Trina rushed towards the restaurant, checking her watch. Swollen clouds ruptured three blocks from her destination. As she click-clacked up the sidewalk, soaked, her heel caught and the concrete whooshed up to meet her nose.
“Let me help you.” A firm hand grasped her arm, but too late. Hose ripped and knees bleeding, she turned towards the husky voice.
“I’m alright. You can let go now.” Trina shook off the warm fingers and swayed to her feet, clutching a package to her chest.
Probing eyes examined her. “You’re a mess. Let’s get you cleaned up.”
“No, I’ve an appointment at the Galley Pump Bistro. There,” she pointed.
Chin down, his shoulders shook. “Me too.”
Trina glared and hobbled forward, one heel missing, rain dripping from her eyelashes.
The Maître de bounced on his heels. “Mr. Dave Eagers’ table, please.”
Quick—no cheating. How many lights are on in your house? Forget the ceiling, think lower, say eye-level or thereabouts. Can you believe this list?
Nightlight in the bathroom
Nightlight in the kitchen
Clock on the stove
Clock on the microwave
Digital Clock radio and alarm in bedroom
TV black box
Stereo (light on whether in use or not)
Cordless Dirt Devil in the laundry-room (at the ready when required)
Printer (always on)
PC Woofer (always on)
Modem (on most of the day)
PC Tower (on most of the day)
PC Monitor (on most of the day)
Cordless phone home base (always)
Some time ago, I heard talk one might save on hydro if TVs and PCs and their supporting hardware are unplugged when not in use. When might that be?
I see only three items in my list which are not in use all day long. I might be tempted to unplug them, but I need to know the payoff to me first. Would I remember to disconnect on a regular basis? Supposedly, most electronics now have a snooze mode when not in use (in limbo during coffee break), but I’m not sure what that does exactly. No-one explains when you buy all the new-fangled electronics how much energy you are saving when they are in sleep mode.
Recently, a full page in the newspaper advertised it’s possible to save 20% off your hydro bill. Call us and we’ll show you how. What’s the big secret? Why not include the tips in the same ad?
When I started this post, my intention wasn’t to talk about hydro savings. I wanted to count how many current electronic necessities in our lives are always ON: with tiny red, green or yellow beacons. Why do I need tiny lights, I’m not working in the dark.
Even when I shut off my PC, why don’t the monitor, woofer/ speaker and printer shut off too? They’re all plugged into the same power bar and CPU. Aren’t they?
When my stereo (which I never use anymore) is off, a red light stays on anyway. Always.
Since my DVD player and black box are connected to my TV, why do I need to manually power down each separately after the television is off?
See what I mean? Why do we need all these little lights when B is connected to A as is C etc.? Seems to me there must be a better way, especially IF by shutting them all off means $$ in your pocket: one button, one switch.
Excluding my TV, DVD, and radio, almost all the above are in use from morning until night—at my house—I know at yours too, right?
I want to confirm there is more to me than my interest in Flash and Bog Hops and commenting on blogs. I worry about life, the price of eggs and hydro. I volunteer, take classes and look after my grandkids. Sometimes, I even participate in social activities (at least a couple of times a year–when I find time). I’m a go-go-go grandma. My days vanish in a flash.
With all these machines to lighten the load, do work faster, and have more time on my hands, I find I have less. I’m retired to heavens sakes!
And life costs more.
And I am technically challenged but I do have bright ideas.
A blogger wondered today where / how the backstory to my blog’s name, Let’s Cut the Crap, originated. Perhaps I had a post titled as such, she inquired?
No-one else has asked before. Now that I’ve brought it up, let me explain. At this point in my life I don’t have time to beat around the bush. I’m not here to sugar coat anything I post. If interesting insights into my life strike me, I’ll laugh about them here. So far, only my knees give me a headache. The name struck me as attention-grabbing, as well as coming off as no-nonsense.
Shortly after our exchange, I read an interesting article and by golly I have a post titled as such now. This is it.
I found the following post, mid-day, because unexpected free time fell into my lap. My jaw dropped after only a few paragraphs. By the time I was half-way through reading, I knew David Gaughran’s post must be shared with all of you.
