Personal Touch

NOTE: In an effort to cut back on the parenthetical asides within this (admittedly long and rambling, but also occasionally amusing) post, I've decided to use endnotes. I like to think they add something to the piece. Enjoy.

Personal Touch
Call it surveillance of the enemy (0), but I bought lunch for my child and I at McDonald's today (1). For myself I purchased a chicken sandwich (2), the requisite french fries (3), and iced tea (4). For the child I ordered a Happy Meal: chicken nuggets (5), a kid size portion of fries, packaged apple slices, and 1% milk (6).

As we sat at the table eating I noticed the bottom of each bag had a name and date printed on it. 16 FEB 2012 JESUS M. said one, and 08 FEB 2012 RON T said the other (7). A quick check on the web yields no definitive explanation for this bag naming, though the logical consensus is that the name represents a worker at the plant where the bags were made (8) and not, let's say, McDonald's employees (9). It reminded me of the Saturn car manufacturing practice wherein a worker would sign the finished car, taking credit as well as tacit responsibility. I can see such a show of pride in workmanship on cars, which the average worker is not likely to have churned out in the millions during any given pay period. But, paper bags?

It reminds me of a new practice at Safeway. For a month or so, at the end of each checkout process, when the cashier handed me the receipt, they would point out a note near the bottom, indicating I, as a super special customer of theirs, was entitled to the manager's direct phone number. The cashier would tell me to call if ever I needed anything (10). I guess they figured they'd been thanking me by name (11) long enough that they could finally give me their number.

I've never used that number, but it appears on my every Safeway receipt now (they've stopped pointing it out, thank goodness) (12).  I have a feeling the store could not handle call volume if everyone who has the manager's number decided to call every time we had an idea or issue. But Safeway takes that gamble because they know that the act of giving the number generates loyalty, and loyalty sustains business. Because I've been encouraged to make contact with the manager, I will feel a closer bond to that business, even if I never do (13). I understand that. It's a manipulation of me (14), yes, but at least it is partially meant to encourage me to talk to someone. This name-on-a-bag thing is a more troubling manipulation. I'm sure it's meant to sway me in some way. But sway me for good or evil?

Wouldn't it be fabulous if the names were placed on the bags as part of some experiment? I love a good social experiment (assuming no is hurt during the study, duh.) If that were the case, I would totally feel better about eating at McDonald's (15). But if this practice is actually more widespread, then it's probably a paper industry validation/pride thing. Which brings me back to manipulation.

Jesus and Ron had a part in bringing this paper bag into my life. I have mixed feelings about this. I am thankful that they helped create a convenient carrier for my food (16). Because I've seen names and dates of (presumably) real people, I wonder about their working lives, the satisfaction they gain from producing something (17), and the pride they feel when someone gets "their" bag. But they were undoubtedly not the ones who decided to implement this practice of putting names on the product. The desire to communicate pride in one's work is an idea generated long ago (18), and it might be put into practice in various industries, but let's be honest. The names would not be there if it didn't improve--or have potential to improve--the bottom line. There are dollar signs dotting the "i"s in those names (19).

In the paper industry there is an added problem with regards to PR. Jesus and Ron work in a troubled field, dependent on natural resources, increasingly reliant on recycling and environmentally minded consumers. And so I wonder, am I meant to think that because a person was involved in the making of this bag, that I need think less about the source material for paper products the world over? After all, a human touch might offset some of the anonymous malaise that accompanies modern life. In short, am I being manipulated by a few names on the bottom of a bag?

Okay, now that I've gotten all of that off my chest, I'll close simply by saying: check the bottoms of your paper bags. Are they named? If yes, cool. Why do YOU think the name is there? Hopefully you've gotten good use out of the bag (20). Great, now...move on. If there's one thing I've learned from my exploration into names on bags, it's that I really need to move on.

Thanks for reading. TTFN (21)

