“The greatest thing since sliced bread” I have heard that all my life. I’ve heard it about everything from computers to, well, bread.
I remember being in a meeting once, listening to a contractor describe some wonderful product he was trying to sell. There was a group of Air Force civilians and military in the audience. The Colonel at the head of the table was obviously impressed and made reference to some feature being the “greatest thing since sliced bread.” I began to wonder just what made sliced bread such a watershed event.
You could certainly slice your own bread to make a sandwich long before it came presliced, all wrapped in a nice package and on the shelf in the grocery store. I guess sliced bread makes it a lot easier to be certain that the bread will fit in the electric toaster. However, not many folks had those either, even though electric toasters had been invented almost twenty years when sliced bread made its debut in the late 1920s. Good grief, we didn’t have electricity on Chicken Road until just before World War II and I don’t think we used much of it even then. What I am saying is that I didn’t live through the hardship of having to slice my own bread, but I can’t imagine that it would be that tough.
I do remember when we got indoor plumbing at my house. In my opinion, that was certainly the greatest thing since WAY BEFORE sliced bread. The summer before I started to school we finally got a bathroom. I don’t know what other families called their outhouse, but ours was always called Mrs. Murphy. I couldn’t believe that I wouldn’t have to go see “Mrs. Murphy” in the dark and on cold mornings before the school bus came to pick me up. It was too far behind our house, covered in honeysuckle, and was a three holer (two big holes and one kiddy sized hole.) I never understood why there were three holes. Even in our family, which was close, going to see Mrs. Murphy was not a group activity.
When we were getting our indoor plumbing, I remember them digging a big hole in our yard and a long trench out into the field. The hole alone would have been cool to a six year old, even if it hadn’t made Mrs. Murphy obsolete. The long trench made it even better.
Television was a real milestone on Chicken Road, but no one ever says that ANYTHING is the “greatest thing since TV.” I remember our first color TV. Not many programs were in color, but it was a big deal nonetheless. We got great reception, (on a good day) of all the ABC, NBC, and CBS programming. Actually, it was all the great ABC, NBC and CBS programs that WMAZ, Channel 13 carried.
Now, air conditioning; there is a milestone. I remember when people went to the movies not because of the new Cary Grant movie or to the grocery store not because they needed milk. There was a sign out front that said “Cool Inside” or “Air Conditioned” that lured folks in. Some of the signs looked frosty, as if to say, “Your sweat may freeze here, be careful!”
Alan Shepard blasting into space, John Glenn orbiting the earth, Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin landing on the moon, those were all a big deal to me. Do you ever hear ANYONE say, “That’s the greatest thing since Alan Shepard hit a golf ball on the moon”? I didn’t think so.
When sliced bread hit the market, soon after the depression struck, people began buying their bread that was no longer cooked in their neighborhood, but in a factory, miles away. There was uniform shape, size, weight, and number of slices in a loaf. How boring! Now bakeries are popping up all around, even in the mall. You can again buy it hot, fresh, and yes, they will even slice it for you. We have come full circle, from where we were so happy to leave just a couple of generations ago. So, saying something is the “greatest thing since sliced bread” is not the compliment that it appears to be. At least that's my opinion.
Next thing you know, someone will open a restaurant where customers can cook their own food, just like we used to do at home.
Sunday, March 13, 2011
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
New Shoes
I have new shoes. In fact, I have two new pair of shoes. No, it is not what you think. Getting new shoes is not a religious experience for me. I just have an odd sized foot, so when I find my size at a fair price, I buy them, whether I need them or not.
Of course, having three daughters, I have been exposed to shoe zealots. At least two of them could go shopping for anything; jeans, a dress, office supplies, pizza, and they would come home with shoes. Sometimes multiple pair, often with a handbag too. I buy shoes out of necessity. They buy shoes that are “cute.” I buy shoes that fit and are not hideous. They would buy shoes that wouldn’t really fit, as long as they were cute. One of my daughters is a certified “flip-flop-aholic.”
I ordered my shoes online. They were marked down, had my size in multiple colors, so I ordered black ones and brown ones. I finally got around to trying them on this past weekend. As I was looking at them out of the box, I couldn’t help but think about a young woman I used to work with.