Are you ready for this? I may not yet have experience with the big publishing world, but I realize the new reality for writers is developing into a cutthroat game of who gets the money. It’s all in the article.
You will notice I’m posting mid-afternoon on Friday, something unheard of here. Today is the end of March Break for my grandchildren as well as for their other grandmother. They have all gone swimming leaving me with an unexpected afternoon of freedom. Maybe I’ll manage to do some catching up or grab a book and disappear into its covers. Eh?
When a lady takes to her bed, she wears feminine nightwear and smells like an angel. She arms herself with bonbons, Puffs tissues for her sniffles, something entertaining to read and a nice cup of tea. And lots and lots of pillows to add to her snoozing comfort.
Or so I’ve heard—someplace. Maybe I’m confused and lost in the wrong era.
If this is remotely true, I am no lady. The Puffs have been useless because I blew a hole through like I’d fired a cannon—and had to wash my face afterwards. Cheap paper towels were more up my alley. Bonbons, you ask? My taste buds went on a metallic vacation so I couldn’t enjoy them. Nightwear? Good old flannel-type PJs for me. Something to read, you wonder? My eyes have been much too heavy for reading; my sinuses are still under attack, and my face hurts like it’s been a punching bag.
A sore throat is what started me down this road. Next came fits of coughing so deep, I’m surprised my lungs aren’t shredded to ribbons. My ears are still plugged and my eyes don’t care to focus for longer than it takes to grab my adult sippy cup. To do anything takes more energy than I can muster and I still sweat like a construction worker.
I’ve clocked more hours sleeping in this New Year than awake. I’ve no idea what’s been happening out in the real world for the past ten days.
Five days I’ve lolled in bed, but I’m getting fleeting thoughts about joining the human race again. However, I have a short attention span. It’s possible all that sleep has made me lazy . . . and my sinuses are still messed up.
Happy 2013 to me.
On the bright side, I had first-rate company assessing my every move. I drank gallons of water to quench my thirst and made a million trips to the bathroom, always escorted from and to bed. No amount of hacking or tossing dissuaded my protector from leaving my side. My Lady Gaga slept hanging over my shoulder to keep an eye on me. For four days! Such patience and loyalty—from my kitty? Wow.
Now I face 600+ e-mails in my Inbox and am overwhelmed simply thinking about a catch up. Please bear with me. I’ll do the best I can, but my mojo is still broken and I cannot promise every single one will get answered.
I hate cold coffee and am forever reheating a cup in the microwave. Why does the mug handle end up in the back even when I place it facing out, or, no matter how long it spins to reheat?
My old washing machine ate socks; I became used to losing them and expected the loss. What changed? The new machine hasn’t gobbled any—even once—in four years. What gives?
When are you officially a senior? 50? 55? 60? 65? Businesses used to offer discounts on a wide range of products and services for customers age fifty and over. Once the demographic reports on baby boomers came out, perks dwindled, an inch at a time. Too many seniors are approaching age sixty-five. Why is this information a surprise?
McDonald’s offers seniors a coffee discount—size small only. Some ‘franchises’ don’t offer any reduction at all. Others give you the same price cut whether you order a small or a large cup. Why the differences?
Why do meteors fall through the atmosphere but don’t hit anything? I’m pleased not to hear of catastrophic damages, but why is it they never hit any cities or tall buildings? Why are burned remnants always found in remote areas? How lucky are we?
Why do I always want to do something else when I’m in the middle of any particular project? Even when I’m half-way into an absorbing book, another one catches my eye; I’m impatient to get into the new one no matter how exciting the current one I’m reading.
Why is my cat driving me crazy? I threw drop-sheets on my sofa to discourage her from playing Tarzan. She found an opening no matter how I draped, tucked or arranged the sheets to drag on the floor. She discovered a new game called ‘run under the drop-sheets and hang on the sofa underneath’. Alright! W-e-e-e-e. Will my sofa last until next Monday morning and her manicure appointment?
I’ll tell you how it happened. My daughter’s at fault for the second time.(a.k.a. Mrs. G., identity protected).
