Inaugural poet Amanda Gorman delivers a poem at Biden's inauguration

Watch the performance of her beautiful poem HERE on Youtube, it's inspirational. I include a transcription of the poem that I found on-line. 

The Hill We Climb

Mr. President, Dr. Biden, Madam Vice President, Mr. Emhoff, Americans and the world, when day comes we ask ourselves where can we find light in this never-ending shade? The loss we carry a sea we must wade. We’ve braved the belly of the beast. We’ve learned that quiet isn’t always peace. In the norms and notions of what just is isn’t always justice. And yet, the dawn is ours before we knew it. Somehow we do it. Somehow we’ve weathered and witnessed a nation that isn’t broken, but simply unfinished. We, the successors of a country and a time where a skinny black girl descended from slaves and raised by a single mother can dream of becoming president only to find herself reciting for one.

And yes, we are far from polished, far from pristine, but that doesn’t mean we are striving to form a union that is perfect. We are striving to forge our union with purpose. To compose a country committed to all cultures, colors, characters, and conditions of man. And so we lift our gazes not to what stands between us, but what stands before us. We close the divide because we know to put our future first, we must first put our differences aside. We lay down our arms so we can reach out our arms to one another. We seek harm to none and harmony for all. Let the globe, if nothing else, say this is true. That even as we grieved, we grew. That even as we hurt, we hoped. That even as we tired, we tried that we'll forever be tied together victorious. Not because we will never again know defeat, but because we will never again sow division.

Scripture tells us to envision that everyone shall sit under their own vine and fig tree and no one shall make them afraid. If we’re to live up to our own time, then victory won’t lie in the blade, but in all the bridges we’ve made. That is the promise to glade, the hill we climb if only we dare. It’s because being American is more than a pride we inherit. It’s the past we step into and how we repair it. We’ve seen a forest that would shatter our nation rather than share it. Would destroy our country if it meant delaying democracy. And this effort very nearly succeeded.

But while democracy can be periodically delayed, it can never be permanently defeated. In this truth, in this faith we trust for while we have our eyes on the future, history has its eyes on us. This is the era of just redemption. We feared it at its inception. We did not feel prepared to be the heirs of such a terrifying hour, but within it, we found the power to author a new chapter, to offer hope and laughter to ourselves so while once we asked, how could we possibly prevail over catastrophe? Now we assert, how could catastrophe possibly prevail over us?

We will not march back to what was, but move to what shall be a country that is bruised, but whole, benevolent, but bold, fierce, and free. We will not be turned around or interrupted by intimidation because we know our inaction and inertia will be the inheritance of the next generation. Our blunders become their burdens. But one thing is certain, if we merge mercy with might and might with right, then love becomes our legacy and change our children’s birthright.

So let us leave behind a country better than one we were left with. Every breath from my bronze-pounded chest we will raise this wounded world into a wondrous one. We will rise from the gold-limbed hills of the West. We will rise from the wind-swept Northeast where our forefathers first realized revolution. We will rise from the Lake Rim cities of the Midwestern states. We will rise from the sun-baked South. We will rebuild, reconcile and recover in every known nook of our nation, in every corner called our country our people diverse and beautiful will emerge battered and beautiful. When day comes, we step out of the shade aflame and unafraid. The new dawn blooms as we free it. For there is always light. If only we’re brave enough to see it. If only we’re brave enough to be it.

Hic venit in posterum...

So beginning with the Class of 2023 (and all future graduating classes), students will be recognized under the Latin System of honors and recognition. Aidric is in the class of 2024. 

As of the class of 2023 there well be no valedictorian recognized.  Instead honors under the Latin System for graduates will be:

Summa Cum Laude (With Highest Honor) = GPA of 3.9 or higher

Magna Cum Laude (With Great Honor) = GPA of 3.7 - 3.89

Cum Laude (With Honor) = GPA of 3.5 - 3.69

I wonder why they changed it. Too many smart kids? Also the GPA scales are not what I remember, but grades are now augmented or weighted by the type of class the grade is in. A, B & C grades are bumped up an extra .5 point for honors classes and an extra 1.0 point for A.P. classes.

So we have embarked on planning for the next year and the two beyond that for Aidric.  Making academic plans for Aidric’s future.