ENDNOTES
0. Just call me a hypocrite. I can take it.
1. Adding to the environmental damage of my choice, I will admit I used the drive through service for this--in my MINIVAN. Go ahead, shame away.
2. My so-called "premium chicken sandwich" was made from what appears to be actual chicken breast meat, though I realize this could be very cleverly processed chicken parts. I don't live in delusional land.
3. Seriously, why go for fast food if you're not having fries? Though apprently my kid didn't get the memor, because he ate only a small portion of his, having devoured the chicken in mere seconds. And while I'm confessing, I'll tell you it took a good amount of willpower not to order regular Coke to go with my fries, because it seems like McDonald's coke is extra tasty. Again, shame away.
4. I mistakenly received McD's nasty version of sweetened tea one time. Never again. I was clear on this jaunt to assert my desire for UNsweetened iced tea.
5. I wish my child's chicken nugget pieces were not made with pink slime or any other mechanically separated meats which represent all the problems of industrial agriculture wrapped up in a cheery box.
6. Have you noticed how often kid meals come with either 1% (white) milk or nonfat chocolate milk? As if the lack of fat in the milk makes up for the addition of sugar, etc in the chocolate variety. When I see a menu that offers 2% or whole milk for kids, I give a little clap.
7. One name had a period after the last initial, and the other did not. One was in red ink, and the other was black. Both were printed in all caps.
8. The question about names on the bottom of McD's bags was posted on multiple "answer this" type message boards. More than a few respondents assert that the names represent specifically the supervisors at these plants.
9. Many alleged McDonald's employees were unaware there were names on the bottoms of the bags, if Internet message board postings are to be believed.
10. I was tempted at the beginning to ask whether the store would like to babysit my child for an hour or two while I peruse trashy magazines, or barring that, give me free ice cream, but I didn't.
11. My first and last name are printed on my grocery store receipt because I use a customer loyalty number under that name, and habitually enter the number each time I shop. David uses the same number, which is in fact a long defunct phone number, and so he is called "Mr. Eugeni." Everyone at our house at the time used the same number. In fact, if you're ever at Safeway and recall my old Palo Alto home phone number, feel free to enter it. Let's mess with the shopping-habit data mining folks. I wonder if the person who's been assigned that phone number curses my name every time s/he tries assigning it to their grocery shopping account, or thanks me for freeing them from having their personal habits tied to their name.
12. I was tempted once. Deciding to do my shopping on a Thursday evening around 8pm I was shocked to find by the time I was ready to check out, there was only one checker on duty, and no manager in sight. I told the checker she ought to call for backup, and she said this was standard practice to have only one checker, and that there was always a long line. She quipped "Don't worry. I'm a fast checker." I'd been to the store other evenings and had never noticed the line running the full width of the checkout area, as it was that night, so maybe it was an aberration, but still. Any manager worth his badge ought to jump in and lighten the load for a checker working her tail off, at least for a few spells, and the manager ought to tell the checker under what conditions to call for just such an assist. And that doesn't mean "Never." I told the checker she deserved better, that she was indeed very fast, but for customers to wait nearly an hour to get through checkout at 8:30pm was not acceptable. I heard grumbles of agreement, but nobody made a fuss otherwise. Everyone was just anxious to get out of there. I ought to have called that direct line number, that night to complain to the night manager, and the next day to speak to a general manager, but I didn't. I'd worked myself into a frenzy, and I know calling at that moment would have been counter-productive. The next day my frenzy had died down, and I moved on. But sure enough, the next time I went to the store around that time there were two checkers. So I like to think my complaint registered on some level, and that I was not alone in feeling it. But I digress...
13 Here's a research article about the statistical relationship between service personalization and loyalty, which is indeed shown to be positively related, meaning one grows with the other, and that together they increase a business' profits.
14. I generally despise being manipulated, or feeling like I'm being manipulated, which sort of means I'd rather be kept in blissful ignorance of external controls, but so be it. As you see from my trip to McDonald's in spite of awareness of all the evils the industry represents in a healthy world, I am not perfect.
15. Assuming McDonald's had granted permission for this, let's face it, imaginary experiment, of course.
16. For the record, good work, Jesus and Ron. The bags held up well through the filling/transport/emptying process and thus fulfilled their functions. You have not signed your names to a faulty product.
17. Paper bag manufacturing workers are probably not making anything with their hands, which is too bad, in terms of deriving satisfaction from one's creations. I've not studied it, but my hunch says pride in one's work is greater when the work is by hand.
18. Pride in one's work is important to job satisfaction, which makes it a worthy and good thing to promote, don't get me wrong as I rail against being manipulated.
19. Though obviously no dollar-dotted "i"s in the case of Jesus and Ron in terms of the writing, and maybe, possibly in real life too. I simply don't know what motivates these gentlemen, if they are gentlemen. Oh dear, there's so much I'm assuming here. Danger signs should be dotting my "i"s.
20. If you don't need the bag for anything else, consider making a puppet out of it. The puppet is pre-named, so you can use that as inspiration. I picture Jesus as having short hair, a tattoo with his daughter's name on his arm. Ron, he's older, wears glasses, wears a white t-shirt under his work shirt.
21. Ta ta for now. As in, I'll be back another time. :)

White elephant

According to Wikipedia:

A white elephant gift exchange is a popular holiday party game found primarily in North America. It has many variations in both the name and the game play. Generally, white elephant parties need a minimum of six participants. With a larger group, game play may be more protracted. White elephant parties have been known to result in intensely vicious and/or playful rivalries between players trying to get sought after gifts. The goal of a white elephant party is usually to entertain rather than to gain. This game is sometimes called a Yankee Swap, Chinese Gift Exchange, Dirty Santa, Thieving Secret Santa, or Parcel Pass.

I hardly ever get invited to gift exchange parties (why that is might be the subject for another post). When I have participated in a gift exchange, it's been during the end of year party season, which is half the calendar away at present. So naturally a few ideas for budget-limited gifts percolated to the top of my thoughts today. Because I am likely to forget these ideas by the time the next white elephant challenge presents itself to me, I thought I'd post them here for reference.

1. THE PURELY SILLY GIFT: USB Pet Rock, $9.99 from ThinkGeek.com. As the retailer name would indicate, this product is targeted at tech geeks, particularly those between the ages of 35 and 45 (aka children of the 1970s). I love that it's compatible with every operating system, past or future, and draws no power.

2. THE ARTFUL FOODIE GIFT: Artisan flowering tea, $9.95 from Stash Tea. For ten bucks you get two tea packets. This specialty product requires an appreciative audience, or else your money is truly wasted. Drop a packet into a glass bowl (or glass tea pot, if you've got one of those lying around) and pour hot water over it. Watch as the packet unfurls into some arty shape. So you get a lovely pot of tea on two counts.

3. THE GENERIC READER GIFT: A copy of a bestseller (look at NYT or Amazon lists). This may seem boring, but chances are someone in the crowd is going to want the book, and you can leave the party feeling your gift won't go to waste. Right now I'd pick comedy writer/actress Tina Fey's memoir Bossypants or the yet-to-be-released parent-sympathy book Go the F**k to Sleep by Adam Mansbach. Depending on the dollar limit, I might throw in a pair of fuzzy socks or other comfort object to round out the "relax for a while" vibe of the gift.

4. THE INDULGENT EATER GIFT: Gourmet marshmallows, such as a 4 ounce bag of vanilla Plush Puffs for $6. Years ago we received a hot cocoa kit as a gift, which came with mugs, hot chocolate mix, some peppermint swizzle sticks and several enormous square marshmallows. I'm not much of a marshmallow fan, but these were delicious, absolutely melt in your mouth smooth puffy deliciousness. I'd happily share such joy with another. Package a bag of Plush Puffs with a container of Ghirardelli hot cocoa mix or some graham crackers and chocolate bars and you've got a delectable present.

