?`s and ANNEswers

Ten minutes to write. Less time to read.

The Best of 2005

Around this time of year pundits, politicians, and pop artists release their “Best Of” lists. My son’s company, fredflare.com, issues its best too. I mention this because it is the only list I’ve ever garnered enough votes to be included on.

That said, I’m devising my own “Best Of . . .” Part of it is personal, part public. And none of it is in any kind of order.

I loved Earl’s birthday party, because everyone who could showed up, especially for the birthday dinner where we spent time remembering how each of us met Earl in the first place. It sounds hokey in the retelling, but everyone present offered a different slice of Earl’s life.

I loved visiting Fargo, ND, where my older son lives. I was there in the chill of March and for the warmer joy of my birthday in June. We held the ongoing Fargo Bowling Tournament both times, and I must say it was a blast. I even broke a hundred both times.

Speaking of sports, I loved that the Chicago White Sox finally won a World Series. And in what style! This were no squeeker or narrow escape route to the big trophy; rather it was full bore White Sox Mania all the way. Chicago hasn’t had this much fun since Michael Jordan retired.

I loved Paul McCartney for his recent album and Johnny Cash, not only for his life but also for his dying. He did it with grace, and in relative privacy. But his legacy will live on in the public domain. I also loved the tributes to John Lennon on the anniversary of his death. I remember exactly where I was when I heard the news that he’d been shot.

The best book I read was The Ha-Ha, followed closely by The Kite Runner. Both are worth your time. I didn’t see a single movie this year, so I can’t speak about them. I tried to tune out Washington, so I have no political heroes. I hated reality TV, so nobody from that realm is on my list either.

As for Tom Cruise, may he always be relegated to the “Ten Least Interesting” or the “Ten Most Annoying” or the “Ten Most Egotistical.” Which means he won’t make my list anytime in the near future either. That goes for his fiancee too.

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Goodbye Starbucks

Dear Starbucks,
I have had a long, passionate and faithful affair with you, starting about ten years ago when I fell in love with your lattes. You fueled my caffeine desire and lit my beverage life. I was willing to endure anything to accept one of your offerings.

But no longer.

I came to my senses this morning as I stood in line for my usual libation. It was 9:31 AM when I got in line and it was 9:51 AM when I actually held my drink in my hands. In the interim, I pondered what I was doing, what else I could do with twenty minutes, and what it was about a cup of coffee that was so important.

I decided that when ordering a cup of coffee takes longer than the traditional American coffee break of fifteen minutes that there is something wrong with the Starbucks system. I realize that each cup of coffee is made to the specifics of the person ordering it, but all of a sudden I felt that coffee had gained too much importance, too much value. It is, after all, only a beverage. It is not a solution to AIDS or to poverty or a cure for cancer.

In addition, I researched coffee breaks online and learned that the U.S. government has no policy about them. No company has to allow them. Rather they are part of our casual business culture. So I say Starbucks has taken advantage of the situation; and, while I don’t want to dictate to others, this makes me feel like a chump.

I have one of your Starbucks debit cards, and once the $4.23 left on it is used, I’m going cold turkey. You were always hot and I loved you, but it’s over.

So goodbye,
Anne

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Joy

I chose a word in midair to come up with a topic for today’s ten minutes. ‘Joy’ leaped into my mind without hesitation, so I decided it would be my topic.

What is joy? I could check a dictionary, but I prefer to wing it. I believe joy is contentment multiplied manyfold. It is different from happiness or ecstasy, feelings that seem to be more transient and not translatable into something deeper.

Joy is intense and rich in self-feeling. It is reserved for those special moments or occasions or times when you and the world are entirely in sync. It lasts for more than a few moments; in fact, it reminds us that peace – not necessarily on earth, but within our own realms – is surely attainable. It gives us pause to reflect on who we are and where we are.

“Joy to the World” is a wonderful hymn, but it would be just as wonderful if we substituted “Joy to my World.” Maybe if we did this, everyone would take time to honor his or her life and the real accomplishments therein.

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Security Issue

“I’ve been thinking, “Earl’s daughter, Adaire, said. “Thinking about your blog.”

As I listened, I hoped she was being provoked by some of my entries and possibly amused by others. She is a faithful reader, and I always appreciate her input.

“You give away many personal details,” she continued. “Like what town you live in and what road you live on. Even the dates you’re going to be out of town. I realize you started this blog for friends and family but if it’s reached beyond that there could be someone out there who would take your information and use it against you.”

Being an idealist, I never thought of that myself. But she has a point.

