since it’s January 29th.

From my back door window, across the street, a blaze continues nightly. It’s not an elaborate scene, but Christmas lights burning nonetheless. One porch railing has white lights, the other golden, soft white. A wrapping of pine needle rope is decorated with blue, green, and red lights. There’s a wreath in the midst of it. It’s lit up, too. Balls hang off the rope—what’s left of them. Looks like a solitary Santa hanging there as well, clinking against lights when the wind blows. The whole lawn is illuminated by this created light fest.

I’m not in the least bothered by this—because I don’t have to take it all down and find a space to cram it, but I’m amused. I’m in the habit now of looking each night to see if they’ve decided it’s too late for Christmas lights. Seems it’s not ever too late. But it’s late  January now… the Christmas ship has sailed so to speak.

When will they take their Christmas lights down? Maybe they won’t. These neighbours are elderly. Not ancient, but grey poking out from their wooly hats says they probably don’t care what others think. We get to an age when the important issues are: did the bran work?; trying not to forget where we just set down a mug of coffee; when’s my kid coming to show me how to manage the latest technology of the snazzy elliptical needed for exercise; where’s the Tylenol, and who ate the last of the damn ice cream. So let the lights burn. It’s too much to remove them in the cold, and why waste a display.  Live for what’s important.

I suppose if the colours are still lit next month, I should ask if they’d like help. But what if they push me off the porch with a broom. What if they call the cops because I’m trepassing? See? This is the thing. Sometimes neighbours we don’t really know are grateful for help, sometimes they’re too suspicious. I could get my ass kicked by a couple married of forty years. Don’t laugh. These people could own cast iron frying pans. I can barely pick, never mind cook with it.

But if I don’t ask, I may be able to amuse myself throughout the summer with the countdown until those lights are valid once again.

Live and let lights burn. I’d post a photo, but I didn’t want to step foot near the lights for fear of a small, fast dog. Those little ones have a good aim. Their bite surely is as bad as their bark. Haha~ Well, that’s it. All I had to say.

Thanks for reading.

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Human Behaviour, Human Nature, Humour

Uninformed Greedy Guts

The system was I’d make enough din-din so hubby could warm his portion at work the following night.

Well, I made extra the night before so I could do something quick with it for myself the next evening. Hungry early and looking forward to my already cooked main stir fry ingredient, I went to the fridge. I couldn’t find it. I moved stuff. I squatted down, hung onto the shelves and thoroughly inspected the fridge’s contents. Gone? I shut the fridge door, counted three Mississippi’s and opened it again. I looked like a curious dog, you know, how they turn their heads and relate with their eyebrows.

Then it hit me… uninformed greedy guts left the container with his three course meal and took my extra, because that container was the biggest. I hugged my middle all bent over and scared the cats with my maniacal laughter and slaps on the counter. Utter greed—he took four grey, cooked chicken legs with wrinkled, cold skin on them, crushed down unceremoniously into the container with no veggies, no potato. Ew!

I knew what he was calling about that night. It was either for sympathy or we’d laugh together. I laughed the hardest.

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Cat lovers, Human Behaviour, Uncategorized

Passwords Lockouts

It would seem that I neglected my blog page, and I have. Sort of.

Password lockouts have kept me from blogging. I don’t claim to understand why my password stops working, but here I am after what seems like being held down by a size 15 shoe on an athletic foot which of course would be on the connecting leg. That’s as far as my mind film goes.

I’m all right. I have survived worse. Like being pinned to the couch by my seventeen pound cat. They know when we have a full bladder. They prove their mysterious cat knowledge by kneading the bladder.

In the meantime, when I’m not trapped on my furniture, I have noticed new readers and followers, so thank you for  keeping me alive! If the password gods have mercy, I’ll blog again soon.

The sun has graced my part of the world with its occasional grin today. It’s been grey for a month. I must get out there.

Thanks again, and have a sunny day.

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Humour

God Helps Greedy Guts Hubby To Reform

NO VEGGIE, NO POTATO

The system was that I made dinner and Hubby would get his three-course din-din to go for the next night so he could warm it at work. Well, I made extra one night so I could do something with it the next night. Hungry early the next night and looking forward to an easy din-din, I went to the fridge for the extra. I couldn’t find it. I moved stuff. I squatted down, hung onto the shelves and thoroughly inspected the fridge’s contents. Still, it was gone. I shut the fridge, counted to three, and opened it again. I was looking like a curious dog, you know, how they turn their heads. Then it hit me…my guy left his reasonably-sized  supper container and took my large container of extra. I laughed and laughed—four chicken legs with wrinkled, cold skin on them, shoved carelessly into the container, no veggies, no potato. Ew. Ha! I knew what he was calling about that day. It was either for sympathy or we’d laugh together. I laughed the hardest.

God has a way of letting us know when we need to rethink our behaviours. So there. God can do two things at once. I needed that belly laugh, and Hubby needed to know the biggest isn’t always the best. 😉

L. P. Penner, 2013

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Humour

Funny Facts About God’s Cats

CAT CHAT

We cats are quite remarkable.
Allow us to explain
what it is about us
that makes us so very vain.

Cats don’t merely walk,
we strut.
And cats don’t need much sleep,
just naps.

We cats rarely feast,
we prefer to nibble.
And we too have different tastes,
some for canned food,
some for kibble.

Cats don’t just jump,
we pounce.
And we’re very agile;
astounding balance.

Cats don’t give in so much
to what you expect of us;
we negotiate,
until you give in to us!

So, if you are so lucky
to be owned by one of us,
or maybe a couple or three,
perhaps you can learn a thing or two
about living independently….

L. P. Penner, 2015

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