4. THE ELUSIVE BOARD GAMER GIFT: Anything within price range from Mayfair games. What I'm sensing in my gift ideas list are an assortment of items I'd like to take home for myself. This particular gift idea, a semi-cerebral board game, would identify for me the person or people in the crowd whom I could later hit up to invite me over for a night of gaming. Maybe it would be such a success that we'd decide to schedule regular game nights. A gift that would keep on giving. :)

PS If you ever receive one of these gifts from me, I hope you like it. If not, you know you can always return it to me. :)

Easy on the Cops

I don't LOOK for these kinds of news stories. They just jump out at me...

I peruse the police blotter section of my local newspaper. Usually out of curiosity about types of crimes being committed, partly out of a sense of wanting to know if there's anything I might be cautious of in my own neighborhood, but mostly in search of amusingly benign reported incidents.

For the past two weeks, Atherton--a wealthy, privacy-guarding, no-sidewalks community 30 miles south of San Francisco--has delivered. Today came news of an early morning incident between a landlord and tenant which involved frozen food. No crime was reported, and no violence actually evidenced. But the police department participates in the crime blotter report, and they were called out for this incident, therefore it gets printed in the paper. The actual food was not specified, so we are left to ponder details. David guesses a leg of lamb was involved. I suppose we'll never know.

Last week's "crime" provides more fodder for the imagination.

12:19 am FRIDAY: A pedestrian was reported not to be doing anything strange other than wearing black pants and a white dress shirt while walking at an odd hour.

Kinda makes me feel bad for the Atherton police that this is what their honored profession works out to. On the other hand, it sure beats being shot at.

Excess Baggage - now updated!

Not that you asked, but...
I am a terrible packrat.

Can anyone think of any earthly reason--and I mean a good, healthy one--why I have held onto a Sanrio notepad containing only two drawings made during my 6 month stint living in Georgia in 1980? Did I mention that the cover is torn off and the pages are falling out? What about a wall map of the world, dated 1955? Or the homecoming football game program from my sophomore year of high school? No? Neither can I.

While some people have the admirable ability to shed belongings, and others don't accumulate them in the first place, I hold onto things, even when reason and practicality dictate letting go. In particular I have kept a tight grip on an assortment of physical manifestations of my childhood. I've held onto things from adulthood too, but these tend to come in the form of books, music, and furniture, which seem more useful, even if more costly to transport.

My formative years are packed away for the most part in a stack of covered plastic tubs. Labeled "Michelle's Mementos", the tubs contain a hodgepodge of meaningful and superfluous objects. There's my Mrs Beasley doll (still in decent shape after nearly 40 years), a trophy for MVP of the 8th grade softball team (my winning was I believe a matter of favoritism rather than talent), a wood penguin coin bank made for me by my friend's sister in 1986, and a delicate ballerina cake topper from my 5th birthday at my grandparents' house in New York.

In some of these tubs I expect I'll find my Girl Scout sash with badges pinned rather than sewn on (mine was not a very domestic household), a finger painted and stuffed fish constructed in pre-school, an assortment of writings (7th grade was a particularly prolific period), toys (Adam has taken a shine to the soft Teletubbies keychains, but I've not let him near Super Nut), and small knick knacks.

The fact that the stuff is in distinctive containers is evidence of progress made a decade ago. As tends to happen with memento purgings, I have no recollection of anything I got rid of back then. (And how the Sanrio notepad survived, I know not. I'll blame it on purge-fatigue.) This is what I remind myself of as I sift through the stuff and make "Keep" and "Get rid of" stacks. Old copies of The Epitaph...gone. Completed get-to-know-you questionnaires from a series of parties I held with friends in the mid 80s...gone. The button for a magazine that no longer exists...gone. The pages of the Sanrio notepad have gone into the scratch paper drawer (they don't make paper like they used to--for good reason). And my drawing of "Amy" from Warner Robins, Georgia--who apparently had long blonde hair, glasses, freckles, and wore blue that day...gone. Bye Amy; I hardly knew ye.

Several hours later
I've now gone through four tubs. One turned out to be missing toiletries, including lots of great shades of lipstick, which was an exciting if counter-productive find. (I did purge a bit upon inspection, throwing away old lotions, my beloved cookie-shaped Avon lip gloss from the late 70s, plus a makeup kit from the 80s--after I shadowed my eyelids turquoise, yellow, and magenta.) I filled one of the emptied tubs back up with garage saleable items, such as a beautiful ceramic mask, some cute gardening magnets, and a life-sized stuffed macaw on a wooden perch (I named him Herbert back around 1988). Now residing in the trash bag are my high school graduation cap, an old red wallet, and a stack of wall calendars from college, among many other items (yea me!). I kept the photos from inside the wallet, a bag of foreign coins, and a letter my brother sent me from basic training which I will transfer to my letters and notes box.

I don't know why I keep this stuff--the photos, the coins, the letters. I don't want to consciously give up on certain memories, certain attachments, even when I know I'd feel better once I did. I know that if it went missing, I wouldn't actually miss any of this (mostly because I've forgotten it exists). But worrying about any of this will not help. I've got the stuff, the baggage, and I will deal with it, a little at a time. In the face of such slow growth, I am soothed by the knowledge that I am at least growing, keeping less stuff than I did in the past, willingly throwing things away. I'm letting go (yea me!).

P.S. I hope Herbert likes his fellow garage sale buddies. They all came from a good home.

UPDATE
I've gone through three more tubs. Barbie and Ken have been found! Also found were their pals Darcy (blonde) and Darcy (brunette), Archie, Skipper, and Cher in all her sequined glory (yes, as in Sonny and Cher). I located more of my Girl Scout badges, a stack of junior high school friend photos, my (very cheesy and very homemade) fifth grade poetry book with sticker from the Young Author's Fair, and an articulated moving snake toy which is as amusing now as it was 30 years ago (in other words, it's a keeper). One more copy of our high school newspaper (The Epitaph) was found, this one from senior year; David was upset that I had tossed the others so he said I should keep this one. I'll remind him of that next time he complains about all the crap we've got stored away.