So anybody out there who has a criminal intent, let me share this. Earl has a license to carry a concealed weapon, so don’t try anything when we’re at home. He is prepared and he is merciless. He will shoot to kill. After all, he was a Chicago policeman in the worst district in the city.

And, when we ‘re out of town, the sheriff patrols our property, our security system is on high alert with an alarm that wakes the dead, and my neighbor hones her hawk eyes on our house as if she lived there and her own life were in danger.

I don’t know if these disclaimers allow me to return to my ideal world; but, short of limiting what I write about, it’s the best I can do.

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Gift Card Christmas

It seems to me that this Christmas the gifts are smaller than usual. I don’t mean fewer; I mean physically smaller. And I think this is because the giving of gift certificates – better known in the retail industry as gift cards – has become more acceptable and prevalent. Or maybe they became prevalent, and so they became acceptable.

No matter. Gift cards are here to stay.

Once it was considered gauche to give money when one could present an actual gift wrapped with festive paper, something solid to hang on to. But no more. Today, both consumers and retailers have latched onto the notion of giving a gift card, so that the recipient can purchase the gift of choice, instead of returning the giver’s idea of such a gift.

It definitely has merits. Gift cards remove the fretting and fuming about what to buy. They can be bought at the last minute, online or in stores. They are small to wrap and don’t require extra ribbon or tape.

At the same time, are they as thoughtful? Do they convey the same message as an actual gift that may or may not suit the recipient but which the giver took time and energy to purchase and wrap? Are they personal enough?

I don’t have definitive answers for these questions; I only know that when I use gift cards it’s because I haven’t paid special attention to comments from those I’m gifting as to what they like or need. So, in a way, it’s the lazy way out. And maybe with all the hustle and bustle at this time of year, that’s what gift cards really have going for them.

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Tipping Policies

Whenever Earl or I purchase an item or a service, we usually charge it. We put any tip involved on the credit card too. However, over the past few years I’ve learned to ask the waiter or waitress or hairdresser or manicurist or whoever it is what the policy of the establishment is regarding these tips.

It all began when I was having a manicure in a fancy health club in Chicago. I’d paid for the service in advance with my credit card, so that I wouldn’t be fumbling for a bill in my wallet with wet nails.

The Russian manicurist was putting on the top coat when I said, “I’ve put your tip on my credit card.” She raised her head, looked at me, and said in a low voice, “Zat may be goot for you, but eet eez not goot for me.”

I asked why, and she explained as best she could that the establishment kept all the tips put on credit cards and gave them to the employees twice a month as part of their salary. In addition, she had to pay taxes on them. It was clear she preferred cash tips.

I could see her point; but as a customer it is often easier to add the tip to the bill and charge it. This also leaves my small bills for those situations where a credit card is not involved, such as tipping a cabbie or a bellhop. Only now I ask the people involved if they get their tips at the end of their shifts.

There has been an amazing array of answers from a simple “Yes” (which makes it easy for me) to an explanation that tips put on charge cards are used to offset health insurance premiums the employee might owe. Maybe this is forward of me, but so far nobody has seemed offended. At the very least, I can then decide what I want to do without incurring the ire of those who serve me well.

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Fishing

I have the feeling I’m in for a bumpy ride the next few months. And it’s all because my beloved, Earl, is eagerly planning our summer ’06 vacation.

Earl has said on more than one occasion that when I plan our vacations all he has to do is show up. I plan the itinerary, I book the airline tickets, I even dig out our passports and vaccination papers, when needed. He simply packs his bag.

However, our roles are supposedly reversed for the Canadian fly-in fishing lodge vacation for next summer. He’s the designated planner, while I’m merely the companion. He’ll tell me when to pack my bag. (In fact, Earl’s been talking about this trip in the abstract since I’ve known him. Now we’re at the reality point.)

I’ve agreed to go north of the tree line in Canada, either in Manitoba or Saskatchewan, so that Earl can fish five days with a guide. I’ve also agreed to go fishing one of those days, but plan to read, relax, crochet, sleep, and generally hibernate the other four. And this is where the bumpy ride comes in.

Already Earl is studying web sites of various lodges, and I have no problem with this. But he wants me to come running and see every picture, every price range, every bed configuration. It’s probably because he wants to make sure I have a great time. I’m sort of interested, but not that much. Rather, I want it to be the way it is when I plan our vacations. I just want to show up and be pleasantly surprised.

So how do I explain that I don’t want to be involved in the choosing and planning when Earl’s enthusiasm runs so high? How do I let him know that whatever he picks will be the perfect choice and that I’m gearing up for a great fishing adventure. I just don’t want to massage it between now and then.