It feels like this has come up so fast. I’m not ready! But ready or not here we go.

Divide and conquer...

I got a call from the hospital billing department to tell me what my estimated share of Thursdays ‘oscopies’ will be after the insurance has paid their bit.  The girl I was speaking to said my part would be about $550 and that they require payment of at least half up front.  So I said sure, I’ll go ahead and pay half now.  

I walk over to the desk and get my wallet and pull out my debit card. I’m getting ready to give her the card number when I’m suddenly aware of her still stammering on the other end of the line. I realize that the girl is still struggling to figure out what half of $550 is. ‘Ok, good, so that’s... um... hang on... ok, you’ll pay...’ 

This goes on for a few seconds and then I decide to put her out of her misery and I say, ‘Let’s just make it an even $300 today.’ Thinking this would put an end to the struggle as it was clearly more than the requested half. She says ‘Ok, um...sure.......’ 

Then I realized that now she wasn’t sure if that was more or less than half. Oh, that new math....

Reminiscing or misremembering...

Driving with Aidric today down 4th street, and we drove past CLC.  'I went there.' he says, pointing at the building. 'No, you didn't.' I say.

'Yes, I did.' he insists.

'No, you didn't.' I assure him. 'You were six months old when we moved back from France. We were only here a month maybe to sell the house in Sycamore and get to California.' I explain.

'Yes, I remember sleeping on those little blue mats.  I even remember getting yelled at for not sleeping and making too much noise.'

'No, you slept on those little blue mats at your pre-school in California. You never went to CLC.'

'Mom, yes, I did. First of all, I didn't nap at pre-school in California. You always picked me up after lunch. And yes, I remember napping there and having a snack.'

'You did nap at the pre-school in California, though not every day. And you did not go to CLC.'

To nap on a mat would mean he wasn't there in the infant or toddler room.  There are cribs in those rooms. So he would have had to be 2 or older.  Could I have put him in for a few days when we were there on a visit in the summer? I doubt Lynne would have allowed that sort of 'drop-in' service. Now that I think about it, there haven't been blue mats to sleep on since I worked there. Cots were purchased for all the rooms back in the '90s sometime... 

I told him he came in and out with me when we got his nephews and niece from time to time. But he never went there.  He insists that he did, and he remembers it.

This is like that memory I have of standing on the corner of Main and 7th in El Centro and watching the Hotel Barbara Worth burn into the ground. 'Into' the ground because the structure eventually collapsed into its basement, where it continued to smolder for days. I remember standing water in that concrete hole for years after.  My mom insists that the hotel burned before I was born. But it's a very clear memory for me, of standing with a large crowd and watching as flames and smoke billowed out of the windows. 

Yet, I looked it up, and the hotel burned in 1962. In January of 1962. I was indeed not alive then. My parents had just been married the previous November. 

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On the heels of that conversation, Aidric has another pre-school related recollection.

When he was 3, he attended pre-school in California.  The pre-school was and is on the campus of the California State University at Channel Islands. The actual building is part of the infamous Camarillo State Mental Hospital (aka The Hotel California). The building is haunted, but that is just a tangent to my story.

Because of its historical use, the school's play yard had an 8 to 10 foot tall, heavy iron gate used as the main entrance.  It was set in the middle of 10-foot walls made of stuccoed concrete. You came into the giant gate and then walked through the play area to the building. The gate was wide enough for a semi to drive through comfortably. I cannot overstate how large this gate was, and it had a doorknob for access in and out. The workmanship of that gate is astounding. That gate opened and closed easily and smoothly for something so big.

Although I'm not sure why we didn't use the door as I think of it now.  There was a door in the front of the building that led into the pre-school's main office.  The gate was right off the parking lot, which was at the side of the building, so maybe that's why.  It was easier to go in the gate right where you'd parked than to have to park and walk around to the front of the building and then back.  Ok, never mind. 

Anyway..., One-day Aidric and a friend of his decided that they did not want to quit playing when recess was over. So when they were called inside, they hid in one of the many playhouses in the play yard. They figured they'd wait for everyone to go inside and then come out and keep playing.