I feel good that I'm not contributing to landfill with my purgings. It's largely recyclable stuff, or kid stuff I can pass on (such as a set of mini colored pencils--Adam took a shine to them). An oversized Skipper doll went to the trash because she was oozing a sticky substance from her joints. Gone to recycling heaven are a big stack of high school play programs and posters, my customs declaration form and boarding pass from a trip to Mexico in 1984, as well as the name and address of Jose Francisco, who apparently wanted me to write to him in Cozumel. In the give-away box went one giant yellow comb from Great America (I'm guessing it was a statement against the comb-in-back-pocket style of the time).

Disposition still to be determined: dot matrix photo printouts of myself with various friends, certificates of participation in a national academic talent search (yea ME), and the log of my adventures on that Mexico trip (including the unsolicited attention of a 19-year old who told my mother he didn't care that I was "only 13"). I've now got a stack of sheet music, mostly marching band stuff, from my own flautist days as well as music I got from my grandparents' attic. Is there any reason to keep these things?

Close calls

Not that you asked, but...
1. I possess the power to deactivate automatic toilet flushers, albeit temporarily. At least three-quarters of the time when using a public restroom where those hands-free flushers are installed, it will not work automatically for me. I am this<---->close to taking it personally.

2. I am this<----->close to being a certifiable music hoarder. I collect any tangentially interesting digital music legally available to me, duly rate it in my iTunes, then forget it exists as I merrily collect other music. I don't believe I will ever set aside the time necessary to listen to all of this music through. And collecting more just muddles my automatic playlists and makes it harder to find that one song I really want to hear. And now that I'm thinking about it, why do I keep around songs I rate 1 or 2 stars out of 5?

For that matter why am I keeping my decades-old and rarely played lps and cassette tapes? Apart from the warmth-spreading nostalgia I feel when listening to crackles and pops on my now vintage vinyl, I'm not sure these albums hold any real value for me anymore. A sad realization that maybe I should have come to several cross country moves ago.

3. And since I brought up public bathrooms (sorry, squeamish readers)...I am this<-->close to asking perfect strangers why they flush the toilet before sitting on it. I'm not sure women do this at home, but out in public they do it a lot.

I'm not in there with them, but it's obvious they enter the stall, immediately flush it, then continue with their business. While I can come up with plausible explanations for this sort of behavior, I still think it is completely irrational. (And I'm not talking about flushing the left behind contents of a previous user; I'm talking about flushing an empty toilet in a suburban public restroom.)

WHAT exactly does flushing the toilet beforehand do for your health and hygiene? For that matter, what exactly do you think you're going to get by sitting on the average public toilet? My answer: Nothing. Others agree there's nothing, nothing, nothing to fear. Just wash your *&^%ing hands afterward, nothing fancy or obsessive required. Oh, and don't put things down on the floor of a public bathroom. I will spare you, faithful readers, the rest of my thoughts on this subject.

4. I might someday be this<--->close to being the victim of road rage at the hands of a cell phone driver whom I have gestured at repeatedly in an attempt to get them to hang up. David has forbidden me from even staring at these people while he's driving, probably an indication of the intensity of my feelings on this matter. It bugs me how many people believe they are immune to the potential power of distractability while driving. Just one of many things people think they are the exception to. Which reminds me of my 1% rule in perceptions of behavior, but that's a subject for another post.

5. I am this<------------------>close to joining a mommy group. While I think Adam would benefit from socializing with other babies, I'm not sure I'd enjoy socializing (or, to be more accurate, hanging out on the fringes) with other baby mommies/nannies. I'd enjoy the access to new acquaintances, but from what I've seen thus far this venue is going to pan out for me. Inevitably it turns to talk of the kid, and listening to conversations about kids' behavior as if it's a competition (fueled by lots of ignorance and fear) gives me ticks. Plus, and I will admit it here but nowhere else: the parents in mommy groups scare me a little.

Okay, enough sharing for one day. It's time for baby gym (I wish I was kidding, but it's really quite fun). Ta ta for now.

Blackened

I've never been much of a shopper, and the idea of heading out on Black Friday has never appealed to me. I can't think of anything I want or want to give badly enough to get up before dawn and compete with others just to stand in a long line to buy it. But this year I was asked by a friend to accompany him as he bought gifts for a children's shelter, and I figured, what the heck, you only live once. Adam woke me up before dawn, I dressed, gathered some sustenance (sesame crackers, cheddar cheese, and dark chocolate M&Ms), and hit the road.

We made it to the big box store (which will go unnamed, lest I be forced to go into why I generally refuse to shop there) around 7:15am. The barricades were still up and I had to walk all the way around the building to make it back to the front entrance in time to be told entry was no longer being controlled. Good timing, eh? We enter chaos. There are plenty of shopping carts, but virtually no space within which to maneuver them. The checkout lines literally meander all the way to the back of the store. Staff stand at the end of many aisles and next to any display with easily pocketed merchandise. If anyone has only one item in their cart, it's a big screen tv; otherwise carts are piled high with mostly toys, games, dolls, and electronics. We make a circuit along the outermost aisles, picking up any toy that looks good, and I add one thing for Adam. Together we politely push past confused shoppers, listless children, and more than a few overburdened shopping carts.

At the other side, my friend has the bright idea of asking whether there's a checkout off in the garden section, and sure enough there is. Eureka! The lines are still long there, but the quiet of the space makes it all bearable. No one pushes through us while we wait in line, no tinny music assails our ears, and all we gaze upon are stacks of tastefully boxed holiday decorations. We befriend the two women in front of us, take turns wandering around the madhouse of the main store, and make it through the line in about 35 minutes. Start to finish our early morning shopping venture lasted an hour.

