?`s and ANNEswers

Ten minutes to write. Less time to read.

I’ve Been Out

Posted on March 22, 2007

We’re one day into Official Spring, and I’m struck with how isolated I’ve been all winter. I’ve hardly read a newspaper or listened to a broadcast. I know we’re still in Iraq, that some Democrats and Republicans are already running for the presidency, and that American Idol is back. But that’s about it.

It wasn’t a conscious decision, but around the holidays I’d had enough. Enough scenes from Baghdad, enough statistics about dying soldiers, enough of the world’s woes. So I tuned out. I went to Tahiti and left my computer at home, which meant I also wasn’t able to check regularly on the status of things via the Internet.

I read two books while in Tahiti and have read three more since I came home. I’ve played piano more. I’ve returned to blogging, and I’m thinking of revamping my website.
Maybe I would have done these things anyway, but I’m not so sure. They take time; and, by withdrawing from the daily news, I found extra time. I can’t prove it, but I suspect not much really changed in my absence.

Now I need to come out of hiding. I know this because I’ve recently been in conversations with others who reference things like crippling snow storms on the East Coast, Iran’s recalcitrance, and Alberto Gonzales. They don’t expect my eyes to glaze.

I’m not sure how I’ll go about reconnecting with the current scene without also reconnecting with the same sense of frustration that originally caused me to drop out. The challenge is to get to the facts of a matter and bypass all the opinion, empty oratory, and prattling that is found these days in print, radio, and television. It’s a daunting task.

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Tax Time

Posted on March 20, 2007

It’s that time of year when I chastise myself for keeping incomplete records, because it’s also that time of year when I need to give my accountant complete records. Because of my laxity, I’m spending the week catching up on ledgering and preparing for my meeting with our accountant on Friday. It’s pretty ugly.

I don’t know if ours is a complicated situation or if I’m just not up to the task. Both Earl and I are self-employed, so there is Schedule C to contend with. We both have owned property, so there are rental schedules to fill in. We itemize our personal deductions and we receive interest throughout the year. More schedules here.

As I think about it, I see ours is not the EZ return. It’s more like a maze. I honestly try to keep good records throughout the year, but I always come up short when faced with the meeting with our accountant.

Years ago, I took an H&R Block Tax Course and worked a season as one of the company’s many tax consultants. It was a heady responsibility, making sure either clients or the government received a just due. Thankfully, I became pregnant (not through any fault of H&R), and I didn’t have to return the next season. But I should have taken note, because Earl’s and my tax returns today are as complicated as the ones I did those many years ago. I just didn’t have as vested an interest.

I think it’s Steve Forbes who advocates a flat tax, one where you pay a percentage of your income and deductions have nothing to do with it. I’m inclined to agree with him, especially this time of year.

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The Ultimate

Posted on March 17, 2007

What better way to celebrate St. Patrick’s Day than to attend the sixty-second annual ULTIMATE Sport and RV Show? Well, there probably are better ways; but this is how Earl and I spent the day.

It was clear and crisp when we pulled out of our driveway at 8 AM this morning to drive the eighty some-odd miles to DeVos Place, the exhibition center in Grand Rapids, Michigan, where the Ultimate was being held. We had reason.

Last August we went fishing at Wollaston Lake Lodge in upper Saskatchewan, Canada. It’s a wonderful place which, in Columbus’s day, would have been considered the edge of the universe. We spent five glorious days fishing pristine waters pure enough to drink and five glorious evenings sitting around a fire swapping stories with other fisherpersons and breathing the cold night air. We were so charmed that we signed up to return this summer. Our new friends, the owners of Wollaston Lake Lodge, were exhibiting at the Ultimate, which was the main reason for our interest in the show.

We found their booth, renewed acquaintances, and reveled in anticipation of our return visit this August. Then we went up and down the aisles of the Ultimate to see what else was on display.

By nature, I am not particularly an outdoors person, unless you consider weeding a sport. I don’t hike, hunt, or cook food over an open fire. My idea of roughing it is Holiday Inn Express. So whenever I go to these shows or visit stores that cater to the real outdoorsperson, I’m always aware of a world outside my own. It’s full of boats and motors, a gazillion different fishing lures, offers of bear hunting expeditions, men hawking cookware, and miserable food. I’m not necessarily proud to report I succumbed to the last two things. I can’t wait for my mega-hundred-dollar skillet to arrive; however, the hot dog I had is history.

This particular exposition also had an unusual display of taxidermied animals; and, while I’m uncomfortable killing animals for sport, I must admit these mounts were exquisite. There was also an explanation of the art of taxidermy and the various categories that its devotees fall into. I was impressed.

We roamed the exhibition hall for about four hours, which is pretty good for Earl. He can do the entire Art Institute in Chicago in forty-five minutes. After that, we went down the street to eat at a local bar that had come recommended. Unfortunately, the recommendation will not be passed on. We overlooked green beer — remember this is St. Patrick’s Day — for a real Irish treat: Guinness. And we ordered burgers to accompany it. We didn’t order the loud female guest who sat behind Earl and laughed loudly enough and regularly enough to be heard in the next state. Maybe it was holiday cheer that spurred her on; I only know we ate in record time.