The play yard was rather large. It had several playhouses in one corner that also housed two large hutches that held pet rabbits.  There were 3 or so climbing structures along the south edge that bordered the building and a large covered area with tables for lunch and outdoor learning activities along the north play yard wall.  It had paved roadways for trikes that circled and crisscrossed the whole yard. There was also a blacktopped area near the entrance gate for basketball, hopscotch, and a large tricycle parking lot. So yes, large area.

When the boys didn't come in, their annoyed teacher came out to look for them. She called their names, and the boys, amazingly enough, stayed quiet and in hiding. Eventually, the teacher went and got help, and the building was searched in case they'd gotten inside and gone to the bathroom or were in another room.  The playground was searched again, and the boys could not be found.  Eventually, the police were called because the staff had begun to fear that someone had come in the gate unnoticed and taken them or that the boys had gone out the gate.  The knob that opened the gate was set higher on the gate than a normal doorknob, but the boys could have reached it.

However, as the police arrived, the boys got tired of waiting for the adults to go inside so they could play. They broke cover to the astonishment of their teachers and just continued toward the building as if nothing was happening at all, completely oblivious to all the hullabaloo they'd caused. The other parent and I were not notified until we'd arrived to pick up the boys. Their reasoning was that we were due within the hour anyway, and there was no reason to scare us and have us driving pell-mell to the school.  

Shortly after that, a security lock was placed on the gate.  You then had to punch in a code to get in and out of the gate. Not terribly secure as every parent had the code, but at least no child could open the gate.

Aidric relates this reminiscence as if it was a fond and happy memory. The gravity of the situation never having made the slightest impact on him. I don't recall if I scolded him or if the teachers scolded him. We must have spoken to the boys, but clearly, that part did not make an impression at all. 

Is that a thing?...

Went to Trixie's house today in my IT capacity.  Pulled into the driveway and sat for a bit finishing a text I was sending.

Then her 'crazy' neighbor's garage door opens and a car backs out. The car stops at the end of the driveway and parks. The man in the car rolls down his window reclines his seat and lights up a cigarette. 

Finish my text, hit send, and observe the man tapping ash out the window.

Go in, fix Trixie's phone, and 30 minutes later come out in time to see the man pulling back into his garage and closing the garage door.

Only in the midwest.... and it wasn't even that cold outside...50º what a weeny.

Grateful...

 

...it's almost over...

What happens in Vegas...?

So, my brain is kind of like Vegas. Bear with me through this belabored metaphor. I'd say it'll be worth it, but maybe it won't.

You know how what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas.  My brain plays the same game with the rooms in my house. 

I'm in the bedroom and remember I need to pull some chicken out of the freezer for dinner.  I leave the bedroom and halfway to the basement I've already forgotten where I was headed and for what reason. BUT, if I return to the bedroom I remember.  What I thought of in the bedroom apparently stays in the bedroom. 

I'm in the kitchen and remember that I need to switch the laundry from the washer to the drier. The second, and I mean the very second that I turn the corner into the hall, I have literally forgotten where I was going and what I was doing.  Turn around back into the kitchen and there it is.  Like it was written on the air. I clearly need to start carrying a notepad around for a written/visual reminder... or I could continue this way and just call it good exercise.

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Got the lights up! Now the tree...

Rylan and Izzy

So last week I'm leaving the neighborhood and as I'm driving down the street I see ahead of me a child and a dog. The child was maybe 3 years old and he's walking in the gutter, actually weaving up on the curb then back into the gutter then out in the road a bit. The very large German Shepard following him is sniffing along the child's back trail about 3 feet behind him. From maybe three houses away still, I'm scanning the area for a parent or adult or anyone who is supposed to be watching the child, but perhaps whose attention has lapsed. There is no one in sight anywhere.

Suddenly the child looks up from his ruminating and sees my van. He steps into the street in front of my vehicle and puts both hands up, palms out as if to stop me. Believe me when I say that I had already slowed to a crawl and stop I did!

I park the van right in the middle of the road. Thinking I should pull to the curb but I'm afraid to move the car with the child and dog so close and not knowing what this little guy is going to do next.

There is a considerable moment of apprehension as I start to open my door and seriously wonder about that big dog. As there is still no one else in sight, I go ahead and ease the door open and climb out. 

"What are you doing buddy?" I say. Not too loudly so as not to startle the dog. "Where's your mom?"