I was so energized I agreed to go for a bit more shopping elsewhere (where crowds were relatively sparse) and then Costco afterward. I know, wow. And Costco was the emptiest I've ever seen it. All in all, an enjoyable morning, and something I never would have predicted.

My favorite mug

I herein am creating a new chain-response activity, entitled "My favorite [blank]". Feel free to respond with your favorite blank.

My favorite mug is large enough to have a nice size cup of tea or hot chocolate without going overboard (Too small and I wonder--I wasted a teabag on that? Too big and I end up wasting the excess, because how can I not use the space provided when making my drink?). It has a sturdy handle (important for carrying with baby or laptop in other hand), and is a wide regular cylindrical shape (good for even stirring and marshmallow placement) But the best part, and why it is my favorite, is the (oddly current but dated 1982, Murphy's Law-esque) text decoration which entertains me every time I read it. Naturally when there is something that brings me such joy I will want to share it with the world (the text, not the mug--there are limits to my generosity).

Laws of Computer Programming
* Any given program, when running, is obsolete.
* If a program is useless, it will have to be documented.
* If a program is useful, it will have to be changed.
* Any program will expand to fill any available memory.
* The value of a program is proportional to the weight of its output.
* Program complexity grows until it exceeds the capability of the programmer to maintain it.
* Make it possible for programmers to write in English and you will find out that programmers cannot write in English.

Weinberg's Law
* If builders built buildings the way programmers wrote programs, then the first woodpecker that came along would destroy civilization.

Hare's Law of Large Programs
* Inside every large program is a small program struggling to get out.

Troutman's Programming Laws
* If a test installation functions perfectly, all subsequent systems will malfunction.
* Not until a program has been in production for at least six months will the most harmful error then be discovered.
* Job control cards that cannot be arranged in improper order will be.
* Interchangeable tapes won't.
* If the input editor has been designed to reject all bad input, an ingenious idiot will discover a method to get bad data past it.
* Machines work, people should think.

Golub's Laws of Computerdom
* A carelessly planned project takes three times longer to complete thane expected; a carefully planned project will take only twice as long.
* The effort required to correct the error increases geometrically with time.

Bradley's Bromide
* If computers get too powerful, we can organize them into a committee--that will do them in.

Fabulous, eh? Okay, your turn.

Jonesing

Know anyone who's an internet addict? How long can you go without using a computer, smart phone, or other net connected device? When is the last time you went 48 hours complete without checking your email? (Odds are it was during a vacation, a forced net-free zone.) Sounds funny, but I bet this is a serious problem for some people. And I'm sure it's changing (changed?) the way we interact, move, and plan our days. Just something I woke up contemplating. Now I'm off to check my email.... :)

Personal Statements

How cool is it to have a dedicated space to share one's views with friends and strangers alike on a regular basis? Vain, yes; generally pointless, certainly, but fun too. Never discount the value of fun. (I am reminded of the old "sound of one hand clapping" or "if a tree falls with no one to hear..." questions. Does anyone read my blog? Hello? You do realize I keep tabs on my readership, right? Wait, what was I doing? Oh, right, writing about vanity writing.)

Some people think bigger. Television producer Chuck Lorre is allotted space at the end of shows he produces for displaying a production logo to millions of viewers. Instead of the usual personalized production company image, Chuck takes this big-time opportunity to share a rant, story, or whatever is on his mind. So far he's presented 260 or so of these, including #255:

In film and television there exists a rule that all phone numbers spoken in dialogue or seen on the screen begin with the fake prefix 555. The reason for this rule is that somewhere along the line idiots began calling the phone numbers used on TV shows and movies. This resulted in production companies and networks being sued by the unhappy people who were harassed by the prank calls from the aforementioned idiots. All of which means that whether you're trying to enjoy a humble sitcom or a hundred million dollar action movie, every phone number will begin with the hateful, illusion-wrecking prefix, 555. In tonight's episode of Two and a Half Men we tried to get around this dilemma. The phone number Charlie rattles off in the first scene is actually one number short of a real number. Then, later in the scene, he discusses a memory trick which involves replacing numbers with letters in order to remember them. If you check your phone, you'll see the letters we used, OXOFEMPAL, or 696-336-725, is again one number short of being an actual working number, and JKLPUZO is the broadcast acceptable 555-7896. A lot of work, not to mention endless negotiations with our CBS censor, was necessary to come up with these numbers. So, to all the idiots out there, let me just say, 555-382-5968.

Like a few others, #255 never aired. In its place the network ran this alternate #255:

CENSORED
As always, the offending material is available to be read if you know where to look. I think you'll find that the card, while mildly amusing, is nowhere near as entertaining as the raging paranoia of our network censors.

P.S. For selfish reasons I would ask that you wait to read the censored card until after The Big Bang Theory.

Where to look is on his website, where he posts all of 'em, aired or not. Whether good or bad, self destructive or career making, as of tonight Chuck Lorre Productions has generated more than 260 of these industry-poking "vanity cards". Harmlessly fun and way cooler than a blog, I'd say.

P.S. I ran a google search with just the word "fun" and it suggested Wikipedia's "Recreation" entry. Okay, I could challenge the relevance of presenting recreation as a legitimate objective when seeking out fun, but that's not what got my blood boiling. Check out the preview line offered for that page:

Recreation - Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
Recreation or fun is chasing around black people with sticks. While leisure is more likely ...
Look up recreation or fun in Wiktionary, the free dictionary. ...
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Recreation -

Wtf?! When I clicked through to the page, that text does not actually appear. I am thankful (the offending text has been edited out) and still deeply disturbed all at the same time.

P.P.S. Lest you be left with an appalling image of Wikipedia and its anyone-can-contribute, seemingly nonexistent publishing standards, check out the un-fun but not un-interesting discussion of its Recreation entry. Some people have way too much time on their hands.