Daune was a very smart young woman, in the bookish way; but she lacked what my Uncle Freddie often referred to as “walking around” sense. She could do complex mathematical equations, but had problems with the more mundane tasks. She had been married enough times that we all knew not to buy her ANYTHING monogrammed. She had several children, one in daycare, others in different schools. Looking back, I am quite sure that getting that crew ready for school and herself ready to come to work was a lot like tending zoo.
One morning she came in late and seemed more frazzled than usual. I didn’t say one word. I waited until she had a couple of cups of coffee before I went to check on her. I finally asked, “Daune, have you had a hard morning?”
A little huffy, she replied, while sipping her second cup, “why no, why would you ask such a thing?”
“Well, I just happen to notice that you had on two different kinds of shoes this morning. That is just a little out of the ordinary for you.”
She pushed back from her desk, looked down at her feet and said, “Well Bill, that’s very observant of you. They’re essentially the same style. The only real difference is that one is black and the other a deep navy.”
“Well, it wasn’t the color that I noticed, it was the limp. That left shoe has at least an inch, maybe an inch and a half more heel that the right. I wouldn’t have made it in from the parking lot if I was tilted as much as you were this morning.”
All I heard was the coffee pot, and maybe a few crickets…….
Now that I think about it, I believe I will put my new shoes on the opposite ends of the closet, just in case. You just never know.
Of course, having three daughters, I have been exposed to shoe zealots. At least two of them could go shopping for anything; jeans, a dress, office supplies, pizza, and they would come home with shoes. Sometimes multiple pair, often with a handbag too. I buy shoes out of necessity. They buy shoes that are “cute.” I buy shoes that fit and are not hideous. They would buy shoes that wouldn’t really fit, as long as they were cute. One of my daughters is a certified “flip-flop-aholic.”
I ordered my shoes online. They were marked down, had my size in multiple colors, so I ordered black ones and brown ones. I finally got around to trying them on this past weekend. As I was looking at them out of the box, I couldn’t help but think about a young woman I used to work with.
Daune was a very smart young woman, in the bookish way; but she lacked what my Uncle Freddie often referred to as “walking around” sense. She could do complex mathematical equations, but had problems with the more mundane tasks. She had been married enough times that we all knew not to buy her ANYTHING monogrammed. She had several children, one in daycare, others in different schools. Looking back, I am quite sure that getting that crew ready for school and herself ready to come to work was a lot like tending zoo.
One morning she came in late and seemed more frazzled than usual. I didn’t say one word. I waited until she had a couple of cups of coffee before I went to check on her. I finally asked, “Daune, have you had a hard morning?”
A little huffy, she replied, while sipping her second cup, “why no, why would you ask such a thing?”
“Well, I just happen to notice that you had on two different kinds of shoes this morning. That is just a little out of the ordinary for you.”
She pushed back from her desk, looked down at her feet and said, “Well Bill, that’s very observant of you. They’re essentially the same style. The only real difference is that one is black and the other a deep navy.”
“Well, it wasn’t the color that I noticed, it was the limp. That left shoe has at least an inch, maybe an inch and a half more heel that the right. I wouldn’t have made it in from the parking lot if I was tilted as much as you were this morning.”
All I heard was the coffee pot, and maybe a few crickets…….
Now that I think about it, I believe I will put my new shoes on the opposite ends of the closet, just in case. You just never know.
Thursday, February 24, 2011
Granny Can't Dance
I wrote this in the Summer of 2006. I recently saw "Granny" and decided to share this here....
As long as I can remember, we have always had a time for prayer requests at the church where I grew up, and still attend. This is especially true when we gather in small intimate groups like men’s meetings, women’s meetings and Sunday school class. Not only do I believe that prayer changes things, I also believe that sharing one another’s burdens is good for us all.
My wife is in charge of doing the count for worship services. She counts everyone in the sanctuary during the morning worship service on Sunday mornings, and if she is not through when the kids leave for children’s church, she will go out to count them after they settle in for their morning lesson.
