I endorse the idea of GIOMC, periodically publishing much shorter pieces and observations. The key situation is unique to each person. In this house, we are going on 30 years of real estate practice and management so keys are the tool of the trade; as are long winded documents. Don't get me started on the piles of both .... (go ahead and give this writer feedback on her careless use of semi colons and ellipses.) The dusty suggestion box leaves me feeling a mix of nostalgic for handwritten and read in real time suggestions and sad for the state of that PO. I agree with a recent comedy bit about how cool the US PO is, it really is, as the comedian says, "I can walk in with a piece of paper in California and say, 'please take this to Alaska' and the response is, 'it will take 2 days and 55 cents.' That's pretty cool."
The post office is a marvel....especially when it works. I might write about the old days when children were sent by mail---no joke---since that was an efficient, cheap way to go for folks sending them to relatives and such.
I am looking forward to reading about that. It reminds me of a book that lingers constantly in my mind, still tickling me with its gentle touches of humor, the Orphan Train by Christina Baker Kline. I think I'll give it a re-read.
Good thing you didn't have quadruplets. Yes, I honor the turning of the speedometer. 9 keys? Amateur! Could have written "My suggestion? Dust a minute, I'll let you know" Fun column.
All we are, Marty, is dust in the winsome column. I had someone sent me a photo of all the keys she and her husband have assembled over the years----it puts my photo to shame!! That same person also gets fruits in multiples of three, takes photos of the odometer clicking over to the next 1,000----AND she attended the Hall and Oates concert. Worst ever, she reported.
Similar discovery. Decades ago, when my father-in-law was still alive and everyone still smoked, I needed a match to light a candle. I asked my father-in-law for a match. I expected him to tear one off the matchbook sitting in his shirt pocket with his package of Marlboros. Instead he gave me an entire book of matches. That's when I learned that he needed his cigarettes and his matches to always have the same number left in the pack.
p.s. I couldn't remember what brand of cigarettes George smoked, but I went to my google photos album and searched for photos of him. Sure enough, there was one from 1976. He's sitting in a bed in a motel room, with a package of Marlboros on the nightstand. He's dressed, but my mother-in-law is still in her filmy nightgown. Our pajama-ed daughter is in the photo, too, not yet one year old, which is how I was able to date the photo. The nightstand also has a Magic Fingers machine, another vintage touch.
One of the things Bridgett evidently brings to your life is she gives you an outlet for your very real gift for satire, which I think you are too considerate to generally indulge. "Bucked this peculiar mandate"; "Meekly acquiesced to this dictate"; -- fine stuff! And the teasing is all built of love, which comes through.
I do not have that particular fruit hang-up, and if anyone says that he or she does in the poll, I will not countenance it. I mean, what are the chances of having the exact same superstition, or really glitch? But I have countless others like that, and I will only discuss them when forced to. My excuse for having developed them is that I live alone, and would certainly never have if I had known I would be sharing them. I'm not really offended when I am questioned, but my quirks are truly private, truly no one else's business. Just things to get me through the day. But, yes, the sad truth is that they are non-negotiable, and I am annoyed if I am forced to stray.
We certainly are alike personalities in terms of being particular and number obsessed, so I can relate to the odometer homage, not surprisingly. I would say I force myself to care. It's almost like I feel it's disrespectful if I don't note the moment, as one would feel about missing a friend's birthday. It's probably a bad thing, a form of idolatry. I don't think the 77,777th mile really matters. And noting it isn't going to prevent death.
One thing that strikes me as somewhat similar to that, and I really don't get in the modern age, is why ballplayers need to keep the ball from every milestone they achieve, but particularly from the very dubious ones, like their 500th RBI or something. For me, it wouldn't really matter what it was, how significant. It's not that all of the balls look the same, although that's probably true (it's definitely another form of idolatry). It's that the impression given is that you are keeping the ball to prove to others that you achieved the milestone. That would have made sense before record books. But anyone can open up Baseball Reference and see that you had that number of RBI! It's truly pointless to keep the ball, and I will admire the spine of the player who refuses. I know there's a Barry Sanders out there who will.
A question for you. You always send the columns out first thing Saturday morning, at what has to be before 7:00 Central Time. I take it the column is basically all written when you wake up? Do you just do one final edit, and then send it? Curious (and maybe nosy) minds want to know!