P.P.P.S. It could be said that all blog writers have too much time on their hands. Me, I'd say Chuck Lorre does.

Don't shoot me

The Small Arms Trade: A Beginner's Guide

Hmm, to read or not to read? Sounds kinda interesting, BUT...depressing interesting or enlightening interesting? If it's both, does injection of latter mitigate effects of former? One thing I know for certain: I don't want to read the advanced guide.

Good news

As an aside before I get to the point of my posting today...I think having a child has turned me mushy and sentimental. There are things I hear and see now that affect me far more than they ever did before. (Or more than I might ever have admitted.) News stories about missing or dying children--or this latest one about the discovery of skeletal infant remains--make my heart ache. (If you must, read the story on that last one over at CNN.)

Anyway, I thought this news story in the local paper today was simply too lovely not to share. Apparently a woman has helped raise over a thousand dollars for the area foodbank. The donations came about after she picked up a fellow shopper's tab, which eventually turned into a surfeit of cash (read the story for details) that instead of spending on herself she decided to donate, as did others who heard what she'd done. A nice story, yes?

And because I just thought this was funny (and it was baby related, which touches me these days, as noted previously), read here about how to automate the opening and closing of your computer's CD tray in order to rock a baby. But I don't recommend reading the comments (kind of unusual for me), because they're a downer (some people have no sense of humor or adventure).

Lifting weight

A few things I've just got to get off my chest (in no particular order):

1. I am sick of hearing about the Gosselins. David used to watch Jon & Kate Plus 8, the reality tv show about an endearingly dysfunctional couple and their home life with twins and sextuplets. And I certainly read a story or two about them whilst enjoying my airplane-ride People magazine. Well, the endearing is long gone, replaced by disturbing and pathetic. I do not care what the root cause of their breakup is, or whether Jon is really in love with the woman (women?) he has started dating since he and wife Kate split a few months back, or any other detail of their private lives. I think they should end the show--now, for their children's sakes. I feel horribly for the kids, and wish the parents would see that this is not a period of their lives that needs to be filmed and shared with the nation.

2. I am loving, loving David Mitchell's Bildungsroman Black Swan Green. I keep telling David to remind me in a decade or so to read it again, just before Adam enters his teens, as it is a wonderful look into the world of the adolescent boy. And as it is written by an author who has several other similarly styled and highly acclaimed works, I feel as I did when I first read Salinger and Stegner, that sense of deep literary contentment with a promise of still more to come.

3. I not only laughed about the results of the trustworthy news anchor poll which reported Jon Stewart is America's most trusted newscaster, but wholeheartedly agreed (although the poll did not include Jim Lehrer, who I trust more than Jon Stewart). I think if every member of Congress watched the first 10 minutes of The Daily Show our government would function a lot better.

4. I'm so irritated by the ridiculous (I didn't say biased, I do mean ridiculous) accusations being lobbed at the healthcare reform proposals that I am struck speechless every time I hear a new one. Maybe that's the protesters' plan: render supporters dumb. [I had a follow up that played off the word dumb, about making supporters peers of sorts for the protesters, but decided that was all a bit too low. And just like the protests themselves, what would it help?]

5. Facebook is a massive time suck. But sometimes a very enjoyable one. I think it may be on the path to hell.

6. The meat industry uses up a LOT of natural resources, and I think if more people realized it we'd be producing a lot less meat. I consume meat. I feel guilty.

7. Insert dozens of other modern day conveniences and amusements in place of "meat" in #6. [This reminds me of a question that has long plagued me: Why do we do things that we know are bad for us? I should suggest this topic to the Freakonomics authors.]

8. I am fascinated by David Lynch's Interview Project. He (or his documentarians) are traveling the country and interviewing random people they encounter along the way. What a fabulous reminder of how much we have in common, how fallible and hopeful and basically content most of us see ourselves as being.

Might as well be Mothra

The light brown apple moth is becoming quite the pest. Not that I've seen any, or am likely to ever see one. But they're out there, bugging me, because their presence in my world prevents me from taking advantage of a really cool produce-trading service, or any other free local produce, for that matter.

A few months back I offered to give away via freecycle my bounty of shiny ripe kumquats. I'm not a fan of the flavor of this small edible-skinned oblong citrus, but I was sure others would be. And as I've never spotted them in the produce section of the store I figured whoever likes them would jump at the chance to strip my tree bare. Sure enough, within an hour I'd received multiple requests for as many kumquats as I had to offer. But then amidst the enthusiastic replies came a reminder about the light brown apple moth quarantine area. I was in it, and no giving away of produce was allowed from within its bounds. Hmph.

I wrestled with doing the right thing versus thumbing my nose at the law by sharing potentially LBAM infested fruit. One respondent suggested an alternative: allow people who wanted to, to just consume kumquats on my premises, thereby not breaking quarantine. But that sounded a bit odd and time consuming. I could have ignored the helpful quarantine reminder altogether and had no difficulty in being left off the hook from friends and neighbors, since no one I've spoken to about it was aware of the ban on sharing even backyard produce within the quarantine area. After explaining my quandary to one friend, he wondered, "But if you're under quarantine, why can't you share with other people also in quarantine?" I've found myself educating everyone I mention it to (the reason is to contain moths where they are, period), and worrying that the quarantine is going to be in effect a very long time if everyone around me is unwittingly keeping this dumb pest around. Alas, such thoughts did nothing to unburden my kumquat tree. So as with so many things (though undoubtedly not enough things) I took the high road on this one, and have kept the kumquats to myself.

And so I sit here on a warm sunny day, looking out my window at the compact citrus tree that shades my patio, and watch as the breeze knocks another overripe fruit to the ground. And then I glance to my desk where I see a reminder about the need to clear fallen fruit ASAP to discourage loitering rats in the area. Sometimes it's not about getting ahead, sometimes it's enough just to be staying in place.

