Slowing Down

I faithful reader in Romania noted that I have not blogged in a while and suggested that I pick up the pace.  I happen to be heading to Romania (my flight leaves next Saturday, one week from today).  I would not want to arrive to an unfriendly face.

I mentioned in my last blog that I recently make my annual trek to the shoe store for new tennis shoes.  While I was there I also picked up a new pair of brown dress shoes.  I usually do this (buy 2 pair of shoes at a time) as the store I shop at has a buy 1, get the 2nd pair 1/2 price deal.  They did not have a deal going like that this time but after I found my tennis shoes and mentally had accepted the fact of not getting a deal on a 2nd pair, I perused the clearance section.

Just like shopping for tennis shoes, I only look at the sizes on the side of the shoe boxes.  There is no need to look at style or design really as historically the shoes that I like and the shoes that are in my size are, well, it is best described in a Venn diagram.

They are not part of the same set.  There is no union where a shoe appears in both sets.  Such is my (shoe) life.  Now, since I am not a woman, I will not purchase a shoe in the “Shoes that I like” set since I am not willing to trade comfort for style.  I have considered it once or twice.  I have even tried on a pair in the size below mine just in case they “ran big” but nothing in these experiments has ever resulted in an actual shoe purchase.

Anyway, I headed over to the clearance section and started looking for the number 13 (my US shoe size).  I saw a few 13’s but the shoes in the box attached to them were very deserving of their “clearance” status.  However, I did find a part that was not half bad looking and I thought for a moment there might actually be a union in the Venn diagram after all.  Once I tried them on though it was proven that the union still does not exist.

The shoes in the box (and then on my feet) were an odd looking pair of Dockers.

I think the soles of these shoes are supposed to help you walk better or something but all I can tell you is that they felt very strange.  Since the soles are not flat, you end up rocking as you walk (words fail me here to describe the feeling).  I am sure that if you watched only my head as I was walking (slowly) in these shoes then you would have seen it bob up and down.  I walked around in the store quite a bit with these shoes on and then took one final look at the price.  They were marked down about 65% so I thought I would take a chance.

I wore them to work a few days later and I still was a little unsure.  It was like learning to walk again.  I found myself really concentrating on the heel-toe walking technique.  Normally I am a very fast walker.  When I am going somewhere I am on a mission, namely to get where I am going.  I am not taking the journey to enjoy the walk.  In fact, I would probably jog or run from my cubicle to the coffee pot if that was socially acceptable.  These shoes however made me slow down, and I mean a lot (compared to my normal pace).

As the days passed by and I got more used to these shoes I was able to speed up a bit once I was able to cease concentrating on the mechanics of walking.  I was still walking slower (much slower) than my normal pace but a strange thing started happening.  I was able to enjoy the walk.  I actually took time to say hi to people that I passed in the hallway (or at least exchange a nod – something sometimes not possible when you are walking at the walking equivalent of mach 1).  I noticed the framed art on the wall.  I noticed the decorations on the outside of some co-worker’s cubicles.  I noticed some tiles that needed replaced in the ceiling.  I noticed that parts of the carpet could use a deep cleaning.  I noticed the breeze on my face as I walked to and from the car.  I noticed things that have passed me by when I was a speed walker.  I noticed that I did not have to pass or overtake the slow(er) walkers but could merge in with the normal flow of traffic.  It is a whole new world out there.

I have gotten better at walking with these shoes on and I really do like this pair that I found on the clearance rack.  Perhaps there is a union in that Venn diagram after all.

Jon

Its That Time Again

On Saturday the wife had a lunch date with a friend.  She brought the daughter along so that left the son and I with the afternoon free.  I wanted to shop for (2) things in particular: a basketball arcade game for our second garage and some new shoes.  I will leave the basketball game for a (possible) future blog but I did accomplish both of my goals for the day.

Shoe shopping for me means going to Shoe Carnival.  This store is great for me for (2) basic reasons.  First, the prices are pretty good and second, there are no pesky shoe salesman to offer their help or whose assistance is required to fetch your size from the back room.  No sir, you can just wander around and take your time with no salesman pressure.