A few weeks ago, she went out to count children’s church Sunday morning and she arrived just in time to hear the prayer requests. As you can probably imagine, prayer request time can be rather interesting when there are three and four year olds involved. One precious little boy said, “Pray for my Granny. She can’t dance.”
The teacher asked a clarifying question to be sure she understood. She did, of course. It was a dance problem, to be sure. She assured the little boy that this was important.
No one was sure if “Granny” had some kind of injury, Luke had overheard something from Granny or his parents, or he was making some observation based on his knowledge of dance. It does not really matter. It was important to Luke that they pray for his Granny.
I am often amazed at the faith of little children, not just faith, confidence. At what age do we lose this?
When we were five, we could dance. What kind of music, you ask? It didn’t matter. Just crank it up and we would be there. Now? Sure!
How about singing? Of course, we could do that too. We would provide our own words if we needed to.
Draw? Paint? Of course.
Prayer was just as easy, and our faith was boundless. We learned: "Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep…” The next line I learned was “If I should die before I wake, I pray the lord, my soul to take.” My wife thought that that was harsh, so our girls learned: “angels guard me through the night, and keep me safe till morning light.” (I do like that…)
We also learned, “God is great, God is good, let us thank him for our food; by his hand, we are fed, thank you Lord for daily bread. Amen.”
When we could pray our own prayer, it sounded more like:
“God, this is Billy. Thanks for the meatloaf and the mashed potatoes.”
“Mama, do I have to thank him for the squash?”
“Yes, Billy thank him for the squash.”
“I thank you for the squash, but not as much as for the fried okra, sliced tomatoes and blackberry cobbler.”
“Mama, that is blackberry cobbler, ain’t it.”
“Don’t say ain’t and yes it is blackberry cobbler.”
“…and the sweet tea. God, Mr. J.B. up the road said that you needed to send some rain or there ain’t gonna be no corn this year on Chicken Road ‘cause it’ll all burn up. If you let it rain, let it rain tomorrow morning so I won’t hafta pick butterbeans. ThankyaJesusamen."
If we didn’t understand something, we’d ask, no problem. In Stuart Hample’s book “Children’s letters to God”, a little person named Jane wrote, “God, in Sunday School, they told us what you do. Who does it when you are on vacation?”
On a recent weekend, I was at a church function; I came face-to-face with Luke’s Granny, and took the opportunity to ask her, “Marilyn, can you dance?”
She replied, “Sure I can. Do you want to dance?”
Thank you Jesus, it’s an answer to prayer, no doubt about it!
As long as I can remember, we have always had a time for prayer requests at the church where I grew up, and still attend. This is especially true when we gather in small intimate groups like men’s meetings, women’s meetings and Sunday school class. Not only do I believe that prayer changes things, I also believe that sharing one another’s burdens is good for us all.
My wife is in charge of doing the count for worship services. She counts everyone in the sanctuary during the morning worship service on Sunday mornings, and if she is not through when the kids leave for children’s church, she will go out to count them after they settle in for their morning lesson.
A few weeks ago, she went out to count children’s church Sunday morning and she arrived just in time to hear the prayer requests. As you can probably imagine, prayer request time can be rather interesting when there are three and four year olds involved. One precious little boy said, “Pray for my Granny. She can’t dance.”
The teacher asked a clarifying question to be sure she understood. She did, of course. It was a dance problem, to be sure. She assured the little boy that this was important.
No one was sure if “Granny” had some kind of injury, Luke had overheard something from Granny or his parents, or he was making some observation based on his knowledge of dance. It does not really matter. It was important to Luke that they pray for his Granny.
I am often amazed at the faith of little children, not just faith, confidence. At what age do we lose this?
When we were five, we could dance. What kind of music, you ask? It didn’t matter. Just crank it up and we would be there. Now? Sure!
How about singing? Of course, we could do that too. We would provide our own words if we needed to.
Draw? Paint? Of course.
Prayer was just as easy, and our faith was boundless. We learned: "Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep…” The next line I learned was “If I should die before I wake, I pray the lord, my soul to take.” My wife thought that that was harsh, so our girls learned: “angels guard me through the night, and keep me safe till morning light.” (I do like that…)
We also learned, “God is great, God is good, let us thank him for our food; by his hand, we are fed, thank you Lord for daily bread. Amen.”
