NON-SMOKER'S REVENGE

I used to smoke. I stopped many years before it became the “smart” thing to do but it took a long time before the smell of smoke didn’t make me want to relapse! And even now every once in a while a whiff of smoke will, like a flashback, run a tiny video through my sensory nerves of that time some forty-five years ago when I took my last puff.

But except for that unbidden little blip of memory, smelling someone else’s smoke is just about the most irritating thing I can think of. The crazy thing is that as all of us non-smokers know, second-hand smoke will always and immediately drift over to the nose of a non-smoker. Even if the smoker moves, a breeze will suddenly appear that heads the smoke to the nearest nose again.

In the apartment where I live, the room I use for an office backs up to my neighbor Larry’s den. Larry is a smoker, and even with my window closed, I can smell it when he lights up. I do believe a person has a right to smoke in their own abode, and since Larry is a good neighbor, I just can’t bring myself to tell him his smoke is offending me. So I just grin and bear it. I am not much of a confronter.

But some people are. I had a good laugh the other day to read in the paper about a big brouhaha in Florida between a smoker and a non-smoker. Seems the smoker stepped outside her apartment to have a cigarette and of course the smoke immediately drifted into a nonsmoking neighbor’s apartment. There is some kind of back-story that wasn’t told in the newspaper about events leading up to the brouhaha, but the upshot of the matter is that the police arrested the non-smoking woman for waving a can of Glade Potpourri Air Freshener around the smoking woman's head while dispensing its contents. The police report said the offender then allegedly pointed the can at the back of the other woman's head and sprayed it for nearly a full minute. Police said she told the victim she would keep using the spray can as long as the victim kept smoking in front of the attacker's apartment.

"I will do it again, and take it to the Supreme Court because I have the right to breathe fresh air," the police report quoted the suspect as saying. The woman was arrested and charged with battery.

As I said earlier, I am not much of a confronter. As some of you will understand after my latest episode of confrontation, it makes my chest hurt! But I have to admit that I understand exactly how the non-smoking woman felt. There have been plenty of times when I wish I’d had a can of air freshener in my own hand. I hope the Florida judge will take pity on the attacker and not hit her too hard with consequences for her action. It’s true, I don’t approve of what she did, but I certainly do understand why she did it!

MARCHING TO A DIFFERENT DRUMMER

In Istanbul we lived on the Asian side of the city in an area called Goztepe. Directly across the street from our apartment was a very large park and at the far edge of the park an elementary school. Early each morning the children would gather in the park at the entrance to the school, all decked out in their school uniforms, and sing the Turkish National Anthem.

Our flat was on the 6th floor of the building overlooking the park, and each morning we heard the children sing. They were accompanied by a tape, so it was a very nice rendition of their National Anthem and we could hear it loud and clear. We lived in that apartment for almost two years, and we heard that tune enough that I could at least hum the melody along with them. Jerry, not being very musically inclined, was not particularly interested in the daily event, but I was quite taken with it. The little kids were so cute and so earnest.

Although I cannot now remember what the occasion was, one morning after the singing I could see the children all re-arranging themselves and suddenly the flag bearers stepped out in time to the music and they began marching along the paths in the park as if they were in a parade.


Next came a group of horn players. They didn't have instrumental horns but horns nevertheless that they quietly tooted in concert with the music and their marching. The boys got to play the horns.


Next came the lady drummers. There was not the noise one would expect to hear with that many drums but they certainly were doing quiet little rat-a-tat-tats.

It took several verses of the national anthem to get them around the route that had been selected for them. It was strange to be watching and not really understand what was going on, except that it was as much fun for me to watch them as it was for them to make a big parade! By the time the parade passed in front of our apartment and headed around the bend, all the residents of the apartments were out on their balconies watching the festivities - and you can be sure that we gave those children a standing ovation.

Things like this were one of the serendipities we had during our two years there in Istanbul. We didn't need to understand; it was enough to simply look, enjoy and applaud.

In 1993 we came home. Occasionally I would catch myself humming the Turkish National Anthem, which struck me funny because I don't believe ever in my whole life have I hummed The Star Spangled Banner. But the Turkish National Anthem is a march, and marches are made for humming along. I didn't have the Internet until 1997, so it took me that long to get accompaniment to my humming.

So I've provided you all with a lovely rendition found on YouTube. When I hear it I remember all those darling children in their special little parade. And when you hear it, you can listened for my humming!

I WISH!

A very interesting article in the LA Times this morning, especially if you are one of those people who contribute to the 5% monthly loss that hotels/motels experience of their linens:

"A company out of Florida has developed a device to pinpoint the location of every towel, sheet and pillowcase in a hotel.