Guinness in the early afternoon meant I took a nap on the way home, while Earl found his way back to St. Joseph. For the record, I dreamt of my new skillet and hoped it would turn me into a better cook. However, I still don’t plan to cook over an open fire

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677 Days to Go

Posted on March 16, 2007

For Christmas, I received “The Out of Office Countdown 2007 Calendar.” It’s not only a calendar but also a compendium of unintentionally witty statements our president has made during his years in office. It will keep me laughing until George W. Bush leaves the White House in 2009. No doubt, you probably have surmised that I didn’t vote for “W” either time and that I will be glad when his term of office is ended.

But let me take a broader view. Regardless of whether one voted for Bush or not, whether one likes his policies or not, it must be admitted that his next career could certainly be on Comedy Central. I offer the following remarks as proof.

In 2000, Bush made this poignant statement: “Rarely is the question asked: Is our children learning?”

In 2002, when his Texas gubernatorial portrait was displayed — presumably in Texas — he thanked the audience for “taking the time out of your day to come and witness my hanging.” Huh?

In 2005, he said — presumably with a straight face — “Who could have possibly envisioned an erection — an election — in Iraq at this point in history?”

These are only three samplings of a myriad of misstatements in the countdown calendar, but you get the idea. Bush is the master of the misspoken word. And, even if I had voted for him, as a writer I would be embarrassed by his lack of attention in things speech related. I hope he can get through the next 677 days with fewer mistakes, but I’m not encouraged.

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Country Music Workout

Posted on March 12, 2007

Country music artists have a lock on hilarious lyrics sung with straight faces. Collectively, they also hold the record for the greatest number of songs about unrequited love that involve a church and a wedding.

I was reminded of these accomplishments this morning as I jogged on a treadmill at the South Shore Health and Racquet Club. My iPod was turned way up to drown out the woman on the treadmill next to mine who was chatting loudly on her cell phone.

So I listened to Billy Ray Cyrus cry, “I’m so miserable without you it’s almost like you were here.” I also heard him ask, “Where am I gonna live when I get home?” Cyrus’s songs more often than not are about how he didn’t treat his lady well and she’s taken sweet revenge. You’d think he’d learn.

As for songs revolving around a church and a wedding, three of them came up on my hit list this morning. The aforementioned Cyrus sang, “It could have been me standing next to you,” as he reviews how he never told his girlfriend how he really felt. Now that she’s married someone else, he’s remorseful. Again, there’s a learning curve here, Billy.

Garth Brooks and Lyle Lovett take the wedding song to darker regions. Brooks sings that he won’t have to wonder anymore, and I assume it’s because the love of his life has married someone else as he sat in his pick-up truck across the street from the church. But the song ends with the suggestion that Brooks won’t have to wonder any more because he’s jumped off a bridge. It’s pretty dark.

Lovett’s ode is darker. He enters the church with a .45 pistol as his loved one is marrying someone else. Someone gets killed here, but I’m unsure whether it’s the happy couple or Lovett himself. Called L.A. County, it’s the bleakest of wedding songs.

I’ve always felt country artists should be given credit for their ingenuity, even if you don’t like the genre. They sing about washing machines and renegade dogs and dime stores. They make your toes tap, which is why I frequently listen to country music when I’m working out. The four/four beat of most songs helps establish a rhythm, whether it’s on a treadmill or doing sets with weights. I can’t imagine any woman wanting to work out and chat on a cell phone instead.

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To Sorbet or Not to Sorbet

Posted on March 10, 2007

Last night Earl and I went to one of our favorite local restaurants, The Millennium Steak House in Niles, Michigan. I’d had a hunger for the rack of lamb, and we hadn’t been there in a long time.

Too long it seems, for in our absence the owners made some noticeable changes not only to the menu but to the one characteristic that set The Millennium apart from other dining establishments around here. For whatever reason, they have eliminated the delicious scoop of homemade sorbet each diner received between the starter course and the entrйe.

Earl had finished his onion soup while I had set half my salad to the side for later. He eats items one at a time, while I tend to mix and match. We sat a few minutes, waiting for the refreshing sorbet, when the server came by and said, “Your dinners will be up shortly.”

“What about the sorbet?” I asked.

“Oh, we stopped doing that about a month ago,” she replied.

“Why?”

“I don’t know.”

And she moved on before I could pursue it further.

In the grand scheme of things, most restaurants I visit don’t serve sorbet in the first place, so the meal at The Millennium was really not any less a dining experience in that sense. At the same time, I am saddened that this restaurant is just a little less special now. In fact, without the sorbet, my rack of lamb didn’t taste as special either.

I expressed my disappointment to the hostess as we were leaving. “Oh, yes,” she said, “we’ve had other diners comment on that too. I will let the owners know how you feel.”

That didn’t seem particularly encouraging, so this is a public request to the owners of The Millennium to bring back the sorbet.

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The Best Unwords

Posted on March 7, 2007

I recently ran across a website that publishes words used in general conversation but which have not attained dictionary status yet. It’s a great example of the fluidity of our language.