When we could pray our own prayer, it sounded more like:
“God, this is Billy. Thanks for the meatloaf and the mashed potatoes.”
“Mama, do I have to thank him for the squash?”
“Yes, Billy thank him for the squash.”
“I thank you for the squash, but not as much as for the fried okra, sliced tomatoes and blackberry cobbler.”
“Mama, that is blackberry cobbler, ain’t it.”
“Don’t say ain’t and yes it is blackberry cobbler.”
“…and the sweet tea. God, Mr. J.B. up the road said that you needed to send some rain or there ain’t gonna be no corn this year on Chicken Road ‘cause it’ll all burn up. If you let it rain, let it rain tomorrow morning so I won’t hafta pick butterbeans. ThankyaJesusamen."
If we didn’t understand something, we’d ask, no problem. In Stuart Hample’s book “Children’s letters to God”, a little person named Jane wrote, “God, in Sunday School, they told us what you do. Who does it when you are on vacation?”
On a recent weekend, I was at a church function; I came face-to-face with Luke’s Granny, and took the opportunity to ask her, “Marilyn, can you dance?”
She replied, “Sure I can. Do you want to dance?”
Thank you Jesus, it’s an answer to prayer, no doubt about it!
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
"Biscuit" eggs on my Muffin
After writing about long distance customer service I have had a couple of memorable face-to-face customer service experiences that made me shake my head. This morning, I drove through the “breakfast on the go” spot in my hometown. Since they were advertising a special on their sausage, egg and cheese muffins, I wheeled in to pick up a couple.
The voice in the box says, “Welcome! Would you to try our warm cereal in a cup?”
I spoke directly into the box, “No thank you. I’d like two sausage, egg and cheese muffins, please.”
The voice in the box says, “Um, I’m sorry. But those eggs that we put on the muffins, um, we’re out of those. All we have is the eggs like we put on the biscuits.”
I thanked him and drove away thinking, I had no idea that they were completely different eggs! At my house, we use eggs in the little yellow Styrofoam carton for everything. In fact, on a typical day, the eggs in the morning omelet probably sat RIGHT NEXT to the egg that ended up in the brownies cooked later in the day. Of course, I’d never admit this to Mr. “voice in the box” at the drive-thru. He might have a breakdown.
Just a half hours later, in a different town and a different drive-thru, I heard the lady in the car in front of me speak loudly and incredulously to the box, “Coffee! I just want coffee.”
The voice in the box says, “I can do Pepsi. We just have Pepsi products!”
Exasperated woman, with protruding veins in her neck, “You don’t have coffee? A breakfast place and you don’t have coffee?’
Voice in the box says, “Pepsi, diet Pepsi, Mountain Dew, Orange, you know, any Pepsi products. We just have Pepsi products.”
Miss “protruding veins” drove off in a huff. No coffee; no breakfast; nothing but high blood pressure and a bad attitude. I really hope she got to where she was going without a stroke.
It made me think of the great attitude my great uncle Sylvester had. I don’t really remember him. If I ever met him, it couldn’t have been more than once, and that would have been when I was really young. Uncle Sylvester and Aunt Eunice live in a pretty large town. Their daughter, Alma and her husband worked for years in her husband’s family’s bakery. My brother tells the story of visiting Uncle Sylvester and Aunt Eunice once. Just at mealtime, Alma brought in a pie from the bakery that was slightly overcooked. She was all apologetic.
“Daddy, I’m so sorry that the pie is burnt,” she said.
“Nonsense,” Uncle Sylvester said. “It is just right! If it was any blacker, we couldn’t eat it. But if it was any lighter, we wouldn’t have gotten it. Yes, it is just right.”
So I guess I should have just had the “biscuit eggs” on my muffin this morning and been happy about it….
The voice in the box says, “Welcome! Would you to try our warm cereal in a cup?”
I spoke directly into the box, “No thank you. I’d like two sausage, egg and cheese muffins, please.”
