"A TERRIBLE EXPERIENCE"

Hello family and friends. Yes, it’s been another long spell. I’ve been missing this activity, but you cannot imagine what’s been happening in my world.

To begin, my life was in shambles for a couple of months. In fact, I had no life after I crashed both my computers and they couldn’t be repaired. It was a sad, scary time. There was much wailing, gnashing of teeth, and arms flung to the heavens as I wondered aloud, or to anyone who would listen, why me? My eyes are tearing up just thinking about it. No emails, no Skype, no aimless browsing the internet. Oh, it was just a ter-r-r-r-ible experience.

   But, thanks to a good friend, my sanity has been restored. She loaned me a pc until I get my new one. Granted, she was probably sick of my whining, but whatever works. Anyway, those dark days have passed and, once again, I bask in joyous, sunny days of untold pleasure at a computer.

  Hopefully, all of you enjoyed a wonderful Thanksgiving. I had a birthday this month, and as I reached the ripe old age of 49 (no laughing please), I continue to realize how much there is to be thankful for -- getting up each day, children the same age as I, having a few strands of white hair on my head, and the ability to remember what I had for breakfast.

   Before I say TTFN, I have some questions for pondering. If Americans are so economically impoverished under President Obama, who were all of those people pitching tents in front of stores to get a head start on black Friday? And, who were all those people who stood in line for days to buy the latest Apple I-anything? Finally, who were all of those people who regularly paid five dollars or more for a gallon of gas in California, instead of utilizing public transportation, periodically?

A Season?

   With the NEW FALL TV season upon us, my thoughts have turned to something that has been bothering me for some time now: Exactly what is a TV season?

   My brother and I are TV and film junkies from way back. Show us a screen – the bigger the better – with flickering images, and I’ll show you two extremely happy, old people. Anyway, one day my brother was searching out DVDs at his local library and saw the old 50's TV show "Have Gun Will Travel" in the racks. You must be part of an elite, way over-the-hill gang to even remember this show. But, he is, and he did. Anyway, when he saw the case touted a full season of "Have Gun Will Travel," Bill jumped right on it.

   Back home, with popcorn and a diet soda, he began to watch. He watched a couple of episodes, then took a break. Later, he watched a couple more, took a break. As he continued to watch, he began wondering how many more episodes there were. He finally checked the case again, and realized that this one season had 39– that’s right – 39 episodes. A new episode every week from September through early June. Needless to say, my brother was traumatized, and vowed to never again check out a fifty-year-old TV show on DVD.

   After laughing at his story, I thought, those were the days: There was a winter season and a summer season. The winter season was the better part of a year, then there was the summer season of hated reruns. But you knew what to expect. I don’t know when it happened, but somewhere along the way, we started getting summer replacements. That was a pretty good idea – a few fresh summer shows, and reruns. I could handle that.

   Today, we have broadcast and cable network programming. All have numerous seasons that commence when "somebody up there" says start. Summer replacements have cliffhanger endings you have to wait nine months to see resolved. And, the NEW FALL SEASON, which now ends in May, instead of June, features repeats throughout.  This confusing mass of entertainment is of unknown duration –five, six, ten weeks – and, just when you decide you really like a show, it’s gone -- season’s over.
   At this point, all I want to know is whether anyone can tell me what constitutes a "season."     Perhaps this is Hollywood’s way of increasing employment opportunities. A celebrity may brag that his or her show has been on for three seasons, but that could be as few as fifteen weeks, total. Okay, well the show’s really been on less than four months.



Should we tell 'em?

   So, here’s what I’d like to see happen. I’d like for the all-knowing guys at the top to find a way to unify the length of these various seasons. Then, tell those of us who buy the products that help pay their salaries when a season will commence, and how many weeks we can expect that "season" to be.    Then (and this has nothing to do with seasons),I want them to stop advertising other shows while the featured program is running. I really hate seeing words and little people scampering across the bottom of my screen.

   Finally, I want the network "volume" police to stop pumping up the volume on commercials. If I have to take a bathroom break, I’ll catch you on the next go-round. I’m already visually challenged, must I lose my hearing, also. CONSPIRACY?

TWO STEPS BACKWARD, AND OTHER STUFF

As I meticulously address an envelope to my brother, with gnarled, arthritic fingers protesting at each line, it occurs to me, this is really two steps backward. I took one giant step forward, having spent weeks figuring out how to design a blog, and creating the first posting. After that I emailed the link to family and friends, begging them to read it. Now, however, I must print it out and send it to my loving brother, by SNAIL MAIL, because he refuses to learn how to use his laptop. And, a very nice laptop it is. Is it me, or is there something wrong with this process?

 

Yea, this is the first time I’ve found my way back to my blog for a second posting. I’m having some fun now.  Here's hoping the same three people who read the first one will read this.