The Linen Tracker service uses thumb-size radio frequency identification tags, sewn into hotel linen, to keep an accurate linen inventory and determine when a sheet or towel needs to be replaced.

Antennas that read the devices can be placed in hotel laundry rooms and stockrooms to determine how often a towel has been washed and how many sheets and pillowcases are in a stockroom's shelves."

The article goes on to say that there already are other companies who sell hand-held scanners that keep track of inventory, but Linen Tracker makes it possible to read tags from about a 20 foot distance from the antenna.

While the object of the new company is to keep better track of inventory, if a hotel/motel wants to limit its shrinkage it can install antennas near the exit doors and catch linen thieves in the act.

I've never considered stealing towels, washclothes or sheets, but one time I briefly considered how to negotiate with the motel to trade my mattress at home for the one I slept on in their facility. I didn't consider stealing it, but I sure hated to check out and leave after I'd had the best night's sleep in years.

MAIL CALL

It was about 11 a.m. Jerry was in his recliner in the living room with a cat on his lap and a cross-word puzzle book in his hand. From his vantage point he could see the front yard and the street. From an adjacent room where I sat at the computer I heard him say loudly, “Here’s the mail!”

At our house there is an unwritten rule that whoever doesn’t have the cat on their lap will bring in the mail. It was early for the mailman, but I knew Jerry expected me to go check the mailbox, so I called back to him, “I’ll come in a sec.” Jerry retorted, “You’re gonna’ miss him! Quick!”

I didn’t understand why I needed to get to the mailman immediately, but just in case he knew something I didn’t, I hustled out to the living room where I found Jerry excitedly pointing out the window. “There he is!”

There was no mailman.

But there was a male oriole at our hummingbird feeder. Mama oriole had been there earlier and we had remarked on how seldom we see the intensely colored yellow and black male. Sure enough, here he was. And because I hustled, I got to see him.

There have been times in our marriage when understanding each other has been as confusing as it was the other morning. The confusion wasn’t a case of who was right and who was wrong. In this particular case, my ear didn’t discern between “mail” and “male” – and nothing else said by either of us clarified the meaning of what Jerry said and what I thought he meant. Neither of our intentions were meant to irritate each other, so we just chalked it up to “another miscommunication” and laughed about it.

I once knew an older couple who bickered over everything, big or small. Statements were challenged at the drop of a hat. Recollections of either person were never accepted as correct so details had to be nit-picked until one of them gave in. Each took every word as a personal affront and responded in a cutting way. They were hard to be around, because the negativity was simply draining. Their actions, which they were not even aware of, lead to nothing more than a fight to be right. These folks were kinder to other people than they were to each other. I loved them both, and it made me sad.

I learned a lot from that older couple. I have tried my best to bring that learning into my own marriage. Jerry and I rarely argue. We don’t always agree and sometimes one of us gets a little irked. But we have chosen not to demean each other in order to be right. I think somehow marriage often slips into being a contest instead of a joint venture. I think that is such a waste of good people. When I look at couples who do that, I don’t see much love between them. I am afraid they most often don’t see themselves as other people do – negative people who bicker over everything and are not that much fun to be around.

ANONYMOUS WROTE....

I hate to post anything in its entirety that was written by someone else, even if its author was shown as "anonymous." Someone created this funny list below, but by the time it got to my eyes there was no author specifically named. So a tip of the hat to "anonymous" -- and a message: I'm borrowing your very funny article because reading it is a wonderful way to start the day!

BOOT ME UP, SCOTTY

At the COMDEX computer expo, Bill Gates reportedly stated, 'If GM had kept up with technology like the computer industry, we would all be driving $25 cars that got 1,000 miles to the gallon.'

In response to Bill's comments, General Motors issued this press release:

1. For no reason whatsoever, your car would crash - twice a day.

2. Every time they repainted the road lines, you’d have to buy a new car.

3. Occasionally your car would die on the freeway for no reason. You’d have to pull over; close all of the windows, shut off the car, restart it, and reopen the windows before you could continue. Somehow you’d simply accept this.

4. Occasionally executing a maneuver such as a left turn would cause your car to shut down and refuse to restart, in which case you’d have to reinstall the engine.

5. Macintosh would make a car that was powered by the sun, was five times as fast and twice as easy to drive - but would only run on 5% of the roads.

6. The oil, water temperature, and alternator warning lights would all be replaced by a single 'This Car Has Performed An Illegal Operation' light.

7. The airbag system would ask 'Are you sure?' before deploying.

8. Occasionally, for no reason whatsoever, your car would lock you out and refuse to let you in until you simultaneously lifted the door handle, turned the key and grabbed hold of the radio antenna.