As I walk around to the front of my car he runs toward me (and so does the dog) and puts his arms up to be picked up. I pick him up and he snuggles in and puts his head on my shoulder. The dog, who is wearing a three-inch-wide leather collar that says 'Izzy' on it, also jumps up on me with a lolling smile on its face.

"Where's your mom honey?"

"Ober der." he says vaguely waving his arms toward an empty lot across the street.

There is still no one else in sight and now that I have the little guy and I don't know what to do with him. I'd like to pull my car to the curb, but I'd have to get both boy and dog into the van for safety before I move it. Then what?! I do not know where to even begin with this. Get him in the car and start driving the streets looking for distraught parents? Is he supposed to be napping and has sneaked out? If so, how long before someone notices he's missing? Do I just start knocking on all the doors along his back trail? In the direction that the child pointed there are two empty lots before the nearest house and that's not the direction he was coming from. I am at a complete loss. Do I just start shouting as loud as I can that I've found someone's child? He couldn't have come far, if he'd been walking for any length of time, someone else would have found him by now.  Assuming that he came from nearby though, really does not clarify my options for me.

I say to the little guy, lets put you in the car with Izzy so we can move the car. 

"NO!" he says forcefully to me and starts to struggle away from me. 

"Ok, ok, no car. Just sit here." I say, placing him on the driver's seat. He squirms a bit at that but decides to trust me that far.  I reach into the car, grab my phone, and call a neighbor. 

"Hey Caroline, I found a child in the street and now I don't know what to do"

"WHAT!!"

"I'm out here on the street, down the block from your place.  I found a small child walking the street and there is no caretaker in sight."

"I'm coming.... " she says, hanging up.

A little while later, Caroline comes running out of her house and is dialing 911 on her phone as she comes down the street.

Meanwhile, a FedEx van has come down the street and the driver is looking at me like I'm nuts because he has to drive around my van while I hold onto a child and a dog to make room for him to get by.

The little guy is jabbering at me and putting his arms out to be picked up again. I walk him and Izzy over to the curb where I figure I can hang on to them and Caroline can get my car out of the street. 

I can see that Caroline has stopped on her front lawn while she talks to the 911 operator.

Suddenly I hear a blood-curdling scream from down the street and from out of a house come a clearly hysterical couple. The man is yelling "Rylan! Rylan!"

I shout over to them "He's right here! He's ok, he's right here."

The man comes running over and then immediately doubles over, hands on knees, breathing hard. "Oh my god. Oh my god!"

Now I'm worried this guy is going to have a heart attack. "It's ok, he's fine. It's totally all right. Oh, I assume Izzy is your dog?"

"Yes, she goes everywhere he does. Oh my god. We just moved in, we had no idea he could open the doors. We will be installing latches on all the doors!" 

I shout over to Caroline, "Caroline, it's ok! We've found his parents!"

"Grandparents." Says the man. "We're his grandparents."

Well, that explains why he didn't know where his mom was. 

"It's ok, he's fine and Izzy was taking care of him." Well, sort of, it would have been helpful if she'd kept him out of the street. But at least she stayed with him. "And if it makes you feel any better he absolutely refused to get into my car."

Grandma has stayed over on their front lawn, and she's clearly crying.  This had scared everyone!!

I set Rylan down and he hides behind my legs. "Come on over here son," says grandpa. Rylan heads over and grandpa picks him up. "I am so sorry, great first impression to the neighbors.  We just moved in a week ago."

"No worries, these things happen. And Rylan is a real sweety... so is Izzy.  Not gonna lie, I was a little worried about Izzy's temperament."

"Oh, she's a gentle giant and she really keeps an eye out for Rylan.  Well, thanks for hanging on to him for us."

"No worries, and welcome to the neighborhood!"

Those poor people, I've not seen them out of their house since.

Day to day realities...

The kids helped me assemble the Christmas card mailing today.  It was wonderful assembly line fun. Mr. Ford would have been proud. Now, quality control did get a bit off track when I stopped for a snack. So if you get your card at all, consider yourself quite lucky. Kai Cooper thought it would be fun to see if I was paying attention and he didn't put a card in some envelopes.  I think I found all the empty envelopes...

If you are lucky enough to get an actual card and something is slightly amiss, now you now know why. Cormac got some of the mailing labels upside down, I think on purpose...