When it comes to tennis shoes I like them black and with no visible logos.  Black shoes do not get as dirty (or do not look as dirty) as other colors.  As for logos, I do not like to wear clothes with visible logos as I do not think of myself as a free advertising billboard for apparel companies.  I even took off the dealer logos from my Buick.  Why should I advertise for them?  They ain’t paying me!

Shopping at Shoe Carnival is a little different for me than most shoppers.  Instead of looking at the displayed shoes until I find a model that I like, I usually just look at all the boxes until I see my size and then and only then do I look at the style to see if it meets my criteria.  It is easier this way as not all the shoes have my size available and I do not like to be anxious when I see a shoe I like only to be disappointed when they do not have my size available.  I have used this technique for the last (20) years or so.

The last (3) years though I have been extremely fortunate to find very quickly some shoes that are both in my size and meet my criteria of being black with no logo.  In fact, the store here in Kokomo has had the exact same model of shoe available each year.  The wife cannot understand why I would do this odd thing (to buy the same shoe, year after year after year).  I tried to explain it to her but I was unconvincing to her.  Despite a look of disdain from the wife (and now this year as a bonus, the daughter) I am happy that I bought this model again and have “graduated” my current pair.

Each year when I buy new tennis shoes, the old pair becomes my “mowing” shoes.  These are the shoes I wear when mowing the yard throughout the summer and fall months.  I also graduate last year’s mowing shoes to the trash bin.  I was able to get all three generations together for a photo though…

(From left to right, old mowing shoes, old shoes / new mowing shoes, new shoes)

I was also fortunate to find a pair of dress shoes that were 2/3 off and were very comfortable (I did look for the same model of dress shoes that I have now but they were no where to be found).  So I am mixing it up a little with my plain, brown dress shoes for work.  The wife will have to be satisfied with that.

Jon

Right Where I Put It

I have a policy that I adhere to whenever possible.  Everything has a proper place and if you put things in their proper place they will be there when you need them.  For instance, my keys and my sunglasses always (and I mean always) are placed on the table just to the left of our TV stand.  When I am ready to leave the house, I waste no time looking for my keys or my sunglasses.  The wife’s keys, on the other hand, are at random places.

When it comes time for her to leave (or for us to leave if we are taking her van) then we must allow ample time for “the search”.  The search usually has 2 phases.  The first phase is her remembering where she place the keys.  This is usually either in her purse or in her coat pocket.  If they are in her coat pocket then she has to narrow down WHICH coat and then WHICH coat pocket.  Once we have determined the specific coat or if they are in her purse, then the search moves on to phase 2, the search for the coat/purse.  They could be on the coat hooks by the front door or possibly on the kitchen table or chairs.  Either way, you see my point, we waste time looking for her keys.

I was reminding my son about this policy this morning when he wanted to know what happened to his USB wireless card for his laptop.  We have a basket that sits atop one of our bookshelves.  In that basket we place all kinds of devices that are for our electronic stuff.  Wireless mice, power cords, the SD card reader and the son’s wireless card.  We had spent lots of time looking for these kinds of things and so I decided that the basket concept was a pretty good idea.  After the son had taken his laptop to his room, I placed the card (which he had laid on the kitchen table) in the basket (he is not allowed to have internet connection in his room).  Despite me placing this card in this basket dozens of times, he still looks all around the house for the card.  I let him get good and frustrated and then tell him (like many times before) to look in the basket.  Now whether he thinks that the card fairy puts it there or whether he knows it is me I do not know but hopefully one day he will catch on and follow my policy.

One of the most frustrating things for me is to have to search around the house for something (usually small) that I need at the moment.  Words cannot express accurately how disappointing it is not to be able to remember where something is and to have to waste what little precious time I have on this earth looking for my stuff.  Ask my wife, I am not pleasant to be around when I am searching (say for the nail clippers as I mention in this 2006 blog).

After I (once again) gave a lecture to my family about my policy this morning, my wife headed to the kitchen to make us some breakfast.  A large percentage of the time my breakfast consists of 2 over easy eggs and toast.  I like to put 3 things on my eggs: garlic salt, hot sauce and pepper.  These three items are kept in their place on the top shelf of the lower cabinet.  As my eggs were given to me I went to the shelf to retrieve my eggs condiments.  I found the garlic salt and the hot sauce easily enough but the pepper grinder was not there.  I had just got done with my plea to my family about this very issue.  The pepper grinder goes where it goes.  Salt and Pepper, they go together.  There is no logical reason for them to be separated.  After I calmed down the wife pointed to the lower shelf of the same cabinet and indicated that the pepper was right there.  I was then given “the look” and was told to eat my eggs.