I offer some of the more appealing words here in the hope of encouraging others to pay attention to how language is expanded through splicing and dicing, through trial and error, and through new connections.

My favorite unword is “ginormous,” an adjective that means something is bigger than gigantic AND bigger than enormous. In its simplest form, it’s the superlative superlative for biggest. But then people don’t use big anymore, when they can use bigger words.

Another favorite unword is “awsometastic,” although I would prefer to spell it this way: “awesometastic.” It means something that is more than awesome and more than fantastic. Truthfully, I think both “awesome” and “fantastic” are overused, so I like splicing them into one word to save space and time. At the same time, maybe the entire list should be retired.

Then there is “confuzzled”: being confused and puzzled at the same time. And “gription,” meaning the purchase gained by friction; as in, “My car needs new tires because the old ones have lost their gription.”

I can agree that some of these words more than others are apt to appear in the next edition of Webster’s. At the same time, I’m pleased to see that American English is not a dead language; rather it’s one that is always expanding. Maybe there’ll be a word for that on the unword list someday.

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Moments in Time

Posted on March 6, 2007

Shortly after Earl and I moved into our house in Michigan my friend Judi came to visit. She brought her camera and went around the house taking pictures, even though we were hardly settled in. A while later, a beautiful album arrived at our home.

I hadn’t looked at the album recently, but last night I came across it. The first photo shows me standing in our doorway waving, and I imagine Judi shot it just before she drove away.

What struck me most about the collection of photos is how much our house has changed in the almost seven years since Judi first came. That photo of me waving also shows the old walkway to the front door and the old bushes, both of which have been replaced since then.

The interior shots reveal the former owners’ color choices, as we hadn’t begun to paint the inside yet. Except for our master bedroom, which I had already painted an ungodly shade of pink. It wasn’t on purpose, but that’s how we discovered that the paint the previous owners used needed to be whited-out before we applied our own colors. I smile at that pink bedroom because we’ve already re-painted it to a more soothing grey-tan. In fact, we’ve repainted every room in the house.

A large green vase sits in the middle of the kitchen table. It was a purchase Judi talked me into when we went shopping in downtown St. Joe. “You’ve got to get that vase,” she said. So I did. She talked me into a lamp for the bedroom too, and there’s a picture of it as well.

This album is a treasure, because it reminds me of our progress in making the home our own. We can create a long list of changes we’ve implemented, but the visual reminder of some of them is much better. Thanks, Judi.

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The Battle of the Hardware Stores

Posted on March 5, 2007

I’m not sure of all the details. What I do know is that the ACE Hardware store down the road about three miles from our house closed shop last year and built a new facility much farther away. The former building remained empty until True Value decided to open a store there.

I’ve heard that the hardware stores have a personal feud, as they are owned by siblings who want to outdo the other. I can’t verify this, but if it’s true there could be an added factor in the mix. Either way, all I want is to buy water softener salt at a reasonable price, get paint mixed without disappointment, and buy filters for the furnace and the dryer with ease.

The new True Value hardware store opened this morning, and Earl went there to reconnoiter. He introduced himself to the new owners, but beyond that I don’t know what he said. I’ve heard True Value wants to cater to contractors, which seems like a good strategy given our neighborhood is abuzz with residential building. So where does that leave the homeowner? I’m not sure.

The truth is, I’m fickle. I loved the ACE store and was sad to see it depart. I felt sold out. But if True Value has what I want, I may go there instead of visiting the new ACE. I realize that my decision has no bearing on either company’s business plan.

I’m also reminded of the time, about four years ago, that six supermarkets opened within a two mile radius of each other. I wondered if each could survive, and in the end only three did: Martin’s, Harding’s, and Meijer. The others, as they say, are history. We’ll have to wait and watch if fifty percent of the hardware stores will stay intact. I’ll keep you posted.

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Beer Here

Posted on March 4, 2007

This past week Earl and I, along with his daughter and son-in-law, went to the Saugatuck Brewing Company — about an hour from our house — to redeem Earl’s birthday gift certificate. Now maybe you’re thinking we went to drink beer, but the reality is we went to make our own microbrew. After sampling various options the brewery offered, Earl chose a dark Porter; and a staff member at SBC pulled out the recipe on a well-used sheet of paper.

It’s quite a process, almost akin to those scientific experiments we did in high school chemistry . . . only more fun. For four hours, we weighed and measured grains, steeped water, and added yeast into a huge container that you stir with paddles the size of small oars. In between steps, we ate pizza and reminisced about how Earl’s dad made his own beer for his wedding in the 1930s. It was a sweet, sentimental evening.

At the end, the beer was poured into a plastic container to ferment. This takes about two weeks, when we’ll return to bottle our own– hopefully — delicious brew. In the meantime I’m reminded of a saying that is attributed to Benjamin Franklin: “Beer is proof that God loves us and wants us to be happy.”

We’re going to end up with about sixty 22 ounce bottles of beer, so I’m hopeful we’ll be very, very happy. To learn more about this unique experience, go to www.sbrewing.com.

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