After a year or more, my daughter had a free Saturday and time to check out garage sales. We packed up the kiddies early and off we drove. Not much was in the newspaper, but we hoped to find unadvertised sales along the way. The pickings were slim and I was the lone spender. I found two great books: Ellen Foster by Kaye Gibbons and The Last Lecture by Randy Pausch for fifty cents each.
Mrs. G. turned an unexpected corner and I asked where she was taking us. She smiled with a wicked grin on her face. We were in SPCA territory.
“It’s something new for the kids to do and maybe we can check out current pricing,” she said. My grandkids were excited. (I mentioned a while back I might consider getting a kitten later—in the fall—maybe. Or, maybe not. My mistake.)
We watched a three-month-old kitten because the fuzz ball was entertaining. I liked its fur: various shades of pale grey like smoke and fog. The one and two-year-old cats had the forlorn look you see on television commercials advertising abused animals. I wanted to leave but my granddaughters weren’t ready yet.
I came across a handsome two-year-old grey cat, similar to the kitten but it slept on even when I knocked on the window. I didn’t want a cat that old anyway, already set in its habits. What? Hush up brain.
Another cat was sleeping faced away from the window. I saw a long, sausage squashed between the wall and the kitty litter box. Ug-ly, I thought, and joined the grandkids for a while, but wandered back again. The brindled (sausage) cat was awake. She came up to the window when I tapped it, giving the glass a welcoming body rub, looking up at me. In an instant, I fell in love. Something irritated my eyes. My daughter’s face showed surprise and the grandchildren looked worried.
No-one was more taken aback than me. One-year-old Didi was mine. On the way home, we renamed her to Lady Gaga (my daughter’s suggestion). I was gaga over her. Look at her; she’s one of a kind!
Day three: I feel we’re old friends already and I think Lady Gaga likes me. She plays well but misses me and jump onto my lap crying for attention. She initiates cuddling, cheek to cheek. I’ve accomplished next to nothing since Saturday. Last night I was trying to type while she slept, curled on my lap. Heaven.
~ * ~
The last time my daughter drove me to the SPCA was after she’d left home at seventeen. She worried I was lonely living by myself—I wasn’t. I didn’t want a cat; I missed her.
“Let’s just look,” she said. “Nothing wrong with looking, is there?”
I looked and was smitten seventeen years ago too. His name was changed to Crawford.
Perspectives is a biyearly literary magazine that is dedicated to giving life to inanimate objects. It goes a step beyond the proverb, “Don’t judge a man before you’ve walked a mile in his shoes.” Perspectives gets the imagination to step into an inanimate object’s skin and walk around in it. Delve into the world of inanimate objects. Read Perspectives. Direct any questions or feedback to the founding editor, Monique Berry, at email@example.com
As well as introducing you to the latest issue of Perspectives, I take this opportunity for blatant self-promotion (I am blushing, can’t you tell). You’ll recognize me by my picture between its covers.
I’m certain you’ll have lots of questions for the editor after reading the unique articles. Go now, enjoy; afterwards, I hope you will share with your friends.
1. At what time in your recent past have you felt most passionate and alive?
I recently put the finishing touches on my latest short fiction last Tuesday. I feel this is the best one ever; I’m levitating. (OK, I’ve been wrong before . . . just feeling good for a second here.)
2. What individual item of food would you not eat, even if it was served to you at the Queen/President’s dinner table? (Something ordinary.)
I like ALL seafood food but not Calamari. There’s something about the texture of this one that makes me clench my teeth like a child refusing medicine.
3. If you could choose between Wisdom and Luck, which one would you pick?
I would choose Wisdom. I already know about luck. No, I haven’t won the lottery. Who cares about that? (Are you nuts?) I believe I’ve been lucky so far in this life because I’ve landed on my feet when I needed to—more times than a cat. (Not kidding.)
4. What was the last time you went to a new place?
Last Wednesday night I went to the recently renovated Central Library downtown. I avoid downtown so I haven’t been there for years. I attended A Literary Festival (started March 28th to April 1s)t. Ten area luminaries defended titles from the Ontario Library Association’s Evergreen Reading List (Canada Reads). Although I bought a ticket, I didn’t win the draw for the ten books discussed. What went wrong?
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