My policy evidently is just that, MY policy and not those of my household.

Jon

The Matrix and Toothpaste

Our area of the country received 6” of snow on Saturday afternoon.  As a result of this, our family was at the mercy of the weather and any plans we had for Saturday were replaced with staying in the house and entertaining ourselves.  I had recently purchased Mary Poppins on DVD and the daughter and wife wanted to watch it.  The son and I were wanting a little more action so we chose to watch The Matrix instead.  I left the home theater PC and 32” TV screen to the womenfolk and the son and I grabbed his laptop, the 19” computer monitor and the speakers and set up shop in his room.  Both movies are about 2 hours in length so we closed ourselves in and settled down for the movie.

We had seen this move a while back but I bought a copy of the DVD around Christmas time at my favorite pawn shop for $2.  We started to watch the movie once or twice in January but for whatever reason were not able to finish it.  If you are familiar with the movie at all then you know the premise and might understand why it took us closer to 3 hours to watch it as I had to pause the movie in several places to explain the movie to my (12) year old son.  To try to grasp the concept that we might all be living in a dream that we cannot wake up from is a little much for his mind but he did a pretty good job with my added explanation to help him out.  In one scene, Agent Smith is explaining to Neo why the first matrix failed.  Basically things were too perfect and not enough bad things happened in the dream thereby tipping off the brains that were in the dreams into thinking that this could not be real and thus had to be a dream.  We paused the movie for a long time in this section and discussed our own dreams.  Some dreams you know are dreams.  You are a riding a flying kangaroo or you are living with a different family for no apparent reason.  You sort of know during the dream and after waking up that it was obviously a dream.  Other dreams however have everything in place and nothing seems out of place.  These you do not know are a dream until you wake up.  With this concept fully digested we moved on to the movie.  I bought the 2nd and 3rd movies in the series (same pawn shop, same $2 bargain price) so I imagine those will take 3 hours to get through as well.

Very soon after that I had a dream.  The dream was one of those where you do not realize that you are in a dream until you wake up.  Nothing seemed out of sort.  There is just one problem.  In this dream the wife had replaced our normal toothpaste with something a little less conventional.

Now, I have blogged before about the various toothpastes that we have tried.  Our current brand is actually made by Burt’s Bees but try as I might I could not find the product listed on their website (I did find a review though just to prove to you that this product exists).  Anyway, my point is that we have not had “normal” toothpaste in quite a few years and I am seldom shocked by whatever brand (or flavor) turns up on the bathroom sink when we are near the end of the current tube.

OK, back to the dream.  The new toothpaste the wife was having me use was actually Preparation H!  This seems absurd to an outsider to our immediate family but I am telling you that I would NOT be surprised (and neither would the kids) if the wife stumbled upon some study or article somewhere that praised this product and its use in keeping our teeth healthy.  I am telling you!  This could happen in my household!  And let me remind you that this did not seem odd (even in the least) bit in my dream!

Anyway, I woke from the dream and was relieved that the Burt’s Bees toothpaste was still on the sink.  It is getting pretty empty though so I am bracing for the worst and hoping that my dream is not prophetic.

Jon

Hand Gestures

Due to the bad weather, I worked from home most of this week.  Also due to the bad weather, the kid’s school was cancelled (3) days this week and the wife did not even bother trying to get to work on Wednesday (she has Monday and Tuesday off usually).  As such, we experienced a mild case of Cabin Fever.  I was not as bored as the other family members as I indeed did have work to do.  The fever was more intense when I was on a conference call.

I have a nice Plantronics CT12 cordless phone (or is it wireless, perhaps cords are too far in the past for the word “cordless” to have any real meaning) so I can have my hands free to multitask.  This week I have been hosting many training sessions where I share my desktop so the phone is a very nice thing to have.  Over the summer though, the original headset became less and less reliable as it would cut in and out.  I priced a factory replacement and it was something like $70 (half the cost of the original unit).  Fortunately for me, the earpiece from my old cell phone worked like a charm.  Well, kind of anyway.