The voice in the box says, “Um, I’m sorry. But those eggs that we put on the muffins, um, we’re out of those. All we have is the eggs like we put on the biscuits.”
I thanked him and drove away thinking, I had no idea that they were completely different eggs! At my house, we use eggs in the little yellow Styrofoam carton for everything. In fact, on a typical day, the eggs in the morning omelet probably sat RIGHT NEXT to the egg that ended up in the brownies cooked later in the day. Of course, I’d never admit this to Mr. “voice in the box” at the drive-thru. He might have a breakdown.
Just a half hours later, in a different town and a different drive-thru, I heard the lady in the car in front of me speak loudly and incredulously to the box, “Coffee! I just want coffee.”
The voice in the box says, “I can do Pepsi. We just have Pepsi products!”
Exasperated woman, with protruding veins in her neck, “You don’t have coffee? A breakfast place and you don’t have coffee?’
Voice in the box says, “Pepsi, diet Pepsi, Mountain Dew, Orange, you know, any Pepsi products. We just have Pepsi products.”
Miss “protruding veins” drove off in a huff. No coffee; no breakfast; nothing but high blood pressure and a bad attitude. I really hope she got to where she was going without a stroke.
It made me think of the great attitude my great uncle Sylvester had. I don’t really remember him. If I ever met him, it couldn’t have been more than once, and that would have been when I was really young. Uncle Sylvester and Aunt Eunice live in a pretty large town. Their daughter, Alma and her husband worked for years in her husband’s family’s bakery. My brother tells the story of visiting Uncle Sylvester and Aunt Eunice once. Just at mealtime, Alma brought in a pie from the bakery that was slightly overcooked. She was all apologetic.
“Daddy, I’m so sorry that the pie is burnt,” she said.
“Nonsense,” Uncle Sylvester said. “It is just right! If it was any blacker, we couldn’t eat it. But if it was any lighter, we wouldn’t have gotten it. Yes, it is just right.”
So I guess I should have just had the “biscuit eggs” on my muffin this morning and been happy about it….
Monday, February 14, 2011
Customer Service
I had to call customer service today to get a replacement credit card. Although I was dreading the call, it went well. I didn't wait a long time to talk to someone. Brad was very helpful. He understood my English and I understood his. I checked the calendar to be sure it was 2011 and not 1968. I had to go back and find something I wrote down several years ago to share. Please note that business names have been changed, where appropriate, to protect the innocent.
If you have a problem or question, please call our friendly customer service at 1-800-376-7333 (800 DROP DED). If you have ever had a problem with a product or service, you know that the adventure is only beginning when the problem is identified.
I have often wondered how companies decide what the hours of operation are going to be for their customer service department. My very first experience in this area was when I bought a new gas grill at Floormart several (many) years ago. Right on the assembly instruction booklet it said, “If you have questions or missing parts, do not contact the retailer where you purchased this item. Please call our customer service department at 1800 NO HELP, (or something like that) Monday thru Friday 8AM-5PM EST.” my immediate question was why aren’t they open evenings and weekends when I am at home, trying to put this thing together? When I finally got them, they were friendly, spoke understandable English, and had to send me my replacement glass piece only twice before I received it all in one piece!
A lot of companies have moved their customer service overseas. This may actually help with the time issue, but my people sometimes have problems understanding people from Atlanta, so India is a completely new paradigm for us. The only time I have ever had a real language barrier with someone in customer service, I finally asked her where she was.
“New Jersey,” she said.
Uh oh!
Living in a small town leads to its own set of customer service experiences. For years my Internet Service Provider (ISP) was a small, privately owned telephone company from a nearby town. A few years ago, they were bought out by a national company. To protect the innocent, and for other legal reasons, I will refer to this national company as Breezecreek.
Soon after they acquired my ISP, I got a nice email from their customer service department explaining some of the enhancements that they were going to roll out in the coming months. I was excited. Three months later, I got a nice email explaining that as of 1 April, they would be discontinuing ISP service to my area. This brought the concept of enhancement to a completely new level. This was one bit of advertising that was exactly as advertised. It died right on schedule.