FOWL PLAY

Just to share some stuff. I’m having a bit of trouble with my eyesight these days. Feeling a bit like Mr. Magoo. I used to hate that little cartoon man. How could anyone be that stupid? He knew he couldn’t see. Why did he keep trying to drive? I guess he was in denial way before "in denial" became a societal catch phrase. Anyway, Magoo and I now have a lot in common – he tried to drive – I try to cook. Recently, I cooked a very small turkey on 450 for three and a half hours. At first, no one could understand why it came out looking like a lovely piece of tanned leather, but required a small machete to cut what felt like a well-worn baseball.

Surprise! Surprise! Surprise!

When the temperature setting was discovered, my granddaughter suggested that perhaps I should stop cooking, until I get new glasses. She may have a point, but I can’t see it.

Again, with the fowl language. I knew she was in a hurry that day, but I asked my daughter to make a quick trip to the supermarket, before she hit the street (my first mistake). They had chicken wings, and boneless, skinless chicken thighs at really good prices, and that’s primarily what I wanted -- cook out fare. There were a couple of other small things on the list as well, so I figured it would cost about $25.00 (my second mistake). A while later, she calls from the store and asks how much chicken I want. I ask how it's packaged, and she says, "about two pounds per package." I say, "OK, get about six POUNDS of each (my third mistake)."

Twenty minutes later she comes huffing into the house, straining under the weight of several bags, and tells me the bill was $66. Now, anyone with shallow pockets knows the difference between $25 and $66 is not $41. It’s gas money. It’s a trip for two to a movie matinee. It’s parking at Cedars Sinai hospital. Well, my mouth fell open and, as I wiped the drool from my lips, I gasped, "What did you buy?" She informed me that she got exactly what I asked for – six PACKS of each, plus a couple of packs of breasts,which were also a good price. Let me tell you, it ain’t easy trying to fit more than 30 pounds of chicken parts into a small refrigerator freezer that already has stuff in it. It took me half an hour of rearranging, shoving, banging, and muttering expletives to squeeze that chicken into the freezer. And, of course, you know who was in the wind, her mission accomplished.  

Anyway, slfn -- it has nothing to do with sex.

THE BEGINNING

When I was pregnant with my first child, I walked for exercise. My son was born at the end of August, and that heat kicked my butt all summer. Still, I went out everyday to walk. My father would be on his way home for lunch, and there I’d be practically crawling up the street toward our house. He’d pull up alongside me and call out, "Ol’ Soul, you need a ride?" That was fifty years ago and, today, I am truly an "Ol’soul."

Not too long ago, my daughter and I moved to Los Angeles from the east coast. My one regret is a short list of friends -- two maybe.



We came from this ...



Coupled with being an ol' soul, I have an insatiable desire to chat, but how many times a day can you phone the same two people?  What to do? What to do?  I tried Facebook, but mostly I'm confused by it. Could be the multiple generation gap, but between friending and unfriending people, farm animals and zoo animals, well, it just wasn't working for me. Blog, maybe? Well, here I am reaching out. I figured this would be good, because I can just talk about stuff, and it's ok that no one answers.

To this ...Sun and sand.

Thinking of fifty years ago. Has anyone else realized that forced digital TV, without benefit of cable or satellite, has taken us back to the dark ages of black and white TV and rabbit ears? Whose idea was this anyway? This Ol’ Soul thinks it’s a conspiracy. You know, the way big cities got rid of their clean, electric-powered street cars for gas-fueled motorized buses? Now we get to breathe polluted air from monsters that blow dust, dirt and black smoke in your face if you’re anywhere near them. Ok, off the soap box but, as I was saying, this Ol’ Soul thinks it’s a conspiracy so that we will be forced to rely on cable/satellite service. But, I decided not to play the game.

About a year ago, the cable/satellite companies (they're all the same) and I had a parting of the ways. My "monthly mugging," wasn’t fun any more, no matter how many channels I had. I snatched out those cable wires, and unpacked those government sponsored digital converter boxes, as visions of dollar signs danced in my head. We were going to save about eight hundred dollars over the next twelve months. Little did I know how much we would grow to hate the sound of rain (in drought-ridden California), or the tinkle of our wind chimes when a soft breeze blows. God forbid anything larger than a VW passes the house; the picture breaks up, and the people start speaking some language that includes belching and burping. My mind had not conceived the number of times someone would have to get up and adjust the rabbit ears --sometimes we wait to see who will get pissed off first -- or step over – not on – a certain spot on the floor. I’m about to cave, and restart the "monthly mugging;" the family has begun to throw peanuts at me when the TV is on. Perhaps there's a good reason why digital was forced on the whole country, but, trust me, It's probably A CONSPIRACY.

So long for now, and please excuse the imperfections. Will try to do better next time.