Since it is an earpiece for a cell phone, the built in microphone works more like a boom mike, picking up all kinds of ambient noise (like say, kids home from school playing in the next room).  This is OK for the days I am here alone with only the dogs to keep me company but not so OK when there are more living and breathing (and noisemaking) bodies around (like this week).  We have a “daddy’s on the phone” mode that everyone has to observe.  Strict silence, no talking, no movies (unless headphones are used), etc.  As such, they have to resort to whispers and hand gestures.

Now my wife is a long time user of hand gestures.  She uses them to enhance her normal talking.  As she tells a story or describes something, she will often add a hand gesture out of habit.  We have an ongoing argument about her (what I think of as) excessive use of this communication aide but more about that later.

During one meeting this week, the wife was trying to communicate to me.  She initially gave me a small kiss (a daring move when that sound could be heard on the call) and then was trying to tell me something with her hand movements.  She was making some sort of movement with her hand near her mouth and it looked like she was saying the word “teeth”.  I interpreted this to mean, “I just kissed you and, um, was, um, wondering if you had brushed your teeth yet today?”  The sign she was making looked sort of like a teeth brushing motion so I indicated that, yes, I had indeed brushed my teeth.  Several minutes later she delivered a hot cup of tea to me and only then did I realize that her motion was of someone sipping tea from a cup and the word she was mouthing was “tea” and not “teeth”.  This misunderstanding actually enforced my side of the argument that I mentioned in the last paragraph.

The wife has a habit of talking with her hands.  She uses this genuflecting mostly when it is not needed.  For instance, she would say “I was writing a check” and then also use one hand flatly opened as the checkbook and her other hand as the pen and make a motion like she was signing her name onto a check.  My point is this: if you don’t know what “writing a check” means then there is no way this hand gesture will put you over the top and get to to understand any better.  A similar situation occurs when she talks about driving a car and puts her hands at the 10 & 2 position of an imaginary steering wheel.  Again, if you do not know what driving a car is, then no amount of extra help with pantomime will assist you.  I see it as it is almost as if she feels that I am not intelligent enough to know what writing a check or driving a car means and she feels I need this extra help.  I find it a little demeaning.  As I point this out to her, it is usually met with “the look” (all you husbands know what I mean).

There are other times that the hand gesture is both not needed and actually causes confusion.  A good example would be when she was describing a friend of hers from high school.  You see, my wife was in the marching band and played the French horn.  Her friend also played this instrument.  She was trying to explain to me that you needed to have big lungs in order to play some of the larger brass instruments.  As she said the phrase “big lungs” she made a gesture with both her hands to show that her friend’s lungs (did I mention her friend was a girl) were able to meet the need.  I am not sure I can paint the picture with words here but any half wired male who saw this hand gesture this would NOT think big LUNGS but big…well big…other things.  I pointed this out (and got “the look” again) and she did (eventually) agree that her motions could be misinterpreted.  This has not stopped her though from this habit.

Jon

She Meant Well

I made a trip to the local drug store the other night around 8 PM.  It was the only time I left the house that day actually.  Every so often I find myself realizing suddenly that I have not left the house in days.  Working from home has this side effect.  Days just go by and you never leave the house.  Even taking the trash to the end of the driveway becomes an adventure.  Heck, even getting the mail brings excitement when you compare it to staying inside the walls of your house for 48 or 72 hours at a time.  Anyway, I did not mind making this trip as I had spent the entire previous 24 hours or so in the house.

The daughter was having some, some, well, gastrointestinal issues (or lack thereof) and this necessitated the late evening trip.  Armed with a general description from the wife of the brand of laxative I was to purchase (I also brought along the wife’s cell phone just in case [I do not have a cell phone]), I drove the 3 or so miles down State Road 26 and turned into the CVS parking lot.  Traffic was light both on the road and in the store and I headed to the back corner of the store and found the aisle with the Stomach –> Laxatives section.

Let me just say, “Wow!”  Who knew that so many companies focused on this particular problem that hits us all from time to time.  I knew almost immediately I was ill prepared for the task at hand.  I pulled out the wife’s cell phone and called for assistance.  I did my best to describe several of the brand names and labels or active ingredients.  There did not appear to be one specifically made for children (not even in the children’s aisle nearby that only contained children’s cold remedies).  I was forced then to read the fine print on the back to ensure that the dose was listed for children.  Then (of course) I had to consider the cost of the item.  Buying 50 vs 30 pills was not a wise decision as we would likely not use the entire container (we hope).