Short attention span theater

A few random thoughts I've been entertaining lately:

Among ways to die, being sucked out of a disintegrating plane several miles above the ocean is not one I'd prefer.

News of the protests in Iran gives me some hope.

The idea that someone might remake Valley Girl sends a chill down my spine.

The California budget mess continues to distress me. There is absolutely no win in any of the solutions proposed, and I loathe no-win situations.

I really like the series of pieces being aired this week on NPR's All Things Considered about the cost of health care.

Loved the "Oversharing" discussion on Forum last week about today's virtual relationships. In particular the bit about inviting all one's facebook friends to a party, only to have one person show up.

Think about the difference between responsibility and accountability.

25 Things

Got tagged in one of those endless email/facebook "Share 25 random things about you" notes. I'm game, but short of 25 at the start. So I'll add things here as they occur to me (and as I can get on the computer), then post to facebook when magic number is reached. Here goes...

1. In high school I made up a moon prayer one evening during marching band practice. It was nonsensical and nonrhyming, but it has stuck and become quite special to me. I recite it at the first glimpse of the moon. And no, I won't be sharing it with you.

2. I'm a sucker for the Delilah radio program. It reminds me of listening to Casey Kasem's Top 40 countdown as a kid, which I also enjoyed with secret glee. Sappy, sentimental, and thus so very unlike me, but I can't tune away when I come across it on the radio dial.

3. I am a volunteer with the local open space district. Most of the work I have done there over the years involves removing non-native plants, but on occasion I've also helped count wildflower species, clear new trails, construct fences, and plant trees.

4. My second grade class protested the hunting and killing of whales and baby seals. We watched a Greenpeace film, then made signs and t-shirts and picketed at a mall (my first but certainly not last protest experience). Mrs. Davis, our teacher, also taught us meditation (possibly the greatest skill I learned that year). Yes, it was a public school and yes, it was the 70's.

5. I am fairly superstitious. This mostly takes the form of needing to knock (preferably on wood) whenever I say or hear a dire prediction about a loved one. I know this is irrational and not related to changing any outcomes, but still I must knock or else I become rather anxious.

6. There are moments when I feel quite strongly that the world is just a figment of my imagination. On many such occasions I have informed David, "You're another person," and he has nodded his head in chagrin.

7. During my first week at a new school in 4th grade I severely tore the ligament in my ankle while playing Chinese jump rope. That was my first of many stints on crutches due to ankle sprains.

8. I came this close to being named Michalene Angela.

9. I hyperventilate when I am anxious.

10. I have tinnitus, no doubt due to my love of loud music and rock concerts as a teen. I have since made a habit of keeping the volume down, although every once in a while I crank it up for a song or two. Alas, I pay later.

11. I only applied to one college. Thankfully I was accepted. Better yet, I have never once regretted my going there.

12. I love balloons and can become unnaturally attached to them, which makes their inevitable demise hard to take. I still lament the loss to the skies of an enormous balloon which got away from David as he emerged from his car on my 18th birthday.

13. My traveling companion's name is Pavel. He is a 13-year old stuffed animal; I identify him as a reindeer, but others point out he looks more like a moose. Head poking out of my backpack, Pavel has traveled on trains, planes, cars, boats, and bicycles. I buy souvenir t-shirts (size 6 months) and socks for him. He is my Wilson. My dad has expressed concern over my attachment to Pavel. He's probably right to be concerned.

14. I love pumpkin baked goods. Muffins, scones, breads, mm mm good. I make a point of going to IHOP each fall, as often as David will tolerate, to enjoy their pumpkin pancake special.

15. I enjoy reading fanfiction based on Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice. Yes, some of it is bad (and some is quite racy), but the good stuff makes perfect pleasure reading. I'm not generally much for real life hypotheticals; however, in reimagining a beloved story, fanfiction "what ifs" are something I can happily ruminate on for hours on end.

16. The creepy clown doll in Poltergeist scares the bejeesus out of me.

17. I am "allergic" to aspartame. That's not a medical diagnosis, just an experiential lesson. I can consume small quantities but prefer to avoid it altogether.

18. I do not like the taste of coffee in any of its forms, including mocha. I also don't like beer, blue cheeses, capers, artichokes, avocado, or bell pepper. I will pick onions out of anything I detect them in.

19. Thus far in my genealogical research I have identified 144 of my direct ancestors, 14 generations' worth dating back as far as the late 1500s. "My people" are from Virginia, New Jersey, England, and Italy.

20. I lived in a four generation household for a time when I was growing up. The experience, frustrating as it occasionally was, is one I cherish. It's one reason I am so happy my child gets to live with his great grandfather.

21. I have a fondness for squares and prime numbers and other number patterns.

22. In another lifetime I would go to medical school, although I have no desire to become a doctor.

23. As a kid I liked to read encyclopedias. The internet, as useful a resource as it is, will never replace my love of reference books.

24. I love playing board games. Challenge me to a round of Clue and I will drop everything. In truth if you request my presence for any sort of board game I'm likely to jump at the chance, even the usually tedious Monopoly. Alas many good games, like Eurorails, require more time and willing participants than I generally have access to. I'm not much into computer games, but my favorites over the years have always been puzzle-related. Fools Errand and The Lost Mind of Dr. Brain immediately come to mind. I also enjoy The Sims, although I am clearly a far more casual user than the game is designed for.

25. ?? You'll have to go to my facebook page to check out the last item.

Love Lists

A random assortment of (non-people) things and resources I love, in no particular order:

• The US Postal Service's online zip code finder
• A Chocolate Madness at The Saturn Cafe (chocolate ice cream, chocolate mousse, brownie, hot fudge, whipped cream, and chocolate chips; all natural ingredients that individually are more semi sweet than sickly sweet, though when put together: dessert coma)
• Avoiding landfill or unknown donation uses through person-to-person Freecycling (I am particularly fascinated by the sort of stuff people offer and then willingly take)
• The wonderfully creative world of Sims houses, neighborhoods, stuff, and people
• Autumn foliage and spring blossoms
• The public radio program Marketplace
• A wedge of mild cheese paired with orange juice
  

Obviously there are tons more, but those were on my mind and I wanted to share. What random things do you love?