There are a few envelopes where Carrington got the stamp a bit too close to the corner and I fear they may stick to other mail and not be delivered on time. And finally,  if your card smells slightly of peanut butter, sorry, that was me.

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I have some friends that have COVID in their households.  I'm helping them cope by offering to bring by adult beverages for the unaffected caretaking adult.  If someone in your household has COVID and you would like my special services, drop me a text.

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It's after dinner and I'm playing my favorite cleanup game. It's called 'Guess The Correct Sized Container For Your Leftovers'. The scoring goes like this: 5 points if you guess the exact size you need. 3 points if you guess too big. And -3 if you guess too small and have, in the process, created more dishwashing. No throwing away of food is allowed nor last-minute eating of the extras. 

It's been a bad week for me and I'm down 18 points. It's a good thing that Sean does the after-dinner dishes...😂

It's a good day...

Enjoying my first peaceful and stress and anxiety free cup of coffee in days. 

Can I just say that 2020 has been more of a roller coaster ride than I'm up for.

I got the notification from CNN on my phone that it was official - sort of - Biden is president of the US. I went to the TV and turned on CNN and I saw a news person so overcome with the emotion that he could hardly speak. Through tears and a trembling voice, he spoke so eloquently about what we have all suffered through these past 4 years and the hope that this new chapter brings.

CNN's Van Jones brought to tears as Joe Biden wins US election.

Topsy-Turvy

So last year on this day there was snow on the ground.  It had snowed for Halloween and it had stuck. This year it's been a week of 70º or near 70º days. It's November and I have doors and windows open to let in the sun and warmth. Incroyable!

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Got word yesterday from the superintendents of schools saying that ALL elementary students will start back on November 30th. I think not. Thanksgiving celebrations are being forecast to be super-spreader events, the outcomes of which won't be entirely known until 14 days after Thanksgiving; December 10th, give or take. So no, we will not be sending our kids back to school on the 30th like sacrificial lambs to test the waters. Really, why do they bother pretending to make these plans when the science already says no.

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Aidric is taking food science this semester. Today's class consists of watching the teacher make egg noodles on his Chromebook screen. So sad!! If the kids were in school Aidric would be learning to make egg noodles, hands-on. Maybe he can retake the class at a later point. He really could have used this life skills class.

The Long Goodbye

Our dear neighbors around the corner from us/behind us are moving to South Carolina. Their house sold in under 14 days. Their house is almost exactly the same floor plan as ours except flipped - a mirror image. The one big difference in the houses is that their basement is finished and has a full bath in it, ours not so much.  They sold for a good price so, something to look forward to... someday.

Two weekends ago they had a garage sale and I went over to snoop and chat with Caroline. She had a beautiful leather armchair for sale for $15. I KNOW!! Right! I bought it for the guest room. A guest of ours once commented that it would be nice to be able to sit in 'her room' and read. Anyway, it's a lovely overstuffed chair and I'm very pleased with it. Sean and Aidric were not nearly as please since they had to load it on a dolly, walk it around the corner and then carry it up the stairs. Still, I like it.

They will close on the house on December 10th and then they will be gone. Caroline has texted me almost every day this week to ask if I wanted this or that other thing she ran across during her packing.  Blueprints for the house (albeit reverse of our house but still, useful), a bound copy of the HOA covenants and bylaws, a set of business cards she has for all the original workmen that she still calls for repairs on things (she figures if they built it they know its quirks and how to fix it), assorted odds and ends like tiles from the bathroom (exactly the same as ours), a manual for the jetted tub (same one) and a piece of wood with stain samples, with names and brands, for the kitchen cabinets. 

I'm happy to take all these little treasures off her hands, but I wonder if it's her way of saying goodbye to the place... well, and finding a way not to have pack up a bunch of useless shit.

Let's go...

In the summer warmth, everything is about the outside. The front door left open to see everything that's going on out there.  All the windows at the back of the house closed and curtained to keep out the midday heat. But once it's cooled off into fall it's the opposite. The front door closed to keep out the cold and all the curtains at the back of the house opened to let in some watery sunshine and warmth.  Ah, fall! I do love it so. Sitting on the couch reading a new book and drinking scalding hot coffee to warm myself up. 