The entire time that I was on the phone (like from the second I hit the “send” button), an employee decided it was time to vacuum.  She started (2) aisles away but as the conversation with the wife carried on the vacuum came closer and closer until it was in my row.  I glanced in the general direction of the vacuumee to try to convey my annoyance level but she was in her own little vacuum world.  The call eventually ended, I made my selection (30 pills, $8) and headed to the cashier.

Now here is where the blog title comes into play.  Usually a cashier will make small talk with you.  When I worked as a cashier one summer at Lowe’s, I did the same thing.  After the obligatory inquiry as to whether or not I possessed a “card” (each store has to have some sort of reward card that gives you discounts) and my “no” answer (said not in a derogatory tone but in strong enough to pre-answer the necessary follow up question as to whether I would like to have a “card”) we proceeded to the business at hand.  She did not pay much attention to what it was that I was buying but was more interested in finding the bar code to scan.  After I swiped my debit card and punched all the OK’s, I was ready to head out the door.  It was then that she said something that I think she would not have said had she known I was buying a laxative and not some other item (like say, gum).  She told me to “have a good one”.

As a cashier, I am sure you develop a small repertoire of parting words.  You may only have one good one or maybe you have many.  My good friend worked as a gas station cashier for many years and he typically said “Have a good one.” to everyone as they left the store.  At a gas station the choices of items to purchase is limited and as such any normal departing phrase would work.  “Have a good one” though is not something you should tell a person who is buying a laxative.

After thinking about this for a while, I think a good idea for cashiers at drug stores would be for the cash register software to provide some sort of warning based on what is being scanned in for purchasing.  The screen that the cashier sees then could provide some sort of visual warning to stop the cashier from making inappropriate remarks.  I think this would alleviate any possible embarrassment for both parties.  I am still laughing at her comment days later.

Have a good one!

Jon

Do Not Know My Own Strength

I have taken a sabbatical from social networking (blogging, facebooking, etc) for a month or so now but I did want to relate something that happened to me yesterday.  I had just received notification that my W2 form was available so I thought I would plug those numbers into the online tax program that I use and see what was in store as far as a refund.  I don’t usually get excited about any refund amount as my life tends to even out quickly.  Any money gained is typically met with money lost (a bonus at work is met with a vehicle expense or a tax refund is met with our license and registration being due).  I seldom think about what we might spend additional money on until a moratorium has passed and I feel safe to fantasize about such things.  My life has always been this way so I am quite used to this mentality (the wife forgets at times though who she is married to and does get excited, when will she learn?).  Anyway, after I found my username and password from last year, I began the task of punching in the numbers.

I did not have my forms from my bank yet (showing mortgage and savings interest) so this would just be a preliminary number but one other piece of information I always forget to have handy are the car’s registrations as some portion of that fee is deductable.  It was for this reason that I braved the cold weather yesterday morning (it was around 5° F) and went outside to get these documents from the glove boxes of the cars.  I found the key fob for our Kia minivan and watched from the house as the lights blinked on the car after I unlocked the doors.  I did the same for the Buick and then headed out to the cold.  I walked around to the passenger side of the Kia and grabbed the handle and pulled…

…and the handle came off in my hand.  I did not think that I pulled overly hard but it broke off nonetheless.  After some silent muttering (or not so silent, I do not recall), I got into the glove box (via the driver’s side door, which I opened very gingerly) and retrieved the registration.  I could not find one for the Buick (par for the course) and so I headed back inside.

When you get to the part of your taxes when you are punching in the minor things like this, you already have an idea of the refund you will be getting.  I remembered (from just moments before heading outside) thinking to myself and wondering what would go wrong in my life that would cause this refund to be eaten up.  Who knew that I would have my answer so quickly?  We do have a bumper to bumper warranty on the Kia so the wife is holding out hope that this will not cost us anything (oh to have the faith of a child) but I know (based on years of experience) what the bill will come to (the approximate amount of my federal tax refund).  Oh well, such is my life.

Jon