What Breezecreek failed to tell me was the fact that they planned on continuing to bill my credit card AFTER 1 April. This is a wonderful business model if your customers don’t look at their bill. I did. As soon as I noticed this, I immediately called the number listed RIGHT ON MY BILL. After hearing several minutes of infomercials on what great products they had to offer, and how my business was SO important to them, I finally talked to Marie. She was courteous as could be and it only took about ten minutes (and several infomercials on hold) to figure out that I needed to talk to an entirely different toll-free number.
Lisa (at the new number) assured me that it was all taken care of. Great! Breezecreek only billed my credit card two more times before I finally got it cleared up.
In the late 60’s I worked at Homer Garrett’s Grocery in Hawkinsville GA. People like Ms Barker would call and tell me exactly what she wanted, (a quart of milk, a half-pound of good lean ground beef, three potatoes, not too big, a can of Green Giant green beans, etc.) and to bring change for a five. She would say when I was to deliver it too.
I would always be sure to include several dimes in her change because I knew she wouldn’t spend them. (She saved dimes for Christmas gifts for her grandchildren.) She’d complain by saying, “Billy, you know I’m on a fixed income, bringing me all these dimes. I declare, I won’t be able to eat the last week of this month.”
No, 40+ years ago you didn’t have to get abused in broken English by customer service via a bad phone connection to Pakistan. It could be delivered right to your kitchen table by a teenager with a bad case of acne.
If you have a problem or question, please call our friendly customer service at 1-800-376-7333 (800 DROP DED). If you have ever had a problem with a product or service, you know that the adventure is only beginning when the problem is identified.
I have often wondered how companies decide what the hours of operation are going to be for their customer service department. My very first experience in this area was when I bought a new gas grill at Floormart several (many) years ago. Right on the assembly instruction booklet it said, “If you have questions or missing parts, do not contact the retailer where you purchased this item. Please call our customer service department at 1800 NO HELP, (or something like that) Monday thru Friday 8AM-5PM EST.” my immediate question was why aren’t they open evenings and weekends when I am at home, trying to put this thing together? When I finally got them, they were friendly, spoke understandable English, and had to send me my replacement glass piece only twice before I received it all in one piece!
A lot of companies have moved their customer service overseas. This may actually help with the time issue, but my people sometimes have problems understanding people from Atlanta, so India is a completely new paradigm for us. The only time I have ever had a real language barrier with someone in customer service, I finally asked her where she was.
“New Jersey,” she said.
Uh oh!
Living in a small town leads to its own set of customer service experiences. For years my Internet Service Provider (ISP) was a small, privately owned telephone company from a nearby town. A few years ago, they were bought out by a national company. To protect the innocent, and for other legal reasons, I will refer to this national company as Breezecreek.
Soon after they acquired my ISP, I got a nice email from their customer service department explaining some of the enhancements that they were going to roll out in the coming months. I was excited. Three months later, I got a nice email explaining that as of 1 April, they would be discontinuing ISP service to my area. This brought the concept of enhancement to a completely new level. This was one bit of advertising that was exactly as advertised. It died right on schedule.
What Breezecreek failed to tell me was the fact that they planned on continuing to bill my credit card AFTER 1 April. This is a wonderful business model if your customers don’t look at their bill. I did. As soon as I noticed this, I immediately called the number listed RIGHT ON MY BILL. After hearing several minutes of infomercials on what great products they had to offer, and how my business was SO important to them, I finally talked to Marie. She was courteous as could be and it only took about ten minutes (and several infomercials on hold) to figure out that I needed to talk to an entirely different toll-free number.
Lisa (at the new number) assured me that it was all taken care of. Great! Breezecreek only billed my credit card two more times before I finally got it cleared up.
In the late 60’s I worked at Homer Garrett’s Grocery in Hawkinsville GA. People like Ms Barker would call and tell me exactly what she wanted, (a quart of milk, a half-pound of good lean ground beef, three potatoes, not too big, a can of Green Giant green beans, etc.) and to bring change for a five. She would say when I was to deliver it too.