I want to go to the orchard today to pick up a bag of Pink Ladies and some cider donuts. Maybe bake a pie or crumble, just to turn on the oven and warm up the house. But these days the thought that occurs immediately following 'Let's go...' is '...probably best not to'. I've always been a homebody but this forced isolation has me dreaming of all the places I wish I could go. 

Ah, well, more coffee and back to my book.

True Story...

If you are waiting for a phone call and you've been waiting for a while, here is my advice. Go to the bathroom.  The second you drop your drawers the phone will ring. If it doesn't, then it's safe to assume that call is never coming.

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I think that in order to avoid the political madness for the next 15 days I may just stay slightly not sober. It's the only way I'll be able to remain sane through all this insanity.

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It's snowing right now! Big, fat flakes! Not sticking though.

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Time to tighten our social circle. Smaller covid bubbles for protection.

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I voted early today!

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I'll admit to a certain amount of depression these days. In a world where COVID keeps moving the finish line, everything seems to exude bad news. The TV, the internet, and my email inbox seem to overflow with dark and sinister messages.  The political climate and the economy and civil unrest. It's like a Stephen King novel where the very air carries malevolent intent and it can't be avoided. I'll just go into the kitchen and pour myself a post noon adult beverage and everything will look a bit better.

It's all I've got today folks, sorry.  I'll perk up soon.

5 Things

Every morning I get an e-mail from CNN. It is called 5 things. It covers the top 5 stories of the morning plus a section called 'breakfast browse' followed by 'this just in...' ending with 'and finally...'. Each story is usually just a sentence and a link to the full story if you should want to pursue it.

Each heading is like a section in the newspaper. Breakfast browse includes sports news and things to look forward to. 'this just in...' usually starts with a number. But my favorite part is 'and finally...'

The 'and finally...' section is almost always a video that they've found.  These videos can be on any subject from a massive work of falling dominoes to a wildlife camera in Canada to a video on how pencils are made.

Today's video is a compilation of short videos on libraries. A collection of collections. It's 13 minutes long but watch to the end for the smell library. It doesn't even come close to being complete but it's interesting. I saved the number to my phone for the Ask NYPL line.

The World's Most Magnificent Libraries  

Just as an 'oh by the way' side note.  The CNN email features a 10 question quiz on Sunday that tests your attention to the week's news stories.  It's fun for us competitive types.

Minute Pirate Bugs

Trying to enjoy what I believe has to be one of the last 70º days of this year. However, this summer and fall have given rise to these weird little eensy-weensy black bugs.  These things are so small they actually are coming into the house through the window screens. Their bite is like nothing you've ever felt, so painful you expect to see blood. 

I was so annoyed by them that I called our pest control company to see if they could make a special trip out and do anything about them. I hate that I'm missing wonderful 'open window' weather because I can't open the windows!

The girl at Ecoshield said I should send her a photo of the bugs. So I sent her theses.

Showing the diffuser for scale.

This is the one is on the diffuser.

I found this interesting news story about the little darlings. Also, this short and informative article from Iowa State on Google. Which I also sent her. She said the same thing that the article says, there really isn't anything that works on them that would be safe to use around the house.

So I guess the comforting part is that they are neither sucking nor depositing things into you, they are in fact not even biting you. They are only probing you to see if you are food. Makes me feel so much better! It is true that they seem immune to any bug spray or repellent and that as soon as it started to warm up on my front porch they appeared.

I get mosquito-bite type welts and I have a ring of them around my wrists and ankles and some along the neckline of my t-shirt.

What a great way to ruin our beautiful last days of Indian Summer and actually have me wishing for frost.

Green light alarm!

So, in the past, I've been very kind-hearted about people who don't notice that the light has turned green.  You know, they're in front of you, the light turns green, and they're obviously not paying attention. I give them a few extra seconds to notice and then I give them a light tap of the horn to wake them up.

Well, in the more recent past it has become obvious that what they're doing is texting or watching TikTok on their phone while being the first in line at the light. That is just annoying and rude. I began to be much less patient with these fools and I began to give those people the few seconds and then a slightly more insistent blast of the horn.

But in the last few days, it has happened a lot more often. I'm not the only that has noticed either. As I'm giving these people a few seconds before giving them the blast, the person behind me has already started to lay on their horn.