9. Every time a new car was introduced, car buyers would have to learn how to drive all over again because none of the controls would operate in the same manner as the old car.

10. You'd have to press the 'Start' button to turn the engine off.

PS - I'd like to add that when all else fails, you could call 'customer service' in
some foreign country and be instructed in another language how to fix your car yourself!

Anonymous

PRESIDENT'S ROAST - A RECIPE

This recipe accompanied the PTA President's Procedure Book when I took my turn in that office way back in 1962. It was truly a lifesaver in those busy days.

It still tastes as good now as it did then.

PRESIDENT'S ROAST

3-4 pound beef roast (brisket, 7-bone, etc.)
1 packet dry onion soup mix

Place meat in center of double-thickness of aluminum foil large enough to completely wrap roast. Sprinkle the onion mix on top the roast. Seal tightly in foil and place in shallow open pan. Put in 200-degree oven between 9-10 a.m. and remove at dinner time (but not before 5 p.m.)

If you are no longer so rushed for time (kids grown, etc.) and want to give it a little flourish, remove from oven 1 hour before eating, carefully open one end of the aluminum foil, toss in some baby carrots, seal up tightly again, and throw some small quartered red-potatoes on top the foil. Put back in the oven for the last hour of cooking or until the potatoes are done.

Yum.

DRESSING FOR SUCCESS

There are a whole bunch of people in the world today who won't know what an Eisenhower jacket is, which is why I have put a picture of it on the blog today. So before I start, I want you all to know what I am talking about.

In late August of 1952 my mother and I set out to buy me some school clothes. I was going to be a senior at Long Beach Poly and since I had grown two inches during the summer I really needed to supplement my wardrobe. Mother pretty much let my sister and I pick out what we wanted to wear, but since it was going to be a major undertaking this time, she went with me.

We headed for Walkers Department store in downtown Long Beach, a store that fit our budget to a T - not as pricey as Buffums or Desmonds but a step up from Sears and Penneys. I had no sooner walked into the young women's department than I spied the most wonderful and glorious outfit I'd ever seen. It was a maroon two-piece fine-wale corduroy outfit - a stylish Eisenhower jacket with 3/4 length sleeves and a long pencil skirt with a fairly smallish slit on the side. The floor model had a white scarf tucked in at the neck and white Joyce shoes and anklets on the feet. The outfit shouted my name and I told mother that I needed this whole outfit, from top to toe.


I know she thought it was attractive, but being a wise and practical woman, she reminded me that because we always had such blistering hot weather in September (mainly Santa Ana winds that sent the temperatures in the three-digit range) that it probably wasn't something I should think about wearing until maybe November.

I didn't care when I wore it as long as I could have it. It wasn't the only thing I bought that day but it is the only thing I remember.

And I can remember exactly how I felt when I walked out the door that first day of School in September of 1952 dressed exactly like that floor model. Not only would it be the first day of my senior year but also the first day of my first-semester reign as Editor of the school newspaper "High Life." I felt totally dressed for such an occasion and since I loved school so much this whole day is imprinted in my mind.

My dad took my sister and me to school each day because our first period class began at 8 a.m., but we always walked home since dad had to go to work and we were a one-car family. It was a lovely, clear day. As I got out of the car I felt really well dressed and important.

By 10 a.m. a hot wind had kicked up, and by noon we were in the middle of a full-blown Santa Ana condition. The temperature was zooming past two digit and into the low 100's. Clothed in corduroy, I started sweating. Since the Eisenhower jacket took the place of a blouse, I certainly couldn't take it off. The only thing that came off was the silk scarf around my neck.

In those days the Santa Ana winds were very dirty, because they travelled west down Santa Ana Canyon where there was no development whatsoever to help hold the dirt down. As the sweat ran down my legs, my neck and even my scalp, the dust stuck to my body. Trying to brush it off just smeared it around. I kept running into the lavatory to wipe the dirt off my face and neck, but it didn't do much good. I felt horrible and looked even worse.

Finally 3:10 came, the hour school was over for the day. The idea of the mile-walk home heading east into that wind was just almost too much to bear. I tied the scarf around my face like a bandit mask, hoped no one would recognize me and turned the corner of the building to head home.

There My father's car sat next to the building, and he stood outside, signalling me to hop in. My little sister was already in the car and I crawled in beside her. I was never so happy to see anyone in my whole life! When we got home he dropped us off and headed back to work. Mother didn't say a thing like "I told you so." She just grabbed the clothes as I peeled them off and took them directly to the back porch where they would be washed, ironed and hung up until the cooler weather arrived.

I can remember that day as if it were yesterday. So many lessons in it, not the least of which is to listen to what you mother tells you!