I would always be sure to include several dimes in her change because I knew she wouldn’t spend them. (She saved dimes for Christmas gifts for her grandchildren.) She’d complain by saying, “Billy, you know I’m on a fixed income, bringing me all these dimes. I declare, I won’t be able to eat the last week of this month.”
No, 40+ years ago you didn’t have to get abused in broken English by customer service via a bad phone connection to Pakistan. It could be delivered right to your kitchen table by a teenager with a bad case of acne.
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
Winter Funk
For those of you that I haven’t communicated with since last year, I wish a belated Happy New Year to you all! I hope that you had a fine time during the holidays and was able to spend some time with those you love. Now it is time to hang that new calendar and drag out that list of stuff that you were planning to get to “next year.” As I have said recently, I was not built for cold weather. It has been an ugly couple of weeks on Chicken Road. This past weekend was much better, but yesterday and today is more like a beautiful spring day in Moscow than Late January or early February in South Georgia.
The holiday season can be a hard time for some people. With all the emphasis on family togetherness, the holidays can remind many of the loved ones and friends who are no longer with them. Other people make it through the holidays just fine, but have a post holiday letdown. Short days, no big gatherings to look forward to, back to work, and lastly those holiday bills begin pouring in. YUCK! We all develop our personal ways of dealing with these winter blahs. I have found that post-holiday mail can actually HELP. I’m not talking about those nice letters from “Publisher’s Clearinghouse”. I’m talking catalogs! Although the internet has certainly reduced the demand for them, Catalogs, especially seed catalogs, can brighten up a pretty dreary existence. The most memorable one came about ten years ago. Although it was not about seeds, it just brightened my day. Actually, it brightened several days and nights. (I don’t know what happened to these people since this was the only one I ever received from them.) It was so good that I made notes:
It featured a nice lamp with a river birch bark shade. Not just ANY river birch bark, but “bark that has fallen naturally onto the forest floor.” I can’t remember the price, but the description made you think that it just might be a bargain! (and you were removing the birch bark litter from the forest floor too!)
I have a couple of other examples that are quotable:
“Smooth river stones, wrapped by Philippine artisan with tilot vine to create a marvelous contrast of color and texture. (stones are approximately 2-3”) set of 10 wrapped stones $55.” (I’ve looked it up. I still don’t know what “tilot vine” looks like. My computer just thinks it’s a misspelled word. Google couldn’t find it either, but suggested “toilet wine.” I was not brave enough to click on that!)
“ETERNAL BIRDS NEST: Chunks of concrete and rusted wire retrieved from demolition rubble are recreated into an endearing little nest to cradle small smooth egg shaped stones plucked from a river bed...........each will vary slightly. Approximately 6” high. $79.”
And my favorite:
“FLYING FISH PIN: Cleverly assembled from recycled parts of vintage watches, this winged fish dangles a plump heart charm, handmade of brass by a Florida jeweler with a sense of humor; $39” (If they just had it in a tie tack.)
How could anyone read that and not smile just a little, especially knowing the writer is serious and in most cases, show you a picture of the product.
Put another log on the fire and pass me another catalog. I think that I’ll whip this winter funk yet!
The holiday season can be a hard time for some people. With all the emphasis on family togetherness, the holidays can remind many of the loved ones and friends who are no longer with them. Other people make it through the holidays just fine, but have a post holiday letdown. Short days, no big gatherings to look forward to, back to work, and lastly those holiday bills begin pouring in. YUCK! We all develop our personal ways of dealing with these winter blahs. I have found that post-holiday mail can actually HELP. I’m not talking about those nice letters from “Publisher’s Clearinghouse”. I’m talking catalogs! Although the internet has certainly reduced the demand for them, Catalogs, especially seed catalogs, can brighten up a pretty dreary existence. The most memorable one came about ten years ago. Although it was not about seeds, it just brightened my day. Actually, it brightened several days and nights. (I don’t know what happened to these people since this was the only one I ever received from them.) It was so good that I made notes:
It featured a nice lamp with a river birch bark shade. Not just ANY river birch bark, but “bark that has fallen naturally onto the forest floor.” I can’t remember the price, but the description made you think that it just might be a bargain! (and you were removing the birch bark litter from the forest floor too!)