Today on the way to the post office it happened again and it suddenly occurred to me.  These people aren't the least bit abashed about being honked at. They are using the car behind them as their eyes.  They are going to sit there watching their phone until the person behind them honks and signals to them that the light has turned green. They're not at all carried away by what they're doing, they're using me as their green light alarm!

Don't cry over spilled... undelivered.... milk...

So... funny story. Back in March, you know, because Covid, I decided to start getting milk delivered. Oberweis Dairy had an advert about a deal they were running. The promo said that if you order over $20 of products for delivery each week they will waive the weekly delivery fee.  Plus they offered a free Oberweis delivery cooler for your front porch. 

Ordering $20 of dairy a week was not going to be a problem. More importantly, I thought that delivery of the basics like milk and eggs would keep me from having to go to the store every week and save on my potential exposure. Snacks and non-perishables I can get on Amazon but perishables are something that I'd have to go out for at least once a week. So I signed up and we began our adventure. 

Unfortunately, I was not the only one with this idea.  

So, my cooler was delivered and my deliveries began.  I was told that my items would be delivered by 8pm on Wednesday night. That is when the truck is in DeKalb, Wednesdays. Due to the sudden popularity of this service, however,  my Wednesday night deliveries began to get later and later and eventually became very early Thursday morning deliveries. Like 2 am Thursday morning. Well, the problem was that I'd stay up, you see, to bring in the refrigerated items to sanitize them, but also so they weren't on the porch all night.  Not that that was a big deal back in March, but in April/May, it was starting to be a bit warmer and I didn't want to take a chance with my dairy products getting too warm. 

It was annoying, but mostly I felt bad for those delivery guys, they were working long shifts. There weren't enough drivers and I think more importantly, not enough refrigerated trucks to get everything delivered. Eventually, though, they hired more drivers and got more trucks and my deliveries began arriving by noon on Wednesday. That issue was fixed within a few months. 

One issue however that persists is shortages. I order at least a gallon and a half of milk a week, most often 2 1/2, plus eggs, cheese, and sometimes yogurt or granola, lemonade, butter, chocolate milk, and a couple of times bread. (The bread is preservative-free and quite delicious.  But it starts to mold very quickly.)

Almost every week something I order is not available.  A few weeks into this delivery experiment I received an email addressing the shortages. They said that when they don't have enough of something, priority is given to their long time customers over new customers.  I totally get that, seems fair. Sometimes it would be disappointing to not get half and half or cream or chocolate milk. Sometimes no eggs. These things happen and there is always something unavailable.

Today's order, however, was unexpectedly odd. It arrived promptly by 11 am. Luna was sitting by the storm door watching the guy deliver, so he even left a little milk-bone on top of the cooler for her.  So sweet! 

So I go out to bring my loot in from the cooler and there's this note on top:

No big deal, I mean, I've never gotten a note before about a shortage, but I always expect it. The notes must be something new.  I look into the cooler and notice that I did get my chocolate milk, that's big because the kids love their chocolate milk.  There are eggs and cheese and yogurt and even a raspberry danish that looked good on the website and I thought I'd try. But, what I did not get today was milk! WTF?! That had to be a mistake, right? Can a dairy run out of milk? I can't do without milk. What is happening right now?

I called the number on the note and they are delivering my 2 gallons of milk tomorrow. The driver actually ran out of whole milk. (Could he have written that on the note?) He didn't put enough milk on the truck. Yikes!  Plan ahead dude! Dog biscuits on the truck, but no milk! That was weird.

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Totally tangential to the story. Before Covid, I had read a news story about how Oberweis was going to file for bankruptcy. They were getting ready to either fold or really scale back their operation.  The milk delivery business was outdated and old fashioned and wasn't as popular as it had once been.

Oberweis has to be one of the few businesses that were not killed by Covid. One of the few businesses that were actually saved by Covid. They are actually thriving under this pandemic life we're living.

Minecraft and more...

I've been watching The West Wing. I think it's because of a subconscious desire for that. A presidential candidate of intelligence, wit, and moral substance. It doesn't seem like too much to ask... is it?

I left Facebook because of this, but can I just say one thing.  I want karma to be particularly cruel, not fatal, just damned hard.

Ok, I'm done with that. I'm not really but for here and now...