Another gorgeous day

Two days before heading up to San Francisco for the Olympic torch relay, I went to show off the town to Jason, visiting from Houston. We saw all sorts of interesting stuff (like the most expensive residential block in the US and cool pics of historic Cliff House), but what did I get a picture of to show for my day? Me standing in pitch black at base of Coit Tower. So you'll just have to take my word for it: It was a gorgeous day.

Traffic Jams

I love the Freakonomics blog and I love Scientific American Frontiers with Alan Alda. Today the two converged (cue heavenly light-and-sound show). Both have now discussed the cause of many needless traffic backups: the speeding and braking habits of stop-and-go drivers.

If someone driving in front of you brakes, most people tend to hit their brakes. Then the car behind brakes too, and this keeps going way back, until the slowdown is way behind the location of the original reason for braking. Basically, by braking in traffic you are perpetuating and probably extending a slow spot. The solution? As Alan Alda discovered nearly a decade ago and the Freakonomics guys reported on today, it's best for all concerned if drivers would maintain constant but slower speeds and not brake at every brake light in front of us. Try to always maintain a bit of distance in front of you (if someone cuts into the space, ease off gas a touch to create a distance again).

Change your driving habit to emphasize slow and steady instead of constantly accelerating and then having to brake. Take your foot off the accelerator to maintain or maximize the gap between you and car in front of you. You will get there just as quick, if not faster, your car will have less wear and tear, you'll be less frustrated, less likely to rear-end someone, less likely to be rear-ended, and you will not be contributing to pointless traffic jams. Sounds like an all around win. Now go spread the word!

In other news...
I was elated tonight to hear one of my fave bands, stellastarr*, played on a national commercial. Their song "My Coco" is used on an ad for the new Fox show The Return of Jezebel James, starring Parker Posey.

Bizarre

I'd already tracked down the quote below, which is quite worthy of being shared regardless, when I forgot why fate was to be tied to bizarreness (real word, I checked). It was a brilliant thread, no doubt, but it is lost. And so I ask a bit of patience with my all-over-the-mapness in today's posting. Many thanks. :)

I was introduced recently by Last.fm to a band whose style is alternately labeled indie, alternative, punk, folk, psychedelic, progressive rock. Black Mountain are compared to Velvet Underground, Neil Young, and early Pink Floyd. After listening to a few of their songs I'd say it can be wrapped up as stoner music (which you need not be stoned to enjoy, as I can attest). It's a throwback to 70's album rock. Recommended.

Based on a recommendation from someone (I don't even recall who; things do linger on my wishlists for years), I put Tangerinephant on my Amazon wishlist. Amazon now thinks I might like to read The Haunted Vagina (you read that right) by Carlton Mellick (author of, among other "bizarro fiction", Satan Burger and Razor Wire Pubic Hair). "It's difficult to love a woman whose vagina is a gateway to the world of the dead," declares the book summary for The Haunted Vagina. Before you go all "What?!" on me for seriously contemplating this recommendation, consider that the book is described by one Amazon reviewer as "an exploration of the female body and the power it can hold over men (figuratively and literally)". Is it fated that I read such a book?

Last night we watched The Amazing Mrs. Pritchard, about a regular person who runs on her own Purple Alliance platform for British Parliament and becomes Prime Minister based on little more than a desire for change. It's a political fantasy that does a passable job of portraying the realities which would surely come with a dream come to life. I like to dream, but I do enjoy reality more. As fortune would have it, this morning in the newspaper came news of the "There Oughta Be a Law" initiative by California state senator Joe Simitian. If you live in California and have an idea for legislation, go to Senator Simitian's webpage and submit it. In the six years he's hosted this contest, 11 citizen-initiated bills have been signed into law.

Finally, from A Room With a View by E.M. Forster comes this conversation between Reverend Beebe and young George Emerson:

"[C]oincidences are much rarer than we suppose. For example, it isn't purely coincidentally that you are here now, when one comes to reflect."

To his relief, George began to talk. "It is. I have reflected. It is Fate. Everything is Fate. We are flung together by Fate, drawn apart by Fate--flung together, drawn apart. The twelve winds blow us--we settle nothing--"

"You have not reflected at all," rapped the clergyman. "Let me give you a useful tip, Emerson: attribute nothing to Fate. Don't say, 'I didn't do this,' for you did it, ten to one. Now I'll cross-question you. Where did you first meet Miss Honeychurch and myself?"

"Italy."

"And where did you meet Mr. Vyse, who is going to marry Miss Honeychurch?"

"National Gallery."

"Looking at Italian art. There you are, and yet you talk of coincidence and Fate. You naturally seek out things Italian, and so do we and our friends. This narrows the field immeasurably we meet again in it."

"It is Fate that I am here," persisted George. "But you can call it Italy if it makes you less unhappy."

Don't say I give you nothing to think about when you read my blog. :)

Grrrrr

Recently on Christopher Moore's MySpace blog, the always funny author posted a slightly worked up letter to Santa and asked readers to post their own requests in the comments. Alas the spirit of replies ends up being not so merry and Moore subsequently comments "evidently my books appeal to people with anger issues." Tonight listening to Last.fm I was offered a pleasant little song that I came to realize was not all that happy, yet it was a decent song. Thus I present the Angry Song of the Week award to "Baby Bitch" by Ween. You can check it out if you like (here's a concert clip and the song's lyrics). Because I believe in balance and as an antidote to the anger I offer you these tips on dealing with anger. I also give you what might not immediately seem relevant but in fact is quite in line with not getting into situations where you will become angry, this nice little list on Making Ethical Decisions. Now go deal with your anger. :)