I endorse the idea of GIOMC, periodically publishing much shorter pieces and observations. The key situation is unique to each person. In this house, we are going on 30 years of real estate practice and management so keys are the tool of the trade; as are long winded documents. Don't get me started on the piles of both .... (go ahead and give this writer feedback on her careless use of semi colons and ellipses.) The dusty suggestion box leaves me feeling a mix of nostalgic for handwritten and read in real time suggestions and sad for the state of that PO. I agree with a recent comedy bit about how cool the US PO is, it really is, as the comedian says, "I can walk in with a piece of paper in California and say, 'please take this to Alaska' and the response is, 'it will take 2 days and 55 cents.' That's pretty cool."
The post office is a marvel....especially when it works. I might write about the old days when children were sent by mail---no joke---since that was an efficient, cheap way to go for folks sending them to relatives and such.
I am looking forward to reading about that. It reminds me of a book that lingers constantly in my mind, still tickling me with its gentle touches of humor, the Orphan Train by Christina Baker Kline. I think I'll give it a re-read.
Good thing you didn't have quadruplets. Yes, I honor the turning of the speedometer. 9 keys? Amateur! Could have written "My suggestion? Dust a minute, I'll let you know" Fun column.
All we are, Marty, is dust in the winsome column. I had someone sent me a photo of all the keys she and her husband have assembled over the years----it puts my photo to shame!! That same person also gets fruits in multiples of three, takes photos of the odometer clicking over to the next 1,000----AND she attended the Hall and Oates concert. Worst ever, she reported.
Similar discovery. Decades ago, when my father-in-law was still alive and everyone still smoked, I needed a match to light a candle. I asked my father-in-law for a match. I expected him to tear one off the matchbook sitting in his shirt pocket with his package of Marlboros. Instead he gave me an entire book of matches. That's when I learned that he needed his cigarettes and his matches to always have the same number left in the pack.
p.s. I couldn't remember what brand of cigarettes George smoked, but I went to my google photos album and searched for photos of him. Sure enough, there was one from 1976. He's sitting in a bed in a motel room, with a package of Marlboros on the nightstand. He's dressed, but my mother-in-law is still in her filmy nightgown. Our pajama-ed daughter is in the photo, too, not yet one year old, which is how I was able to date the photo. The nightstand also has a Magic Fingers machine, another vintage touch.
One of the things Bridgett evidently brings to your life is she gives you an outlet for your very real gift for satire, which I think you are too considerate to generally indulge. "Bucked this peculiar mandate"; "Meekly acquiesced to this dictate"; -- fine stuff! And the teasing is all built of love, which comes through.
I do not have that particular fruit hang-up, and if anyone says that he or she does in the poll, I will not countenance it. I mean, what are the chances of having the exact same superstition, or really glitch? But I have countless others like that, and I will only discuss them when forced to. My excuse for having developed them is that I live alone, and would certainly never have if I had known I would be sharing them. I'm not really offended when I am questioned, but my quirks are truly private, truly no one else's business. Just things to get me through the day. But, yes, the sad truth is that they are non-negotiable, and I am annoyed if I am forced to stray.
We certainly are alike personalities in terms of being particular and number obsessed, so I can relate to the odometer homage, not surprisingly. I would say I force myself to care. It's almost like I feel it's disrespectful if I don't note the moment, as one would feel about missing a friend's birthday. It's probably a bad thing, a form of idolatry. I don't think the 77,777th mile really matters. And noting it isn't going to prevent death.
One thing that strikes me as somewhat similar to that, and I really don't get in the modern age, is why ballplayers need to keep the ball from every milestone they achieve, but particularly from the very dubious ones, like their 500th RBI or something. For me, it wouldn't really matter what it was, how significant. It's not that all of the balls look the same, although that's probably true (it's definitely another form of idolatry). It's that the impression given is that you are keeping the ball to prove to others that you achieved the milestone. That would have made sense before record books. But anyone can open up Baseball Reference and see that you had that number of RBI! It's truly pointless to keep the ball, and I will admire the spine of the player who refuses. I know there's a Barry Sanders out there who will.
A question for you. You always send the columns out first thing Saturday morning, at what has to be before 7:00 Central Time. I take it the column is basically all written when you wake up? Do you just do one final edit, and then send it? Curious (and maybe nosy) minds want to know!