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Anyway, while I was watching one of my all-time favorite shows, my geeky son begged me to come upstairs and 'see something'. 

He made a really cool world in Minecraft and he needed me to see it.  It really was quite spectacular as far as Minecraft goes.  Labs for crafting and a quite extensive mining operation to get all his materials, both facilities powered by lava. Two beautiful villages just so the villagers can grow all the food he needs and a spectacular house.  The house included stairs covered in plants that upgrade your health and give you invincibility. He's been working on this for 4 days.

Wouldn't it be great if it were all that easy? 

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I'm pretty sure I've blogged about this before, but... I miss book stores! I miss the smell and touching all the books and judging them by their cover.  Picking up an interesting looking cover and reading the flyleaf to see if the story sounds as good as the picture hints.

I miss sitting on the floor among the shelves and just reading snippets of everything in reach. I miss, making a stack of potential purchases and carrying them around with me until the stack is too large and I have to either whittle it down (So I can choose other likely candidates) or go buy them. 

I miss bringing that stack home and adding it to the dwindling stack on the nightstand.  

When you search for a title on Amazon you are first sent to the kindle listing, then the audio, and last the hardcover.  I friggin hate Kindle books.  Searching through one to find what someone said about something is harder than just sticking a finger in your spot and rifling through the rest of the pages. It's not user friendly and you can't dog-ear pages of special significance.

Bring back bookstores and real books!

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First fall picture, apparently fall begins on the south side of trees.

About Carla

Apparently, I wrote this entry on December 13, 2004, and never published it. 

Carla was our next-door neighbor. Her parents, Ann and Gille, thought that we could benefit from spending time together.  Carla could learn English and I could learn french.  So I would walk across the street and collect her after school almost every afternoon and spend time with her until one of her parents came to claim her again.  We learned a few words from each other, but not many. Honestly, play is its own communication and few words are necessary. So that experiment was doomed to fail from the beginning. All we did was play. 

There is a word that I will always remember though.  Dégueulasse! Carla said it one day as she watched me make Hawaiin chicken for dinner. She declaimed it more than once actually... several times in fact. When her parents got home I asked them what it meant and they were deeply embarrassed that their child had been so rude to me. I thought it was hysterical. Mostly because, despite all her Frenchness, Carla was a typical 4 year old. Once they saw that I thought it was funny and was not at all upset, they had a good laugh over it too. They threatened to leave Carla for dinner. 

The French dictionary defines dégueulasse as disgusting, revolting, shitty, swinish, putrid... so you see...

Anyway, here's the post...

Carla walks down the sidewalk in the same self-absorbed way that all small children do. She walks down the middle of the sidewalk in the manner of a child who has not yet been informed that she, in fact, is not the center of the entire universe. She doesn't even watch where she's going while she scouts for interesting bits of flotsam to pick up and pocket, I steer her by palming the top of her head and turning it gently in the direction I want her to go. Eventually, though, I get tired of trying to avoid stepping on her heels and I nudge her to the inside edge of the sidewalk so I can walk next to her. 

She keeps up a constant stream of chatter and questions, which I can barely hear, let alone understand. It doesn't seem to matter, she doesn't require any actual input from me. If she does need an answer she'll look up at me when she speaks so I know that she is actually addressing me and needs a response.

Today, in an effort to just get her out of the house and away from the TV, I tricked her into exercising by making her walk to the bakery with me. Amazing what the promise of a sweet treat can do to motivate a 4-year-old.  I realize that part of her ceaseless chatter is a dialogue in which she's wondering out loud what she'll get.

When we arrive at the boulangerie Carla walks along looking into all the counters until she comes to the patisserie counter. She stands there carefully considering all of her options. I'm amazed at how self-assured she is, how confident in her world she is. She makes her choice and then looks to me. They hand her her meringue and I ask for my baguettes de rigueur and an éclair au café for my walk home treat.

The return trip is tastier and much quieter than the trip out though much slower, if that's possible. Carla turns up her sweet little face and with a mouth full of meringue says 'sank you, Missy'. I make a face at her and say 'Carla! Dégueulasse!' We both laugh so hard we're spewing crumbs onto the sidewalk. It only makes us laugh harder as we both try to say 'dégueulasse!' again to each other.