Maybe if he reads my blog he’ll understand.

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Being Bilingual

I’ve always thought that being bilingual was a tremendous asset, one that most people in our country do not appreciate. We live in a land so vast that one can go for miles and find people who still speak the same language. It’s not like this in Western or Eastern Europe or in the Far East.

Currently, there is an influx of Spanish speaking peoples to the United States; and there is a movement to encourage our country to be bilingual – English and Spanish side by side. There is also an opposing movement to legislate for English as the official language of our country and thus require everyone to learn it.

I can see both sides of this debate. Although we’ve been an English-speaking country for a couple centuries, it’s possible that having two languages is in the future is the best decision. And, given the various language populations, it’s also possible that Spanish – over French or German or Vietnamese – would be the one to choose.

Case in point: The Washington Post reported this week that a sixteen-year-old student named Zach Rubio was suspended from his school for speaking Spanish in the hallway to another student who had addressed him in Spanish. The article doesn’t say whether there is an official school policy about speaking only English, but Rubio said he answered in Spanish because he was addressed in that language.

The article went on to note that Rubio speaks flawless English, as well as the Spanish of his immigrant parents, without the slightest accent. Which leads me to believe he is truly bilingual. In my viewpoint, that makes him more able to communicate with different peoples.

So what is the problem here? Why was he suspended? Did he get into a fight? Was he rude to some authority figure? Apparently not. His only “crime” was that he spoke Spanish.

I think the principal overreacted and didn’t even consider the value of being able to speak two languages. The Swiss have three official national languages, and I imagine other countries have more than one. Would we lose our American identity if we admitted that maybe, just maybe, being a bilingual culture would be a good thing? I’m still pondering the answer, but I do know that speaking Spanish in a high school hallway should not be cause for suspension.

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Tanning

Four weeks from today Earl and I head south; and I mean really south, as in the Caribbean and Venezuela. We’re taking our annual get-away-from-winter-for-ten-days cruise. So today we started our tanning regimen.

Now I know all the caveats and bewares about tanning; but at the same time, there are just as many about being in the sun too long and getting burned. And getting burned on a cruise is definitely not a fun thing. You want to be outside in the warm tropical weather without looking like Louie and Lisa Lobster when you put on your formal wear for dinner with the ship’s captain. I know; I’ve been there. In addition, you’re much closer to the equator in the Caribbean, and the sun is hotter there. Things burn faster.

We usually try to tan a few times before we leave home, even though I personally think it’s a lot of work. You must drive to the tanning salon where you enter one of the tanning rooms. Each room has a tanning bed (either vertical or horizontal, depending on your preference), hooks for your clothes, a chair, protective eyewear and a towel.

Obviously, it’s difficult to tan with your winter coat, mittens, and boots on; in fact, it’s difficult to tan well with anything on at all. So all your clothing comes off before you climb (figuratively) into the bed. At first, it’s a good idea to tan for mere minutes, especially if you’re fair skinned like I am. Today I stayed under the lights for only five minutes. It was hardly enough time to snooze. Then I redressed for returning to the cold reality outside.

That’s one thing about tanning in winter. The actual tanning time is the least of it; it’s all the other preparations that are tedious. But I just keep that Lisa Lobster image in my mind and know it won’t apply to me this year.

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Toilet Paper Holders

We’ve lived in this house without owning toilet paper holders for over five years. Every once in a while it’s bothered us, but for the most part we’ve lived with the toilet paper roll sitting on the back of the commode or on the vanity top. Even on the floor.

But when we remodeling the bathrooms, we decided to come up in the world and install – you guessed it – toilet paper holders in each of the two full baths and the little powder room.

The remodeling is done, finished, over . . . BUT the toilet paper holders I ordered three weeks ago still have not come in. As Earl pointed out today, “We’ve gotten all the Christmas gifts we ordered via catalog during the last week or two, so why aren’t the holders here?”

It’s a good question, and I believe the answer boils down to service. The manufacturer of the toilet paper holders has given us one excuse after another. It was conducting inventory; it lost the order; it didn’t ship when it should have; blah, blah, blah. In addition, toilet paper holders are probably not on anyone’s gift list, so the manufacturer isn’t working feverishly to garner extra holiday sales and improve that all-important retail bottom line.

I supposed we could go to the local ACE and buy toilet paper holders off the shelf, but I’ve succumbed to the manufacturer’s promise one more time that they’ll be here early next week. In the meantime, the toilet paper is back in its old haunts. But it just doesn’t feel right.

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