I have a couple of other examples that are quotable:
“Smooth river stones, wrapped by Philippine artisan with tilot vine to create a marvelous contrast of color and texture. (stones are approximately 2-3”) set of 10 wrapped stones $55.” (I’ve looked it up. I still don’t know what “tilot vine” looks like. My computer just thinks it’s a misspelled word. Google couldn’t find it either, but suggested “toilet wine.” I was not brave enough to click on that!)
“ETERNAL BIRDS NEST: Chunks of concrete and rusted wire retrieved from demolition rubble are recreated into an endearing little nest to cradle small smooth egg shaped stones plucked from a river bed...........each will vary slightly. Approximately 6” high. $79.”
And my favorite:
“FLYING FISH PIN: Cleverly assembled from recycled parts of vintage watches, this winged fish dangles a plump heart charm, handmade of brass by a Florida jeweler with a sense of humor; $39” (If they just had it in a tie tack.)
How could anyone read that and not smile just a little, especially knowing the writer is serious and in most cases, show you a picture of the product.
Put another log on the fire and pass me another catalog. I think that I’ll whip this winter funk yet!
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
Ice and snow in the South
Well, the snow and ice has finally melted in middle Georgia. In shaded areas, it held on for more than a week. That must be some kind of record for this part of the world. We had way too many consecutive days with lows in the teens and twenties. I have said it a thousand times, if I really wanted to live like that, I could have moved to Ohio thirty years ago when someone else would have paid for it.
My wife’s Aunt Lee, who lived in Goldsboro, NC most of her life, would stop the newspaper, turn off the water and leave for Florida every year at the first prediction of frost. She wouldn’t come back until Easter. I always loved her for that because I could identify with that. It made sense to me because I despise having to wear thermal anything!
Yesterday morning I was looking out the window, watching the birds and squirrels in the yard. I commented that the squirrels this winter were the fattest I ever remember seeing. I guess they have been just lying around in their recliners, eating nuts and watching football like the rest of us. Well, maybe not the football part, but I did get the idea that they probably had been a little lax with their physical activities and diet since Thanksgiving. OK. Maybe seeing them made me think about how lax I have been during that time period.
I am just glad that it has warmed up some. Don’t worry. I am not going to do something crazy; I just want to be able to walk around the block without being afraid I’ll slip on the ice. I don’t know what P90X means and my daughter had to explain who Jillian Michaels is. A couple of the guys from church are doing the Insanity workout video. (How crazy is that?)
You just can't believe how glad I am that the ice and snow nightmare is over. I had this recurring dream that they had moved my hometown to Ohio. As pretty as it was, I prefer to visit the snow and ice rather than it coming to me. In fact, I like snow best on Christmas cards, and on TV in fringe viewing areas.
My wife’s Aunt Lee, who lived in Goldsboro, NC most of her life, would stop the newspaper, turn off the water and leave for Florida every year at the first prediction of frost. She wouldn’t come back until Easter. I always loved her for that because I could identify with that. It made sense to me because I despise having to wear thermal anything!
Yesterday morning I was looking out the window, watching the birds and squirrels in the yard. I commented that the squirrels this winter were the fattest I ever remember seeing. I guess they have been just lying around in their recliners, eating nuts and watching football like the rest of us. Well, maybe not the football part, but I did get the idea that they probably had been a little lax with their physical activities and diet since Thanksgiving. OK. Maybe seeing them made me think about how lax I have been during that time period.
I am just glad that it has warmed up some. Don’t worry. I am not going to do something crazy; I just want to be able to walk around the block without being afraid I’ll slip on the ice. I don’t know what P90X means and my daughter had to explain who Jillian Michaels is. A couple of the guys from church are doing the Insanity workout video. (How crazy is that?)
You just can't believe how glad I am that the ice and snow nightmare is over. I had this recurring dream that they had moved my hometown to Ohio. As pretty as it was, I prefer to visit the snow and ice rather than it coming to me. In fact, I like snow best on Christmas cards, and on TV in fringe viewing areas.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)